Read Dead Letter Online

Authors: Benjamin Descovich

Tags: #mystery, #fantasy, #magic, #battle, #dragon, #sorcery, #intrigue, #mage, #swords and scorcery, #mystery and fantasy

Dead Letter (9 page)

BOOK: Dead Letter
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Have you been up long?” asked Kettna.


I didn’t sleep well.”

Moonlight prowling was hard work. “Didn’t sleep so well
myself. I heard you up at odd hours.”


I set wards after closing time. Something tripped them in the
night.”


What do you mean something?”


A cat, I’d say. Though a dog or a large rat might have
managed it. I don’t know for sure. There was nobody outside when I
went to investigate.”


You warded the Inn? Is there a threat I should know about?”
What was going on here?


Calm yourself, Novice. It’s only a precaution. I’m not
worried about a stray animal, nor should you be.”


Of course. You’re right. My dreams have shaken me and my
stomach is growling. Have you eaten yet?”


No. My black is fine for now. The morning does not encourage
my appetite, or perhaps it is the offerings of our
host.”

Kettna
walked over to the buffet and took a flatcake onto her plate,
scooping on a dollop of rosella jam. She spread it around to the
edges and rolled it up. The food looked fine to Kettna; the
flatcakes were still warm and the jam dripped in devilish red
stickiness. She took a bite and smiled. “This is very good. Much
better than the cold breads the dormitory kitchen lay out in the
morning. Oh, and this jam is divine.”

Lanuille
shook her head at the cards and frowned, not bothering to comment
on Kettna’s breakfast critique. The adept was all cloud and no
sunshine. Her kind was never enthused by a morning person enjoying
the day.

The
innkeep approached Kettna with a pot of tea. “Mistress?”


Thank you, Innkeep.”


Oh, you must call me Rimple, as my friends do.”


Then, thank you Rimple. Tea is just the thing to fortify me
before I confront the day ahead.”


And would the queen of cards like a fresh brew of black?” he
asked Lanuille.

She kept
her eyes on her game, only giving a brief shake of her head.
Innkeep Rimple released the tiniest glimpse of frustration with a
tightening of his brow then asked the twins who were quietly
peeling illusory boiled eggs. Kettna was hungering for the very
thing.

The
twins at least gave polite nods and took tea. Lanuille had a way
with manipulating illusions and Kettna wondered if the twins were
of her design or that of the Archmagus’ maternal protective care.
They must have been enchanted upon one of the edicts Kettna
carried. How else would they follow her? Nothing else in her
possession was from the elders or her parents. Illusions usually
only persisted until the viewer realised their true nature. The
kitchen hand had behaved as though they did not exist, although
they continued to appear for her. It was intriguing that a common
worker was immune to the illusion, yet she, trained to know such
things, could not extinguish their presence in her mind. Rimple saw
the twins. Did Lanuille? She was much better at illusion than
Kettna. If Lanuille was the master of their interactions then one
assumed that her morning rudeness was actually committed
concentration to maintain the twins’ activities. Kettna couldn’t
enquire about it in present company. The questions would need to
wait.


Before you go, Innkeep. Might I enquire about Master Mertin
again?” asked Kettna. “Did you ascertain if he’d be in
today?”

Rimple
turned and his scowl was removed, ever the kind host, needing only
gratitude to fuel him. “I did ask my guests last night, Mistress.
Yet, none knew where he would have been. Old Fruiter Shile saw him
making haste through Salt Gate Market yesterday morning, though. So
he’s probably opening again today and was just out for a supply
trip.”


Thank you. I’m sure you’re right. I’ll check in again
today.”

Rimple
glowed with the simple praise of his knowledge and hustled back
into the kitchen.

Lanuillle gathered the cards up in frustration and returned
the pack to a pouch. She had lost another round. “Let’s go
then.”

***

Kettna
crossed the street to Mertin’s Alchemy and Sundries with her
entourage. She knocked with an efficient rap of her knuckles, which
received no reply. The door, however, was accommodating and came
slightly ajar, exposing a bent latch. This was not good. Had she
missed this yesterday or was his shop broken into last
night?

