The Queen of Lies (10 page)

Jessa spat the wine and knocked the glass from Torin’s hand. “It’s poison! Someone find a healer!” She looked around the barge. Couples were staring wide-eyed in shock.

Torin fell back in his chair, confused. He was breathing heavily.

Her eyes met with those of the waitress at the other end of the wine barge and saw her reach for something beneath the counter. The woman jerked a crossbow from under the bar and drew it on Jessa with nearly lightning-quick reflexes. If her reflexes
had
been lightning quick, Jessa might have died.

Before she even knew what she was doing, Jessa stood and threw her right hand in front of her. A flare of blinding light exploded from her palm as a crackling trail of electricity struck the waitress in the chest and sent her crashing limply against the wine rack behind her. Glass bottles tumbled and crashed to the deck of the ship. The waitress didn’t move.

Screaming and chaos ensued as the couples dove under tables. A young man abandoned his date and plunged into the Trident River.

Jessa looked to Torin, who was breathing shallowly. His body wasn’t moving or speaking, but his blue eyes searched hers fearfully. The Invocari hovered by his side, trying to loosen his collar, but it almost seemed as if Torin were pushing him away. On the table a shard of glass cut into the wood of its own accord, scratching a final message.

“THIS SUCKS.”

The shard of glass fell over, and Torin’s eyes stopped moving. The tip of Jessa’s tongue felt cold with the paralytic as she spoke. “Torin?”

Desperately she pressed her hands to his chest. She never had used her lightning to revive someone from the brink of death. She had no sense of how much power to apply. She shocked his chest, but he remained motionless, his rib cage silent of rumblings of life.

The Invocari rushed over to her. “We need to get you to safety. I’ll carry you to the riverbank.”

Jessa shrugged off his hands and gathered her skirt. “It’s fine…” She stepped off the edge of the boat onto the river, letting the surface of the water support her. “I’ll walk.”

The Invocari followed her as he signaled to the city guards on the bank. People gaped in open amazement as Jessa stepped across the river. Her heart was racing. Overhead she felt the skies start to darken.

XIII. FORBIDDEN ARCANA

I. Any mage who seeks to alter the course of past events through chronomancy will be made to relive the memory of her greatest anguish for the rest of her natural days.

II. Any mage who seeks to traffic with beings from the other realm of existence by planar summoning will be stripped of his power and given unto the chimera to devour.

III. Any mage who seeks to undo Creation through the practice of annihilation magic will be tortured to death over the course of a fortnight.

IV. Any mage who seeks to become a god through the Rituals of Apotheosis will be offered to the Primal Titans in a blood sacrifice appropriate to the element.

V. Any mage who seeks immortality will be made to live with her mistake for all eternity.

—
THE THIRTEENTH TABLE OF ARCHEAN LAW

M
ADDOX STOOD IN
the center of the drawing room as the Scholars and Masters took their seats. Torin’s face was thankfully missing from the crowd. Magi Lidora and Turnbull sat front and center, a grim scarecrow of an old woman and a bald man who looked like a giant fat baby. Maddox scanned the faces for any sign of the Archean High Wizard, Petra, but she wasn’t present.

Turnbull spoke first. “Once again we find you here, Scholar Baeland, and under circumstances most dire.”

“Speak before those who bear the Seal of Veritas what happened last night,” Lidora intoned.

“Magus Tertius threw me off the observation tower,” Maddox said, not seeing any point in trying to conceal it.

“Truth,” the assembled scholars with the Veritas Seal muttered in unison, although some of their voices said it more like a question. There were gasps and whispers.

“He poisoned me first.” Maddox paced back and forth leisurely as he recounted the events. “I don’t really blame him. Deaths from the Vitae Seal are a fucking lousy way to go. I just wish he’d maybe waited. Anyway he lifted me into the air and dropped me onto the pavement, where I lost consciousness and half my brain matter. I awoke in Magus Quirrus’s laboratory next to what I’m told were my removed organs.”

