A Charm for Draius: A Novel of the Broken Kaskea (The Broken Kaskea Series Book 1) (25 page)

She paused, but she didn’t take the bait and become sidetracked. Stepping away from the doorjamb, she started pacing the woven carpet. “Not everything revolves about my case, and that’s where I made my mistake. I first assumed the focus of the attack was
me
, but these men were more intent on harming Lornis.”

“They were thieves. Of course they went for the man first, that’s how they operate.”

“They weren’t common thieves.
Thieves
don’t jump City Guard members openly on the streets.
Thieves
use knives, not swords, and they try to rob you. That’s the whole point for them. No, these were hired killers and they were after Lornis, not me.”

He was too good at controlling his reactions—she couldn’t tell if she hit the mark.

“Why’d you do it, Jan?” Her tone was cool and measured. When she finally put everything together, her anger burned. By now, it was restrained, manageable, a tool to be used. She’d learned from her husband and now, above all, she needed to maintain control. “What did you tell Haversar? Of course, your hands were never sullied by any arrangements and I’m sure you only intended to frighten, not harm me.”

“You sound as hysterical as the
H&H
. Why not accuse me of being a Groygan spy, too?”

“I already know the answers.” She continued on, ignoring his words. “Why? First, this attack would impress upon Lady Anja how much danger I’m in, and how risky my position as OIC of Investigation can be. If I was scared by it, that’d be an additional reward, but this was mostly for Anja’s benefit.”

She watched his face. No reaction. She continued. “Second, it’d make me appear incompetent. If the captain could be convinced to remove me, or even if I resigned my position as OIC, another bonus for you. Third, when Lornis was gone—”

“Are you accusing me of jealousy?”

“No. Unfortunately, I know you.” Her tone was bleak. “With Lornis out of the picture, there’s one less officer with the experience to compete for the positions you crave.”

He didn’t answer.

She didn’t mention there had been a flaw in Jan’s plan, but not due to poor logic or execution. He couldn’t know that Lornis had a special fate, predicted by the Phrenii. He couldn’t know the captain was committed to keeping Lornis alive, as well as keeping Lornis in the City Guard.

If she were facing anyone else, her accusations might be absurd. But this was Jan, who destroyed the careers of others, who exploited weaknesses until lives were in ruin. She remembered Kapeli. Poor Kapeli, who’d ended his life due to shame and an incredible gambling debt, all arranged and exploited by her husband. Kapeli had been nice enough; too bad he had been promoted at Jan’s expense…

“Is attempted murder now another one of your tools? Your—” She stopped. Swallowed hard. She was about to say, “Your morals have become skewed.” But what about
hers
? Little by little, she’d watched and accepted Jan’s moral slips, sometimes even justifying them. Darkness had crept up on her and she’d slid into the morass herself, where she could think like Jan and easily put attempted murder into his perspective.

Outside, the light patter of spring rain started. Jan stood and closed the window while she felt paralyzed, her thoughts racing.

“This is all supposition,” he said. “Would you drag these accusations out into public and sully the Serasa-Kolme? Do you want Peri to see his father brought before magistrates, based upon his mother’s unwarranted suspicions?”

She leaned against the wall, feeling the familiar nausea of defeat. They knew each other so well. He knew she’d considered all options and had already decided against public action. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be confronting him—which meant she had no higher moral ground to stand on.

“What have I become?” she whispered. All in all, she was sure Jan hadn’t intended for anyone to die. That was an excuse for
his
actions; what were the excuses for
hers
? For doing nothing? Lornis was right when he hinted at her duality: not only did she lack competence in dealing with Jan, she also had a different moral code. Everything could be black and white when working, while her personal life was composed of many shades of gray. Now her two lives had smashed into each other.

Jan looked uneasy. Self-recrimination was probably the last thing he’d expected from her. Lowering his voice, he said, “You’ve been under a lot of stress. With the murders and all the trash being printed in the
H&H,
I can see why you might have jumped to these strange conclusions — which no one would believe.”

“I won’t—” she choked, then managed to gain control of her voice. She glared at him. “I won’t do anything publicly, for Peri’s sake, but this can be a matter for matriarchal justice.”

