The Fire Seer (7 page)

Bodhan’s home was painted on the inside, each room a different color. Taya was accustomed to plain living and could hardly fail to notice how extensively he’d decorated the place. A bronze hooded cobra reared up at them from a shelf in the entryway, its glittering jewel eyes realistic enough to send a shiver down Taya’s spine. On another shelf cavorted a herd of ceramic gazelles, each in a different pose: one grazing, one looking about, one stotting through a patch of grass. In a quiet alcove sat an elegant vase as high as Taya’s hip, painted in bright colors.

The doorman led them to the back of the house and into some sort of study where two men stood in conversation. One appeared to be a clerk or other high-ranking servant. The other spoke with an air of command, and was clearly the man of the house. Bodhan wore a simple indigo tunic, perfectly cut and tailored but not extravagant, and no jewelry at all. He was neither large nor small but ordinary looking, neat and trim, with graying hair and quick, intelligent eyes.

As Bodhan caught sight of Taya and Mandir, he dismissed the other man and turned to greet them. “Coalition,” he said. “The famous green and silver. I’m honored.”

“The honor is ours,” said Mandir.

Bodhan approached and touched fingers first with Mandir, then with Taya. He studied them eagerly—too eagerly—and Taya began to feel uneasy.

“May I look at your robe?” Bodhan asked Taya. “The sleeve, if you don’t mind.”

Taya glanced at Mandir, perplexed. He shrugged. “All right,” she said.

Bodhan took Taya’s sleeve and rubbed it between his fingers, then checked for residue. “Do you find the color rubs off? Say, when it gets wet?”

“No,” said Taya.

“May I?” said Bodhan again, and stepped toward her.

Taya backed away, uncertain.

Mandir inserted himself between them. “Have a care. You’re making her uncomfortable.”

“I beg your pardon,” said Bodhan. “I wish only to smell the cloth and discover what agent was used to set the dye. Some merchants have learned the trick of setting dye such that it doesn’t wash out, and they won’t share the information with the rest of us. They intend to run us out of business. Do you know who makes your robes?”

“No,” said Mandir.

Bodhan frowned. “I’d like to show you something.” He left the room for a moment and returned with a bundle of cloth. Holding the cloth by two corners, he let the rest of it fall to the ground.

Taya gasped. The cloth was not of just one color, but was a lovely swirled pattern of greens, blues, reds, and yellows.

“You see this?” said Bodhan in an accusatory tone.

“It’s beautiful,” said Taya.

Bodhan gave her a sullen look. “It’s going to ruin me. Someone has learned the secret of setting colors in cotton. Not just indigo, but the difficult colors: red, yellow, green. And they can do it in patterns! How can I compete?”

Taya shook her head. She knew nothing about the cloth business.

“We didn’t come here to talk about cloth,” said Mandir. “We’re here to investigate the murder of your daughter.”

“Of course.” Bodhan sighed, and his face settled into a network of fine lines. “But would you put in a word for me with your Coalition? Secrecy among cloth makers isn’t good business. I’m sure you don’t want to pay inflated prices.”

“We’re not involved in that part of the Coalition at all,” said Taya.

“But you have influence,” said Bodhan.

“We’ll take it into consideration,” said Mandir.

“Thank you,” said Bodhan. “Have a seat.”

Taya sat at a table of polished wood, and Mandir took his place beside her. “When was your daughter killed?” asked Taya.

“Some weeks ago, in the season of Lalan,” said Bodhan.

“Before or after Hunabi was killed?”

“After,” said Bodhan.

“And how was she killed?”

Bodhan shook his head. “Narat was...a rebellious girl. She sneaked out of the house, we believe to meet a boy she fancied herself in love with. She was standing on an island in the Lioness, their designated meeting spot, when a sudden flood came up, a wall of water of the sort only a jackal can summon. It swept her away.”

“Did someone see this happen?” asked Taya.

Bodhan nodded. “One of my clerks. I knew her tendencies, and had instructed him to follow her. He saw everything.”

“We’ll need to speak with this clerk,” said Mandir. “What about the boy she was meeting? Was he killed too?”

“The boy never showed up,” said Bodhan.

“What’s his name?” said Mandir. “We’ll need to speak to him.”

“That won’t be possible. He left Hrappa that very day and hasn’t been seen since.”

