Book II. Chapter 112 - Routine

Chapter 112

“Ow!”

“Bear with it.”

Ardan growled something inarticulate and turned to the window again. Markov Canal had once again been bundled up in its fur made of snow and was currently being illuminated by the Ley-lamps. The bluish lights somehow reminded him of distant stars.

Tess, after soaking some gauze in disinfectant, was cleaning the deep scratches on her husband’s back. They were the remnants of his swift but most unpleasant trip across the floor. Every now and then, Ardi would hiss and grind his teeth. It stung so bad that his eyes were watering.

Sleeping Spirits…

A few weeks ago, not only would he have felt nothing at all, but the scratches themselves would’ve vanished before he had even managed to see his family off at the station. They’d embraced, he and Shaia; he had spun little Kena around in his arms; he had shaken hands with Kelly, and… he had shaken hands with Erti as well, who had made sure to look away.

For a while, he and Tess had stood on the platform, seeing off the train pushing east with its puffs of gray smoke, and then they had hailed a cab and gone home.

And that was how their time with their kin had ended. The next time they would be able to meet up would be at the start of summer.

“It all went rather poorly, didn’t it?” Ardan was trying to distract himself with conversation. The unusual sensations he wasn’t used to were really hard to endure.

It was hard to imagine how ordinary humans—Milar, for instance—lived with such pain. He could only hope that the mutant’s poison would not linger for too long in his blood.

“As all weddings do, Ardi,” Tess answered calmly, and, setting the gauze aside, took out a small jar of fragrant salve. “This next bit will most likely be particularly unpleasant.”

“I’m ready for—Ahgrat!” Ardan cried out as the healing balm scalded his back.

Gritting his teeth, Ardan shook his head, trying to somehow dislodge the unpleasantness. It didn’t really work. It burned him without mercy. And he was supposed to live like this for half a year, if not longer?

Damn the Puppeteers and their filthy creations…

“There now, that’s a good lad,” Tess pecked him on the cheek and, taking a wide bandage, began winding it around his back and across his chest. “In a couple of days, you’ll be good as new.”

“A couple of days?!” Ardan was aghast. “Simple scratches will take a couple of days to heal?!”

Tess looked him in the eye, and a few moments later, she was almost trembling with barely-contained laughter. Ardan, understanding that she wasn’t laughing “at” him but “with” him, turned away and growled something again.

“Welcome to the world of humans, my dear husband,” Tess flicked him on the nose and, after putting the medicines away in a small drawer, she set it back on the shelf. “Get used to it.”

Ardi chose not to say that he had no wish to get used to such a thing.

“Bruce’s” sign was blinking faintly. The generator was most likely acting up again. Arkar had decided to pay for a replacement in the end, and was now waiting for the Festival of Light to end so that the business world of the Metropolis could return to its usual busy pace.

“Tess,” Ardi said hesitantly.

“Yes, dear?” His… wife answered, returning to the table.

“You…” Ardan sighed. “I’m sorry that you had to be a witness to that… conversation between Erti and me.”

Tess smiled gently and ran her hand along his cheek.

“If one can even call that a conversation,” she said slowly.

Ardan sighed again.

“Right,” he turned to the window. “If one can even do that…”

For several seconds, they were both silent. They sat at the table and watched the snowfall whirling beyond the window. Snowflakes were settling on the slowly-shrinking mountains of snow and ice that had piled up along the pavements.

“It was your first argument,” Tess said, not so much asking as stating a fact.

Ardan nodded. They’d never really argued before. Like most brothers, they had bickered, and sometimes even shouted at one another. But it had always been about something innocuous, like housework. Or a game. Or fishing. Never about feelings.

“You must know that I-”

“I know, Ardi,” Tess cut him off and, drawing closer, laid her head on his shoulder. “I know that your magic doesn’t come first for you. You’ve shown that not merely once, or even twice, but more than ten times.”

“Then why does he-”

“Because Erti is a child,” Tess cut in again. “Because he was torn out of something he knew. His world was turned upside down. And then the person he had been used to leaning on—even if he wasn’t aware of it—left. Erti feels alone. Perhaps he even feels betrayed, or abandoned. But not because that’s what happened, Ardi, but because he is a child. And he looks at the world like a child would.”

Ardi looked at Tess. There was a sharp sort of nostalgia in her gaze, but maybe not outright pain. This certainly wasn’t the kind of nostalgia one savors during a warm evening by the hearth, but a thorny one that provides only discomfort.

She’d left her home as well, after all. She’d left her family, her brothers and sisters, behind.

