The Queen of Lies (35 page)

Satryn gently shushed him by placing her hand over his mouth. “Enough about the damnable wards.”

Her emotions were raw from the loss of her brother and threatened to cloud her mind. Maelcolm always had been her inner strength, as she had been his outer. He was miles beneath the surface of the ocean, but the weight of his death pressed on her from all sides. They had been born two halves of one soul, and now she carried the burden of both. If she let her sentiment make her careless now, all her scheming would have been for nothing.

“It’s nothing personal, seal mage…but I was here first.” She sighed as she unloaded all her electricity into his body.

Death happened quickly, but his body continued to dance to her lightning. He flailed and twitched but eventually went rigid as the smell of smoke and burning flesh rose from his corpse. The skin on his face where she touched him turned black.

She braced herself for the sound of the airlock opening, the inevitable chill as the Invocari leached the air and warmth from the chamber. They might try to kill her, rather than put her down, but it was a calculated risk.

Instead there was silence.

She flung Maddox’s smoldering body to the floor and whipped around to gaze at her captors. A dozen or so were positioned around the cell, watching. The faces of the hovering, shrouded figures were devoid of expression, their hands folded.

She looked down at Maddox. “Fuck.”

I
TEM 415:
IT
is a longsword constructed out of a single piece of Archean alloy, and the simple design is clearly inspired by the Meritisan School, which places it at late Second Era. The weight is minimal, and the edges show no signs of sharpening or wear. The core jewel is heartstone, which suggests it can house some intelligence, but any attempts to communicate can be done only in emotive tones, which are distinctly uncooperative.

The Hierocracy says it is a holy relic, but I find this claim dubious. There are no markings on the blade, religious, arcane, or otherwise.

I believe this sword may be an ancient precursor to our own study, if not one of the first true artifacts. Just as the first magi inserted consciousness into clumsy humanoid forms, the creators of the sword may have lacked the utilitarian sensibilities of modern artifice. Inside 415, I believe, is a human soul stripped of memory, retaining only the characteristics its creators wished to preserve.

Item 415 is a marvel, but why not give it the power of mobility? Why rely on meat that is prone to pain and fatigue to fulfill its design?. A circular (or optimally a spherical) design, for instance, would allow maximum lethality in all directions. Without self-propulsion it is at an extreme tactical disadvantage against aerial assault.

As with most Dark Magic to emerge from those lost eras, the blade’s original purpose may never be known.

—NOTES OF MAGUS AURIUS IN THE REPOSITORY MANIFEST

S
WORD SLAMMED
M
ADDOX’S
head on a stack of important-looking parchments. If it perturbed Daphne at all, she gave no outward indication. Heath had learned his trade in deception at her feet, so there really was no telling, but the thought gave Sword some sense of satisfaction.

The abbess folded her hands. “What is this?”

“The head of Maddox Baeland, Your Worship. Recovered from the body of a revenant. Please enjoy.” Sword bowed and offered an exaggerated flourish of his hand as he stepped backward from the desk.

“It is his head.” Daphne picked it up delicately and stared into its eyes. “But I’m afraid that particular commission already has been filled. And as for his severed head, I’m already well supplied with that particular item.”

“What?” Heath asked.

“His head,” Daphne stated. “I have one already. I don’t really see the need for two. However, if I should ever require more, I have an unlimited supply. You see, I found him myself and have him sequestered in the Invocari tower for study.”

“This doesn’t add up,” Heath said. “How is he even still alive?”

“Immortality,” Daphne said.

“I’m immortal,” Sword said. “You don’t see my heads rolling around.”

“You wanted out. I don’t have to share any information with you,” Daphne explained. She tossed the head aside and let it roll across the hard stone floor of her office. It bounced against the wall and rolled around, finally settling on its side.

Sword looked to Heath, whose face was an ocean of serene tranquility. He was masking his emotions, making it impossible for Daphne to read his intent. Heath shrugged. “I’m at a loss, Daphne. I didn’t think you had the stomach for fieldwork anymore.”

Daphne flashed a tight grin. “I’d wondered the same about you. It seems we were both wrong about that. Was it difficult, watching Sword cut the head off your…friend?”

Sword interjected, “He cried like a fucking baby, if that makes you happy. Where’s our payment?”

Daphne chuckled. “You know, when I recruited Heath for the Inquisition, the first question he asked was, ‘What does it pay?’ Most people do it for the cause, or the safety of Creation, or some shred of deeply held personal conviction regarding the work we do. But not Heath. He wanted money. That’s how I knew he’d be willing to do anything. But you, Sword, this isn’t like you.”

“Nobody ever asked me if I wanted this work,” Sword spat. He didn’t need money, but Heath was the first Inquisitor to actually treat him like a person.

“Money is simpler,” Heath responded, “but this isn’t the first time someone beat us to the punch. Comes with the profession. I just wanted to let you know that I still value our friendship. Honestly it wasn’t even that dangerous. Maddox had been turned into a revenant by the time we found him. I’d feel guilty accepting payment in any event.”

Daphne cocked an eyebrow. “What do you want?”

“I think you’re holding out on better opportunities,” Heath said. “Sword and I have come across some information while working a separate inquiry on behalf of our mutual acquaintances in the tower. I think we should combine our investigations into the harrowings. We could help each other.”

“Go on…”

Heath folded his arms. “We’re your best agents. Why aren’t we working this?”

Sword crossed his arms as well. “Yeah. I’m the only one with the theurgy to kill one of those Harrowers if it comes through.”

“While I appreciate your enthusiasm, the Inquisition has had five hundred years to prepare for another incursion,” Daphne said. “You’re not the only tools at our disposal.”

