《Komena Siri and The Stolen Spell》


 Prologue

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to go through with this.¡± Komena said to the two men squaring up against one another. She¡¯d known both since childhood, mostly as a babysitter, though that had eventually grown to legitimate friendship. Enough for them to trust her to judge their squabble. Khalid was the youngest of the three, though his hard eyes made him look older than his mid-twenties. Ervan was bigger than Khalid, taller and broader, but had always been worse in a fight, even when they had been playfighting as children. Maybe it was an issue with his instincts. However, he had decided that this was the time to stand his ground.


    ¡°We do, Komena. Stand aside and let the coward defend his own honor.¡± He said. The idiot. This wasn¡¯t even a contest worth winning from what she had heard. Khalid had been passed over for a promotion and had accused Ervan of conspiracy. Ervan had decided to take the insult personally. As if Khalid didn¡¯t challenge someone to a duel over some imagined slight once a week. As if he didn¡¯t win every one that was followed through.


    They were standing in a dock house, owned by another old friend, Badhan. It was intended to hold their racing ship, a slim dhow. But there was a race today, so Komena had been able to twist their arm into letting them use the space for this. A more private location meant they were more likely to talk things out before killing one another.


    It was a typical Sabbelah dock. The water flowing in would keep the stone building from becoming an oven in the desert sun, though that wasn¡¯t a concern this early in the morning. The rising sun lit up the building enough they hadn¡¯t needed to bring in their own lights, though it was dim and left long shadows. One corner was dominated by a huge pile of fine grain sand, to be added whenever the ship needed to be patched. Thick ropes were hung from the ceiling to hang the ship from for occasional inspections. A few notches had been carved into the thick walls to keep dock lines, tools, and spare ropes. Badhan was a competent racer, but she hadn¡¯t earned enough yet to afford a wooden rack for them. Komena didn¡¯t see the point in one, especially with how expensive even a small amount of lumber was to import, but Badhan was insistent. Sailors were all salt mad anyways.


    Komena had already drawn a chalk circle around most of the house floor. There was a gap where it opened to let the sea in, but no one would be coming in from their anyways. Ervan and Khalid were on opposite end of it, separated by the water. Both of them were ready. Komena would need to call the duel¡¯s start soon and they both knew it. Ervan was letting his nerves get to him, fingers curling, then uncurling as he felt himself form fists. Khalid kept his hands loose, arms ready to snap into position.


    Sabbelah dueling law was formal, if simple. All that was required was an agreed time, place and a third person to witness the results. There was paperwork to be filled out once the matter was finished, but that was something Komena would wash her hands of. There were a few formal arenas throughout the city, but they weren¡¯t required. They could have done this in the street for all the cities officials cared. Likewise, it didn¡¯t need to be to the death. As long as there was a clear winner, the bookkeepers would be satisfied. The only real rule was on what weapon was to be used. There was only one martial skill was valued in the city. Everything else was just prancing.


    Komena swallowed. She had tried to talk them down the whole way here. If she said anything else, they¡¯d just have someone else be the judge. Better to go forward and call it quickly. She raised a hand and took her place outside the circle, between the two competitors. The two of them followed her with their eyes, still facing the other. She waited another moment, hoping for sense to assert itself, then gave up. There was only one thing to say.


    ¡°Begin!¡± she called, and the air was filled with magic.


    There was a delay before anything happened. A time for muttered incantations and quick hand motions. Like the delay it took to pull a dagger from sheath. Predictably, Khalid was faster on the draw. A burst of surf flew into the air, before sharpening and freezing into needles. They flew towards Ervan, who tried to stumble aside. He mostly succeeded, though Komena saw a few of them sink into his arm and leg. He managed to keep chanting through the pain and sent out a few darts of fire. It wasn¡¯t a bad effort. They were enough to blast through the last of the needles. The fires arced down to Khalid, still hot enough to win the duel with a clean hit, even if the speed wasn¡¯t quite there. Ervan¡¯s real mistake was sending them out over the boat¡¯s slip. With a quick spell, Khalid swatted the darts down with whipping tendrils of sea water.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Komena resisted the urge to hold her breath. Khalid¡¯s first blow had been gentle as far as these things went, but Ervan had escalated. His next move would be worse, beyond Ervan¡¯s ability to dodge or counter. She needed to be ready to call the match as quickly as possible.


    Under Khalid¡¯s direction, the tips of the water he controlled froze into curved blades. They came crashing down as the tendrils whipped towards Ervan. He managed to block the first with a slow-moving wall of force. It was a reflex, repurposing the spell the two of them had used to move crates for years. It didn¡¯t do anything for the other two. A few panicked steps took Ervan out of the arc of the second one. It crashed into the floor hard enough to shatter, leaving a shallow scratch on the stone. The final one swung in from the side, and bit into his arm.


    It wasn¡¯t a sharp cut. Instead of a clean slash through, the blade slammed into Ervan¡¯s arm with the heavy thud of a butcher¡¯s cleaver. The arm visibly broke first, bending unnaturally midway between the elbow and the shoulder. Then the frozen edge started working its way through flesh. The floor, the ice and the water were all dyed red.


    ¡°Match!¡± Komena called. A missing arm would be more than enough to declare a winner. It didn¡¯t matter. Khalid had recognized his own winning blow and pulled it short. Either out of a duelist¡¯s dignity or affection for a friend, he stopped empowering the spell. The water fell limply and splashed on the floor. The ice followed suit and began melting in the heat. Ervan¡¯s now empty wound poured blood as he clung to his half-severed arm. He sunk to his knees in shock as Khalid ran to him. Komena didn¡¯t move. She had expected this and knew exactly how little she could do for it.


    ¡°Komena, I can¡¯t fix this!¡± Khalid said, stating the obvious. People spent their whole lives learning spell to stopgap that kind of damage. To buy enough time for the wound to heal. Khalid could move boxes and break bodies, but he never had the chance or interest to learn that. Komena couldn¡¯t really criticize him. She was equally useless right now.


    Which was why she had planned something ahead of time. The doors to the dock house opened and the healer hired by the Khalid and Ervan¡¯s shipping company stepped through, followed by some of the duelist¡¯s co-workers. Quite a large number actually, drawn in by rumors Komena had been spreading around before. Checking to see where they were paying for their medic to go were the managers and owner. Ervan''s, now Khalid''s, co-workers.


    Khalid would still get what he wanted out of this. Duel results were enshrined in Sabbelah law and Komena saw no reason to lie about the outcome. Ervan shouldn''t have risked his position on this in the first place. But it was one thing to show up with an official writ and claim a prize. It was another to see them cripple a lifelong friend for a position. Your position.


    Khalid likely had imagined his promotion would quickly be a popular one. He would come in, a familiar face from the laborers. Better than some University drop out slumming it on sabbatical. He would be entirely friendly and charming, implement whatever measures to improve things he could, then put in the hours to keep things running smoothly. Hot head aside, he was competent. He could have done it that way. But he and Komena had ensured that wouldn¡¯t be the case.


    She slipped out as the crowd settled around Ervan. Khalid was holding his other hand and talking to him, working to keep shock at bay. It must have been doing something because the medic didn¡¯t push him away. Instead, he began casting, drawing blood out from the stone floor and back into arteries. They, in turn, stretched and wriggled, slowly working towards reconnecting. She would submit the results later in the day to the Faculty of Evocation. If either of the duelists wanted to find her before, they knew the likely spots she¡¯d be.

 Chapter 1

    ¡°An academic should not let themselves be distracted from practical knowledge.¡±


    -Avestan Zend, A Sabbelah founding Arch mage.


    Komena Siri had decided at dawn¡¯s that the rest of today was to be wisely spent reading, popping figs into her mouth and sipping tea in the room that served as her office. She had the curtains open for just enough light to read by. It didn¡¯t take much to illuminate the small room, but it only took a little more to make it unbearably hot. She had a few old, fraying cushions thrown around a low table. It was meant for paperwork but served as dining place well enough. She had already laid most of the pillows out beneath her.


