The Scofflaw Magician (The Artifactor Book 3) (7 page)

It took seconds
for her to do the fine adjustments on the lens so that she could truly examine
every part of him. Then the answer was obvious and she lowered the lens with a
sigh, turning it back off before returning it to the pouch.

“Not him,” Xald
stated, not needing her to say anything.

Sevana braved
another bite of the curry. “Mark him off. Aside from our two suspicious people,
we have three more to find. Can we do that tonight?”

“Likely not.”

“Then let’s
finish our dinner and head back. We’ll start again in the morning, after we go
see Petran’s house.”

They ate in
amicable silence for several minutes before Xald spoke again. “What you told
the king and queen earlier, about what has happened to the princess, is that
truly what you think has happened?”

She gave him a
quick glance before focusing on the naan. It was the safest thing to eat on the
table. “Yes. Why?”

“You don’t
think the little princess is dead?” he pressed.

Ah, that was
what he was worried about. “I don’t. Xald, I’m not kind enough to lie to people
or give them false hopes. I don’t believe in that.”

He let out a
soft breath of relief.

Incredulous,
she slapped a hand against the table. “You thought I had! You idiot, would I
really be dragging you around the city like this, getting sunburned, if I
thought she was dead already?”

“You
are
upset that a magician has crafted a spell you can’t decipher.”

Alright, well,
he had a point there. Sevana was mad enough about being intellectually stumped
that she would likely keep pursuing this even if she thought the princess was
dead. “Still, I wouldn’t be doing a dog and monkey show just for the sake of
putting those two at ease. I’d pursue this man by other means, even though it’d
take longer.”

“These words
soothe my heart. I am glad.”

Sevana snorted
and took another bite of curry. “The idea, really.” To her horror, she realized
mid-chew that her mouth could no longer taste anything, her taste buds having
shut down in self-preservation. Dropping the spoon down in disgust, she went
back to the naan. “How do you people eat something this spicy?”

Xald chuckled
and pushed the naan closer to her. “You’re an amusing woman, Artifactor Warran.
I now understand why Prince Bellomi and King Aren and Princess Hana are all so
fond of you.”

“They’re
strange, addled people,” she informed him, soothing her burning mouth with more
of the lemon-mango drink. “I wouldn’t trust their opinions.”

“As you say,”
he replied, eyes dancing.

“And call me
Sevana, would you?” she requested. “I have a feeling we’ll be working with each
other for several weeks before we see the end of this problem. No reason to
stand on ceremony.”

His eyes
softened into a gentle expression. “It is my honor to do so.”

Not being able
to get much sleep due to aching muscles, Sevana did not laze about in bed but
instead got up early. It turned out that most of the city chose to rise early,
and even though the sky was barely light enough to see by, the city was for the
most part awake. It took her only a moment to realize that most people would
choose to work in the pre-dawn hours and then retreat into their homes during
the hottest part of the day. It was the only sane decision to make, in this
high desert.

Xald was
downstairs and tucking into a breakfast as she came down, and he quickly got up
and fetched her food, of the non-spicy variety. They ate companionably before
leaving the palace and tracking down the rest of the people on their list. Or
trying to. They were only able to find two before the breakfast bell rang
throughout the city, the sound long and ponderous. Then they quickly retreated
back to the main gates, not wanting to miss their appointment with Petran.

Sevana’s guess
about Petran turned out to be dead on. He was a minor nobleman, so minor in
fact that he actually worked as a merchant in order to support six children, a
wife, and his aging parents. He was very anxious as he showed them into his
home where his family was gathered, waiting on them.

She took in the
situation at a glance. The building was heavy in stucco, everything gleaming
white from fresh paint; flower boxes and miniature fountains along the walls; a
small inner courtyard leading into a four story house that screamed age. It was
in good repair, but this was obviously an ancestral home that had been in the
family for many generations.

The family was
crowded into the courtyard, hovering near the doors, their eyes anxious. The
youngest child, who must have been four, was gripping his mother’s leg, her
hands on his shoulders. The rest of the children were either holding onto their
grandparents or each other, their ages anywhere between six to fourteen, at a
guess. So it was the oldest son that had disappeared?

“Artifactor,
this is my family. My wife, Matika, and my parents, Samid and Sariah.”

Sevana offered
them a bow, her hands tucked in at the waist, as customary. “Artifactor Sevana Warran.”

Matika stepped
forward, maneuvering her way around her youngest child without actually letting
go of him. “Artifactor, you are welcome into our home.”