“Truth.”

“And do you have any idea how you came back from your apparent demise?” Lidora asked.

“No,” Maddox said.

The chorus of notaries chimed back whispers of “Evasion” and “Uncertainty.”

“Obviously I
think
it has to do with my seal,” Maddox clarified, “but since I don’t know that, I can’t testify as to its nature. You can’t ask me what I think after making open-ended speculation.”

“Tell us about the seal,” Turnbull said. “Why did you draw it that way? Did you know this would be the result?”

“I…I had a vision. I didn’t know what would happen, just that it felt right.”

“Truth,” the mages said.

“Do you have to keep doing that?” Maddox snapped at one of the notaries. “Both the magi and record keepers have the Veritas Seal. And I know if I’m telling the truth. No one needs you to keep telling everyone.”

Turnbull nodded. “Let it be known that Scholar Baeland foregoes his rights to know the results of the Veritas in regard to his testimony. Now…you were saying you had a vision. Have you had visions before?”

“No.”

“Have you studied any arts that would grant you the power of visions? I didn’t see any in your records.” Turnbull indicated a leather folio stuffed with parchment that rested next to him.

“No.”

“Did you have anything to do with Magus Tertius’s untimely death? Even so much as a desire for it to happen during those final moments?” Lidora asked pointedly.

“No,” Maddox said, suddenly angry. “I didn’t have time to think about revenge. I was pissed as hell when I woke up because the man was like a father to me and the only person in this entire institution I considered a friend, but I never once wanted him to die.”

“But you must agree,” Turnbull said in his high, lispy voice, “the timing and nature of his death are highly suspicious. We’ve never had a harrowing inside the wards of the Lyceum, yet the very man who tried to end your life winds up dead the same night. And to compound the suspiciousness, you’re miraculously restored to life within hours, if not minutes, of another life being taken.”

Maddox waited before folding his arms. “I didn’t hear a fucking question.”

“Watch your tone, Scholar.” Turnbull rolled his eyes. “Tertius may have found humor in your antics, but that doesn’t apply to the remaining faculty. It’s not cute.”

“Truth,” one of the mages said under his breath. The one next to him hit him in the side.

Lidora continued, “Have you had any contact with the Harrowers last night or ever, either directly or through one of their agents or through any area of study not sanctioned by the Lyceum? An answer of yes must account for anything remotely suspect—anything from agreeing to a pact or as innocuous as handling an artifact from one of the dark dolmens. “

“Absolutely not.”

Maddox paused. The mages were staring at him intently, almost leaning out of their seats. It was a loaded question, and Turnbull was clearly out for blood.

“I know justice is a legal gray area in this situation, but I’m not even going to get a fucking apology? Tertius killed me rather than risk his own reputation.” Maddox was furious. “What is wrong with you?”

“Magus Tertius exceeded his authority as dean of the college,” Lidora said. “It’s a regrettable coda to an exemplary life of scholarship. I speak for everyone when I say we all feel deeply betrayed by his actions.”

“Actions you inspired,” Turnbull added quickly.

“So it’s my fucking fault?” Maddox couldn’t believe his ears. He couldn’t even look at the bastards. He turned his back to them and stared at the drawing table.

“You’re a troubled, unstable individual, Maddox Baeland.” Turnbull raised his voice slightly. “You’re a drunk and a bully. Exactly the sort of person who has no business learning the Grand Art, and we’re seeing firsthand the consequences of having allowed it.”

Lidora offered sympathetically, “You may spend the time you have remaining here in the special annex for observation and study, where you’ll be made comfortable. Since no one at this school aside from Tertius has attained the Seal of Life, we must bring in an expert from one of the other colleges to determine whether your seal is in fact pact magic.”

“You can’t do this.” Maddox turned red. The special annex was a euphemism for the arcane loony bin—for people whose magic or minds were too shattered for them to return to a normal life.