    Saying that ¡°Komena & Associates Investigations¡± was facing rough times implied two things, both incorrect. Firstly, that there had ever been prosperous times. The company had always been small and struggling. There had never even been any associates. She had named the company that to seem more reliable to merchants and shipping companies. None of them would bring their issues to a lone independent, no matter how petty those issues were. Secondly, it implied that ¡°small and struggling¡± wasn¡¯t Komena¡¯s preference. The alternative in her mind was ¡°large and stagnant¡±, which in her experience quickly became ¡°dead¡±. Famous investigators tended to get over their heads investigating equally famous mages. They ended up as skulls on shelves, analyzing an eternity as a thinking paper weight. In contrast, small time investigators spent their time mostly looking for stolen objects, missing shipments and evidence of romantic infidelity. Worse paying work, but with significantly lower stakes. It allowed for times like this, waiting for the next case or performing favors for old friends and fools.


    Without cases, there were only two papers on the table. The duel form, filled out with the results from earlier, and a newspaper she¡¯d bought on the way back. The form could wait until evening, though she was hoping the two of them would barge in to talk her out of submitting it. Unlikely, but she didn¡¯t have anything to do but wait and read.


    The newspaper was printed out on a long scroll. When she was done with it, she would put it outside, where it be collected before night fall. The spell work to make paper was complicated, especially at an industrial level, but the biggest issue was always raw material. Every night the scrolls would be re-pulped, re-pressed and re-bound, before being sold again.


    There weren¡¯t any interesting stories inside, just the usual tragedies and triumphs that marked a day in the city. A few ships from Veldeti had arrived at port, prompting the usual blathering opinion pieces about shipping policies with the other continents. She ignored them. There was an official announcement from the Faculty of Transmutation that the rations of sand wrought grain would be increased. Either a political move against the other faculties, or a way to deflect from some failure of their own. Komena didn¡¯t care enough about university business to read and find out which. Instead, she focused on the results for the race she¡¯d missed. Badhan hadn¡¯t needed her encouragement. They had come out very cleanly in the contest all on their own. That was a piece worth reading.


    Partway through a description of vessels making sharply curved tacks into the race¡¯s second leg, there was a long series of taps at one of her windows. Could be birds. There weren¡¯t many in the city, but those few were all stupid enough to ram a window as a flock. Komena looked up and didn¡¯t see birds.


    Peeking through the curtain was a bulging fly¡¯s eye, half the size of her fist. It was socketed into the face of a small monkey. She couldn¡¯t clearly see it, but she knew its body matched its face, except hairless and with two sets of fly wings on its back. The entire creature was formed from an iron-grey metal, too dull to gleam in the sunlight. The creature moved fluidly, like any other trained animal.


    Komena sighed, got up, and opened the window. Without the curtain in the way, she could see the imp had a satchel strapped to its front. She grimaced as it pulled a folded scrap of paper out and held it out to her. She had hoped to hear about her next case in person with the client. But deliveries like this weren¡¯t unprecedented.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    The creature didn¡¯t fly off as she took the note. Instead, it crouched and waited for a response to return with. She cut off any demands from it by unfolding the note. She blanched even before she began reading. Water marked behind the letters; she saw the mark of the Sabbelah University. She made herself focus on the writing.


    ¡°Komena Siri. You are summoned by the Deans of Sabbelah. Present yourself to the Council by the end of the day or face the consequences.¡± She looked back up to the window. The Imp had already left, either to make other deliveries or report back. She shoved the invitation into a pocket and started to change back into her streetwear. A long white robe that came up in a head wrap and some dusty shoes A knife hung from her belt, and a few smaller ones were hidden in pouches and up sleeves. Not the most formal wear, but the best she could do on this little notice or budget. Far from satisfied, she made her way out into the city.


    ***


    If an outsider wanted to describe Sabbelah, they would start at ¡°unique¡±. To begin, it was the only city on the continent. Every expedition sent out to explore the rest of the land, no matter how well equipped and or how far they traveled, found nothing but the same desolate sands one could see from the city walls. A few generations ago, it had been held as fact that it was the only city in existence. A bastion built to stand against the frequent, sudden sea gales and sandstorms. Kept alive by sailors harvesting a verdant sea and the mages spell work.


    Originally, it had started been a small camp of tribes based around the desert¡¯s only known oasis. This camp grew, attracting merchants, mages and travelers desperately looking for an escape from the desolate sands. By the time there were enough people to call it a city, the University of Sabbelah had existed for a century, pushing against the desert with research, magecraft and hired labor. The city that sprang up simply adopted the name of the organization that directed it.


    Then they managed to contact the other continents and found themselves not to be the only civilization in the world. They were, however, the most advanced. A history of desperate research to survive had made them the academic capital of the world. They were rich enough in knowledge to compete and trade with the other nations, which had been blessed with actual riches. It was an industry Komena had grown up in, and she couldn¡¯t imagine the city without it. In exchange for a few texts and a hint of spell craft, there was food beyond gruel and salt fish on her table. There was reliable wood to build ships with, instead of sand held in place by a sailors will as the sea swept away at it.


    The university claimed that knowledge was so important to the city, that it was only sense for it to be led by its greatest academics. The Deans of Sabbelah, each head of their own faculty and providing essential services to the city. Each unquestionably the most powerful mage of that faculty. Any potential questions about that were settled with efficient brutality in Khalid¡¯s preferred manner.


    Drawing attention from figures that powerful was the last thing Komena had ever wanted; and a direct summons meant she had drawn more attention than a legion of bootlickers and brown nosers. The frustrating part was she couldn¡¯t imagine what she had done to get their notice. The most she¡¯d done for the last month was find a small den of smugglers, no more than five people and a small ship. The operation had been so small time that stopping it had probably lowered her standing more than anything.


    Regardless of why, the fact remained that Komena had an appointment with the Deans. Traveling through half the city on foot to reach them would be good for little more than collecting dust, enduring pickpocket filled crowds and being late. Even if those windbag tyrants evidently enjoyed the idea of her rushing in a blind panic, it would do nothing but leave them all unhappy. Instead, Komena focused on flagging down a ride. There were plenty of options: small rickshaws pulled by a single runner, richly decorated palanquins covered silky veils and floated through the streets on the spells of uniformed teams, a man renting large, raptor like birds to ride around. But the first one to notice Komena was a Veldeti woman with a cart pulled by a single camel, her dreadlocked hair tied together at the back of her head. She gestured for Komena to climb on.


    ¡°The Grand Auditorium, please.¡± Komena said. The cart driver silently flicked the reins, setting the camel off on a languid march through the streets of Sabbelah.

 Chapter 2

    ¡°For all their posturing at being a meritocracy, the Deans of Sabbelah share many qualities with every other royal in the world.¡±


    -Lee Yang, Ao Guang poet, 6 weeks after his tour of the four continents, 3 weeks before his execution by the Imperial court.


    A common local joke was that the Grand Auditorium is located at the heart of the city, which is obviously north and slightly to the west of the cities center.  Komena always took this as a sign of her countrymen¡¯s poor, academic sense of humor, but she couldn¡¯t deny that it was good orienteering advice. Vague enough to be easily remembered, effective enough get you close enough to see and hear the building. Then you could follow those signs through the streets until you arrived.


    Komena had been a young girl the only other time she¡¯d been here. Her parents had thought it something she ought to see at some point and made the opportunity a history lesson. The Grand Auditorium had been built as a matter of convenience. The city¡¯s first major expansion had required a massive excavation as the surrounding dunes were leveled off into a foundation. Rather than blow the dug-up sand away, the Deans of the time decided to put it to use. They wove enchantments into a mold the shape of a grand palace and filled it with the excess, compressing it enough to be as strong as granite. Maintaining the Auditorium was the first task set to every new Dean. The spells that kept its shape were recast with all the features of modern spell craft. Then the sand inside was set back in motion, turning the walls to a living mosaic. The gentle roar from the tons of perpetually grinding sand was an ever-present feature of the cities administrative district, much like the sound of waves at the docks. The only place to escape it was the inside of the Auditorium, which was filled with a reverent, artificial silence.


    To a child, it had made a strange impact. The power on display was both comforting and terrifying. Komena was far from comforted now, paying the cart driver and climbing the stairs leading up to the open Auditorium doors. She could feel the magic in the air, dense enough to almost push against her. A crackling current in the breeze that got worse with every step. By the time she was at the door, she could have let it push her back a step. Instead, the feeling vanished as she stepped into the building. Some kind of insulation inside the building against itself. The Faculties would never have tolerated that kind of irritation interfering with their work. Even if the change was a relief, the contrast was disquieting, like she had stepped into a place that was entirely isolated from the outside world.