Anja. The matriarch who had the power to dissolve their contract was young enough to know Jan’s background. Although Anja would probably never admit it, she knew about Haversar, and matriarchs were committed to maintain lineal honor.

“You’re really going to end our contract? Over this?”

“Can’t you see how serious—” She took a deep breath and started over. “You know there’s usually something that ties people together? Well, there’s nothing between us any more. No love, no loyalty, no respect, no friendship, not even a shared set of moral values. I don’t understand you, if I ever did.
And I’ll never trust you again
.”

Instead of responding in kind to her emotional outburst, he calmly sat down. “True, we’ve drifted apart. But I’ve been trying. If you’d try, we could rebuild our lives.”

“There’s no marriage, no trust, nothing but ink upon paper. What do you suggest we build upon? And will you continue to seek comfort from other women?”

“Probably, but that’s not my fault. You’ve become colder than the ice on the Cen Cerinas mountaintops.” His dark blue eyes were level; now he was speaking the truth.

“I am what I am
because
of you. I must look into my own heart, yes, but so should you. When will you admit, even to yourself, that your affair with Netta was different?”

He shook his head. “Leave her out of this. We’re talking about us. You know that Peri, and you, belong to Serasa-Kolme.”

You mean we belong to you
. She gritted her teeth. Like possessions that, if lost, would cost him honor. But she had to remember that Anja, as a matriarch, would take the same position. The difference would be that Anja would consider Peri’s needs first. “I don’t want to put Peri into Aracia’s hands any more than you do. But it may be in his best interest.”

Jan’s eyes looked dead, lifeless as a corpse, making her shiver. “I’ll fight any attempt to change Peri’s name. He’s my son and he’ll join me in the Serasa-Kolme constellation.”

Provided you can live with enough honor to reach the Stars
, she thought, but this time she didn’t have wine loosening her tongue. She wouldn’t take the risk, right now, of insulting Jan’s honor.

“You have no proof,” he added, after a pause. She knew that dangerously calm, calculating tone.

“Anja’s not a magistrate, so I don’t need proof. I can’t let your behavior taint Peri and I think she’ll agree.” Her voice shook. “And I won’t protect you any longer. No one else will, either. Norsis already knows Haversar is involved in my attack; he just can’t fathom why. You’d better make sure that musket is never found, because it
will
connect you to Haversar and when that happens, I won’t do a thing to help you.”

“I can’t be accountable for Haversar—”

She stopped him with a chopping motion of her hand. “I won’t listen to any more protests, because even
you
can’t tell when you’re speaking the truth any more. And, Ancestors forgive me, I won’t say anything about this to the captain, although you’ve changed our cities by giving criminals powder guns.”

“I didn’t do that.” Jan’s answer was automatic and had a small ring of truth, but she no longer cared. She opened the door, her form making a long, thin shadow into the hallway.

She paused and turned back. “This could be for the best. This will free
you
to be with Netta.”

“Netta hasn’t been able to have a child.” An emotion flickered quickly over Jan’s face. Concern? Pain? Who would know? She’d never seen true emotions from him, not even in the beginning of their marriage.

“Goodbye, Jan.” She closed the door and stumbled down the hall. She didn’t expect him to follow, and he didn’t. She left the officer barracks as fast as she could.

Outside, the light rain had stopped. The air smelled clean, purified of smoke and soot. Her chest tightened as she strode down the gaslit street, avoiding people who were taking their evening walks and enjoying the mild weather. After passing a man and woman strolling arm-in-arm, chattering to each other, she withdrew into an alley and leaned against the cold stone. Her body tried to sob, her chest heaved and her throat constricted, but she couldn’t cry. She hadn’t had true tears since… She hadn’t cried since her mother’s death.

There was no sense grieving the loss of something she’d never possessed. When she started walking again, she moved slowly, feeling old and infirm. Her shoulder throbbed. She craved warmth, so she headed toward light, food, and friends.

chapter Twenty-Eight

Safe Passage

In this hermitage, Sorceress-Apprentice Lahna tries to teach us elemental magic and searches for answers. Why can we no longer reach the Void? The Void sits high above the world, and is the source of elemental magic. Between the Void and the solid world is the Blindness: the realm of dreamers and monsters. We can still wander the Blindness but since Cessina’s death and the breaking of the Kaskea, no one can reach the Void, save he who is bound to the Phrenii.

