The Smoke-Scented Girl (16 page)

“Miss Haylter, I ought to arrest you for
murder,” Mr. Terantis said, coming to a stop in front of her. “Ten
incidents—eleven, now, I’ve just learned—and nearly forty dead.
I’ve seen the remains of some of your victims. You expect me to
believe that you’re not dangerous?”

“Miss Haylter is a victim of the spell you
see surrounding her,” Evon said. The dead look had returned to
Kerensa’s eyes and he felt like beating the huge man senseless. “It
is attached to her, but it acts of its own volition. She is in no
way to blame for those deaths.”

“So you say,” Mr. Terantis growled, turning
on Evon. “I’ve never heard of a spell like that before. Far more
likely she’s a magician who got some idea in her head about
prosecuting her own justice and found a way to do it.” He spun back
to face Kerensa. “Tell us how to work the spell, and you’ll go
free, much as it pains me to let a murderess go unpunished.”

“I didn’t do it,” Kerensa said, her voice
dull. “I don’t know how it works. I can’t help you.”

“You’d better change your mind before we have
to change it for you.”

“Don’t threaten her,” Evon began, and Piercy
cut in with, “Mr. Terantis, I assure you Mr. Lorantis knows his
business. If he says the spell is independent of Miss Haylter, he
is speaking the truth.”

Mr. Terantis waved his hand in the direction
of the spell. “You expect me to believe something as damned
unsettling as this isn’t dangerous? That she doesn’t have control
over it? We need this spell, Faranter, and I didn’t come all this
way to be told that’s not possible.”

“If you would
listen
instead of
tossing off threats,” Evon said, “I will explain everything I’ve
learned about the spell. It’s certainly a weapon—”

“Under no one’s hand!”

“—as I said, it is a weapon, and I think if
it is safely detached from Miss Haylter—”

“Forget about that,” Mr. Terantis said.
“We’ll take her back to Matra where our magicians can examine
her.”

“You are not taking her
anywhere
,”
Evon shouted, “because if you interfere with the spell’s function,
the results will be disastrous. Remember the second event? That’s
what happens when Miss Haylter is prevented from following the
spell’s direction. Do you really want that to happen in the center
of Matra? Of your headquarters? You can’t be that foolish.”

“Evon,” Piercy said, “I think—”

“Don’t call me a fool, boy,” Mr. Terantis
shouted back. “You think to threaten me? You’ve already said the
spell is under no one’s control and now you pretend you know when
it will strike? Abretis. Wylter. Find a way to get rid of
these...things...and prepare to transport the girl.”

“No,” Kerensa said, her voice firmer now. “I
won’t go with you.”

“Stay away from her,” Evon said, stepping in
front of Kerensa and flexing his fingers. Frantically, he ran
through spells in his mind, looking for something that might stop
them without escalating this nightmare. Were they magicians? Surely
not, or they’d have slapped him with
desini cucurri
or
something more potent the second he moved. Abretis and Wylter both
took a step and then halted, hands on the clearly not decorative
blades at their hips. They eyed his hands as if assessing their
chances at reaching him before he loosed a spell. Evon tried to
look fiercely determined instead of filled with despair. Mr.
Terantis had come with no intent to listen to him. In a moment he
would realize that Evon couldn’t attack his people without
committing treason, and he would take Kerensa back to Matra, and
the Gods only knew what disaster would come of that.

Footsteps sounded in the hall. “Garaid, the
area is secure,” said a woman, and the next moment she came into
view. She was in her mid-forties, a few years younger than Mr.
Terantis, with graying brown hair and a square face with a
prominent chin. Her blue eyes took in the situation in one glance,
pausing briefly on Kerensa wreathed in blue, catching Evon’s eye
and then moving on to rest on Mr. Terantis. “Stand down,” she said
to Wylter and Abretis, who quickly stepped back all the way into
the hall. “Garaid, is that the girl?”

“You can see she’s dangerous,” Mr. Terantis
said.

“It’s not true,” Kerensa said, her voice
trembling, but to Evon’s surprise with anger, not fear. “I don’t
want to hurt anyone.”

Mr. Terantis ignored her. “Get out of the way
or I’ll charge you with treason,” he snarled at Evon.

“The only danger she poses to you is if you
try to take her back to the capital,” Evon said, not moving.

