Harvest Moon (26 page)

What was disturbing was the fact that the Arcanist hadn't bothered to gesture or speak at all. Looking at him, he appeared to be reading the spines of the several hundred books that formed a bastion along the shelves of the wall opposite the door, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. He did walk, he did move, but he was—like Teela or Tain—completely graceful and entirely unselfconscious as he did.

Kaylin wasn't. She walked slowly because it felt like her skin was being rubbed off every time anything came into contact with it—like, say, her clothing. But as the spell grew stronger, the room began to shift, very slightly, in her view. There were some spells on the books themselves, but not all of the books, and the spells were almost ethereal; there was very little obvious light cast. The color wasn't the gold of the other spells; it wasn't the blue of the Arcane bombs. It was a
shadowy slate, which was probably why it was easy to miss.

She examined other parts of the room as the spell continued to grow in power, and again, some objects seemed to have been somehow magically enspelled, but the color was a theme; it was gray, or a gray-blue at its brightest, and it never quite emerged into something strongly runic. The last place she turned was the desk, and there she froze.

Teela came to her instantly, and touched her shoulder without speaking. Kaylin pointed toward the mirror on his desk. It was rectangular, with a metal frame that had small claws for legs; at the height of the frame, in the center of the bar, was one bright, golden sigil.

It was the
same
sigil.

“Thank you,” the Captain said to the Arcanist. “If we can now move to the second set of rooms?”

The Arcanist nodded. “He is not a terribly significant power,” he said dismissively of Ceridath. “But possessed of some subtlety.”

“Wait, can you tell what the spell is supposed to do?”

“I?” The Arcanist glanced from the desk to Kaylin for the first time. “Not immediately, although were I given a week, yes.”

“
Without
triggering it,” Teela added.

“Oh, well.”

 

The second set of rooms was a study in contrasts. Although the exterior room was very similar to Ceridath's, the interior was almost spotless. It gleamed. It was possessed of at least as many books, at least as many shelves, and to Kaylin's eye, the shelves were finer; the surface of the unoccupied desk was almost spotless. A
mirror rested on the corner nearest the door. It was an oval, not a rectangle, and it seemed to be made of silver; the frame was not simple; the height of the oval was a carved figure with spread arms and the hint of wings, and the arms seemed to be more highly polished than the rest, because they seemed to reflect more light.

“This,” the Arcanist said, with a critical eye, “was a costly piece.”

“We're not concerned with the piece, per se,” was Captain Neall's terse reply. “But rather the possibility of external enchantment.”

But Teela said, “That was not crafted by mortal hands.”

“No?”

“Oh no,” the Arcanist said softly.

He began to cast, again with no outward display at all of his gathering—and spreading—power. Kaylin was almost surprised when no similar golden glyph appeared anywhere on the mirror. Which wasn't to say that there were no glyphs; there were. They were ice-blue and forest-green; there was one that defined the color yellow. They worked in concert, and they were so intricate she couldn't have traced their pattern; they were also compelling.

But she turned toward the rest of the study as the Arcanist did, and followed him as he began to examine the books on the shelves.

She didn't get very far. What was missing on the mirror, she found on the books; the enchantments were not as subtle, not as hard to see, as the enchantments in Ceridath's study. But every single one of them was, in Kaylin's vision, a radiant gold, and in that light, she could see a very familiar sigil.

 

She looked to Teela who was watching her like, well, a Hawk. Something must have caught Captain Neall's attention, because he said, “Thank you. We have the information we need,” to the Arcanist.

The Arcanist's spell did not, however, fade or drop, although he did move away from the Captain toward Farris's desk. Kaylin watched him as he sauntered over to the chair behind the desk. Seating himself as if he owned it, he leaned toward the mirror and gestured; the sigils that Kaylin now knew meant a spell had been cast began to move. They danced in the air just above the frame as if they were performing for his benefit.

Teela shook Kaylin by the shoulder and Kaylin dragged her attention back to the attentive Captain of the Wolves.