“It’s already done,” Lidora said. “Magus Turnbull has been elected dean, and it’s his decision. With your death the school is legally under no obligation to offer you any further services. The annex is a generous offer, not a punishment.”

Turnbull added, “And your meager wealth has been remanded to the Lyceum, as per your last will. It won’t cover even a fraction of the damage to the conjuration circle incurred during your attempt to bind the seal. Obviously your license to practice any magic outside the school is revoked.”

“Hell. No.” Maddox pointed his finger accusingly. “You can all shit flaming centipedes! I’m not going to the annex, and you can’t keep me here to study me. I’m done. Go fuck yourselves.” He stormed toward the side door, but it shut firmly as he approached.

“You should really reconsider,” Turnbull said mildly. “If you leave we’ll have to turn this investigation over to the Hierocracy. I’m sure the inquisitors will be…thorough.”

“Tell the Hypocrisy they can choke on it. I’ve broken no laws.”

Maddox yanked at the door with his mind. It rattled as he and Turnbull wrestled with it. For a Master of Five Seals, the giant baby didn’t have much muscle behind his magic. The door burst open.

“Might want to get that door looked at,” Maddox said. “It sticks a little.”

“Go with Ohan, Maddox Baeland,” Turnbull called after him, as he stomped down the hallway.

Three Invocari hovered by the door and followed him like a flock of dark angels. More appeared from alcoves on either side, joining their brethren in formation as he marched off the premises into the afternoon light of Rivern.

He took one last look at the Lyceum. On the marble steps, ten or twelve black-cloaked figures formed a phalanx in front of the door. His eyes looked to the dome over the drawing room and the seals inscribed over the walls. The sun had just passed behind the observation tower, leaving him in a long shadow. “Fuck it,” he muttered, as he ripped off his gold medallion with its lone seal and chucked it at the steps.

As Maddox made his way through town, he noticed many stores were closed, and the markets were empty save for a few vegetable stands and silk-wrapped Turisian women peddling protective trinkets. People looked exhausted as they trudged down the pavement. Hand-painted signs advertised evening hours; people were starting to sleep during the day to avoid the nocturnal death.

A harrowing happened once a decade at most in Rivern. Two deaths within the same year happened once a century. Now the total was five, and people were panicking. The bars seemed to be doing a brisk trade—people were spilling out onto the street by the Wolf & Owl. A bottle of Shyford County bourbon sounded great, but it was a little out of his price range.

He walked past a sad, rickety cart selling day-old meat pies, the merchant too ashamed of his wares to even make eye contact. Maddox couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten anything. It was at least three days ago, and his stomach didn’t so much as grumble as he sniffed the stale bread.

He made his way down to the falls and took the switchback road to the Backwash. The streets were livelier as people went about their daily business. Five deaths in a month wasn’t even news in this part of town, or at least people were more accustomed to taking their chances.

“Hand job, ser?” A kid who couldn’t have been more than fifteen and looked to be fresh off the farm from some backward corner of the province walked beside him, looking scared and pathetic. “Five ducats for a wank. I haven’t eaten in days, ser. Please…I gots real soft hands.”

“And I bet you have real sticky fingers—it’s easy to grab a coin purse and run, leaving a man’s trousers around his ankles.”

“Been caught with your pants down a lot before, ser?” the kid said sarcastically.

“I grew up here,” Maddox said as he left him behind. The kid yelled some profanity, but with the rush of the waterfall so close, his words disappeared into the mist.

Even if the offer had been at all interesting to him, five ducats was more than Maddox could afford for a hand job. He had made a small stipend as Tertius’s assistant, but most of that had gone toward his tuition. All his possessions were at the Lyceum in his room, which he was now banned from entering.

That left him fifteen ducats to his name. He immediately regretted tearing off his Scholar’s emblem—it was real gold, mostly. He had nowhere to sleep.
Fuck, I might have to start giving hand jobs.
It wouldn’t be such a bad gig, considering the only other thing he was qualified to do was work on Alchemists’ Row.