    Putting those thoughts behind her, Komena went to the receptionist, a bored looking old woman, her skin tanned and wrinkled with her gray hair hidden under an equally gray headwrap.


    ¡°I have a summons by the Dean for today. They didn¡¯t give me a specific time, though.¡± Komena said, offering the note she¡¯d been sent.


    ¡°Ah, the inspector.¡± The receptionist said, snapping her fingers. A parakeet of glass formed out of the wall and flew down to her index figure.


    ¡°They¡¯ve been expecting you. Just follow the bird to the main gallery.¡±


    The parakeet flew off, the beating of its wings sounding like a chime. The bird was too quick for Komena to properly thank the receptionist, so instead she nodded and chased after it. She needed to almost jog to keep up with the bird as it led her through the winding, indistinguishable halls of sand. There was enough space that she didn¡¯t worry about running into any of the bureaucrat¡¯s milling around. There were a few strange looks from them, but she wouldn¡¯t meet any of these people again.


    Finally, the bird landed and started picking on a door handle. It was a relatively simple set of double doors, almost indistinguishable the walls if not for the knob and a faint raised pattern of wavy swirls dancing across the surface. It¡¯s felt like glazed stone as she knocked. The bird lit up like it had swallow a candle then shattered loudly. The broken pieces fell to the floor and sank into the moving sands. Hoping that was an invitation, Komena opened the door and stepped into the audience room.


    The most striking thing about the room was the size of it. It could have been a drydock, but instead of tools and a ship there were seven, elevated judge benches. Right now, only five of the benches were occupied, by two women and three men. One of the empty benches had a skull placed on it, facing into the center of the room. It was obvious from the extravagantly colored robes and the bored arrogance in their eyes that these were the Deans of Sabbelah.


    ¡°My apologies. I thought that I was summoned before the full council. Am I early?¡± Komen asked.


    ¡°Unfortunately, you¡¯re right on time.¡± One of the women said. She looked a little younger than the receptionist, but that didn¡¯t really mean much.  A tall, leather strap of a woman, seeming as thin under her brown robe as the walking stick peeking out from behind her desk. ¡°Our fellow from the Necromancy faculty rarely deigns to join these meetings.¡±


    ¡°Save the etiquette, you up-jumped grounds tender.¡± Said a bald man whose muscles were straining against his dark blue robes. ¡°The Transmutation faculty doesn¡¯t have the time to waste toying with some back-alley gull. Explain what we want and send her on her way.¡±If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°You will speak to your peers with respect, Transmuter. Lest you wish to have the ¡®gull¡¯ as your sole peer in this room.¡± Said a middle-aged man in bright yellow robes with a long gray beard and spectacles. He was even wearing a pointed yellow cap. It made him seem like he had stepped out from an  illusionist¡¯s tale.


    The brown robed woman, the Dean of Agriculture Komena assumed, let out a long-suffering sigh. ¡°If the Deans of Transmutation and Healing could return to the matters at hand.¡± She said, glaring at both of them before turning back to Komena.


    ¡°This morning, the Dean of Evocation was found murdered in her study. Our attempts to divine the culprit have returned nothing. At the suggestion of the Dean of Illusion, we have decided that bringing in a third party would be the best way to resolve this issue. We decided that would be you.¡±


    An ugly man in in purple robes gave her the slightest of waves with a gnarled claw of a hand. His hooked nose curved over a weak chin and a neutral, unreadable smirk.


    ¡°Respectfully, Dean, this is not something I am equipped to deal with. I solve smuggling and thievery cases. Local ones, small cases that I can scavenge. Surely, you have access to more suitable resources to resolve this?¡± Komena said.


    ¡°At first, we did. Do you want to know why we approached you instead?¡± A thin man in gray robes said. He was the youngest of the Deans, with thick black hair and a well-trimmed beard. He didn¡¯t wait for her answer. ¡°When we decided to hire an investigator, we cast another divination to find, and I quote, the most successful Investigator in the city. Frankly, I was hoping for someone in our employ already, but we found you. Then we did some research to assuage our disappointment. Did you know that you have successfully resolved every case that you have taken?¡±


    ¡°I did. But like I said, I exclusively take very simple and small tasks. My success is to be expected. Surely one of your guards would still be better choice. Or I know a recent exile from Ao Guang who used to do similar work for nobles. I could get in touch with them in your stead, should it please you all.¡±


    ¡°We are well are of the Water Worker¡¯s location in our city. And we came to same initial conclusions as you. But at the Dean of Healing¡¯s suggestion, we did more research into you.¡± The gray Dean pulled out a notebook and flipped through it as the Dean in yellow nodded.


    ¡°Of the one hundred and seventy-nine cases you have undertaken in the last year, you have solved each one considerably faster than other similar cases have been solved. It is also notable that the work you have done was low stakes, but not simple. In many cases, you worked with almost no leads. Scouring districts for lost items, working out affairs from vague suspicions of paranoid lovers. A surprising number of requests from children, who I can¡¯t imagine gave very good information. Or paid you as well as we intend to.¡±


    ¡°Like you said though, we do have conditions to ensure you don¡¯t disappoint us. The referrals of brat¡¯s don¡¯t inspire confidence.¡± Said a bored looking woman, a little older than the Dean in gray. She was wearing a vibrant orange robe, her hair was uncovered and brought back into a tight bun.


    ¡°We agreed before you arrived that we would give you a week to investigate and see what progress you made. A compromise to justify my decision to consult a third party. I¡¯d advise you not to disappoint us in that time if you wish to stay involved in the case.¡± The Illusionist said.


    Encouraging words from the man who was supposed to be in her corner. From his tone, he and the orange woman expected her to fail. At least they were upfront with her being expendable. The others likely agreed with them but were better at hiding it.


    ¡°When will I be able to see the scene of the crime?¡± Komena asked.


    ¡°After you introduce to yourself to your handler. It wouldn¡¯t do to have you running around unsupervised. You¡¯ll be reporting to Struth Ironheart, an associate of the Mundane faculty. His overseeing Dean will introduce you.¡± Said the woman in brown robes. The man in gray nodded.


    ¡°I question why you called for me if you have this little faith in me.¡± Komena said. They were already half convinced to not bother with her. Her hesitance might be the final push they needed.


    ¡°Don¡¯t misunderstand. If anything, assigning Struth to overlook you is a sign of our faith in you. If we wanted to know your every moment, conjuring up something to observe would be simplicity itself.¡± The yellow clothed dean of Healing said over steepled fingers as the woman in orange purred in agreement.


    ¡°I see. I appreciate the trust you¡¯re giving me then. With your leave, I¡¯ll resolve this issue swiftly.¡± Komena said sketching a quick bow, dropping her face to hide her disappointment. Still, a week without results would let her wash her hands of this.


    ¡°Excellent, we look forward to seeing your results. Do not disappoint us.¡± The Dean of Illusion said. The gray Dean stood and stepped down from his bench. He began to lead Komena out of the room, but she stopped halfway to the door.


    ¡°One more question, honored Deans.¡± Komena said. ¡°When I find the murderer, should I make a point to look for whatever was stolen from the Dean of Evocation?¡±


    A wall of fire erupted between Komena and the door. It wasn¡¯t close to her but the heat was intense enough to dry her eyes from paces away as the Dean in blue sprang to his feet.


    ¡°How did you know? You are beneath such knowledge.¡± He roared. Komena turned to face him.


    ¡°First, the only absence you excused was the Necromancer¡¯s. The rest of you, Illusion, Summoning, Agriculture, Transmutation and Mundane, are all accounted for. That only leaves the Dean of Evocation absent. There¡¯s only one possible reason for that. And for all your talk of a united front, the rivalries between your various faculties are well known. If this was nothing but murder, you all would have simply strengthened your own defenses, put out some feelers to catch the murderer later, and waited. Instead, you rushed to me.¡± Komena said. ¡°Evocation is a school of magic focused on the application of elemental energy. I¡¯m sure the murdered Dean had other passions, but one doesn¡¯t rise to your position without enjoying one¡¯s work. I can begin to imagine the things that could be stolen from their room. Wands of incineration, cubes of thunder. Other, worse things that I¡¯m sure I am ignorant of. So, what do you need this gull to scavenge for you? The murderer or what they took?¡± Komena asked.