Taya and Mandir exchanged a look.

“In that case, we definitely need his name,” said Mandir.

“Of course,” said Bodhan. “My clerk will provide that.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” said Taya. “Was Narat contracted for marriage? Or were negotiations underway?”

“No,” said Bodhan. “Narat was my younger daughter. We had been contracting my older daughter in marriage to Kalbi and Hunabi isu Dayyanum.”

“Your older daughter is named Kana, I believe?” said Taya. “I understand the negotiations are presently on hold.”

“While the magistrate’s family is in mourning for Hunabi, yes.”

Mandir broke in. “Are you not in mourning yourselves?”

“Our mourning period is complete,” said Bodhan.

“Do you expect the negotiations to eventually resume?” asked Taya.

“Yes,” said Bodhan.

“How did Kana feel about the marriage?”

Bodhan looked perplexed. “It was, and still is, a wonderful opportunity for her. She will be marrying into the ruling caste.”

“How does she feel about having two husbands?” said Taya. “It’s not her way. She was raised in the artisan caste.”

“The more fathers, the stronger the heirs,” said Bodhan. “Kana knows this and grieves for the loss of one of the fathers.”

Taya frowned. She wasn’t getting anywhere with this line of questioning, and she didn’t get the impression Bodhan cared much about either of his daughters. “What were the brothers like? I’ve met Kalbi, but I never had the opportunity to know Hunabi.”

“Quality men, both of them, but then, they are ruling caste. Kalbi, the elder, is responsible and serious. Hunabi was brave and daring.”

“Sir, we would like to test your daughter Kana for magical ability,” said Mandir.

“You cannot possibly think my daughter is your jackal!” said Bodhan.

Taya blinked, trying not to let her bewilderment show. What was Mandir talking about? There was no test for magical ability. The only way the Coalition could identify new initiates was to watch them perform magic, and if initiates chose not to perform, the magic could not be compelled from them.

“It’s just a formality,” said Mandir. “Because your daughter has a connection to two of the murder victims, she is naturally a suspect. We need only test her, and once we are assured she has no magic, she won’t be a suspect any longer.”

“Well,” said Bodhan, looking nervous, “I suppose that makes sense. When do you propose to test her?”

“Right now,” said Mandir.

“Very well.” Bodhan rose from the table and led them down a hallway to another room where a young woman sat at a worktable littered with jars and tools and scraps of clay. She was using a small pointed tool to etch designs onto a sculpted figurine. The girl had talent, Taya thought. Perhaps she had made the gazelles in the entryway. Her sculpture, though incomplete, was easy to identify. It was a river dolphin with sleek lines and a frightening array of teeth.

The girl was neither the jackal nor the witness she’d seen in her vision.

Mandir picked up Taya’s hand, which startled her until she realized he simply desired her signal. She made a double slash mark on his palm, and he released her.

“That’s a lovely sculpture,” said Taya. “Your name is Kana?”

“Yes. Thank you.” Kana’s voice was soft. She seemed a shy, unassuming girl.

“We’ve come to test you for magical ability,” said Mandir. “Hold out your hand.”

Kana looked frightened. “I don’t have the Gift.”

“It’s all right,” said Bodhan. “They just want to eliminate you as a suspect.”

“Your hand, please,” said Mandir.

Kana set down the clay-etching tool and held out her hand.

Mandir took it and positioned it palm down. “Some droplets of water are going to fall on your knuckles. If they fall toward your little finger, then you have nothing to worry about; you’re nonmagical. If they fall toward your thumb, then you have the Gift.”

Kana nodded, shifting nervously in her seat.

“Don’t move,” scolded Mandir. “If you move your hand, I shall know you are trying to cheat. But don’t worry. If you’re not the jackal, you have nothing to fear.”

Again Kana nodded.

Three water drops materialized from the air and dropped onto Kana’s hand. Taya could see from the angle Mandir was holding Kana’s hand that the drops ought to fall toward her thumb. Kana was trembling; no doubt she could see that too. Yet the drops, defying nature, sat where they were. After several long seconds, the droplets slid down Kana’s hand toward her little finger. Kana sighed in relief.

Mandir had moved those droplets with magic. Taya was certain of it.

“Well, we know you’re not the culprit,” said Mandir. “Perhaps you could answer some questions for us?”