“May I see?” the woman asked, and walked
around Evon without waiting for his permission. He fell back,
startled, and Mr. Terantis grabbed his arm and twisted it painfully
behind his back and put a pistol to his side. Piercy said, “Don’t!”
and moved toward Mr. Terantis, but hesitated when the man pressed
the gun more firmly into Evon’s side.

“Stop!” Kerensa leaped to her feet, a look of
horror on her face. The spell-ribbons flew wildly about her body.
The woman glanced at Mr. Terantis and Evon with no sign of
agitation. “Let him go, Garaid, don’t turn this into something we
can’t come back from,” she said. “
Let him go
,” she repeated
when Mr. Terantis showed no sign of moving. Mr. Terantis stared her
down for a moment, breathing heavily, then released Evon and shoved
him away. Evon stumbled to his knees, caught his balance, and
looked up at Kerensa. “It’s all right,” he said, though he wasn’t
sure that was true. She reached out and helped him stand, gripping
his hand tightly before releasing it to clasp her hands in front of
her.

“Mr. Faranter wasn’t clear on the details,”
the woman said, “but I can see now that this spell defies easy
description.” She turned to face Evon. “I’m Brenla Petelter,” she
said, “deputy minister in the department of Home Defense. I take it
you are Mr. Lorantis?”

Evon nodded. “Miss Petelter—”

“Mrs.,” Mrs. Petelter said with no rancor.
“Tell me about the spell.”

“Ah,” said Evon, caught off guard by her
directness. “Well. It’s made up of hundreds of runes—do you know
anything about magic, Mrs. Petelter?”

“I have some magical training, yes.”

“Then you know how unusual that is. The runes
make sentences that describe and execute the function of the spell.
I’ve already been able to decipher about a hundred of them, enough
to make out a few details. It’s definitely a weapon—that is to say,
the spell’s creator built it specifically to target and...and
attack based on certain criteria.”

“So there’s a pattern to whom you choose to
kill?” Mrs.Petelter said, addressing Kerensa, whose face went
expressionless. Evon could almost see her withdrawing into
herself.

“
She’s not doing it
,” he said, so
frustrated he wanted to scream it at the woman. “The spell is using
her as the means to fulfil its instructions. Miss Haylter
dies,
Mrs. Petelter, every time the spell is released, and
it puts her back together again to repeat the process. Does that
sound like something
anyone
would willingly undergo?”

“I beg your pardon,” Mrs. Petelter said,
eyeing Evon with a calculating expression. “You can see how that
would be hard to believe.”

“I know. It’s also the truth. Mrs. Petelter,
I have been studying this spell for days. I admit there’s still a
great deal I don’t understand. But I am convinced that the spell is
separate from Miss Haylter and I am trying my best to detach it.
Then we might be able to use it as a weapon in this war.”

“You see how dangerous it is?” Mr. Terantis
said. “It’s not under anyone’s control, Brenla. We can’t take the
chance that it might injure innocent people. We have to take it
back to Matra with us.”

“That would be a huge mistake,” Evon said.
“If Miss Haylter is prevented from reaching her target, the power
builds until it can’t be contained, and the resulting explosion is
devastating. As I explained to Mr. Terantis.”

“You claimed to have some control over the
spell,” Mr. Terantis growled. “You dare to threaten us?”

“I did
not
make such a claim, and if
you weren’t such a self-involved—”

“
Enough
,” Mrs. Petelter said, with
enough force that Evon fell silent. “Garaid, I want you to check my
assessment of the security of this building. Take Abretis and
Wylter with you.”

Mr. Terantis blinked at her, his broad face
going red, but he left the room without another word. “Mr.
Faranter, if you would shut the door, please,” Mrs. Petelter
continued, and Piercy did as she asked. When they were alone, she
said, “I would say that Garaid means well, but none of us would
believe it.” She removed her cloak and draped it over her arm.

“Mrs. Petelter, I apologize for my
outburst—”

“No apology needed, Mr. Lorantis. Garaid is
enough to try anyone’s patience. Now, let me see if I understand
you. The spell has an ongoing existence that is independent of—Miss
Haylter, was it?—and is not under her control. It chooses targets
based on some unknown criterion. And it was made specifically to do
this.”

