A Murder of Mages (47 page)

“I’ll be fine. Though I’ll count on you being at my back tomorrow, Inspector.”

Satrine went to the door. “How many do you consider unresolved?”

“Twenty-seven now,” Welling said.

Satrine caught an edge to that. And she recalled it being twenty-six yesterday. “We’ll start whittling that down in the morning.”

“Satrine,” Welling said. “I wanted to . . .” He came up to her by the door. For once, his face showed a glimpse of warmth. “You have a uniquely gifted investigative mind, Inspector, and that is something I am quite grateful for.”

“Just glad I get to use it,” Satrine said. “I think I’ve been out of practice too long.”

Welling reached out briefly with his good hand, clasping her gently on the shoulder. “Until tomorrow.”

Satrine smiled. “Looking forward to it.”

She left the ward and navigated her way through the twisting corridors to the main doors. She was about to step into the night air when she heard a woman calling her name. Miss Pyle came running up with a tied bundle.

“The captain wanted me to give this to you before you left,” Miss Pyle said, handing over the bundle.

“What is it?”

“Your vest and belt,” Miss Pyle said. “Apparently you’ll be needing them again.” Her eyes were locked coldly onto Satrine.

“Thank you,” Satrine said. She still felt the harsh stare on her. “Is that all, Miss Pyle?”

“I told you, someday a woman would earn this vest, and she was going to have a harder time because of what you did.”

“And now?”

“And now you’ve earned it,” Miss Pyle said. She turned away without further comment.

Satrine wasted no time undoing the bundle and putting on the mantles of her position. If she was going to have to limp home, she’d at least do it in style.

Chapter 32

“Y
OU STUPID BLAZING BASTARD,” was the first thing Corrie said as she entered the ward.

“Our mother is not to be denigrated,” Minox responded. The doctor had released him, and he was already dressed and ready to return home. “You can rebuke me as you wish.”

“If you weren’t half crippled I’d knock you in your rutting head.”

“I assure you, I am at most a quarter crippled,” Minox said. “Do not underestimate my ability to knock you back.”

“You fought for her?” This was Nyla, standing in the doorway.

“Indeed I did,” Minox said.

“For who? His skirt partner?”

“His lying cheat partner,” Nyla said. “Did you hear what she did?”

“Save your gossip for my absence,” Minox said. “Inspector Rainey saved my life tonight, and I will not hear anything against her character.”

Nyla shook her head. “Can you get home all right? I have a caller tonight.”

“I’m capable,” Minox said. “I’ll catch a cab.”

Nyla turned away. “Stay safe, all right?”

“Always,” Minox said. Nyla left.

Corrie cuffed him across the head. “Lying cheat? What did she—”

“I will not hear it, Corrie. She is an Inspector Third Class and will be given her due respect by you.”

“I’ve got streets to ride,” Corrie said. “Sleep well.”

Minox was able to bear the pain in his arm as he walked down to the street, though he suspected the whiskey was playing a role in that. The morning would be the real gauge of how hard it would be to deal with the break. It did seem that the surgeon had done a competent job repairing the damage, and it would hopefully heal cleanly.

No matter how inconvenient his injury was, Minox found it far preferable to the fate he avoided. He had never felt so powerless in his life. Despite that, at this very moment, he still had no gnawing need crawling up his gut, no jittery energy coursing across his arms. He couldn’t deny that he enjoyed finally feeling like he had control over his own body, even damaged as it currently was.

It was just a question of finding the balance.

Minox hailed a passing cab and jumped in. As the driver was about to press the horses, Joshea jumped in next to him.

“Cab is claimed, friend,” the driver snarled.

“We ride together,” Minox said.

“Are you all right?” Joshea asked as the cab started to roll, reaching over to Minox’s arm.

“Nothing that won’t heal,” Minox said.

“I am so very sorry, Minox,” Joshea said. “I mean, I had no idea, but I should have . . .”

“I was careless,” Minox said. “I failed at my job, it wasn’t your fault.”

Joshea’s hands fidgeted. “Nerrish always was a bit away from the center, though. I should have warned you, or . . .”

“Don’t worry about it, Joshea.”

Joshea’s eyes went everywhere, as if he couldn’t bear to look at Minox. “It’s just . . . I finally find someone that I can, you know . . .”

“Actually talk to?” Minox asked. “Part of what
happened to me today happened because I was careless. Because of that spice.”

Joshea’s face hardened. “You took that—”

“Of my own accord, and I don’t blame you at all.”

Joshea eased and nodded. “So what do you mean?”

“For the first time in my life, I let my guard down. I didn’t have to be aware of myself, be in constant control.”

“Was that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“It felt good,” Minox said. He held out his hand, and made the barest of flames dance across his fingers. Enough that Joshea could see, but not to get the driver’s attention. Now the magic was flowing, enough that he could use it, but not so much that it held sway over him. No hunger, no restraint. Just power at his fingertips.

Joshea blanched. Minox extinguished the flame and put his hand in his coat pocket.

“Sorry,” Minox said. “It’s just . . . this experience, this whole case I just finished . . . it’s driven home the idea that I have a significant gap in my knowledge.”

“About magic?”

“About myself. Ourselves. Think about it. This is a part of who we are, as much a part of our body as breathing and eating.” He reached into his pocket and took out his pipe and put it in his mouth. Then he took out his tobacco pouch.

He quickly realized trying to fill his pipe and light it with one good arm would prove challenging. Joshea noticed his difficulty and took the pouch, holding it open for Minox to grab a pinch.