“You also…”

“My brothers and I shouted at one another so much that the windows shook,” Tess smiled. “They accused me of everything one could be accused of. And I gave as good as I got, Ardi. In my mind, back then, all my troubles were tied exclusively to… I don’t know. To anyone except my own attitude toward those troubles. It is very hard to simply take responsibility for oneself.”

Ardan lifted his eyebrows a little.

“I would’ve never thought that you and Alaris and Asilar had once acted like that, dear.”

“Because it was only on the surface, Ardi,” Tess rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. “We simply needed time to grow accustomed to a new life. That’s all. And Erti needs it, too.”

Ardan closed his eyes.

“When we visited six months ago, I noticed nothing of the sort.”

“Because it was only starting to become an issue,” she stroked his hand. “Because the articles had not yet been written. There’d been no interview with the Empress-Consort back then. He hadn’t seen you limping. He wasn’t yet acquainted with Milar and the rest. And he hadn’t seen the Orders on your breast. I am sure that a boy like Erti knows perfectly well what they are awarded for.”

“You’re saying that-”

“He loves you, Ardi. As you love him. And so he worries and frets. He feels responsible for you, just as you feel responsible for him. But he does not understand that. He doesn’t recognize it just yet. And that’s simply because Erti is still a child. All of his emotions get mixed into one large cocktail, which spills out and becomes”—Tess waved her hand vaguely in the air—“conversations like that.”

Ardan stared at his wife, surprised by this new side of her.

“How are you so good at understanding children?”

“It’s not like I had a choice, Ardi,” Tess answered with more of that same nostalgia. “The wife of the Governor-General of Shamtur is not a person who can spend a lot of time with her children. And governesses and nannies are not family. So, I had to help Mother. At some point, that led to its own grievances—my own this time. But I outgrew them too. It is very easy to blame parents, Ardi. Brothers and sisters. Anyone at all. At first, it is easy. And then, with each passing day, the weight of it only grows. Forgiving and understanding is far simpler, dear.”

Ardan was stroking her hair.

“Tess.”

“What?”

“You know how, in the old tales, they say that one should look for a wife who isn’t beautiful, but wise?”

“Yes, I recall something like that, Ardi-the-Wizard.”

“I was lucky enough to find one who is both wise and beautiful.”

“Don’t flatter me,” she poked him lightly in the side.

They fell silent again. Beyond the window, the snow was still falling.

“I should’ve noticed something, Tess. I should’ve understood that it hasn’t been easy for him.”

“Perhaps,” Tess did not deny it. “But for all your perceptiveness as an investigator, Ardi, you are astonishingly blind to other people’s souls and emotions.”

Ardan silently agreed. Even if he did call the Guardian Spirits his forest friends, they were still beasts. Even Atta’nha, despite being a Sidhe and a Princess of Winter, had lived by the laws and customs of beasts.

Ardi was trying to understand people. He was trying to understand his own human emotions, which were sometimes unfamiliar to him, and perhaps he had even made progress. But… This was not Star Magic, where everything could be measured, calculated and tested.

The complexities of souls and emotions more resembled the art of the Aean’Hane.

“But I will remind you of what I said after the incident in Little Viroeira, dear,” Tess traced patterns on his wrist with her fingers. “You cannot decide for others what they should do or how they should live. You may advise them. You may share your thoughts with them. But you can’t decide for them.”

“Erti writing to Anastasia will lead to nothing good.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. We cannot know for sure.”

“But we can make an educated guess.”

Tess smiled again and rubbed her cheek against him.

“An heir to the throne who has run away from the palace. An ardent young man setting out on his first adventure. Does that not remind you of anything?”

“The beginning of a fairy tale,” Ardi muttered.

“And so they will live in a fairy tale, dear,” Tess went on. “Thousands of kilometers apart. In utterly different worlds that don’t overlap at all. And all that will bind them together is your name and a correspondence. This is not the beginning of a great romance, Ardi. The infatuation between them will fade alongside the novelty. Only a friendship will remain after that.”

Ardan sighed once more and shook his head.

“I need to write him a letter.”

“You will,” Tess nodded. “Later. When you both come to understand that you were both equally in the wrong. Each in your own way. And that you argued not because you were angry, but because you love one another.”

Ardan rubbed his bruised shoulder and his lacerated back twinged in response.

“I knew that he boxes and goes to the shooting range, but this is just too much.”

“It would’ve been too much if you hadn’t held back,” Tess retorted and got up from the table. She went over to the stove and the kettle sitting atop it. “I am sure that you would’ve never harmed Erti. Just like he would’ve never harmed you. And so, everything that happened between you two can only be called a comical scuffle.”

“A comical scuffle? You saw Erti!” Ardan threw up his hands and hissed again at the accompanying pain. “He reminded me so strongly of Father-”

“Whose feats he learned about from the newspapers,” Tess pointed out. “And among other things, you could’ve told him about Hector yourself.”

