False Dawn: Ageless Mysteries - Book 2 Page 5

  “Three years?” Thea asked, brows lifting.

  “His mother did not approve,” Genric said, mouth twisting. “She was a widow. Husband lost in one of the wars. Edmund was her only family.” It was a familiar tale. The Archon’s wars had spanned many human generations and claimed many lives. Genric shook his head slightly, voice tight as he went on. “She always wanted grandchildren. She died a few months ago. We were finally free.”

  “I’m sorry,” Thea said, meaning it.

  “Thank you.”

  “Can you tell me what happened today?” she asked.

  “We closed our shops early. Spent some time together. He started coughing. Said he couldn’t breathe. Got out of bed to get water.” Genric’s voice cracked. “And died. There, at the top of the stairs.”

  “But you didn’t call the Watch?” Thea asked, eyes narrowing.

  “No.” Genric’s lips pressed together. “His mother was not the only one who disapproved.”

  “So you didn’t want your relationship known. So you arranged things to look like he was taking a bath and became ill. And made up a story about checking on him,” Thea summarised, voice cool. It seemed likely that Dina and Niath had wasted their time collecting samples of the items in the bathroom.

  “Yes.”

  “But you’re not ill. So what did he eat or drink that was different to you?” Thea asked, leaning forward slightly.

  Genric’s lips pressed together and he stared back at her for a moment before his eyes fell away, down to his hands, linked together on the table surface in front of him. Workman’s hands. Scarred and calloused from his trade.

  “Something to help him relax, perhaps?” Niath suggested.

  Thea glanced at the mage in surprise, wondering what had prompted the question. She looked back at Genric and saw by the man’s expression that Niath’s guess was right.

  “What was it?” Thea asked gently.

  “He’d used it before. Just a little bit. Bliss.” Genric would not meet her eyes. He had not approved, she thought.

  Thea’s brows lifted. The narcotic was potent. Relatively rare in the city. And fairly expensive. More expensive than beer, anyway. Not something she had encountered first-hand before. Not many of the people who lived in Brightfield could afford bliss on a regular basis.

  “We didn’t find any in the house,” Niath said at once.

  “No,” Genric said, mouth pressed together again.

  “Where is it?” Thea asked.

  He stared back at her for a long moment before he got up, moved to one of the shelves in the kitchen. There were a few large pottery jars there. He reached inside one and brought out a much smaller jar.

  “Do you know where he got it from?” Thea asked, as Genric set the jar on the table between them.

  “No.”

  “Possibly from Delilah Soames?” Thea asked.

  “Ageless, no. He wouldn’t touch anything that woman sold,” Genric said, lip curling in disgust.

  “So, somewhere more upmarket,” Thea concluded. She picked up the smaller jar. “Is there anything else you can tell me?”

  Genric shook his head.

  The small pottery jar seemed to weigh far more than it should in her pocket as she and Niath left Genric sitting at the kitchen table staring into nothing.

  The weight of the small jar was echoed in her chest. Edmund and Genric had been so close to their dreams. So close to leaving the city, following their hearts. Finally free.

  Sympathy closed her throat for a moment. She understood what it was like to carry a secret, and to be frustrated by the limits around her life and her choices. Growing up Ageless-born within the Archon’s empire meant she had been at risk every day until she turned twenty-five. And whilst Thea could not blame the Ageless for Genric’s loss, she could track down whoever it was who had taken his dreams from him.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “You didn’t tell him how foolish he was to run,” Niath commented as they left the house.

  “He didn’t need any more punishment,” Thea said, looking across the street. Iason and Dina were exchanging a few words with the Watchman. Dina was looking frustrated. Iason’s expression was impossible to read.

  “Nothing,” Dina was saying as Thea approached them. “Not one poisonous thing in the whole place.”

  “Is the house clear?” Thea asked the Watchman.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Do you know if there are any next of kin to be informed?”

  “There’s a sister somewhere, ma’am.”

  “Make enquiries as to her address, please, and let me know. You can leave now,” Thea said.

  The Watchman was happy to be dismissed from his post, and headed off in to the night.

  “Alright, what didn’t you want him to see?” Dina demanded, turning back to Thea, a determined glint in her eye.

  “I think I have what you were looking for,” Thea said, and held up the pottery jar. “It’s supposed to be bliss.”

  “Nasty stuff,” Dina said, taking the jar. She unstoppered it and took an experimental sniff. “Ugh. Why people take this stuff is beyond me. Where did you get it?”

  “The neighbour across the street was with our victim today,” Thea said, keeping her voice low so that it would not carry. The houses around them looked dark, but there might well be people listening. “And the victim took this during the afternoon.”

  “I see,” Dina said, voice deadpan despite the brightness in her eyes. “And he decided to run away rather than call the Watch? Very public-minded of him.”