Minox got the pipe lit. “This is my point,” he said once he had a few puffs. “Not understanding how magic works, how I work, was used as a weapon against me. But relying on it as part of doing my job, without understanding it, almost cost me my life.”

“I’ve tried just ignoring it,” Joshea said. “But sometimes things will just . . . happen.”

“Exactly my point,” Minox said. “I’ve never ignored it, but I did try and pretend that I understood it as well as I needed to. Our—my ignorance caught up to me this week. The same might happen to you soon.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think . . . we both need to learn. We need each other.”

Joshea raised an eyebrow. “Like a Circle?”

“Not in the legal definition,” Minox said. “But that’s hardly the point. At its core, what is a Circle but a group of mages who help and teach each other? I think we both could use someone at our back, don’t you?”

“A Circle of two?” Joshea asked, a bemused smile on his face. “I think I might like that a lot.” He extended his hand to Minox.

“Done, then,” Minox said, shaking Joshea’s hand. It felt like a solid step.

Joshea glanced around nervously, not that the driver or anyone on the street noticed. “I should head back, before my family wonders what the blazes I’m up to.”

“I understand,” Minox said. “We’ll meet up soon.”

Joshea said his final good-byes and jumped out of the cab.

“You’re still paying for two passengers,” the driver said.

Minox stood in front of the house. Surely, word of the day’s events had preceded him. Mother and Aunt Beliah would fuss, Zura would pray, and Oren or Timmothen would make some speech on the necessary dangers of the Green and Red. Minox did not look forward to any of these things.

He went to the barn.

Surprisingly, Evoy was asleep, curled up on the floor with a low-burning candle next to him. Minox had no intention of disturbing him. He didn’t need to talk, he only needed to study Evoy’s work. Carefully. He needed to understand something, not get drawn in too deep.

Nerrish Plum had said something that Minox had heard before: the Brotherhood. His “Eight Fallen Pins,” if Minox was inferring correctly, were stolen from this Brotherhood. Plum was also willing to give a quick confession and go straight to Quarrygate. Men rarely chose Quarrygate unless the alternative was more frightening.

Minox searched across the slateboards along the wall
until he found the part he was looking for. With three question marks around it, in quickly scrawled letters: The Brotherhood of the Nine.

He drew a dashed line away from the Brotherhood to a clear space on the board, and wrote in “Nerrish Plum.” Under that he wrote “Eight Fallen Pins—stolen.”

He glanced around the board. Every time he came out here, he took a good hard look at every name, every clipping, to see if some new inspiration would jump out at him. This newest addition brought no epiphanies with it.

There was something brewing in this city. He could feel it. Evoy constantly spoke of it. It was breathing and building, simmering under his feet.

That was the other thing Plum had said. He had only scratched the surface.

He drew two more lines, from “Brotherhood” and “Nerrish Plum,” and then wrote “Underground?”

That felt right.

Maybe with that, Evoy would make a new discovery. Maybe in time, Minox would make his own.

Minox blew out the candle, slipped out of the barn and made his way back to the house. With any luck, he would make it to his bed with a minimum of fuss. He had a feeling that, despite the pain in his arm, he would sleep quite soundly tonight.

It was well after nine bells by the time Satrine returned home. The door was latched, and Satrine had to knock three times before Missus Abernand finally responded. “Who’s there?”

“It’s Satrine, Missus Abernand.”

The door flew open, Missus Abernand’s face a mix of anger and fear. “You’ve been gone for hours! We had no idea what had happened to you.” Her eyes fell on Satrine’s leg, bloody and bandaged. “Oh, sweet saints, are you all right?”

“I’ll be fine,” Satrine said. The woman, standing dumbstruck, hadn’t moved from the doorway. “Are you going to let me in?”

“Yes, of course,” Missus Abernand said. “Girls, your mother is here!”

Satrine went into apartment, where Rian and Caribet were sitting at the table. Caribet jumped up and ran into Satrine’s arms.

“Where have you been, Mother?” Caribet cried. “We hadn’t heard anything, and we . . .”

“It’s all right,” Satrine said. “I should have sent a page with word a few hours ago. But I’m fine.”

“You aren’t fine,” Rian said, not getting up from the table. “How did that happen?”

“Catching the bad guy,” Satrine said. “It is my job.”

“Is it?” Rian asked pointedly. Satrine wasn’t sure how much Missus Abernand had told them.

“It certainly is,” Satrine said. “And I do it pretty blazing well, you know.”

“Well,” Missus Abernand said, brushing past Satrine to the back staircase, “I’ve been doing this job all day, and I need to get to bed.” She stopped at the foot of the stairs. “I’ll expect extra pay for today.”

“Absolutely.”

Missus Abernand left. Satrine sat at the table, Caribet still clinging to her side.

“Are you hungry?” Rian asked sullenly.

“Famished.”

Rian went to the stove and ladled out a bowl of stew. “Beet and onion and bitter greens,” she said as she put the bowl in front of Satrine.

“Thanks,” Satrine said. The stew was perfectly acceptable fare. “How are you, Ri?”

Rian slumped in her chair. “College boys are horrible.”

“Good,” Satrine said. “Why?”

“He said he went and got you in trouble. Did he really?”

“He really did,” Satrine said. “It’s fine, though. Everything is going to be fine.”

“Really, Mama?” Caribet asked.

“I’m certain of it.”

“Good,” Rian said. She went back to her earlier thoughts. “Also he was really strange about me drinking
wine. He takes it really seriously. Like, he kept wanting me to taste all these different things, and they all were the same, and even if you hadn’t shown up I would have left soon.”