“I thank you
for the welcome.” Niceties out of the way, she went straight to the point.
“Show me precisely where the musician and the painter were in your house.”

Petran led the
way and she followed, eyes taking everything in with quick glances. Yes, the
man did well in making a living for his family. There were several vases and
paintings that would cost a minor fortune. Even if some of them were inherited,
this was a place of wealth and comfort. No wonder they were able to afford
entertainment on a regular basis.

Her guide went
into a family room and stopped dead, gesturing around him. “They were only ever
here, in this room.”

Sevana looked
around her, eyes peeled, alert to the faintest hint of magic. Something about
this room was making the fine hairs on the back of her neck tingle. Nothing
looked strange, not at first, as it was just a collection of large pillows, one
wingback chair, several low tables that had abandoned toys on them, and glass
doors that opened out into another miniature courtyard.

Xald knew her
well enough after the past few days to read her face. “You sense something
here.”

“Something is
making my instincts scream, yes. But I’m not seeing—” as she turned to speak to
him directly, she caught sight of it out of her peripheral vision. Sevana’s
neck cracked, her head snapped around so quickly. There, hanging innocently on
the wall, was a simple ink portrait of a young man in his teen years. It was no
doubt a picture of the missing son, but that wasn’t what caught her attention.

It practically
glowed with magical power.

Sevana hissed
in a breath. “What. Is. THAT.”

“The portrait?”
Petran asked, confused. His head swiveled back and forth between her and the
picture.

“Yes. THAT,”
she emphasized, pointing a shaking finger at it, “should not exist. I would
have sworn that a picture like that couldn’t possibly be done. Was this
commissioned?”

“By the painter,”
Petran answered hoarsely. “Is it…evil?”

Sevana rubbed
at her eyes. Evil. The man’s first thought was that it was evil? Just how
superstitious was this culture? “Not evil.” She opened her mouth, trying to
think of the words, then clenched her fists in frustration when the words
wouldn’t come to her.

“Magical?” Xald
prompted, trying to be helpful.

“Blargh.”
Sevana decided, for her own sanity, to ignore her watchers for a moment and
strode to it. Taking a closer look, she pulled out her box lens again and gave
it a thorough scrutiny. After the events with the water fountain, she’d
developed the box lens to help dissect magical artifacts and spells, giving her
a precise outline of what she was looking at. The first lens protruding out
from the box read everything, the second one in the box would translate it so
that when she held up the main lens, all of the information she needed to know
was proscribed in neat letters for her to read. It was a simplistic approach
that had already saved her hours of time.

But never
before had she appreciated her new invention as much as she did in this moment.
It was so much easier to just put the lens to her eye instead of having to
juggle an empty journal in one hand and a wand in the other.

When the
numbers scrawled out on the lens, she was so shocked that she dropped it.

Xald, hovering
nearby, possessed excellent reflexes and caught it in midair. “Sevana?!”

“This really
isn’t possible,” she breathed, eyes fixated on the portrait.

“Please,
explain,” Petran pleaded.

Her mind
whirled at high speeds even as her mouth moved, saying things without really
thinking about them. “One of the most valuable spell elements in the world is a
word from the Book of Truth. Very few things can rival it in terms of sheer
power. But this portrait has the same power level as a word would have, which
simply isn’t possible, or shouldn’t be. How…how is this….” She trailed off as
her brain cramped.

Xald, being a
more practical man, asked the necessary questions as her brain shut down. “You
said the painter did this?”

Petran had lost
his voice and instead nodded vigorously.

“Sevana, is
this portrait linked to their son’s disappearance?”

“It must be,”
she responded instantly, not even thinking the question through. “Why else
would he craft something that emanates this much
power
? It would be akin
to crafting a king’s sword and then burying it in the ground without ever using
it. He must have used this portrait, somehow, to spirit away the boy.” She
finally looked at Xald and found the man’s face draining of all color. Instinct
told her why but she still found herself asking in a disturbed voice, “Was
Princess Amas painted like this?”

Xald’s eyes
filled with tears that never fell. He nodded once, hard.

Sevana rubbed
her hands over her face, twice, before forcing the words out. “The painting of
her?”

“We don’t have
it.”

She uttered the
vilest curse she could think of, heaving out a shaky breath. “Wrong answer,
Xald.”

“We’ll find it
immediately,” he swore, as much as himself as to her.

