Cast In Honour. Michelle Sagara

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ three days ago.”

      “Have you asked the daughter?”

      “No.”

      “Did anyone?”

      “No. The daughter was not present for the interviews.”

      “Where is she now?”

      “As I said, at church.”

      Kaylin cursed. “Which church, Gavin?”

      Gavin had no answer to offer.

      “Why is it relevant?” Bellusdeo asked. “You are not particularly religious yourself.”

      “On occasion, new religions present themselves to people. Some of them start on Elani.”

      “You suspect fraud.”

      “Fraud is one thing,” Kaylin replied. Her skin began to feel raw whenever she walked or moved her arms. “I don’t care what people do to comfort themselves. I don’t care if people who claim to speak with the dead offer—and make money from—comfort to the bereaved. I don’t even care if people pay through the nose for that comfort. Yes, I used to despise it. I like to think I’ve gotten a bit smarter.”

      “Liar.”

      “It’s not the fakes I’m concerned about. Not all religions worship distant gods. Some have magic as their focal point.”

      “Lianne,” Gavin said.

      “On it,” the private replied, heading instantly back up the stairs.

      * * *

      The stairs looked the same with the familiar’s intervention and without: cold, hard and distinctly uninviting. Teela headed down the stairs first; Tain was two steps behind her. Kaylin followed; she wanted Severn to keep Bellusdeo out of what appeared to be a new subbasement. Naturally, he wouldn’t do it.

      Kaylin couldn’t. Bellusdeo was older and more powerful than Kaylin, and vastly more knowledgeable. Kaylin was not a capable judge of the Dragon’s actual abilities—she was just the person who was going down, and hard, if anything happened to Bellusdeo. She tried not to resent the worry, and failed—but managed to keep it to herself.

      The small dragon warbled very quietly.

      “Teela?”

      “Hug the wall. This is not a small staircase. It widens at the bottom.”

      * * *

      There were walls on either side of the stairs, of the same rough stone construction as the steps themselves. There were no torch-rings or lamp-hooks on the descent; there was nothing on the walls at all. Kaylin stopped when Teela did, the halt staggering back up the stairs.

      “The walls, kitling?”

      “Nothing up here.”

      “Come to where I am.”

      Kaylin headed around Tain and came to stand beside Teela. She didn’t lift the familiar’s wing; she didn’t need to. There was magic here, a sigil splashed and stretched across the left wall. Kaylin frowned.

      “You can see it.”

      “Yes, but...”

      “But?”

      “It’s the wrong color. Most of the sigils I’ve seen are shades of blue or gray.”

      “This one?”

      “It’s purple. Purple and black.”

      “Is it active?”

      “No—it’s definitely the remnants of a previously cast spell. Or spells.” She frowned again. “I’d say this is the work of more than one person; there are at least two marks here.”

      “Do you recognize either of them?”

      The problem with magical detection—or at least the chief problem, as far as Kaylin was concerned—was the lack of permanent visual Records. Perception was never consistent, and while a mage could reliably state where he’d seen the trace or sigil of the caster before—if he had come across it in any other investigation—the mage’s description would offer no useful information to any other mage. Only if the investigators were forced to use memory crystals could the images be retained. Memory crystals, however, were very difficult to make and exceedingly expensive. They made portable mirrors seem cheap and readily available in comparison.

      Therefore, what Kaylin saw could not be recorded in any reliable way. What she’d seen over the almost eight years she’d spent with the Hawks could not be recalled and compared to the sigils before her now. Although this was also true for Teela, Teela was Barrani: she remembered everything with absolute clarity.

      “I’m surprised the mages didn’t stay,” Teela said—in the wrong tone of voice. “Gavin, you have a mirror?”

      “Not with me, no.”

      “Here.” She retrieved her own mirror and tossed it—accurately—up the stairs; Gavin caught it in his fingertips. “Mirror Marcus the names of the attending mages. Mirror the Imperial Order. Bellusdeo, it’s time for you to leave.”

      The ensuing silence was chilly.

      “Go directly to Sanabalis. No, forget that. Go directly to the Arkon. Tell him exactly what you’ve seen so far. Tain and Severn will accompany you.”

      Severn’s expression didn’t change at all. Tain’s did; he had become, in the few minutes since they’d descended these stairs, very starkly blue-eyed and grim. He didn’t argue with Teela’s command. Everyone present—except possibly Lianne—knew that to the Emperor, any harm that came to Bellusdeo would be paid for by the Hawks she was currently observing.

      Or by one particular Hawk.

      To Kaylin’s surprise, Bellusdeo almost instantly agreed. “Will you mirror the Arkon directly with any other relevant information?” she asked Teela.

      “The portable mirror is keyed directly to the Halls. Without tampering, it’s not capable of accessing other mirrors, but I’ll ask for an immediate relay.”

      “Keep an eye on Kaylin.”

      “I will.”

      “Kaylin,” Kaylin interjected, annoyed, “is a Hawk, in good standing.”

      Bellusdeo shrugged—a fief shrug. She’d definitely picked that up from Kaylin or Severn. She then retreated.

      “How far do the stairs go?” Kaylin asked Gavin.

      “At least as far again as you’ve walked so far.”

      “And the stairs weren’t here three days ago.”

      Teela grimaced. “Why is nothing ever simple when you’re involved?”

СКАЧАТЬ