  “He said he didn’t want their relationship discovered,” Thea said, voice equally dry.

  “You didn’t believe him?” Niath asked, curious. “How odd. I don’t think he was lying about that.”

  “He wasn’t telling us everything,” Thea agreed. “Will you test this, please?” she asked Dina, pointing to the jar.

  “Right away. I should have something for you by tomorrow afternoon,” Dina said.

  “Neither Dina or I recognise the poison,” Iason added. “The body is being taken to my office, and we’ll confer again in the morning.”

  The two of them made their way into the night. An odd pairing. Iason small and impeccably attired. Dina tall, with even her shadow looking disordered.

  “Do you want to tell me about your trouble now?” Thea asked, turning to Niath.

  The mage had his hands folded behind his back in a posture that Thea was coming to know was customary for him. He was frowning slightly, looking after the scientists, but turned to her at her question, brows lifting a fraction.

  “Shall we walk as we talk?” he suggested. “It’s getting late.”

  “Yes. I need to head back to the station,” she said. And write a report of the death.

  She shook her head slightly as she fell into step beside him, remembering how bored she had been only yesterday. And now she had two investigations to conduct. And a Citadel mage wanted her help. She had a feeling it would be a long time before she was bored again.

  ~

  “Here,” Niath said, handing something across to her. “Tell me what you think,” he added.

  Thea accepted the slight weight, her fingers recognising the shape of one of the Archon’s coins, and her brows lifted. “It’s fake,” she said at once, without thinking.

  “Yes, it is. How did you know?”

  “It feels wrong in my hand,” she said honestly, then stopped in her tracks, staring down at the coin.

  They were at a crossroads, the open space letting more moonlight shine on the metal in her hand. It was a round disk, a little bigger than the ball of her thumb, made of some kind of silver metal cast with the same blue tint as all the Archon’s coins. The design on the face of it was perfect, beautifully executed.

  It looked right. But it felt wrong. She had not needed to look at it to know it was a fake.

  “That’s interesting,” Niath said, drawing her attention. He had his hands folded behind him again. “No, keep
it,” he said, when she tried to hand it back. “Very few people have been able to tell that it is not real.”

  Thea turned the coin over in her hand, the metal warmed by her skin, and her brows lifted. “I’m not surprised. It looks real. It’s the right weight, and the design is correct. At least, I think so. I haven’t studied coins that closely.”

  Niath began walking, continuing on their way, his shoulders set. He might be maintaining a calm appearance, but something had disturbed him.

  “Where did you get this?” Thea asked, curious.

  “Someone handed it to one of the Ageless as a tribute in a market near the Citadel,” Niath answered, voice clipped. “The Ageless knew at once it was a forgery.”

  “Is the stall holder alright?” Thea asked. She knew the Ageless. Knew how quick their tempers were. The tributes were required gifts if an Ageless stopped at any market stall. Usually one or more of the highest value coins that the stall holder had. It might once have been voluntary. It wasn’t any more. If the Ageless had thought that the stall holder was trying to insult them with the forged coin, the stall holder might already be dead.

  “A broken arm and a broken eye socket,” Niath said, not looking at her. “She has had healing from the Citadel and will recover.”

  “Did the stall holder know anything about where the coin had come from?” Thea asked.

  “She said not,” Niath paused, glancing across at her. “You didn’t assume she made the coin. Why?”

  “I cannot imagine that any forger would pass their wares direct to one of the Ageless,” Thea said. “Their powers of perception are well known.”

  “They can usually spot a lie, yes,” Niath agreed.

  “So, we have a coin passed to one of the Ageless. And a stall holder who presumably thought it was genuine, and doesn’t know where it came from. I am not sure how you are involved?”

  “The Archon’s Treasurer was alerted. The Ageless checked all the coins at the market and the Treasurer identified another fifty false coins.”

  Thea stopped in her tracks, startled. That was a large number. The Archon’s coins were the only permitted currency in this city, and indeed across all the lands controlled by the Ageless. The Ageless had a tight grip on their citizen’s wealth in all manner of ways. Controlling the currency was just one.

  The Ageless might find one or two false coins annoying, or even amusing, depending on their moods. But fifty? A number that large would not be ignored by the Ageless.

  “Fifty of these?” she asked, lifting the coin to the light. The metal gleamed just as it should. And yet, she knew it was wrong.

  She was tempted to dig another coin out from her pocket and test it, to see what the difference was. Even as she thought that, she realised what the difference was. The fake coin in her hand felt lifeless. There was no spark in it. Every genuine coin she had touched had a different feel to it. The metal was the same. The carving was the same. The difference was that there was magic in the Archon’s coins. Magic that very few people would be able to detect. But she could.