“You bet we
will. Now that I know what to look for.” Spinning on her heels, she faced
Petran and his hovering wife. “I don’t know how your son is linked to this
portrait, not exactly, but I’ll bet both eyes he is. I need to take this.”

“Of course,”
Matika agreed immediately. “I’ll get a tube for you to carry it in.”

“Excellent, do
so.” Protecting the portrait from all possible damage was a vital necessity
until Sevana could figure out what in mercy’s name was going on. “Petran, if
you love your son, you will not breathe a word of what I discovered today. I do
not want to tip off the magician that did this that I have figured out part of
his technique. The safety of your boy, and the princess, depends upon your
silence.”

“You have it,
me and my house,” he vowed without a second of hesitation. “Artifactor, you
believe that you can unravel what he has done?”

“I have gained
two vital clues and something solid to work on. If I can’t unravel this, I
should stop being an Artifactor altogether.” Sevana fully planned on calling up
Master as soon as she was back in the palace and asking him questions first. He
knew more about the Book of Truth than she did, and right now she needed his
brain desperately.

Matika came
back into the room at a half-run, a leather tube with a strap firmly gripped in
both hands. Sevana took it from her, only to hand it to Xald so that she
herself could take the portrait carefully off the wall and even more gently
roll it up. As she did so, she kept an eye trained on the ink, terrified of it cracking,
but the portrait acted as if it had been properly aged and preserved for
months. She had a feeling that even if she put it over an open flame, the sheer
power imbued in the paper would keep anything from happening to it. But that
wasn’t something she was willing to gamble on, not when a life hung in the
balance. For now, caution was called for, and she exercised it fully as she
slid the portrait into the tube and capped it.

Only then did
she breathe a little easier. “Petran, Matika, I will keep you both informed as
I can, but know that this will take me weeks to unravel.”

Neither parent
looked happy about this and gripped each other’s hands. Still, they nodded
understanding.

“Your son is
well, not dead or hurt because of this,” Xald added, voice kind. “He is simply
suspended, in a place between heaven and earth.”

That was likely
the best explanation that could be offered in this culture, even if it was only
partially accurate. Sevana decided not to clarify. She was itching to get to
work, now that she had a solid lead in her hands. “We’ll leave now. Remember,
not a word to anyone.”

The whole
family spoke in different ways, agreeing, which satisfied her. Tube cradled
against her chest and the strap across her back, Sevana made her way for the
door. “Xald, I want a search out for any portraits like this immediately. If
the painter tried this technique before he got to the princess, he might have done
it with others besides this poor boy.”

“You think so?”

“The technique
he used to apply ink to paper, setting the spell in place, was perfectly done.
Flawless, actually. It suggests a lot of practice to me. Find the others, if
there are others.”

Xald did not
like this idea one bit—in fact it made him look sick to his stomach—but he gave
her a professional nod. “I will. You will be working on this?”

“Yes.” After
she called Master. No, better, she’d talk to Master while working on this. She
wanted to bounce possibilities and theories off him as she worked. It’d save
time that way. “You inform Firuz. But make sure he understands not to disrupt
me. This thing is highly dangerous even in a dormant state.”

He lengthened
his stride, struggling to keep up with her as Sevana half-jogged through the
city streets, anxious to get back. “It’s that powerful?”

“Like you would
not believe.”

~ ~ ~

A part of
Sevana wanted to retreat directly back to her workroom in Big as she would have
everything on hand there. Only one thought stopped her—it would take a clock
portal to get her back. Easily back, at least. And she honestly didn’t know
what that would do to the boy in the portrait.

The boy was
transformed into an ink drawing, making him something that wasn’t living or
dead, but still possessing life and a soul. Taking him through a portal of any
sort would mean bringing him through an in-between place that was neither here
nor there. To a human being, an animal, an object, this process was harmless.
But what would it do to something that was neither human, nor object, and with
powerful magic maintaining its present form? She didn’t know, but Sevana’s
guess was nothing good.

So, for better
or worse, she had to work from here in the palace.

She put a
strong spell on the portrait tube as soon as she gained her temporary workroom,
setting it so that if anyone even put a hand on it, they’d get a strong shock
for trying. No one should be messing with it or even looking at it without her
there to supervise. Only then did she dart through the clock and back into Big.
It took bare minutes for her to hastily pack what she would need and give a pat
of hello/goodbye to her mountain before she was back through the clock and
ready to tackle the portrait.

Setting a
Caller on the table, she activated it before commanding, “Call Master.”