Our eyes met and I held Charra’s gaze. “Lynas was terrified of him beyond reason, but he had discovered something he feared far more, something he deemed worth spending his life to expose.”
Charra looked away, not wanting to show how distraught she was. “If he discovered something he shouldn’t, then perhaps the hooded man decided to clean house by killing Lynas’ assistants. I’ll trawl through my reports and find details of everybody else who went missing around the same time. If I mark them all on a map then perhaps that will give us some clue. Lynas wasn’t involved in anything terribly illegal. Oh, he wasn’t exactly whiter-than-white; he dabbled in some grey trading and a little smuggling, but he mostly kept to the spirit of the law. He was doing well and had been talking about buying new premises over in Westford to be closer to us.”
My mouth was dry. I felt a shiver ripple up my spine. “Smuggling?” I said, a nagging feeling at the back of my mind. “What sort of goods?”
Charra’s eyes narrowed. “Nothing too unusual. He had official permits to import expensive foreign alcohols, but he also dabbled in small shipments of luxury goods from the continent: spices, silks, tapestries, carvings, furniture, herbs, some from less than official sources. Why?”
I rubbed a hand across my jaw, the bristles rasping. “Not sure. After that vision, when you said smuggling it just felt right. A hunch perhaps.” Or a feeling he’d left me.
“I did look into it,” she said. “But I couldn’t find anything to connect the murder to his business. Perhaps you can convince others to talk, the sort that would never willingly help me. You have unique talents.”
I nodded. “First, I need to pay a visit to his home, his offices and warehouse, whatever property he has… sorry, that he had. I need to do it alone, I can’t afford distractions.” And I had to keep her away from me, for her own safety.
“The place is all locked up under Arcanum wards, but with your weird ways perhaps you can get in where I failed. Lynas lived above his warehouse in Carrbridge. Head up Fisherman’s Way and head over the bridge, take the left fork onto Coppergate Road and it’s the second warehouse on the left. I’m not sure what more you can find though, the wardens already carted off all his papers for investigation.”
So, Carrbridge, was it? As it turned out I hadn’t been entirely lying to that gate guard.
I tsked. “You are probably correct. Can you arrange to sneak me into the Old Town, and into the Templarum Magestus tomorrow? I expect they will have taken all of Lynas’ ledgers and scrolls to the Courts of Justice.”
“Will that be safe?” she said.
“Probably not. But I’ll manage. You know how sneaky I can be.” She looked dubious. Actually I was almost pissing myself just thinking about it. The tunnels of the Boneyards aside, the Old Town was the last place I wanted to be.
“Very well,” she said. “I had Old Gerthan look them over already but perhaps you can see something he did not. I’ll call in another favour and get you in tomorrow, around noon most likely. There’s an inn down by Pauper’s Gate that opens late, you might remember it as a pub called the Bitter Nag. If you lodge there I’ll send a message when it’s arranged.”
“Good, I’m just hoping that Lynas was still using his old cipher.” She quirked an eyebrow so I elaborated: “We used to exchange secret notes as initiates. There is a small chance that he might have left a message before he headed out that night, just in case the worst happened.” I shook my head, trying to clear some of Lynas’ confusion and terror still lingering after the vision. “I don’t think he had any idea it would be that dangerous, but I still have to check.”
My dried drool and blood crusted the sleeve of her coat. I was one suave and sexy man alright. I held out a hand. “Sorry, but I’ll need to take your coat. Just in case anything out there comes across my scent on you.” Some things I was not willing to risk. It was unlikely that shadow cats could survive in Setharis, but with shard beasts on the loose and their master prowling the streets she was better cold than cold and stiff and dead.
She set her lantern down and slipped off the coat, handed it over without complaint. “I’ll grab something off one of the Smilers.”
“Will you be safe out on your own?” I said, worried. “This is the Warrens after all.”
She snorted and picked up the lantern. “Walker, we girls stick together. Too many men think they can own us, and sometimes they’ll only take a rusty blade to the balls for an answer. In any case, my girls keep their ears to the ground, their lips sealed, and their blades handy.”
She reached out to touch my face, stopped, slowly drew her hand back. “I’m more worried about you.” She didn’t want more of my scent on her but the gesture was still touching. The only other affection I’d seen in the past ten years had been bought and paid for, or from fleeting drunken fumbles.
“I have always held myself back,” I said, looking up at the strip of stars visible between looming buildings and banks of thick cloud. “Never really felt the need to stretch my limits. I didn’t have any cause to take such risks, you know?” Apart from my mastery of mind magic I could also grant myself a little extra strength and speed and manipulate the air currents in small ways. It was difficult and gruelling, but doable. Would it prove enough? I scowled. “No more holding back.” My eyes fell back to Setharis, back to Charra’s dark eyes. I drew Dissever and the black iron blade squirmed in my hand, eager to kill.
“You don’t need to worry about me, Charra. Not tonight. It’s everybody else that needs to be worried.” After reliving Lynas’ agony I needed to be alone with my grief. It went far deeper than mourning for a friend. He was a part of me torn away, leaving only a gaping wound. I was dangerously unbalanced, so what did I do? What I always did: I went looking for trouble.
Chapter 8
Even the unnatural vitality of a magus’ body had limits: I was mentally drained by the vision, and physically from five days of seasickness. I needed to sleep and regain my strength – oh, to sleep on solid ground again! I found the inn and haggled with a sour-faced woman for three nights’ lodging, paying extra for no questions asked. It was strange to be back in a building I once drank in with Lynas.
Sadly I couldn’t spare the time to sleep, only taking a few minutes of rest before heaving my sorry arse back up off the bed. I had some small affinity with both body magic and aeromancy, nothing much to speak of really, but occasionally useful. I tweaked my body functions a little, stimulating a few fleshy inside bits I’d discovered as a Collegiate initiate studying for examinations – last minute, naturally. False freshness cleared away the cobwebs and I felt like I had emerged dripping from a mountain stream, but I would pay for it later; the comedown was a bitch.
I slipped back out into the night and headed for Lynas’ warehouse. Before long I would sight the titanic black armoured statues flanking Carr’s Bridge, looming chest and shoulders over even the tallest of tenements. Cowardice and Greed, two of five titans wrought from enchanted black iron and forgotten magic in ancient days, bearing enormous swords that only god-like strength could lift without rope and pulleys and two dozen cart horses hitched up. They fascinated and terrified me in equal measure.
I turned a corner and missed my step. Their features were visible in the darkness, emitting an eerie green phosphorescence. What. The. Fuck?
I approached with a degree of superstitious dread, studying Greed’s heavy jowls and tiny piggish eyes for any hint of movement, then Cowardice’s hollow-cheeked cringing expression. There had always been an indefinable something about them that perturbed me, even before I knew what they really were – and now this. The glow was a new aspect, and I should know since I’d once tried to climb the heights of Cowardice on a drunken dare. I think I managed to reach the knee before getting stuck, not that I received any sympathy whatsoever from Lynas. New occurrences were never to be trusted in Setharis, because it usually meant magic gone awry.