Kettna
pushed the door open with her foot and called inside. “Is anyone
here? Master Mertin?”

There
was no answer.


The place is abandoned,” said Lanuille.


Perhaps he’s too deep in debt and has run off instead of
facing the Order,” suggested Kettna, checking the windows for
breakage.


Lucky it’s the Order he owes,” said Lanuille. “There are
others in Calimska who would not be so kind.”


We’re coming in!” called Kettna.

The shop
looked neat and tidy at the front. It was full of stock that could
be sold to recover debts. Books, potions and magical equipment of
all descriptions lined the shelves. A display cabinet featured
sophisticated alchemical glassware. The workmanship of the
glassware was as good, if not better, than what Master Hariset,
Head Lecturer in Alchemy, had obtained for his laboratory. Kettna
pressed her nose against the cabinet window. There were two alembic
units in iron stands, a pair of fine retorts and one lonely
pelican.


Buy that pelican and you’d be the one in debt,” said
Lanuille. “Why bother with damn things like that when a retort
would do just as well.”


It’s not a ‘damn thing’. It’s a beautiful device. A retort or
even a special alembic head can’t produce compounds through
circular distillation that a pelican can.”


Alchemy was not my favourite subject,” admitted Lanuille.
“Why fiddle around with potions when the weave is but a dip
away?”

Some
could be so lucky. Raw power was a sledgehammer. What of the
nuanced magic of alchemy or the arcane intricacies of advanced
spell forms? Kettna was amazed an adept could be so offhand about
it. “Someone must have bought the other one. Don’t you wonder who?
They might rent out their lab.”


Does that edict say anything about coming here to shop?”
quipped Lanuille. “It’s just glass behind more glass.”


Master Mertin!” called Kettna, walking away from the display
and Lanuille’s manifest ignorance. The deeper into the shop she
went, the more evidence mounted that something was wrong. There
were a few broken bottles and the stock had been shifted around and
knocked over. Drawers of herbs had been pulled out, and many had
been emptied.

Kettna
continued to call to Mertin as they made their way through the
ransacked shop. “Hello! Are you home?”

At the
back there was a staircase. Kettna motioned for the twins to take
the lead and they nodded their acceptance. If only all her
companions agreed with her so readily. Nothing attacked the twins,
so Kettna advanced up the stairs. It was a combined storage room,
office and bedchamber. The bed was unmade and had been torn apart
as though someone were looking for a hidden object in the mattress.
Mertin’s books had been tossed from shelves, and the floor was a
tragic massacre of bent spines and torn pages. A hastily packed bag
waited beside the wardrobe and a trouser leg hung from the top, as
if the trousers were climbing out to escape. Kettna walked over to
examine the bag when a robust sneeze erupted from inside the
wardrobe.

While Kettna jumped back in shock, Lanuille summoned a black
orb that pulsed with arcs of green energy. The
Deathly Orb
hovered above the
adept’s hand, eager to be released.


We are of the Order of Calim,” announced Kettna, grasping a
nearby candelabra for protection. The twins armed themselves with
equally questionable weapons. One brandished a broom and the other
raised a stool, both items that Kettna had considered before taking
up the candelabra. They were reading her thoughts. “Come out and
answer for yourself or we’ll …” Kettna paused. What was she going
to do? Beat the sneezing hideaway into compliance with a
candlestick? She envied the menacing orb Lanuille had ready. “…Or
we’ll blast you out with such magic you’ll have wished you came
willingly.”

The
wardrobe door swung open to reveal an older, well-dressed
guilderman, quivering with fear and adjusting his
spectacles.

Kettna
put down the candelabra and helped the old alchemist out. “Master
Mertin! I’m so sorry to frighten you. What happened? Why are you
hiding in amongst your coats?”

Mertin
continued to shake, staring at Lanuille as though he had met his
death.


Do away with the spell, Lanuille. Master Mertin means us no
harm and we most certainly mean him none.”