—Meran-Nelja Pilas, tentatively dated T.Y. 1048

“By the Horn, I need a beer.” Draius lowered herself gingerly into one of the Sea Serpent’s chairs.

Berin’s rumble could be heard throughout the common room. Patrons at nearby tables turned and looked, maybe wondering whether the sound was laughter, or something more ominous. Although she hadn’t expected to find Berin and Wendell at the pub on a Millday evening, she was grateful to see their faces.

“You look worse than I imagined,” Berin said. “The
H&H
didn’t exaggerate that attack. No wonder you’re swearing.”

“Are you well, Draius?” Wendell poured her a glass of ale from their pitcher, his hand shaking a bit. He slid it over to her and she took a sip. The ale was stronger than the lager she intended to order, but at this point she didn’t care.

“I’m doing better than you, it would seem.” She noted Wendell’s pallor. He was also sweating, as if he burned with a fever. Her lips parted to ask him about his visit to her office but his eyes widened in alarm, like a trapped animal facing a predator.

She paused and Wendell quickly picked up the conversation. “I feel fine. I’m more concerned about your health and welfare.”

“My health is fine, my welfare is—well, that’s a different story.” Draius sighed.

“More ale!” roared Berin. The order bounced off the back wall and reverberated around the room.

As if everything could be solved by more ale, more lager, or more wine… Berin was lucky to have a simple life, and such a loyal friend and employee in Wendell. She raised her glass for another sip, while she looked at Berin’s assistant. Quiet, efficient Wendell. Always staying in the background. To her surprise, he was one of her distant cousins. Wendell’s birth had been marked as an outgoing asset of the offshoot Meran-Nelja line in Aracia’s records.

“So you’re tired of being chased around by thugs.” Berin’s voice boomed and carried through the room, and when Draius didn’t respond, he tried, “Or, perhaps, this is about Jan. What’s that ambitious manipulator done now?”

She winced. Although her old friend was surprisingly perceptive, he didn’t understand the complexities involved. He wasn’t a man who could see shades of gray and he’d never been subtle in his support. She remembered his enthusiastic cheering when she won the Cavalry Seat Horsemanship competition at the age of sixteen. Her father had been too busy to attend, but Berin had managed. She’d been both embarrassed and grateful for his loud support then—and she felt both those feelings now. But she could never tell Berin everything about her husband. Would she even be able to tell Anja?

“You’re already tracking backwards down the trail, aren’t you? Changing your mind?” Berin’s voice became deeper in a futile attempt to be quiet.

She glanced at him, startled. She
had
been wavering about carrying through her threats.

“I know you, girl.” He pointed a beefy finger in her face. “You came in here full of resolve, didn’t you? Now you’re starting to justify his actions, and making excuses.”

“So first I’m a woman, but now I’m a girl? I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Hmm. So, how’s your lieutenant?” Berin quickly changed the subject, knowing just how far to push her before pulling back.

“Lornis appears healthy enough after the phrenic healing. The physician says he can start working in a day or two.”

“Amazing,” Berin said in a sour tone. “He was almost dead a couple days ago. Just think what
our
physicians could do with the knowledge locked up in those creatures.”

She frowned. Berin’s viewpoints about the Phrenii were not uncommon—one only had to look at the letters to the
H&H
to find others with the same opinions—but she wasn’t in the mood to listen to him this evening.

“It’s not the Phrenii’s fault that they can’t teach our physicians,” she said. “They say mankind can’t work without pictures, but they never think in pictures.”

“Five creatures can’t take care of an entire country of people. We learned this, to our detriment, during the Fevers. If they could train our hundreds of physicians—”

“Since their methods are magical, how can mankind learn them? For Lornis, at least, we should be grateful they have such methods! The Guard nearly lost a most valuable man—” She stopped. Even on this subject, she now held secrets. The captain said no one else could be told about Jhari’s foretelling.