Ardan turned away.

“I didn’t think to do so,” he muttered.

“Because you have a hundred other troubles in your head, dear. But in Erti’s mind, that doesn’t seem to be the case.” She set a cup of fragrant tea before him and sat down beside him again. “The two of you need to cool off. And both of you need to realize that you are each living your own life. Erti will make mistakes. He will collect his bruises. And all you can do is offer him your help. You can offer it, dear, but not decide for him.”

“I didn’t want to decide for him.”

Tess looked him straight in the eyes.

Ardan sighed and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“All right, I admit that it might have looked like I was trying to do that.”

“It honestly looked like you were ordering him about, Ardi. And believe me, telling a thirteen-year-old child to do anything is always going to be an uphill battle. Just remember what you were like at that age.”

Ardan growled something inarticulate again. He didn’t even need to remember what he’d been like at thirteen. What he’d done at the Anorsky estate was enough. He had really said that he would pay for the suits… Nowadays, Ardan would not only have taken the suits but, in all likelihood, he would’ve tried to get something else out of the deal as well. It would’ve been fair compensation for the inconvenience.

“Erti and I are alike, then?”

Tess laughed.

“Like reflections in a mirror,” she nodded.

“I am not as stubborn and pigheaded as he is.”

“Ardi.”

“Yes?”

“Compared to you, a ram and a donkey are the most agreeable animals in the world,” Tess said fondly.

Silence settled over the table once more. They sat across from each other, drank tea, and every now and then, they held hands. They were most likely not even aware they were doing it.

How would Ardi have acted if he’d been in his brother’s shoes?

There was no need to even think about that.

For years, Ardan had blamed Hector for “abandoning” their family and choosing to lay down his life for those who’d seen him as a monster. And only after Ardi had risked his own life for the people of the Metropolis had he come to understand Hector. Perhaps not entirely. Perhaps the thought still lived in his mind: “What if we had run away?” But, at any rate, his soul was no longer so heavily burdened by this.

Tess was right.

He should’ve tried to understand Erti. And he should’ve done it before he’d resolved to have a “serious conversation” with him.

And Erti should’ve understood why Ardan couldn’t tell him a great deal about the particulars of his life.

Sleeping Spirits!

He had never really talked about his emotions and feelings with anyone before! No, wait, he had. With Tess. But that somehow felt different…

It was much simpler to discuss the Puppeteers, terrorist attacks, Star Magic, and, well, anything else!

People… With beasts, it was far simpler.

He wondered what it would’ve been like if Erti had been taught by Ergar—would things have turned out differently? Or, if they had both yielded to each other in an effort to not cause any harm, would that have led to only one conclusion? Alas, as ever, history didn’t concern itself with “what ifs.” Ertan was perhaps the first Matabar in the history of their father’s people who had not been trained by the Guardian Spirits.

Where would that lead him? He was almost thirteen. Ertan’s body, thanks to him being cured of his illness, was now the same as that of a fully-fledged hunter. And, by all accounts, Erti had a far greater gift for the hunt than his older brother. This was no surprise given how much Erti had taken after their father.

Even though he didn’t remember him...

“You know what, Tess?”

“What?”

“When we have children, you will be the one to talk to them about things like this. I can stand off to one side and bare my fangs as a persuasive argument.”

Tess laughed. It was a light, ringing, infectious sound. Ardi smiled as well. Then she rose and lowered herself onto his lap. He touched her skin, his hands found their way beneath her dress and brushed her waist, and the warmth of her chest spread across his own.

“Since all of our guests are gone, what were you saying about children?” She whispered, and this time, she did not slip away from his kiss.

***

The Colonel was drumming his fingers against a whole pile of papers while shifting a lollipop from one cheek to the other. He’d long ago left behind the thin and wiry man he’d been in ages past. The de facto head of the Second Chancery had filled out enough to pass for a banker. Even so, he was still disciplined enough to not have the sort of gut that would’ve entered the room ahead of its owner.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from NovelPhoenix. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

“There is one thing I don’t understand, Corporal, Captain,” the Colonel glanced at Milar, who had crutches resting against his chair. The wheelchair had had to be left below, since the Black House stairs hadn’t been built to accommodate it. “How do the two of you manage to cover yourselves all over in shit, and yet, in the end, you don’t smell like excrement, but roses?”

“Colonel, I often ask myself that same question,” Milar spread his arms out. “I think that ever since Ard came here, everything has been turning into a fairy tale.”

All three of them looked at his crutches, then at the documents laid out on the table.