 Chapter 3

    ¡°The Faculty of the Mundane is both the University of Sabbelah¡¯s largest and least respected faculty. A dumping ground for subjects unrelated to magic. Mathematics, natural sciences, and logistics.¡±


    -Lee Yang


    The silence that followed Komena¡¯s deduction was broken by quiet chuckling from the woman in brown robes.


    ¡°Outside your area of expertise. Ha. Seems we weren¡¯t the only ones with cards hidden up our sleeves.¡± She said, waving a hand. The wall of fire was quickly smothered in flickering spurts, like it was being stomped out. When the blue robed man opened his mouth, she immediately stopped laughing and glared at him.


    ¡°The time for misinformation has passed. She is obviously too crafty to have wandering about uninformed. Or would you prefer she uncover some of your secrets trying to dig out the truth?¡±


    When no one spoke up she looked down towards Komena. ¡°The Dean of Evocation had recently taken to boasting about a recent project. She held the details of it close to her chest, but she was confident in its importance.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t be quiet about it.¡± The grey Dean muttered.


    ¡°When the opportunity to finally see her notes on the matter presented itself last night, we were all quite eager to take it. But the room had been ransacked before we arrived. You will find this research, before it can reach the wrong hands.¡± Continued the Dean of Agriculture.


    ¡°Worse hands than someone who killed a dean?¡± Komena asked.


    ¡°Obviously. Someone with a common grudge would have dueled her and been done with it. Assassination suggests a conspiracy. Conspiracy suggests a sponsor, and they need not be a local. Every nation covets whatever scrap of knowledge they can pilfer from us.¡± The transmuter said. ¡°A dean¡¯s spell might even be enough to push those fools into competence.¡±


    Sabbelah¡¯s trade was based on monopoly. With how much they imported, it was the only way to break even.


    ¡°Of course, understanding your concerns is a vital first step. By your leave, my Deans.¡± Komena said, dread pushing her shoulders down as she sketched another bow. Then she turned and left the council room, as quick as wouldn¡¯t get her struck down. She was proud to still have enough were withal to hear steps follow her out. She was followed out.


    ¡°I was very impressed by your deduction in there.  The Dean of Illusion¡¯s idea to hire you shows great promise.¡± The Gray Dean said, casually dragging the conference door closed before holding out a hand. ¡°For formal introductions, I am Jaghar Taim, Dean of the Mundane. If I can be of assistance during your investigation, do not hesitate to ask.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be sure too. This is too serious for me not to.¡± Komena said. She didn¡¯t hesitate to shake the hand. It would have been more dangerous to reject it. His grip started gently but tightened slightly more than was polite. ¡°Although, and I mean no offense by this, it would be most helpful right now to know how much I will be paid for this job.¡±


    ¡°What? Is patriotism not enough motivation?¡± The Dean replied before chuckling and releasing her. He took small leather bag off his belt and passed it to Komena. ¡°This a down payment. Half of the total. You¡¯ll be paid the rest upon finding the culprit and returning the research.¡±


    She tugged the drawstring open and peeked into the bag. Better to know how much her time, and life were valued. The unassuming pouch was filled with shining green gems, each at least the size of a tern¡¯s egg. Her mouth dried.


    ¡°Emeralds?¡± She asked. It was a stupid question. The desert and the sea didn¡¯t provide the metal for printing coins. But they did provide other minerals, and the city had the knowledge of how gems were formed. Magic provided the heat and the pressure to make them, as well as an overly elaborate illusion to mark the ones created by the University separate from the forgeries. This pouch contained several years of the salary Khalid and Ervan had been squabbling over this morning. A second pouch would make Komena¡¯s career an indulgence for the rest of her life.


    ¡°Yes, emeralds. We find it equally important to reward success as we do to punish failure.¡± The dean pulled an envelope out of his robe. ¡°Here is a picture of the victim. A copy of her official portrait that from the university records. It isn¡¯t the one she used most frequently, but it should suit your purposes.¡± With that the Dean of the Mundane walked down the halls and out of sight.


    Komena sighed and opened the envelope. The picture was the Dean of Evocation in her official red robes. She was in the traditional academic photo pose, the only difference being an upraised hand with electricity crackling between the fingers. The woman herself was striking. Smooth, dusky skin. Dark hair that went down to her waist, highlighted with wires of silver. Eyes sparkling with intelligence over a wry smile, anchored by a large hawk like nose and framed by a strong jawline. The Dean of Evocation wasn¡¯t old for her position and the years she had didn¡¯t detract from her beauty.


    ¡°Which portrait did she use the most? This will serve, but people will recognize what they¡¯re most familiar with.¡± Komena asked as she tucked it away.


    ¡°We, the Deans, have decided to redact that portrait. To preserve the dignity of our institution and the deceased. Her popular choice was a fair bit more intimate.¡± Taim said, before he began casting. Another glassy bird hatched from the wall and perched on his finger. This one had a pointed peak and powerful wings for its size. ¡°Struth will be expecting you when you find him. Send him my regards. We are all quite eager to hear what you report.¡±


    The Dean flicked his finger, and the bird soared off down the hall faster than the receptionist¡¯s parakeet had. Komena broke into a run to keep it in her sight. She only heard the dean walk away but was certain there had been a mocking wave to her before he had.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The bird led her from the main hallways into the smaller side passages. Eventually, it led to a back exit and into the city streets. It soared above the crowds, without slowing down. She almost lost it a few times when she looked down to dodge out of some passerby''s way, but she was able to follow its twinkling path in the sky down a few streets before it flew over a fence of wrought iron.


    Inside was a series of luxurious apartments, tall and well-built from smooth painted brick with a maintained lawn and path leading from the gate to the three buildings. The iron fence wasn''t the only thing imported from the other continents. Colorful plants, suffering in the heat but still blooming with life were planted around. Statues, lanterns, and other decorations were laid around each building, marking out territories. The bird landed on the door handle of the least decorated of these buildings. As Komena opened the gate and went towards the complex, the bird flew off again to return to its source.


    Komena let herself look around as she went down the path. She didn''t like what she saw. There had been a few immigrants to Sabbelah over the years and of course they brought things from their homelands. But individuals weren''t granted space to display them. They decorated the insides of their homes and stores, like everyone else. The exception here meant these were important people. The idea of meeting more politicians made Komena''s teeth grind.


    Then again, if any of these people truly mattered, they would have guards and attendants. No sign of those as Komena knocked on the door. No one opened it with a sneer or a simper or a blade under her chin.


    She tested the door. It was unlocked, so she let herself in, bracing for someone to start shouting. Instead, she found a rather nice, but empty reception area. A desk where a greeter should have been and some benches for waiting. All made of carved wood, though a little overwrought with the decor. Too many bones and suns for Komena''s taste.


    Up against one of the walls was a board listing names and rooms. According to it, most of the rooms were empty. But a certain Struth Ironheart lived on the second floor. It only took a few minutes for her to climb the stairs and go through the door lined hallways. They were silent, the few others who should have been on this floor out and attending to their own business. Hopefully Struth wasn''t among them.


    She came up to his door, knocked and waited. Fortunately, it didn¡¯t take long for it to be opened by a young man. He was wearing long, light gray robes, the hem of which fluttered like he was nervously shuffling his feet.  A common student¡¯s pouch hung from his belt, containing whatever materials the spells he studied needed. His exposed hands and face were tanned to like leather. He wore an almost large turban,  tall as it was wide and as wide as is thin shoulders. Maybe someone had tricked him into thinking it was the coming style? Regardless, the boy was obviously on alert, looking past and around her for hidden figures, his free hand constantly sketching half-finished gestures for spells.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± He asked, turning most of his attention to her.


    ¡°My name is Komena Siri. I¡¯m a private investigator, recently hired by the University. Apparently, my first task is to get in contact with Struth Ironheart. Sign says this is his room.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t told about this. What are you meeting him about?¡± The boy asked, half closing the door, as if to shield the room from her. Komena was saved from arguing her way in by someone yelling.