Sword glared at her and pounded his chest. “I am the Sword of Saint Jeffrey. I brought down Vilos of Bamor single-handedly. I lived through the Occultation and witnessed firsthand the fragmentation of reality and the manifestation of Fear. I know more about the Harrowers than any sentient thing in Creation.”

“So what tools are you using, Daphne?” Heath chimed in.

“If you know something, tell me.” She folded her hands and perched her chin.

Sword glanced at Heath.
She’s hiding something.

Heath shrugged nonchalantly. “Evan Landry. Heard of him?”

Daphne took out a quill and ink and wrote something on a parchment. “No, but I can check the records. What’s the connection?”

Heath and Sword shared a glance.

“Not a clue. I was hoping you’d tell us,” Heath said.

“Anything else you’d like to share?” Daphne asked pointedly. “A name by itself isn’t much to go on. Where did you hear it?”

Heath shook his head. “What do you think, Sword? Should we tell her the truth?”

Sword smirked. He knew where Heath was going with this, so he dropped the name and lied. “Esme told us.”

Daphne froze, just for a split second. “Who?”

“We know she was working for you,” Heath continued. “She said she was looking into a circle of hedge wizards. Oddly she was in Landry Manor, where we found Maddox’s head attached to a revenant.”

“
Very
odd,” Sword concurred.

She addressed Sword. “Did you two fight?”

“Something about her made me want to,” Sword admitted. “Heath is a bit of a softie, though. It’s what we love about him.”

“Evan Landry,” Daphne drawled. “I hate to disappoint you, but there probably isn’t anyone that goes by that name in Rivern. Landry is an old name. Esme likely gave that to you to send you on a wild-goose chase. The girl has talent, but she’s a compulsive liar.”

“You called it, Sword.” Heath sighed and slumped his shoulders.

“Told you, mate.” He puffed out his broad chest.

“I’m very sorry to have wasted your time,” Heath apologized. “You know where to find us if you want us in on this investigation. I do have one more favor to ask before we take your leave.”

“Anything.” Daphne smiled.

Heath said, “I want to see Maddox.”

“What?” Sword did a double take.

Daphne leaned back in her chair. “I’m not sure that’s wise. Besides it’s out of my hands. The warding chamber is also occupied by another resident…an imperial. There are political complications, and adding you to the visitor list would be next to impossible without approval from the Assembly. Do you
have
a compelling reason?”

“No,” Heath lied. “I just feel bad about how things ended between us. I acted uncharitably.”

“I’ll see what I can arrange.” Daphne made another note on her parchment. “Now if that’s all, I have some urgent business to attend to. I’ll send for you if I need anything further.”

Heath bowed and took his leave, with Sword trailing behind. Neither said a word to each other as they made their way through the temple, vestibule, and out onto the street. They took zigzagging paths through the city, carefully watching to see whether they were being followed. They were. A few green Inquisition spies but none of their heavy hitters.

It took a half hour to ditch their tail, and they ended up near the Lyceum at the Silver Stave, a bar that catered to students. The interior of the tavern was cheery, with dark wood paneling, and pennants representing the various colleges hung from the walls. The Artifact College’s banner hung prominently over the open dining area.

The bar was doing some business, but Heath and Sword secured a booth without hassle. The place was covered in a hazy green mist of dragonfire as patrons smoked it out of long glass pipes and chatted maniacally. Most of the students were artificers. Automatons wandered the floor, relentlessly refilling glasses, filling pipes, and wiping down tables.

It was noisy enough to have a private conversation.

Sword broke the silence. “The fuck was that?” He motioned for one of the automatons carrying a tray of drinks and pipes.

“The Daphne I know wouldn’t have let us walk out of that office without our spilling everything we know. Especially if it involved even the slightest whiff of pact magic. She knows something.”

“Do you think Maddox is really still alive?” Heath asked.

“The dead can’t rise,” Sword said flatly. “Not with the magic you lot have today, and even back in the old times, it was hard as fuck. That’s one of the principal limitations of magic. Dead is dead.”

“She has at least two severed heads,” Heath reiterated. “And apparently a living specimen in the tower. Can heads be regrown?”

“No.” Sword waved his hands. “That’s ridiculous. The only way that could happen would be if there were multiple copies of him, so he’s either a simulacrum or—”

The serving automaton came by their table, and Sword threw some coins on the tray and helped himself to a pipe and a glass. He took another glass and put it in front of Heath.

Heath drummed his fingers impatiently as Sword put the pipe in his mouth and fired up a small alchemical burner on the table.

Sword exhaled a plume of green vapor and coughed. “Chronomancy. Reversing time to the exact point of death…but mate, he’d need to have a greater seal, and that Lore was buried deep and forbidden before the Occultation. Chronomancy doesn’t exist anymore.”

Heath waved the smoke out of his face. “Maddox is still a seal mage. He could have drawn a greater seal.”

“If he was an archwizard maybe.” Sword rolled his eyes. “Could be anything. I’d know for sure if I actually saw him or checked his body for seals.”

“The body we burned along with the library…” Heath said dismally.

“Fuck.”

Heath sipped his drink. “We need to talk to him. Daphne’s not doing anything to stop this, which means she’s probably in on it. Catherine—the echo of her—said Maddox would know who Evan Landry is or lead us to him. That’s the key.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time an Inquisitor went rogue.” Sword’s skin started to buzz with energy. “All that Dark Magic is awfully tempting. And it’s not like we haven’t used a bit of the forbidden arts ourselves to fight the good fight.”

“Harrowings are a good way to drop bodies in the river without drawing suspicion,” Heath said. “The city’s been turning to religion a lot more since this started. Daphne also got a more cooperative dean of the Lyceum out of the unfortunate demise of Maddox’s mentor. And if Maddox really can’t be killed, he might be the only person who can survive an attack and name the perpetrator.”