Berin cocked his head. When she didn’t continue, he sat back and sighed.

“Look, let’s not hash over one of the oldest arguments in history. Instead, let’s hope your lieutenant has some spine left after the healing, so he doesn’t burst into tears at the sight of a criminal.”

She didn’t answer. When did Lornis become
her
lieutenant? As if he’d become her responsibility. That hit a tender nerve, since she was responsible for the attack, in a way. She stared into her glass, watching a tiny bubble at the bottom slowly lose hold and lazily float to the top. She realized how tired she was, and how emotionally drained. There was no spark of energy or committment left within her.

Silence reigned at their table. Berin took a deep pull at his ale, and then held his empty glass up, sighing.

“Where is that girl?” Grumbling, he got up. Berin stopped the serving girl at the counter, where he started berating her, at top volume, on the quality of service. This time it wasn’t Raivata serving them, but a docile, round-faced girl who looked more suited to the farm than the pub.

Wendell had stayed quiet, but after Berin left the table he reached out and laid a hand on her arm. “Draius, you must be
very
careful.” His mouth twitched and his eyes had a feverish intensity.

“Of course.”

“I mean you must be wary of everyone. It would be best if you found a different job.”

“Is that why you came to the office? To give me warning?” She moved her arm away from his hand, and saw a flash of fear go through his eyes before he deliberately looked away.

“I only stopped by to check on your health.” Wendell looked down, withdrawing as Berin came back to the table carrying a pitcher of ale.

“I’m going to have a talk with Mainos about that girl,” Berin said.

“Unfortunately, I must say good night. I’m still fighting a chill.” Wendell got up and bowed, before putting on his cloak and taking his leave.

Draius watched him go while sipping her drink. “How long have you known Wendell?”

“He’s worked for me several years now. Hired him after you and Jan left for Betarr Kain.”

“Did you know him before that?”

Berin’s forehead wrinkled while he stroked his beard. “I guess not. We were introduced through a mutual friend.”

“Do you know he’s Meran?”

“His lineage is Purje-Kolme, but half this city can trace their blood back to a Meran line. Why?”

“No reason. But if I were you, I’d make sure he got to a physician. You don’t want to lose a good employee.”

“No, I don’t. But I’m concerned about my long-time friend right now. I think you are in need of some entertainment. The carnival is setting up in the market square for Ringday—let me take you and Peri. It’ll get your mind off your problems.”

“Peri would enjoy that.” She smiled, remembering a younger Berin who took a gangly adolescent girl under his wing. At sixteen, she had few friends and her father, a King’s magistrate, benignly ignored her. He pulled her out of the Meran-Viisi lessons with her cousins and arranged for the best tutors that could be found in the sister cities, but they couldn’t replace a young girl’s need for family and friendship. Berin offered her that friendship without any conditions; he’d never shown any need for deeper involvement and she’d never wondered, never wanted to know, why.

When Draius came home, she found Peri and told him about the carnival on Ringday. He was so excited she worried about his concentration in his lessons and hoped Anja wouldn’t get a message from his tutor.

“I can’t wait till Ringday. Will there be magicians, will we see magic?” Peri asked.

She laughed. “The magicians you see in the carnival aren’t using real magic. Only the Phrenii can do that.”

“Then why are they called magicians?”

“They’re sleight-of-hand artists, meaning they play tricks with their quick fingers. Now you need to get ready for bed.”

Peri couldn’t go to sleep immediately, having more questions. She answered them, calmed him down, and eventually he drifted off. After that, she went downstairs and found Anja in the front parlor working at her desk with a lamp. Financial records were spread across the desk and Anja worked though columns of numbers.

The young matriarch looked up.

For a moment Draius paused in the doorway, uncertain. Then her resolve hardened. This was the right thing to do, especially for Peri. She could no longer ignore Jan’s behavior, not if she wanted to respect herself, and keep her son’s respect. In a way, she knew this moment would come ever since she sat down to the comfortable meal with Lornis, Peri, and Anja, when she had noticed the relief of Jan’s absence, before the charm started tightening… She rubbed her neck, then quietly closed the parlor doors behind her for privacy.