“He'll hear everything we say,” Teela told the Captain.

The Captain glanced at the Arcanist and shrugged. “He is not a fool. Whether he hears it or not, he will deduce.”

Teela stiffened. “We will speak elsewhere,” she finally said, “Or we will not speak.” Turning—and still holding Kaylin's shoulder, she began to leave the room.

The Arcanist, however, lifted his voice. “Teela, if you are not still caught up in your present passion of attempting to blend in with the mortals—or perhaps, more interestingly, if you are—you will find this particular spell of interest.”

Teela's grip tightened suddenly; Kaylin wondered, briefly, if she'd keep the collarbone. Then the Barrani Hawk let go and turned to Tain. “Take her out of ear
shot before you allow Neall his questions. I will speak with the Arcanist.”

Tain frowned; his eyes had shaded to blue. They weren't as dark a blue as Teela's, though. “I don't like it.”

“No. I am not in danger, here. Remember.”

Tain nodded slowly, and withdrew; he also caught Kaylin by the shoulder, but only to break her stare, which had gone back to the sigils above Farris's mirror as if anchored. He was less physical than Teela, or perhaps more willing to allow her some dignity.

Only when Tain judged the distance sufficient—which was when they were once again in Ceridath's outer office—did he relinquish all command to Captain Neall. Neall was brusque; he was clearly not pleased, but he'd obviously been told when to make his compromises with the men of an entirely different division, even if he outranked them.

“Ceridath's mirror was enchanted,” Kaylin said quietly. “By whoever cast the spell on both the dead girl and the holding room at the—at the site.” She glanced at Tain, who nodded.

“You are certain of this?”

“I'm not a mage, but…if what Ceridath said was true, yes. Mages leave signatures. The signatures are unique.”

“And Farris's mirror?”

She shook her head. “It wasn't his mirror—”

“The Arcanist seemed fascinated by it.”

“There were other spells on the mirror—just not one cast by the mage who enchanted the child.” Kaylin shrugged. “I don't know more than Ceridath told me. I don't even know if I understood it all.”

“I
highly
doubt that.”

Kaylin decided then and there that she didn't like the man. “The mirror
didn't
have the enchantment we were looking for—or maybe you couldn't see that for yourself?”

Captain Neall raised one brow. “Indeed, I cannot. Nor have I made any claim of competence in that area.”

“Neither have I.”

Tain cleared his throat. “Kaylin.”

She turned, flushed, to glare, and he said, “The children will die soon. Any chance we have to save them is slipping by as minutes pass. Decide how much this display of ego is worth to you.” He spoke so mildly and so carelessly he might have been talking about a midday snack—on a day when she wasn't almost starving.

The anger left her in a rush. She swallowed, thinking of the one corpse she'd briefly glimpsed. Of the empty holding cell, and the blood on the floor. Lifting her chin, meeting the gaze of the Captain—which hadn't changed at all, the heartless bastard—she said, “Farris's books, like Ceridath's books, were enchanted. Not all of them, only a few—but on Farris's books, the signature matched the signature on the corpses and on the site. They matched the spell on Ceridath's mirror as well.” She frowned. “Ceridath said that he only made one attempt to investigate—”

Words fled and she turned in a panic toward his inner office. She slid between both Hawks and Wolves in a desperate attempt to reach the mirror. Only when she saw its flat, lifeless surface did she begin to breathe again.

“Kaylin,” Captain Neall said, more of an edge to his voice.

She turned to him almost wildly. “Ceridath said—he tried to find out who was communicating with him, and how—and it went badly. I think they must have hurt his granddaughter. He stopped. But we
don't know
how they know or what they detected, and if he—”

The door to the outer office slammed open. There wasn't any need to find out who had entered because whoever it was ran straight from the entrance of the outer office to the door of the inner sanctum.

In it, hair slightly wild and eyes very wide, chest heaving as if from a great exertion, stood Ceridath.