Lanuille
let the magical orb hover for a moment longer before dissolving it
between her palms. It took more effort for the adept to safely
defuse the destructive magic than to summon it, though Kettna
wondered if the strain lines on her brow were accentuated by her
disappointment that she had no suitable target to loose the spell
upon.


My apologies, Master Mertin,” said Lanuille. “I thought you
were a duplicitous malefactor hiding from your crimes. How
fortunate I didn’t release dark hell’s chaos upon you. Imagine how
silly I’d have felt if that had happened and the only thing left of
you was your shadow stained upon the floor.”

“…
St…stained?”


You’re not hiding from any crimes are you?” mocked Lanuille.
“We’re all of the Order and honour bound to each other’s
confidence, yes?”


Of course he isn’t a criminal!” cut in Kettna. “Who ransacked
your shop, Master Mertin? You can tell us. I’ve been assigned to
assist the Constable. I’ll be meeting with him this very morning
and can petition him with your complaint.”


No! Not the Guard!” Mertin grabbed Kettna’s arm in the
outburst, prompting the twins to advance on the
alchemist.

Kettna
withdrew from his desperate contact and halted the twins’ before
they took to Mertin in her defence. “Compose yourself!”

Mertin’s
face flushed with embarrassment and he bowed in apology, realising
his lapse of manners. “I simply ask that you don’t mention it.
Really, I don’t want to be a bother to anyone with a minor incident
such as this.”


It doesn’t seem minor to me,” said Kettna, examining the
hiding place. At the base of the wardrobe, where Mertin had been
cowering, was a comfortable nest of linen and beside it was neat
pile of peanut shells, three apple cores standing on end and two
empty vials. Kettna picked up one of the emptied draughts and
examined the dull blue residue at the bottom. She gave it a whiff.
“Smells like moon cress. And the stain … That’s from shingle
berries? Correct?”

Master
Mertin’s temperament switched from a twitchy rabbit to a curious
and calculating crow. “What do you know of such things, Novice?”
Mertin’s last word was issued with a depth of derision Kettna did
not appreciate. He snatched the vial away and placed it back in the
exact spot where Kettna had picked it up.


I might be a novice and you a master,” said Kettna. “But I am
not the one cowering in a corner. How long have you been sleeping
in there, quaffing invisibility potions whenever someone came
knocking?”

Mertin’s
eyes darted between Kettna, Lanuille and the twins, calculating
that silence was a serviceable defence. Kettna realised the
alchemist wasn’t going to reveal anything to four mages he barely
knew.


How about you three go downstairs and keep an eye on the
door. I’d like to speak with Mertin privately about guild
matters.”

The
twins led the way and Lanuille followed after. “Don’t try
anything,” said the adept, unafraid to give her senior a warning
glare.

Sitting
on the edge of the bed, Novice Kettna attempted to reduce the
tension in the room. “I’ve been sent by the Order to issue you an
offer regarding your debts.” Kettna passed the edict to Mertin, who
read it over, peeking over his spectacles to make certain Kettna
was not sharpening a butcher’s blade. “As you can see the terms are
agreeable.”


I don’t have room for all of you,” he announced.


It will only be me and not for a week yet. We’ve booked rooms
at the Cog and Wheel, so there is plenty of time to decide if you
would like to pursue the arrangement or decline it. I’m happy
either way, though I would be fortunate to board with you and would
be grateful to learn from your alchemical skill. I need you to
understand that I am not a debt collector. You have nothing to fear
from me. I promise that I will not say anything of your
circumstance to the Constable or the Guard if you don’t wish it,
though I would like to help if I could.”

After
finishing the edict, Mertin removed his spectacles and stood in
abject horror. “You are the Archmagus’s daughter! I didn’t realise.
My manner has been improper. The elders have offered a very
generous contract to reduce my obligations. Of course I accept the
terms of the edict, though, perhaps I would need some time to tidy
my rooms and make you a more comfortable offer … Having you here
would set my mind at ease.”

BOOK: Dead Letter
10.26Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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