Anja was still waiting.

“I wish to speak with you, as matriarch for my family.”

“Of course.” Anja put aside the records and picked up a folded piece of paper: the one that, more than two eight-days ago, Draius had pushed under the doors. That formal complaint had seemed courageous at the time, but now she knew it was a cowardly postponement to the decision she had to make.

“I wish to dissolve my marriage contract.” There was nothing she could add to soften the words. Anja motioned her to a seat, which she took. Her legs felt shaky.

“Is your decision final? Is it based upon calm reason?” Anja asked. “Jan’s a stable and handsome man who cares for his son and has the resources of the Serasa-Kolme behind him.”

“He does care for Peri. But he has no sincere feelings for me, nor I for him. We will have no more children.” She’d made the biggest threat she could make to a matriarch. Anja’s eyebrows tightened. Her dark blue eyes, so similar to Jan’s, remained cool and her fingers began a slow drumming on the edge of the desk, sounding like hollow footsteps.

“Jan professes otherwise. Perhaps you need more time. The sting of betrayal and humiliation will fade eventually.”

She flushed. “I admit Jan’s last affair hurt my pride more than my heart. But there’s more involved here than betrayal. Or love lost.” To suppress the tremor in her voice, she carefully chose her words. “I don’t agree with the… approach Jan uses, in his life and in his career. He walks the edge of ethical behavior and stretches the law to suit his actions. I don’t want Peri to learn from him, or mimic him.”

Anja became still. She stared at her fingers on the edge of the desk while she asked, “Can you provide examples of inappropriate
behavior
, beyond his infidelities?”

Draius took a deep breath. “For his actions in Betarr Kain, I have support that would be acceptable to a magistrate. I have a letter Jan used to harass—” She might as well be honest, since she was betting her life on Anja’s response. “Actually, Jan
blackmailed
a fellow officer, a rival who had fallen into debt. For his behavior here in the sister cities, I have only suspicions. However, I’m certain that Jan’s criminal contacts arranged the attack upon Officer Lornis and me.”

“Are you intending to use this as leverage against the Serasa-Kolme? Perhaps bypass my arbitration?” Anja still hadn’t moved.

“No, of course not.” She didn’t want Anja to think she was also resorting to blackmail. “I don’t want Peri to
ever
learn about this. I’m trying to say that my regard for Jan isn’t entirely the result of my hurt pride. My honor requires this, as does my self-respect. I suspect you have your own resources—look into Jan’s activities yourself, if you choose.”

If you dare, Lady Anja.
The room was quiet for a moment as their gazes locked.

“Then I ask you to keep this to yourself until I’ve had time to do that,” Anja said firmly.

“Certainly.” When Anja didn’t look convinced, she added, “On my Honor, Lady.”

Anja leaned back and crossed her arms. “I’ll be honest. It’s unlikely that Vakuutis-Nelja Netta will have any children. Thus, contracting her to
any
Serasa-Kolme asset would be unwise, particularly to Jan, who has already successfully fathered a child. My best bet is to see you and Jan reconciled.”

She felt a pang of pity for Netta, but shrugged it aside. “I will abide by your decision, Lady, but I promise you we’ll
never
reconcile.”

“Very well.” Anja sighed and picked up a pen on her desk. “I’ll look into your concerns. Do you wish Lady Meran-Viisi Aracia to be your advocate?”

“No, I don’t need Meran-Viisi involvement. I’m not asking for lineal changes—both Peri and I should remain Serasa-Kolme.”

“Really?” Anja asked. “Why should
you
stay Serasa-Kolme?”

“You said I could be useful, that I could be valuable—” She stumbled over the words.

“If you left the City Guard? Are you thinking of quitting, Draius?”

“Not quitting, never that.” She raised her chin. “But if circumstances don’t change, I may lose my position and perhaps even my commission. That’s simply the price for failure.”

Anja smiled and her face softened. Draius was surprised how young she looked, but then quickly reminded herself that Lady Anja was a matriarch.
Never
trust someone who’s trained to run a lineage, someone who was raised to sacrifice anything and everything for her bloodline and “assets.”