“So, what do we have here?” The Colonel steepled his fingers and turned to stare at the wooden panels that lined his walls. “The mole turned out to be a junior operative, an entirely rank-and-file employee by the name of Artur Kocharsky. Thirty-three years old. He was recruited after gunning down his own commander at the Fatian border.”

Ardan very nearly choked on air.

“Artur Kocharsky was acquitted,” the Colonel continued. “His commander, after succumbing to the temptation of whispering exes, tried to smuggle a map of the fortification’s artillery defenses to the enemy.”

“It may very well have been the other way around,” Milar pointed at the research of Alice Rovnev and the other clever folk who had taken apart the remains of the mutant. “It says here that, according to his bones and muscles, Artur was subjected to chimerisation around the age of ten. And, most telling of all-”

“He’d been a ward of one of the orphanages,” the Colonel sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Milar. How many investigators are working with orphanages at present?”

“Twelve full squads, Colonel.”

“Twelve squads…” The Colonel repeated. “If there’s anything the Puppeteers excel at, it’s spreading our resources thin.”

“Could the Emperor not try to wring more financing out of Parliament for us?”

“Captain, if His Imperial Majesty could do such a thing, he would’ve already done it,” the Colonel waved a hand. “We already receive an unofficial flow of supplementary funds from the expropriation of Trevor Man’s share in his former company…”

Ardan hadn’t known that the Black House was being sustained by resources the Crown had seized from a posthumously-convicted criminal. The arrangement, however, did sound rather logical. And quite in keeping with the spirit of the Second Chancery.

“What interests me far more, Colonel, is this entry.” Milar cleared his throat and read aloud: “After our investigation, we can, with absolute certainty, conclude that Artur Kocharsky was subjected to the process of chimerisation on three separate occasions, the last of which was completed between three and five years before his death.”

“Thank you, Milar, but I, too, can read,” the Colonel was obviously not in a good mood, and it was easy to understand why. “We’ve managed to identify and destroy several of their laboratories, but it seems like the Puppeteers have a whole network of research centers. And we haven’t even gotten close to the main ones yet. So… theories?”

Milar and the Colonel both turned to Ardi, who had already prepared his own reports.

“As I outlined in the report I submitted during my leave-”

“You’ve already received a bonus for that, Corporal, so stop pretending that you’ve been slighted,” the Colonel cut him off.

Ardan inwardly sighed in defeat. He and Tess still needed to furnish their apartment, and a few extra exes from the Treasury would not have been unwelcome.

“With a certain degree of probability, Colonel, I would suggest that the Puppeteers are trying to develop some manner of phylactery,” Ardan delivered his verdict.

“What do liches have to do with this, Corporal?”

Ardan paused for a few seconds. He tried to formulate a straightforward explanation for his colleagues who weren’t well-versed in Star Magic.

“A phylactery is the receptacle for the Ley-charge of a lich, which keeps them from disintegrating,” Ardan began explaining. “And from the moment Milar and I first encountered the Homeless Fae in the Castle Tower, I have not been able to shake the feeling that the Puppeteers are trying to develop something similar, but not for the Ley of a man or a Firstborn, but for Homeless Fae and possibly even demons.”

The Colonel was silent for a while, then pointed to the many photographs and documents.

“And how do experiments with chimeras, mutants, vivisections of Firstborn children, and trials conducted on pregnant human girls fit into this?”

The Colonel spoke as calmly as though he were discussing something altogether ordinary, not monstrous, truly bloody scenes. If professional deformations had their own rankings like Star Mages, then the Colonel had obviously reached the rank of Archmage long ago.

Or Arch-Cloak…

“They’re byproducts of the main research,” Ardan answered. “To make a perfect vessel for any given thing, one must understand the nature of not only the vessel itself, but also what is placed within it.”

“In other words, Corporal…” The Colonel let the pause linger.

“In other words, the Puppeteers are likely to have more than just laboratories where they study chimeras and mutants. They probably have something similar related to the Fae and the demons as well,” Ardi delivered the news without particular optimism. “That is indirectly suggested by the presence of a demon at the ancient vampire’s estate. Also, there was the Homeless Fae hiding among an Manish’s people, at Alla Tantov’s home, in the Castle Tower, and all those other experiments that do not fit the general pattern of chimeras and mutants.”

Ardi recalled the faces of Lusha, Andrew, and the Larand Monastery of the Sisters of Light.

“Any suggestions on how we might work out where to find them?” The Colonel asked while leafing through the papers.

Ardan turned a few pages of his report and notes.

“Well… in theory, Colonel—only in theory—a laboratory that’s meant to study the nature of the Fae or demons would require more than just generators.”

“Meaning?”

“May I?” Ardan gestured to the map of the Empire on the wall.