    ¡°Kave! Is someone there?¡± The thickly accented voice boomed. ¡°Etiquette, Boy! Let them in! And put some tea for us!¡±


    Another sigh from the boy, Kave she assumed, as he opened the door and motioned for her to get inside.


    Their room was small, but richly decorated in a Corlin style. Elaborately carved wooden furniture on top of the large carpet covering the floor. A landscape painting of a fog covered mountain on a bleak moor was propped up on the mantle, right under a well-maintained glaive hung on the wall.


    ¡°Ahh, it¡¯s been a while since we¡¯ve had a guest.¡± The voice from before said. It came from a short man, barely cresting five feet. His shortness was accented by a long gray beard, bound into thick braids with brass rings, and by his muscular frame, being almost as wide as he was short. Behind the beard, he wore long pants and a button-down shirt under a vest. In concession to the desert heat, his clothes were entirely white, the sleeves rolled to elbow and one or two more shirt buttons were undone than was strictly proper. He had the kind of tan that one got from many previous burns, while the little skin Komena could see under his beard was still a milky white. His teeth were barred in slightly manic smile. ¡°My name is Struth of clan Ironheart, guest lecturer at the honored Faculty of the Mundane and diplomat from Corlin. You¡¯ve already met my ward, Kave. To what do we owe the pleasure?¡±


    ¡°I was hired by the deans to investigate a murder for them. I was told you would supervise the investigation. Have you already been given the details?¡±  Komena asked.


    ¡°The few Taim believed I could be trusted with before matters began officially. A dreadful thing to happen to anyone. I can only hope her funeral will be grand enough to lay such a woman to rest. Though what arrangements would be necessary for that. A national holiday perhaps?¡±


    ¡°Sir. If you could stay on topic.¡± Kave said, stepping back into main room. He was holding a platter with some sugar cubes, fine teacups and a long spouted, silver teapot. Kave put the plater on a nearby table and began serving drinks.


    ¡°Yes, yes, my boy. Apologies.  Needless to say, madam, resolving this issue is our top priority.¡± Struth said as he took a filled teacup, crushed a sugar cube into it with a spoon, and sat down into a high-backed chair. It was large enough that Struth¡¯s feet were barely touching the ground. ¡°If there is anything we can do to help you, we¡¯re at your beck and call.¡±


    Struth began sipping the steaming tea. Komena took a cup for herself. A quality blend, even without sugar it had a floral sweetness to it. She spent some time sipping the drink waiting for Struth to continue. Instead, he contently kept drinking away without a care in the world.  Fine, if he wanted to have a standoff, Komena could hold her own.


    Minutes went by without a single word spoke between the three. Kave stood by the tea, slowly sipping and glancing over at Komena. Komena had taken a seat across from Struth, doing her best to maintain casual eye contact with him. This was difficult because Struth was absently looking around the room, like he was following some invisible gnat as it flitted about. Struth finished his tea and got up for a second cup. Kave sighed and turned to her.


    ¡°It also goes without saying that we¡¯re not investigators.¡± He said. ¡°We wouldn¡¯t know where to begin something like this, unless those two garnet serials they sell are valid guidelines for solving murders. So, you¡¯ll be taking charge, and we¡¯ll simply provide support when we can.¡±


    ¡°Think of us more as bureaucratic assistants than as supervisors. We¡¯ll keep an eye on your investigation, report back to the Deans so you don¡¯t have to, and do as you tell us otherwise.¡± Struth said as he put the finishing touches on his second cup of tea. ¡°Personally, I¡¯m rather hopeful for this opportunity. I haven¡¯t had any excitement since I came to this city.¡± Kave sighed again, crossing his arms, but didn¡¯t say anything.


    Komena finished her tea and stood up. If there was any good news, it was that she wouldn¡¯t be fighting some up jumped academic every step of the way.


    ¡°In that case, it should be obvious what we¡¯ll do next.¡± She said. ¡°It¡¯s the first thing they do in those rags you¡¯ve been reading. Investigate the scene of the crime.¡±

 Chapter 4

    ¡°Breaking into a proper mage¡¯s house is a suicide run, friend. It¡¯s like they get off on making the most twisted, sadistic traps they could imagine and putting them up like ornaments. So, anyone or anything that can actually break into one is something real special.¡±


    -Tanith ¡°Glass Bones¡± Kayneth, burglar, retired due to medical reasons.


    The Dean of Evocation lived within walking distance of both the diplomats apartments and the Grand Auditorium. That was how the three of them travelled to her home. Komena absent mindedly wondered if the Dean had walked her commute or if she had gotten around some other way. Maybe they flew, make an impact on the citizens.


    ¡°What was the victim like?¡± Komena asked.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t meet with her often. But every time I did, she was a character. I don¡¯t think she did a thing in her life that she didn¡¯t enjoy. Of course, she didn¡¯t mind stepping on a few toes to keep things that way.¡± Struth said, then sighed sadly.


    ¡°I liked her well enough.¡± Kave said. ¡°She remembered my name. More than I expected from her.¡±


    Vague, but a more positive impression than she had expected. It wasn¡¯t like she had hoped for deep insight into the women from them. The only way to get answers would be to find them herself.


    ¡°And here we are!¡± Struth said. ¡°The former abode of the Dean of Evocation¡±


    Looking at the building, the first word that came to Komena¡¯s mind was, surprisingly, ¡®tasteful¡¯. Instead of the giant tower or gilded compound most mages dreamed of, Komena was in front of a thin three-story house. It was a little smaller than what a well-off family would live in. The property was marked out by an almost delicate, encircling stone wall. The only difference was the unnatural bright white of the walls, like they were perpetually being polished.


    ¡°Taim said that the university has already taken down the more aggressive wards that she had put up.¡± Struth said, opening the front gate. ¡°He also said they hadn¡¯t gotten around to disarming the yard yet. So, don¡¯t stray from the garden path.¡±  He then, in an impressive bit of assuredly feigned confidence, started off down the path of possible arcane death towards the house.


    Komena and Kave both hesitated, looking at the wide, rustic path of stones that led to the Deans house. Komena took a breath through her nose, imagined however the Dean¡¯s would punish immediate failure, and walked through the gate and down the path. Kave followed her but walked faster, almost at a trot, hiding the fact that he had had started last.  All three of them came up to the veranda of the house, standing outside the front door.


    ¡°We should hurry inside.¡± Struth said reaching for the front door with one and into his vest pocket with the other. Kave grabbed his hand.


    ¡°I insist you let me take the lead. We don¡¯t know what defenses are left in the house.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re being paranoid. I¡¯m sure the others have disarmed whatever traps the Dean put in place. I won¡¯t be worried about the defenses of a home whose owner was murdered inside it.¡± Struth said. ¡°And if they haven¡¯t been disarmed, that is no reason for you to put yourself ahead of me.¡±


    Struth didn¡¯t push past Kave as he pulled a simple silvery key out of his pocket. The boy stepped back to give him room, but still stayed close as the lock was undone and the older man wrenched open the door.


    Komena had little interest in their argument. She was focused on how much more faith in whatever spells had been set up for defense she had than Struth did. The attack¡¯s success was more a testament to the intruder¡¯s skill than anything and no one could disarm the home of an archmage completely in a single day, not even another group of them.


    ¡°It seems like the path to her study has been marked out.¡±  Struth said, pointing at the series of wispy lights that floated down the hall and up the stairs. He had stopped to wipe his feet clean on the front mat. The interior of the building was just as nice as the exterior. A few paintings hung on the walls and a very fine, very expensive hardwood floor. The trio followed the path of lights, eventually coming up to the closed door of the Dean¡¯s personal study.


    Stepping inside the study, it was clear that the murderer hadn¡¯t been interested in taking anything other than the Deans notes. It was richly decorated with golden candelabras, small, elaborate pieces of clockwork, even a marble statue of a couple engaged in what Komena decided was frolicking.  Only the large bookcase that dominated one side of the study had been gone though and only a few books were missing from it. The murderer had known exactly what they were looking for and where to find it.