∞

Later, in the privacy of her guesthouse, Taya was finally able to ask Mandir what he was up to. “Why did you make up that business about the magic test?”

He shrugged. “It was just an idea I had.”

“You moved the droplets yourself.”

“Of course,” said Mandir. “We don’t want everyone in Hrappa to know you can identify the jackal on sight. So I thought we might like to have a ruse that allows us to look at people without their realizing that looking is all we’re after. If word gets around as to how the test is administered, the jackal might not be frightened of being tested. She knows that by using magic, she can manipulate the drops into falling on the correct side.”

Taya took a seat at the table. “All right. I’ll grant that’s not a bad idea.”

The visit to Bodhan’s had been only modestly illuminating. Kana was innocent, and questioning her hadn’t yielded any information beyond what Bodhan had already told them. Kana seemed a submissive, obedient girl who parroted whatever her father told her. She and Mandir had questioned the clerk as well, who had corroborated Bodhan’s tale about the magical flood. To learn more, Taya would have to go to the actual murder site, scry, and hope for a vision from Isatis. She also needed to visit the family of the boy who hadn’t shown up that day. They’d learned his name was Kamber, and he was the son of a baker woman.

Might it be more productive simply to go door-to-door in Hrappa, looking for the jackal under the pretense of using Mandir’s test for magical ability? She already knew what the jackal looked like. There didn’t seem to be much more Isatis could tell her, although she wouldn’t mind getting a closer look in a second vision.

Raindrops pattered on the rooftop.

“There’s our storm,” said Mandir.

Chapter 10: Hrappa

By sunset, the rain had become a downpour. Mandir sat alone on the bed in his guesthouse, bored, disinterested in either food or sleep. It was too bad Taya resented his presence, or he’d spend the evening with her. He wasn’t accustomed to being alone. At the Temple, he’d always had friends around.

In the distance, a single blast of the horn sounded, which meant the gates were closing in case the river overflowed its banks. All the townsfolk should be inside by now anyway. No Hrappan citizen would be foolish enough to venture outside the walls after dark with a storm rolling in.

Thunder grumbled in the distance. Mandir moved to the window to see if he might catch a glimpse of the next lightning strike. This storm was more than just Agu’s fury. Isatis was on the rampage as well.

He should check on Taya, just in case. Not that the storm presented any immediate danger. But he was her
quradum
, and her safety was his responsibility.

Opening the courtyard door, he looked outside. The rain fell in diagonal sheets, galloping across the courtyard. At least the distance he had to cover was short. He charged across the courtyard, knocked quickly at Taya’s door, and let himself in, hoping she wasn’t naked inside. All right, he wouldn’t mind if she was naked, but
she
would mind if he saw her in such a state. He turned around and faced the doorway, just in case.

“Taya,” he called.

No answer.

He turned back around. Taya’s dinner, partially eaten, sat on her table, but the woman herself was nowhere to be seen. Her bed was made, not as neatly as he had made his own, but clearly it had lain untouched since morning.

“Taya,” he called, louder this time. Perhaps the washroom? He walked around the corner to check, but she was not there either. The house was tiny, and he’d searched the entire place.

Why would she leave the guesthouse in the middle of a storm? The gates were closing, and she would not work on the case without him—she ought not to, anyway. She hadn’t expressed a need to buy anything. Her food was provided for her, and all the shops in the artisan district would be closed.

Did she have a secret lover in Hrappa?

No. That was ludicrous. She’d only arrived yesterday, and he’d been with her almost the entire time.

Could someone have kidnapped her? Lured her away?

The front door was unbarred. Mandir burst through it.

Rain pelted his head and shoulders and pooled around his feet. The streets were dark. He summoned globes of fire at intervals for visibility, but they revealed only emptiness and rain.

He splashed to the Hall of Judgment. There, under the covered stairway, he shook the water from his hair like a dog and pounded on the door.

A guard with a mace at his belt answered it.

“I need Rasik,” said Mandir. “My partner’s missing.”

The guard looked him over. “Rasik’s off duty.”

“Get him back on duty. I need to talk to him.”

The guard shook his head. “I’m sorry, but it’d be my head if I tried to drag him out now. If you want to talk to him, he lives over there.” He pointed at a house down the street.