“Please, Corporal,” the Colonel barely waved a hand. “Be brilliant.”

Ardan nodded, took a long pencil from the table, crossed the office, and stood by the wall. Clearing his throat, he began to draw lines directly on the map.

“These are the Ley Lines known to the Mages’ Guild.” Ardan, after finishing the diagram, stepped back a little. “And-”

“And you could’ve asked me for a map of the Ley Lines, Corporal, instead of ruining a Treasury-issued map that has hung here for about forty years,” the Colonel cut him off. “But do go on. Don’t hold back. After all, the defacement of state property is a habit of yours at this point. And the fact that Captain Aloaeiol assumed responsibility for the damage done to the port, which amounts to…” The Colonel fished a memorandum out of the pile, “…nine thousand, four hundred and forty-three exes and thirty-one kso… Captain, just try opening your mouth… Aloaeiol’s reassignment does not absolve you of responsibility.”

Turning his back to the Colonel and his face to Ardi, Milar gave him a quick wink. After clearing his throat again, Ardan ran the pencil along the lines he had already drawn on the map.

“If you look here, you can see that the Larand Monastery is close not only to the Dead Lands, but also to an intersection of several major Ley Lines. This is called a Ley Node.”

“All Dead Lands are, in one way or another, either neighbors of, or directly bound to, Ley Nodes,” the Colonel steepled his fingers again. “You’re telling me nothing new here, Corporal.”

“Yes—but!” Ardi nodded. “What do we know? The Puppeteers are interested in the new mining equipment? And in Delpas as well. At first, I couldn’t figure out why they chose Delpas of all places. But if one follows this line here…” Ardi ran the pencil along a rail route, “…from Delpas, through the western steppes, a route is being created that goes straight to the Ralian Mountains. There is a Ley Node there as well. And what’s more, in the Dead Lands of the Ralian Foothills, strange things are happening.”

“It’s not just ‘strange things,’ Corporal, but the discovery of the largest burial grounds in the history of the Anomaly Hunters’ Guild,” the Colonel massaged his temples. “You’ll sign a confidentiality agreement on your way out. For now, go on.”

Ardan nodded and shifted the pencil northward.

“The Puppeteers are likely interested in the tomb of the High Elf Aean’Hane,” he tapped the pencil against another Ley Node again. “And on the shore of the Azure Sea, there is another intersection of major Ley Lines.”

“This is still too indirect to build anything more than a guess with, Corporal.”

“Agreed, Colonel, so let’s keep going,” the pencil ran along the map once more. “This is the Northern National Park, to which the corruption in the Anomaly Hunters’ Guild that was investigated by Miss Shpritz leads. At its center,” Ardi tapped the map, “there is also a major Ley Node.”

“We have yet to tie the corruption in the Anomaly Hunters’ Guild to the Puppeteers in any way, Corporal,” the Colonel reminded him.

“Yes, this is only a theory Milar and I have come up with,” Ardan agreed. “More proof is needed, but a whole chain of coincidences points precisely to this intersection of Ley Lines. If you will allow me…”

Ardi pointed at the map of the Metropolis, which was hanging on the adjacent wall.

“Well, since you’ve ruined one, might as well ruin the other,” the Colonel shrugged. “Especially since I don’t have a separate map of the Metropolis’ Ley Lines.”

Ardan, wasting no time, went over to the adjacent wall and began drawing the coiling lines again.

“The underground temple where we fought Lea Mortimer also stands on a small Node.”

“As do all the temples of the Old Gods,” the Colonel pointed out, displaying his rather decent grasp of general Star Magic knowledge.

“Yes, but…” Ardi went on, marking the map with little Xs. “The estate of the ancient vampire in the suburbs was also a small Node. The house of Lusha, Andrew and Zirka, where Milar and I discovered one of the variants of possession, was a small Node. The Castle Tower was, again, a small Node. The only thing that doesn’t fit the pattern is-”

“Let me guess, Corporal,” the Colonel cut him off. “An Manish’s company?”

“Yes,” Ardi confirmed, and then he immediately waved the pencil again. “But! The Striga who was hiding in Professor an Manish’s company possessed an incredible degree of autonomy. It’s possible that she used the Ley she absorbed from the employees there to maintain her physical form.”

“Or you are merely twisting the facts to fit your theory?” The Colonel spread his hands out. “But for the moment, this is the only working hypothesis we have. Demonic phylacteries and Ley Nodes… Captain.”

“Yes, Colonel?”

“Send an order to the squads that are part of the investigation. Tell them to take the Corporal’s theory under consideration. Let them dig into the earth. Perhaps something will crawl out.”