    It was also clear that the murderer had wanted the Dean of Evocation extremely dead. Her body had been strewn across the floor, a hand over there, leg over there, her head somewhere else. Most of the innards that should have been hanging out, along with a fair amount of blood that should have been pooled on the floor, were missing. Whatever odor there would have been from the corpse was covered by a small enchantment that made the room only smell faintly of lavender. It was either something the Dean had set up for her own comfort, or a final mark of respect from one of her peers.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°When they said she was murdered. I thought they meant stabbed or something. Poison maybe. Not mauled.¡± Komena said. ¡°Are you two going to be alright?¡± she asked looking over at the two academics. Kave was pale and looking away from the corpse, but he hadn¡¯t thrown up, so he was doing better than Komena would have at his age. Struth, on the other hand, had maintained the same optimistic, frantic smile he had since they met.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry about us, madam. We¡¯re quite used to grisly scenes like this. Dissections and the like.¡± Struth said as he approached the Dean¡¯s torso, squatting to get a better look. ¡°Would it be useful for me to try and identify the wounds?¡±


    Komena nodded and Struth pulled out a notepad. He had come prepared and didn¡¯t seem the type to offer what he couldn¡¯t provide. That meant he was better equipped for that job than she was. While he examined the corpse, she checked the rest of the room, starting with the one place the murderer had shown any interest in.


    There was a sharp contrast between the gore-stained floor and the near immaculate bookshelves.  The only marks they had were dust and slight singes, potentially the last testament to the Evoker¡¯s final struggle. The only signs that someone had gone through the shelves were a few empty spaces. Fiction, magic grimoires, legal texts, at least one treatise for every academic subject Komena could imagine. When the other Deans had described the Dean of Evocation as a genius, that hadn¡¯t been idle boasting. All of them had been left behind, making it impossible to tell what subject was missing.


    She pulled out one of the books she didn¡¯t recognize. Thick, without a title and sealed with a rune printed leather strap. It was prominently displayed and its purpose easy to recognize. If someone opened the strap without some countermeasure, they¡¯d trigger a massive burst of fire, incinerating the book and everyone within ten feet.


    ¡°Kave, I need you take these books back to your dean. See if you can get him to crack them open.¡±


    ¡°Why these books?¡± Kave asked, startled out of his stupor.


    ¡°I had my mother enchant a book just like this when I was girl. Well, a simpler version. It¡¯s a common way to protect someone¡¯s personal documents. Like their journal.¡±


    ¡°Are you saying that you found her diary?¡± Kave said.


    ¡°Exactly. If we go through the most recent one of these, we might be able to find some reference to the missing research. But we¡¯ll need someone to get them open first.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to see him on my own. He¡¯ll turn it into an interrogation. Can¡¯t we just open them ourselves?¡± He asked.


    They couldn¡¯t. The Dean could have made that book as secure as it would have been on the sea floor. Unless the boy was a prodigy, there was nothing the three of them could do. They didn¡¯t have the knowledge or the ability. Very first step of the investigation, and they were already clearly out of their depth. Just as she had hoped.


    ¡°Do as she says, Kave. You¡¯re obviously distracted. Some air will do you good¡± Struth said, still focused on his examination. Kave hesitated, obviously trying to decide on a response. Eventually he sighed, took the book from Komena¡¯s hand and started gathering the rest of the shelf. ¡°Yes, sir. I¡¯m sorry sir, something about this room is keeping me from focusing.¡±


    ¡°Surprising. Normally you have a stronger stomach than this.¡± Struth said.


    ¡°Could be the statue.¡± Komena, said glancing again at the very detailed marble couple. She received a glare and sullen silence from Kave in response as he walked out of the room with the books.


    Satisfied with finding the diaries, Komena turned her attention to possible entrances. If the murderer had been invited inside, then they wouldn¡¯t have been able to take the Dean by surprise. She would need to get the full house disarmed for a thorough search, but there were places she could look now. Every window, and sky light in the study and the hallway they come in through was checked for any sign of disturbance. She found nothing. All the locks were in place, all the ways barred.


    As a last resort, she checked the wards protecting the house. Extending a trickle of power, she felt at the energy engraved into the walls. It was a risk, but she was confident that her own magic was delicate enough not to set off anything. With the Deans death, they were fading quickly. There wouldn¡¯t be anything to check in a few days.


    Most of the wards were untouched. The only damage was caused by them fading out, starved of power by their murder of their battery. The spells that kept the wall clean, the windows unbreakable and that retaliated against any interference were like day old cobwebs. An untended building, fading back to nature. The exception was the spells meant to keep demons and angels from forcing their way in from their side. Reinforced versions of the spell that almost every building in the city was built with. The same one that had made the Universities imp knock on her office window instead of appear on her desk. It wasn¡¯t obvious what was off, a few flows in the energy stopping short. Individually meaningless, but all together crippling. The difference between a home that had been abandoned and one that been burned down.


    The murderer had been a spirit. It had warped inside the house, without triggering the security measures. The knowledge didn¡¯t comfort her. When the wards had been at full power, they must have been like a wall of swords pointing out at the world. Anything that could force itself though them was monstrously strong. To do it this subtly meant it was monstrously intelligent too. Komena wasn¡¯t ready to fight monsters.


    She went back into the study, in search of a distraction.


    ¡°Struth. Have you finished?¡±. The short man was standing and flipping through his notes.


    "Yes, I was just reviewing what I would bring back. There¡¯s something quite interesting I found with the body.¡± He answered, holding up what remained of the Dean¡¯s head by the hair and pointing to the neck. The skin was slightly charred and blistered. ¡°Whatever did this was emitting an immense amount of heat.¡±


    ¡°Can make any other guesses about the creature?¡±  She asked. Struth shrugged.


    ¡°It has short claws and is strong. I¡¯m aware that¡¯s vague, but there isn¡¯t much left to work with.¡± He said. She understood. Frankly she was surprised he got that much out of what little they had.


    ¡°We¡¯ll need to do more research then. See if we can narrow down the list of spirits that fit that description.¡± She said. Struth tilted his head.


    ¡°Why do the specifics matter? Surely the important thing is that a demon was the murderer. A random act, like being killed an animal or undead. Case closed.¡±


    She had forgotten how superstitious people from Corlin could be. Magic was new to them. The supernatural still happened to people in their minds, instead of because of them.


    ¡°Because demons don¡¯t just break into our world to commit random murders. They need to be summoned. Directed, and they only allow that for specific causes that align with their interests. This isn¡¯t an animal attack. It¡¯s an assassination. The demon is just the murder weapon.¡±

 Chapter 5

    There is a reason that, no matter how much we study it, we call magic an art and not a science. In science, effort and learning is more valuable than any amount of ingrained genius. In art, even if you worked your fingers to the bone mastering every technique invented by every master that came before you, it wouldn¡¯t be enough to overcome your own terrible tastes.¡±


    -Professor Huktar, opening lecture, Thaumaturgy 1001.


    ¡°I apologize. Demonology isn¡¯t well understood in Corlin, and I haven¡¯t taken the opportunity to learn here. How will the specifics kind of demon matter? Wouldn¡¯t they have summoned the strongest possible being they could for this?¡± Struth said, looking back at the mauled corpse.


    Komena sighed. She could pass this off to the Faculty of Summoning. That would have the advantage of making her look stupid to her employers. But a basic overview would work for now, and she knew enough to provide it. ¡°Well, there might be plenty that would be strong enough, but less that would actually do it. They¡¯re defined by specific concepts and points of view. You couldn¡¯t summon something then have it act against its nature. The stronger the creature, the more specific that point of view gets, the more complex the philosophy it operates under. It would have to be a very precise thing to be strong enough to do what I¡¯ve seen today.¡±


    ¡°So, the creature¡¯s intention would need to align with the actual culprits. I assume that if there wasn¡¯t true common cause, the summoning wouldn¡¯t work.¡± Struth said, his grin dropping.