 

They hadn't been close to two hours; even Kaylin, caught up in her observations, knew that. But Ceridath was here, regardless. She wondered if anyone had noticed his absence, and wondered what it would cost him if they had. But he seemed to feel he'd already lost everything, so maybe it didn't matter to him anymore.

He made it to the mirror, just as Kaylin had done, and saw its flat surface. Only then did his shoulders and brows fall. She looked up at him. “I'm sorry,” she whispered.

He glanced at Captain Neall, the other two Wolves, and Tain. “I hardly think you have anything to apologize for,” he told her. “Given that the Captain of the Wolves is undoubtedly in charge here. Captain?”

“As you surmise, we are investigating you. We are almost done,” he added. “But our investigations also encompass a colleague.”

“Farris?”

The Captain nodded. “Our expert has identified—”

Ceridath turned to Kaylin, which obviously surprised the Captain. Kaylin said, “Unless someone else was
enchanting his books, the mage who cast the magic on the girl and the one who cast the magic on the floor was Farris. He also did something to your mirror,” she added.

“My granddaughter—”

“We'll find out,” Captain Neall replied. His smile—the first he'd offered—made Kaylin take a step back. It also made her wonder what the Wolves did in the service of the Emperor's Law. “We have enough information now to confront Farris directly. Lord Sanabalis will be on his way shortly, as will the Interrogators.”

“Tha'alani?”

Captain Neall nodded. He started to say something else, when they were interrupted by a very loud
bang
. Neall lifted his head and said something extremely rude about Arcanists before he gestured and everyone filed out of the room toward where they'd left Teela.

 

All professional calm had left the Captain's face, and although it was petty, Kaylin felt a little satisfaction at seeing him behave like a human being. He moved, dragging his Wolves, a Hawk, and a mage in his wake, until he reached Farris's rooms. The door to Farris's outer office was shut. Kaylin looked at the door ward that adorned its center and grimaced; it was glowing very brightly.

“Do not touch the door,” Ceridath said as the Captain lifted his palm. “The chamber was initially opened by Farris?”

“By the Magister,” the Captain replied.

“The Magister will not easily be able to open the door again.” He began to gesture, and Kaylin watched as the door's rune slowly transformed itself into a now-fa
miliar sigil. “Who did you leave in the room?” Ceridath asked softly, his forehead creased, his brows slightly gathered in concentration.

“A Barrani Hawk,” the Captain replied. Then, after a pause, “And a Barrani Arcanist.”

The spell faltered a moment—or at least the brightness of Farris's signature did. Ceridath's eyes rounded so much it was a wonder they stayed in his head. “You
led an Arcanist here?
”

“The Magister was aware of his presence, and while he did not fully approve, he acceded to the request. Why is the door closed?”

“You would mostly likely have to ask Farris if you want an exact answer—but it is not at all uncommon for contingency spells to be placed upon the doors of
any
experienced mage. If something has triggered a contingency, the doors often lock. Sometimes they…resist…attempts to open them. If, however, you are not attached to your hand, you may attempt to use the ward.”

“If I do?”

“In the very best case, it will merely alert Farris of your presence, as I was alerted.”

“And in the worst?”

“It will still alert Farris to your presence. The likelihood of his ignorance, given the activation, is small, however.”

Kaylin could see an argument brewing—or at least a lengthy and heated discussion—and she started to tell them both that they didn't have the time for it. But the door came to her rescue, in a fashion: it disintegrated.

Both the mage and the Captain seemed to forget how to speak as the Barrani Arcanist stepped into the hall, dusting ash off his robes. “Gentlemen.” He turned back
toward the empty frame and offered Teela a hand. She glanced at it, and then offered the Captain of the Wolves a very sharp salute.

The Arcanist snorted.

“Captain,” Teela said without preamble, “we have a problem.”

The Captain looked past her shoulder into the room. So did Kaylin; the outer office—at least—seemed to be untouched. Except for the now-absent door.

“Is it a problem that involves the political fury of the Magister?”

“No, sir.”

His eyes narrowed into slits. “Is it a problem that involves the political ire of the
Barrani?
”