Out of habit, Ardan tucked the pencil behind his ear and returned to the table, which was heaped with reports, documents and photographs. This was by no means the work of just their squad. Papers sent in by dozens of officers of the Second Chancery from across the whole country lay here.

“Artur Kocharsky…” The Colonel repeated, and instead of his temples, he began to rub the bridge of his nose. “The least conspicuous, practically nonexistent figure in the pack. And so, he was the ideal mole.”

“At least we eliminated him,” Milar reminded him.

“Without questioning him,” the Colonel added.

For a few seconds, the silence of the office was broken only by the whispering curtains, which were being moved by the wind coming from the internal ventilation system. It was cleverly hidden, too. Ardi, when he’d had nothing to occupy him in the Colonel’s office during briefings, had tried to find its technical openings. He’d never managed to do so.

What did that tell him?

That the office was a great deal larger than it seemed to be, and that at least three of the four walls were likely false. Ardan’s theory he’d developed while amusing himself was indirectly supported by the door behind the Colonel.

“Everything is still top secret,” the de facto head of the Second Chancery went on with the briefing. “In the capital, only your group is working on the Puppeteers case. All your theories and reports will go through me alone.”

“Speaking of theories,” Milar drew out a few more papers from his folder. “The events at the future History of Magic Museum, along with their obvious link to the Elder Brothers of Tazidahian, seem to be indirectly connected with the Puppeteers as well.”

“You mean the disappearance of Estenyen’s diary?” The Colonel responded at once without so much as a glance at the papers.

The fact he was juggling all this information so expertly should’ve stopped surprising Ardi by now, but…

“Affirmative, sir,” Milar answered like a soldier. “We would like to investigate this further to try and identify the thief who slipped away.”

“An interesting thought, Captain,” the Colonel leaned toward the drawers of his desk and drew out yet another report. As always, the names of the agents were blacked out. “Here. Read this. It landed on my desk yesterday afternoon.”

The Colonel slid the folder across the desk. Milar, who’d always caught such “passes” easily before, missed and struck the table with his hand.

“Fuuuu…uuun,” Milar barely stopped himself from cursing.

Ardan was the one who caught the folder in the end.

“Hurry up with your rehabilitation, Captain,” the Colonel said casually. “Before we’re forced to teach the Corporal how to drive so that he can take your place in the race. The race… Eternal Angels. What a murky bargain…”

Two judgmental glances turned toward Ardi, but he pretended not to notice them and undid the ties of the folder.

Moving it between him and Milar, he brought out several photographs.

“So, we were right,” Milar said with an exhale.

In the photographs was the last of the men who’d participated in the heist. He had been tied to a chair and seemed to be quite dead. Why quite dead? Because his ribcage looked like someone had placed a balloon inside his esophagus and started blowing. And they’d kept on blowing until his ribs had split. Tearing through muscle and skin, they’d bloomed into a hideous, splintered flower of bone, and below, at his feet, lay a sickening heap of internal organs.

His heart was missing. His eyes, ears, and tongue were also missing…

“This wasn’t done by a man,” Ardan said.

“I’m glad that your moral compass is still pointing in the right direction, Corporal,” the Colonel said. It was hard to tell if he was joking or not.

“No, no,” Ardan shook his head. “Colonel, I’ve read about this. When-”

“When you were studying under one of the Guardian Spirits of the Matabar tribes in the Alcade, Corporal,” the Colonel intercepted him again. “Avoid playing your secrecy games in the holiest of secrecy holies. Get straight to the point.”

Ardan winced a little. Of course the Colonel knew…

“I think this was done by an Otaena’Ohatae,” Ardan all but whispered, running his fingers across the photograph. “In the tongue of the Fae, it means something like Heart Eater. In the Fae mythology of Gales, it was called a Div. It is a man folded in half, who walks upon one leg and devours people.”

Milar and the Colonel exchanged glances.

“Ard, listen… Could it be that…” The captain drew the photograph closer to the Colonel and pointed at the missing eyes. “…all the previous deaths we thought were linked to someone forging the Narikhman’s signature were, in fact, the work of this Div of yours?”

“Possibly,” Ardan said uncertainly. “In theory, the Puppeteers, if they truly are pursuing the goal of creating a living demonic phylactery out of a human or a Firstborn, should have acquired a certain number of prototypes after all these years.”

“Like the Striga in an Manish’s company, for instance?” The Colonel asked, scrutinizing the photograph again.

“Not quite,” Ardan shook his head. “She was a Homeless Fae, not a demon. Whereas the Ota… that is to say, the Heart Eater, is a real demon.”

“Use the classifications of the Anomaly Hunters’ Guild, please,” the Colonel said.

Ardan shrugged again.