    ¡°Or it would respond with murderous anger. I read somewhere that introspection is the first lesson a summoner learns. They need to understand their own motives.¡± Komena said, scanning the crime scene one last time with a disappointed look on her face. ¡°Only two pieces of evidence out of this entire mess. The diaries and whatever killed the dean. That means you¡¯ll need to be precise with your diagnosis.¡±


    Struth sighed, folding his notes together and placing them inside his vest. He shook whatever thoughts were in his head out and returned to grinning at her. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have been chosen for this task if I was incompetent. Even if we can¡¯t conduct a proper autopsy with what¡¯s left, I¡¯m certain we can pare it down to a reasonable list of suspects. But all three of us will need to burn the candle at both ends to do it in a reasonable amount of time.¡±


    Komena let out a grim chuckle. ¡°That¡¯s fine. I doubt I¡¯ll be able to find the peace of mind to sleep until this is over. I do have other things I¡¯ll try and pursue though. Grasping at loose lines is better than sinking.¡± She turned to leave, absently asking ¡°Do you trust the boy enough to have him help with this? He doesn¡¯t seem to be dealing with the stress very well and it¡¯s only going to get worse. Isn¡¯t there somewhere you can send him until this blow¡¯s over?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve considered it, but there¡¯s nowhere available right now. Either way, I wouldn¡¯t have brought him if I didn¡¯t think he could handle it.¡± Struth said, his thick brow furrowed in a hard glare. ¡°If you¡¯re worried about protecting his delicate sensibilities, then he saw worse before I adopted him. If your worried about him carrying his weight, it should be obvious to you that I rely on him a great deal more than I should.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s seen worse?¡± Komena asked, glancing back at the torn-up body. ¡°Where was he before you adopted him?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s none of-¡± Struth started, angry for the first time Komena had seen, though he closed his eyes and re-plastered his grin before getting carried away. He might not have been handling what he had seen as well as it appeared either. When he started speaking again, he had returned to his baseline smile. ¡°It¡¯s not my place to tell you. If you want to ask Kave about it, I won¡¯t stop you. But he can be defensive about his personal life.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry I¡¯m not that invested in a child¡¯s affairs. I¡¯ll leave it be, as long as you¡¯re certain about him.¡± Komena said.


    ¡°I appreciate the sentiment. Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m sure this will be an excellent learning experience for the boy.¡± Struth said. Komena glanced back over to the corpse but bit her tongue.


    She stayed quiet as they left the Dean¡¯s residence. Struth tried to engage in some chattering about nearby book sellers and a bar that apparently served a very fine Corlin brandy. Komena didn¡¯t respond beyond the occasional vague hum of polite interest. Alcohol wasn¡¯t popular in Sabbelah. It wasn¡¯t banned, but drunkenness was too obvious a weakness for most mages to indulge in. Even without the paranoia, Komena simply didn¡¯t have the time or money to explore it.


    The day was finally underway enough that the streets were truly starting to crowd. It wasn¡¯t as bad as it would have been by the market or main Faculty buildings, but there was still a rushing throng. People going to work, people making deliveries, people delaying their responsibilities on the curbside. It was standard in all ways. How long was that going to last? How would people react? Would the Evocation Faculty descend into a riot? Were they already at each other¡¯s throats, lighting up darkened halls to claim the abandoned title or would that only start when the Dean¡¯s death was made public? Komena wasn¡¯t sure which would be worse, the instant release or letting it boil.


    ¡°You!¡± A voice cried, barely pulling her from the mental calculation. She assumed that it was directed someone else, anyone else on the street. There were enough of them, and she made sure she was indistinguishable from them. Then she recognized the lout coming towards them from Ervan and Khalid¡¯s company.


    He was tall and thin with corded muscles clear to see under his vest. He wore gloves on his hands, protecting long, agile fingers. He was clean shaven, exposing a weak, pock marked chin that was twisted by the glower on his face.


    ¡°What right do you have to interfere with the results of a duel about company business?¡± he said. His tone made Struth come to attention, watching him quietly.


    "I didn¡¯t interfere at all.¡± She answered, keeping her voice level. ¡°I just made sure people would be around to treat my friend after he lost.¡±


    ¡°You knew how Khalid would react. He¡¯s always overvalued being seen as reasonable. He was the one who won though, that¡¯s all the reason needed. He would have seen that if he had time to process it properly. You took that from him, bitch.¡±


    Komena cared more about him understanding what she had done rather than what she called her. Being known as a meddler ran counter to her goal of being barely known at all. Struth¡¯s head tilted silently.


    ¡°Then I¡¯m sure you can take it up with him again and see if he¡¯ll keep the job. You¡¯re right. It¡¯s his business and I shouldn¡¯t have interfered. I¡¯m sorry.¡± She said. The lout spat in response.


    ¡°An apology won¡¯t undo what you¡¯ve cause. You know the only thing that will is proving that you were wrong to interfere, and there¡¯s only one way to do that.¡± He said, taking a scroll out and tossing it at her, hard but underhand. Komena caught it without issue but didn¡¯t open it. She had recognized the boiler plate dueling form mid-flight.


    She could make this work. She hadn¡¯t accepted anything yet. That didn¡¯t matter long term, there were plenty of duels where it was assumed the loser had agreed after the fact. But the challenger hadn¡¯t attacked yet. Maybe he was waiting until she forced his hand, or the fear really hit. He had stayed a few paces away, too far for him to lunge and grab her. She could throw something, one of her knives, distract him and run. Officially claim she hadn¡¯t agreed to any duel and buy time until he cooled down or Khalid call him off. The important thing was that she didn¡¯t actually start the fight.


    ¡°She accepts.¡± Said Struth. The lout looked at him, finally realizing that he was walking with her. The glare Komena shot the diplomat over her shoulder was more shocked than his.


    ¡°You don¡¯t-¡± she started, but the lout interrupted her. Their argument started to draw attention with the crowd flowing around them. People gave them space and glances as they walked by, though none did more than slowdown to eavesdrop.


    ¡°Don¡¯t try and get out of this. I¡¯ll see you in an arena this evening or I¡¯ll hunt you down before the next sunrise.¡± He said.


    ¡°No, this is best settled here and now.¡± Struth replied. He had started rolling up his sleeves, slowly and carefully in a way to avoid wrinkles. ¡°Take your position.¡±


    ¡°How is this your business, foreigner. Leave us be to enact justice on our own.¡±  The lout said. He towered over Struth but was thinner in every way and something in the Corlin man¡¯s calmness was disconcerting.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°I can¡¯t do that. It would dishonor the name Ironheart to abandon her now that I¡¯m employed in service. We¡¯ll settle this between us, unless Komena wants the pleasure of striking you down herself.¡±


    Komena very much did not need that pleasure in her life, but she didn¡¯t want to watch Struth burn in her place. Maybe the man could cast, but she had never seen it. If one wanted to be good enough to win anything, they needed to be able to cast quickly casually, flexing their magecraft like a limb. She had seen enough poorly cast fire drift along slowly before being swatted down. But Struth had been the one to get them into this mess and he had started stretching in preparation by doing strange, slow little lunges with his hands on his hips and face casually neutral. He was serious in his offer and if he wanted to take responsibility for the consequences, that was his choice.


    ¡°I am entitled to have a volunteer take my place. You can challenge me again if you still need satisfaction.¡± She answered.


    ¡°Once I win, I¡¯ll have you write to Khalid that he should take the position. Then we¡¯ll see where my satisfaction lies¡± The lout said. His tone made it clear that would be a similar place to where it was now.


    ¡°And if Struth wins, you¡¯ll let the matter lie.¡± Komena said. The lout snorted in response but looked nervous when Struth did the same.


    ¡°Agreed¡± he said and stepped away into a nearly empty alley. Komena and Struth followed him away from the crowd. A few people tailed them to watch, but most kept about their business. This wasn¡¯t a particularly novel sight.


    ¡°If he does win, I would appreciate it if you kept Kave from doing anything drastic. I¡¯ve made what arrangements I could for him, but he¡¯ll need some assistance if they fall through.¡± Struth said.


    ¡°Of course.¡± Komena said. It wasn¡¯t a request she could turn down and would be easy enough to fulfill anyways.


    ¡°Do you have any last words.¡± Struth called out. His opponent was waiting for him, a few meters away.


    ¡°None that I need now.¡± he said. Struth shrugged.


    ¡°Na?ve, but that¡¯s your choice.¡± He said, then lowered into suicidal stance, hands on the ground and legs braced. ¡°Could someone count us down, please?¡±


    Komena pointed out one of the watcher¡¯s a random, a boy who barely started shaving. It took a few shakes of the hand before he caught the message.