“That’s correct, though I’ve seen Miss
Haylter resist the spell’s activation for a short time, and I think
that period might be extended. And I’m beginning to understand why
it chooses the people it does.” Evon went to the dressing table and
shuffled through his notes. “The phrase ‘no soul’ repeats itself
throughout, and while it’s perhaps overly poetical, it probably
means people who have no regard for human life. People who see
other people as things. It fits with what we know of the victims
who have been identified.”

“You speak of it as if it were alive.”

“It seems to have some limited
self-awareness, based on its reactions to my spells.”

“Self-awareness...and self-preservation?”

“I...actually, I hadn’t thought of that. It
certainly resists being separated from Miss Haylter. But it’s never
objected to
desini cucurri,
other than to break its hold
after a time.” He cast the spell as he said the words, and it
froze. Mrs. Petelter jerked backward, then leaned in to inspect the
motionless spell-ribbons. Kerensa raised her arm and the spell
moved with her.

“Astonishing,” Mrs. Petelter said. She poked
one of the ribbons and her finger passed through it. “Why does it
respond to you and not me?”

“Evon—Mr. Lorantis—tells me it’s altered my
body to see it as part of myself,” she said. “It’s made me unable
to be burned by normal fire, and to be able to...communicate with
it, or something, so I know where to go to find the next...” She
took a deep, shuddering breath. “Mrs. Petelter, I swear I don’t
mean to hurt those people. I don’t care if they’re evil or not, I
don’t want to be forced to kill anyone. I don’t think I’m a
murderer.”

“Kerensa—” Evon began, afraid of the look in
her eyes.

“Based on the evidence, I don’t think you are
either, Miss Haylter.” Mrs. Petelter looked in Piercy’s direction.
“Nothing to say, Mr. Faranter?”

“Evon’s the expert. I am merely the
government’s eyes and ears,” Piercy said. “I’m sorry to learn that
this department has such little faith in my abilities as to ignore
my report.”

“Careful, Mr. Faranter. I took your report
very seriously. It’s fortunate you
weren’t
more specific;
what I’ve heard here today would have truly set the cat amongst the
pigeons, and you three would have had far worse than Garaid to deal
with. I don’t suppose you have any ideas as to the identity of the
magician who cast this spell, Mr. Lorantis?”

Evon hesitated. There had been hints, all
along, nothing substantial, but he could make an informed guess and
something about this woman encouraged him to be honest. “I think
the magician is long dead,” he said. “This isn’t a new spell. It’s
old. Centuries old. How it came to survive all those years, how it
came to attach itself to Miss Haylter, I have no idea. But I’m
afraid finding the magician, and compelling him to give up his
secret, is impossible.”

Piercy and Kerensa just stared at him. Mrs.
Petelter pursed her lips. “That’s...unfortunate,” she said, though
her tone of voice said “unfortunate” was far too mild a world for
what she was thinking. “How certain are you of this?”

“As certain as I can be, given what little
I’ve learned. The phrasing of the spell...text, I suppose you could
call it...is archaic, as if it’s written in an ancient version of
our language, and there’s nothing modern about how it’s assembled.
And there are places where a piece is, well, put together
awkwardly, as if the creator didn’t know how to do it the simple
way any modern magician would. It’s just possible that someone
today put it together using old-fashioned techniques, but instinct
tells me that’s not the case.” He didn’t tell her what else he
knew, that there was a depth to the spell that almost frightened
him at times, that sometimes as he studied it he had the feeling
that something ancient was looking back at him. He’d become the
most skilled magician of his generation not only because of his
knowledge but because of the instincts that led him to make
intuitive leaps beyond what his rational mind understood, and all
those instincts told him he was dealing with something older than
anything he knew.

“And you’re certain Miss Haylter cannot be
taken to Matra?” Mrs. Petelter said.

“You saw the destruction at the second event
site,” Piercy said. “That’s what happens if Miss Haylter refuses to
follow the spell’s urging when it comes on her.”

Mrs. Petelter turned away from Kerensa and
wandered over to the window. “What I am about to tell you does not
leave this room,” she said, putting her hands on the sill. “The war
is not going well. Despite the snow, the Despot moves farther north
every day, driving refugees ahead of him and leaving utter
destruction in his wake. If nothing changes, he will cross
Dalanine’s southern border by spring. Our generals are confounded
at the Despot’s ability to see our greatest weaknesses and exploit
them ruthlessly. We need an advantage. We need this weapon.”