“If we go by the old tales, then… Should a Div succeed in entering our reality, even a single Aean’Hane would be able to deal with him if they are strong enough and experienced enough.”

“That is very far from what I had in mind when I asked you for a proper classification, Corporal.”

“Yes, Colonel, but when it comes to the Aean’Hane and demons, there is no strict classification. No one has ever properly studied them. Well, maybe Lady Talia Malesh has.” Ardan spread his arms out. “That’s why I could theorize about this for hours. However, it’s likely that we will not be able to handle him without a group of Grand Magisters there.”

Milar swore under his breath, and the Colonel, with icy calm, grabbed a pen from its stand. He dipped it into the inkpot, made a few quick, short strokes, then rolled the note into a tube and sent it off through the pneumatic post.

“First it was Talia Malesh and her missing Staff of Demons, and now it’s Estenyen’s diary and a fairytale creature,” the Colonel stated. “It may be that your theory, gentlemen, is gradually moving into the category of a working hypothesis.”

Ardan read the report that had come with the photographs. The body had been found in the town of Odong. It lay in the north of the Tsar’s Forest and served as the gateway to a rail junction that led toward one of the Alcade passes, where the northern and southern railroads had recently been connected.

In the end, the Alcade Mountains were not only the Empire’s primary source of Ertalain, but also its most prominent logistical obstacle. Ardi’s native mountains, in the most literal sense, divided the country into two parts: the north and the south.

“The investigation is at a standstill,” Milar said plainly while sorting through the dispatches of their nameless colleagues. “No one saw or heard anything. And the dead man had come to town only a few days before his body was found. He rented a room in a saloon. He didn’t get into any conflicts with anyone. He visited the brothel twice, and the staff there had nothing of substance to say about him, either. Based on that, we can conclude that he was waiting for a contact.”

“Corporal.”

“Yes, Colonel?”

“How easy is it to distinguish someone possessed by the Homeless Fae or a demon from a mutant or a chimera?”

Ardan thought about it. Before encountering the Striga, he could’ve given him a whole list of things to look out for, but now… he wasn’t really sure of anything.

“What I mean to say, gentlemen, is that the possible involvement of fairytale beasts is only a theory,” the Colonel tapped his finger against the photograph. “We must not forget that they may be trying to mislead us, and that this could be the work of a mutant. Previously, they kept to the eyes alone. They didn’t do… all of this.”

Ardan and Milar sighed in unison. They’d long ago grown used to the fact that the Puppeteers were playing this game with a lead measured in more than just years or decades—it was most likely centuries. This was an organization so old and so spread out that it had infiltrated the governments of several nations.

Of course they had backup plans for their backup plans. And this also included the most unexpected ways of covering their tracks.

“But what’s most important,” the Colonel took his lollipop out of his mouth and set it on a small dish, “is that the motive is not clear to us. We can theorize about the means of execution as much as we please, but until the motive is discovered, all of this is merely us guessing for fun. Ideas?”

Milar and Ardan exchanged glances again and remained silent. There were so many possible theories about a motive that a whole day wouldn’t be enough to list them all.

“In that case, we’ll proceed with what is known,” the Colonel pronounced in that same level tone. “The Ragman, as far as I know, is not in the capital at present. When he returns, you will be the first to know. For now, concentrate on your recovery. That applies to both of you. We’ll wait until Mr. Belsky fulfils his part of the deal. Perhaps the Corporal’s attempts to find the body of Alla Tantov will improve our position on the board.”

“What about the Ralian Dead Lands?” Milar asked. “That is, after all, the closest thing we have to anything worth looking into.”

“Such is the job,” the Colonel replied simply—which, as Ardi had already worked out, meant: “Someone is already working on it. You don’t need to know more. If need be, we shall tell you about it later.”

“Have you made any progress with Driba’s grimoire and the intercepted research?” The Colonel asked.

Ardan, who’d figured out that he shouldn’t say, “I was on leave,” answered simply and honestly:

“I’ve had no luck with Driba’s grimoire; the research… I haven’t gotten to yet.”

“Get to it, then,” the Colonel ordered calmly. “Otherwise, I shall reconsider your additional earnings based on your Blue Star until it is officially registered.”

“Yes, Colonel,” Ardi answered, imitating Milar, and his hand unconsciously went to his pocket. Inside it was a note from the supply department that had been passed on to him:

“Secrecy: General.

Any unauthorized party reading this communication falls under Article 17, section 3.

This communication is intended for the staff member Ard Egobar, staff number: 14/647-3.