    ¡°Five. Four. Three. Two. One!¡± The boy said. ¡°Begin!¡±


    Both men moved instantly. The lout could back up his confidence. A geyser of white embers and black smoke erupted out of his hands the instant the duel began. Komena watched one of the embers get caught on the breeze and drift into the brickwork, scorching a black trail into it. Struth was faster though.


    In the time it took that spell to be cast, he had kicked off the ground and was sprinting towards his opponent. Before he dived into the conflagration in front of him, his fingers twitched, and he muttered something. He cut through the fire like ship through sea mist. His flesh didn¡¯t peel and burn under the heat as he burst out the other side. Struth closed in on the lout who had challenged him low and quick. Before another spell came out, Struth had wrapped his arms around the taller man, picked him up into the air and slammed him into the ground with a sharp crack. A final, savage right hook to the jaw assured his victory.


    Struth stepped back from the broken body he had made, took a deep breath, and turned back towards Komena with a clap and full smile.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s one distraction handled. Shall we continue on our way?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Where did that come from?¡± Komena asked in reply. Struth motioned for them to walk and talk, leaving the crowd that had followed them into the alley. Komena spun the scroll containing the duel challenge in her fingers before pocketing it.


    ¡°I took the opportunity of living here to attend some classes and learn a few cantrips. That was part of the reason I was sent here, to bring back what I thought was useful. I don¡¯t have advantage of your lifetime of exposure, so I had to specialize. I decided shields would be the most effective so I learned them. Something for what armor can¡¯t help with.¡± Struth said, resuming his usual maniac cheer.


    ¡°I suppose that makes sense.¡± Komena said. It was certainly more sustainable than the spying his peers has indulged in. ¡°But why defenses instead of something more practical, like moving things?¡±


    ¡°Moving things? Oh, I meant bring it back for my family, not Corlin as whole. Our interests are more specialized. My intention was to retire back home to some kind of teaching position. Kave would assist until he found his own way.¡±


    ¡°Specialized?¡± Komena asked. She could imagine what those were after the beating she had seen, but there was no point leaving it unconfirmed.


    ¡°Oh yes, ask any Corlin citizen about the clan Ironheart, and the first thing they¡¯ll think is warrior. We¡¯re renowned for it, much like this place here is renowned for its curried noodle soup.¡± Struth said, pointing out a small building, well off the main street.


    The rest of the walk passed how it had started, with Struth pointing out his favorite little holes in the city. Komena contributed more than she had before, but still mostly listened. They were back at the Embassy without another interruption.


    ***


    Walking into Struth¡¯s apartment, the pair found that Kave already had another pot of tea waiting to be served.


    ¡°I¡¯ve spoken to The Dean of the Mundane about getting the diary unlocked. He said it would be his top priority, but it would still probably take him a day to unlock it.¡±  Kave said, pouring three cups. ¡°He was smug for some reason. More than usual. Why was that?¡± Kave asked as he put one of them in front of Komena¡¯s chair.


    ¡°He was one of the few who offered to help however he could. I though you would have an easier time getting help from him then the Dean of Illusion, since he would at least recognize you enough to let you speak.¡± Komena said, sipping the tea. Excellent again.


    ¡°We¡¯ll need to inform all the other Deans of what he¡¯s doing eventually. If he tries to spin this mess to his own benefit by tampering with evidence, they¡¯ll know to look.¡± Kave said. That point hung in the air as Komena took another sip. Interference would be inevitable. If she had thought that tampered evidence would be the worst of it, then she wouldn¡¯t be so eager to no longer be working this job.


    Kave broke the silence by leaving the room and returning with two bags. Both were overflowing with books and scroll. He placed them by the tea table, between himself and Komena.


    ¡°I assumed that you would want to confirm what killed the Dean. I took the liberty of procuring some reference material.¡± Kave said as he took his own seat, a solidly build wooden seat with only a few horizontal bars to support the back.


    ¡°Excellent work boy! Though we¡¯ll only need the ones concerning summoned creatures apparently.¡± Struth declared as he took out his own notes. They slid across the table to rest in front of Kave.


    Kave nodded as he unpacked the bags. Komena scanned the titles of the books he laid out. Besides the expected local academic texts, there were a few imports. Corlin religious texts, Veldeti fauna guides and Ao Guang military histories. They would need to pick through what they read, but they wouldn¡¯t miss something that simply hadn¡¯t been summoned to the city yet. He passed a few of them over to Komena.


    ¡°Here, start unlocking these.¡± he said. The books were bound shut with various, preservation enchantments. They were nothing serious, the academic equivalent to child proof locks.


    ¡°I can¡¯t.¡± Komena said, refiling her cup. There wasn¡¯t a point in dragging out the mystery of it. It wasn¡¯t a secret. ¡°I don¡¯t even have enough power to boil the tea in this cup.¡±


    It had been a while since she had told someone. Reactions differed but were usually expected. Khalid and Ervan had been sad and pitying when they¡¯d learned, all three of them children younger than Kave. She had hated that then, though she appreciated the gesture a little more now. She¡¯d beaten them both enough over the years for it to sting less now. Kave¡¯s reaction didn¡¯t have that kind of salve.


    ¡°You¡¯re joking. No ones that weak. Even Struth has enough raw power to take care of himself, and he just started learning ten years ago.¡± Kave said. ¡°How would you do anything here if you couldn¡¯t cast?¡±


    ¡°I work really hard and pay someone to do it for me.¡± Komena answered between sips.


    ¡°You¡¯re being uncharacteristically small minded, Kave. Just like how their people like you are born with arcane talent, there are people who are most notable for their utter lack of such a thing.¡± Struth said. ¡°Of course, I don¡¯t think any others have risen to the heights of inspector for the Deans.¡± He motioned with his teacup, an informal cheer and salute. ¡°You could stand to learn a thing or two from her.¡±


    ¡°As much as I appreciate the vote of confidence, Struth.¡± Komena said, tapping the cover of one of the texts. ¡°I will need someone to open these up for me. We don¡¯t have time to pat each other on the back right now.¡±


    ¡°Of course. My apologies.¡± Struth said, before he began casting. The seals keeping the pages bound together were undone with a wave of his hand.


    ¡°We¡¯ll start with an initial search. Look for anything with serrated claws, between six and seven centimeters, canine teeth of 8 centimeters, and fire.¡± Struth said.


    The next several hours went by in near silence, broken by flipping pages and one of them occasionally writing down a possibility. The work went quickly. They were all researchers by trade, in a way. The accounts Komena was reading were fascinating in comparison to the shipping manifests she normally dealt with. It was an exercise of eliminating the impossible, dismissing most of the creatures they read about as viable murder weapons. Still, even if the work was going quickly, it was like counting all the bricks in the city. You could say that you already finished counting two districts, that still left millions to tally.


    ¡°That¡¯s all the books I brought.¡± Kave said finally, rolling up his scroll. By this point, the setting sun was dying the white sands and buildings of the city outside Struth¡¯s windows a faint orange. ¡°I¡¯ll need to get more from the library.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll come along. A few of the books might require the little authority I have to take out.¡± Struth said, standing up and stretching out his back. It gave a dry crack as he grunted in satisfaction.


    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll leave the rest of the research to you two.¡± Komena said, finishing her last cup of tea. It had gone as cold as anything ever did in Sabbelah. Kave almost fired back a response, but Struth stopped him with a hand on the shoulder.


    ¡°Would you mind telling us what you¡¯ll be doing during this? It is my job to report back to the Dean¡¯s on the investigation, after all.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to continue the investigation.¡± Komena said, standing up and shaking herself to loosen up. Struth hadn¡¯t skimped on budget or comfort when furnishing his room, but hours sitting and reading took a toll regardless. ¡°Currently, we have two leads. But the Dean was also a, shall we say, social butterfly. If we can find the flowers that butterfly was visiting, we can get the nectar of truth from them.¡±


    A moment of silence passed while the two academics absorbed her words, their heads tilted like confused dogs.


    ¡°That metaphor got away from you.¡± Kave said. Komena shrugged indifferently in response before leaving.