The following is a recalculation that has been done in response to the new data submitted to the supply department:

1. Salary of the Second-Class Investigator, Corporal Ard Egobar: 16 exes, 84 kso.

1.1 Additional funds granted to a Star Mage serving in the Second Chancery:

1.1.1 Red Star (7 rays)—64 kso each.

1.1.2 Green Star (9 rays)—1 ex, 21 kso each.

1.1.3 Blue Star (9 rays)—3 exes, 61 kso each.

Total monetary allowance: 64 exes, 70 kso.

Respectfully,

Senior Bookkeeper

Major Marfa Nirov.”

This was how Ardi had learned that he’d been promoted to Second-Class Investigator. Also, Star Mages were being compensated a bit better after the recent reforms related to the financing of the security forces. Each ray of the Red Star was now worth four kso more, and each Green Star ray was worth fourteen more. As for how much they’d raised the pay for the Blue Star, Ardan had no idea, but it was surely just as proportionally substantial.

Some would say that the Crown was paying him quite well. This was almost eight hundred exes a year! That was enough to feel quite comfortable even in some skyscraper of the New City.

Of course, that was if one disregarded the expenses related to Star Magic, which, with just a single visit to the Spell Market, could not only eat up several months of his salary, but also bite a healthy chunk out of his bank account as well. Honestly, it was no surprise that there weren’t many Star Mages serving in the Second Chancery.

The law that had made it so mages were allowed to combine their service in the security forces with commercial activity, provided that the activity was tied to Star Magic and the income from it was also used for the purposes of research, had improved things a little. Even so, it hadn’t exactly lured hordes of Star Mages into the reception room of the Black House, all of them desperate to join up.

“That’s all for now, gentlemen,” the Colonel put his lollipop back in his mouth and pointed at the door. “Heal. In the meantime, we shall wait for either the Anomaly Hunters’ Guild expedition or the repayment of the Dandy’s debt.”

“What about-”

“We will not compromise our resources related to the Narikhman since the Corporal has gone out of his way, Captain,” the Colonel cut in. “This game, as we’ve all learned by now, is a long one. And using up resources for nothing when one can save them for later is the surest way to make an already-losing position worse. Captain. Corporal.”

“Colonel,” Milar nodded, grabbing his crutches.

“Colonel,” Ardan nodded as well. He had one hand on his staff and was helping his partner with the other.

At the door, the Colonel’s voice stopped them.

“Corporal.”

“Yes, Colonel?”

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Colonel.”

And with that, today’s visit to the Black House was at an end, which Ardan was unspeakably glad about. He and Tess had been planning to make it to the closing of the Festival of Light Fair, so he had to be home before dark.

He and Milar limped on seven legs—if one counted both crutches and his staff—as they went down the stairs. Or, in the captain’s case, he was very nearly dragging his disobedient legs along. They somehow made it downstairs and stepped out into the street. A cool but no longer biting and slightly damp breeze brushed their faces. It promised—not soon, but eventually—to bring with it spring and her herald, the Week of Storms.

Together, they hobbled to the ancient but still reliable “Derks.” Ardi quite literally leaned Milar against the hood of the car and then opened the door, helping his partner into it. They piled the crutches and his staff between the seats, and Ardan settled in behind the wheel.

“All right, now, do what I taught you,” Milar resumed his lecture on the world of driving. “No sharp movements at all. Imagine that the pedals and the gear lever are… a woman’s breasts. You don’t knead them like dough out of spite, right? It’s the same thing here. That’s why we set off carefully and… bloody hell, Ard! Are you trying to finish me off?!”

Ardan turned the ignition again, bringing the stalled motor that had not appreciated his attempts to set off across the snow back to life.

“Sorry…”

“It’s nothing, partner, it’s nothing,” Milar assured him after barely managing to straighten back up. “We’ll make a driver out of you yet. It’s not like we have much of a choice…”

“Maybe you’ll recover before the race after all?”

“Or maybe you’ll use that bright mind of yours and learn how to twirl a steering wheel passably well after all?”

“That was actually offensive,” Ardan grumbled.

“Wait until we get to revving and aggressive steering, Ard. Then things will really get offensive because I have no intention of holding back,” Milar promised frankly. “And now, please, take me to our clinic in the Tend. And, for the love of the Eternal Angels, try not to get me there in a worse state than I’m in right now… Anyways, off we go. And mind the dimensions of the car! You are not in the center of a saddle—you’re off to one side!”

And off they went. Of course, that was assuming that such a term could apply to the suffering that Ardi was inflicting not only upon himself, but upon Milar and, first and foremost, upon the groaning and rasping “Derks.”

Incidentally, while Milar was recovering, the service automobile was at Ardi’s disposal. For training purposes, of course. This was somewhat ironic, perhaps, but right now, Ardi was a lot more concerned with not crashing into… everything in front of him.

Sleeping Spirits!

Why did the Metropolis hate horses so much?!