  She had never told anyone about her sensitivity to magic. Not even her mother. Growing up, she had stayed silent out of fear of discovery. Her mother would not have betrayed her, but it would be one more secret for her mother to hold. Being able to detect some forms of magic was relatively common among the Ageless-born. With the threat of Conscription over her head, Thea had done her best to appear human. To not draw attention to her greater strength or sharper senses. And certainly not to her ability to detect magic.

  The habits of being careful and cautious were still strong. She still didn’t want to be noticed. The Ageless might not be able to Conscript her any longer, but the Ageless did as they pleased and got what they wanted. If they wanted her service, they would get it. And she did not want anything to do with them.

  So she did her best to keep her true nature hidden.

  “From just one market, yes,” Niath said.

  It took a moment to remember what he was talking about. Then she remembered. Fifty coins. All fake.

  She lifted the coin to the better light again.

  “And no one had spotted the forgeries until the Ageless?” she asked, knowing the answer before Niath nodded. “Clever,” she said.

  “How so?”

  “Well, from the look of it, it’s taken a lot of craftsmanship and skill to make. A lot of effort has gone into it. It’s a mid-range coin. The sort that gets handled every day by market traders, craftsmen and shop keepers,” Thea said. “So no one would look twice at it. The forgers could have tried to make a golden coin, but they are rare and would be remembered.”

  “I see. So it’s clever because it’s a fairly common coin,” Niath said slowly.

  “And a decent value,” Thea added, mentally tallying up what fifty of these coins would be worth, if they were real. “Worth the effort.”

  The Watch Station was in sight and Niath stopped, turning to her. His jaw was clenched, and there was a hint of his other aspect in his eyes. The darker, dangerous side. Hiandar.

  Thea put the coin away and mirrored his stance, her hands behind her back. Waited. He would tell her when he was ready.

  “The Treasurer is convinced that some of the workers in the mint have been making coins for their own gain,” Niath said, voice tight. “He wants them questioned, and the guilty punished.”

  “Are the workers Conscripted?” Thea asked, throat tight. If the Ageless thought that anyone had been stealing from them, they would be killed without a second thought. And killing any of the Conscripted would involve even less thought. Ageless-born unlucky enough to have been found by the Ageless or the Archon’s soldiers before their twenty-fifth birthday, the Conscripted were forced into service. The Conscripted had no rights, and were not recognised as citizens by the Ageless. Like the Ageless-born, until they reached their twenty-fifth birthday. Thea could still remember the relief of reaching her own twenty-fifth birthday, of knowing that she was safe from Conscription. She was not safe, no one really was, but the greatest threat was gone.

  Those Ageless-born who had been Conscripted were disposable to the Ageless. Little more than tools.

  Old, familiar, anger burned in her chest. There were many unfair and unjust things in this world. The practice of Conscription was just one of them.

  And particularly so when most of the Ageless-born were conceived by deception. Some of the Ageless found humans fascinating, hiding their other aspects so well that no ordinary human could tell they were anything but human. There were some human women who courted attention from the Ageless, knowing that if their child had wings, they would be treasured for life. The Ageless prized their winged children. But Ageless children were extraordinarily rare, and most of the children were born without wings. Ageless-born. Set aside by their Ageless parents, and regarded with suspicion by the mostly human population of the Archon’s empire.

  Thea shook herself. Now was not the time to dwell on the unfairness of it all. It was the way it was, and there was nothing she could do to solve it.

  “Some of them. All the Treasury workers are Ageless-born,” Niath added. Thea’s brows lifted. She had heard about Ageless-born who had volunteered for service to the Ageless, who had not been Conscripted. They were actually paid for their work, and granted the same rights as the Citadel’s human workers. The Niath went on. “I am to question the workers and determine their guilt.”

  “But you don’t think they are guilty,” Thea said slowly, “otherwise you would just have done that. You think there’s something else going on.”

  “Yes,” Niath said, and blew out a breath, a bit of the tension leaving him. “I would like your help.”

  “My help?” Thea’s brows lifted. “Well, I can certainly keep an eye out for any more of these coins.”

  “No. I want you to come with me. Question the workers.”

  “At the Citadel?” Thea asked, voice rising to a squeak.

  “You will be quite safe. My word on it,” Ni
ath said, putting his hand on his heart and bowing slightly.

  Thea’s mouth opened but no sound came out.

  She was not sure what to react to first. The thought of going into another Citadel. Or the realisation that Niath had just offered his protection.

  Fear won.

  She took a step back, away from him, her eyes straying involuntarily to the great bulk of the Citadel, an inky shape in the night sky, surrounded by brief flashes of white. Ageless wings. It was impossible to ignore the Citadel, no matter where she went in the city.

  She had never been to this Citadel. Not once. Neither she nor her mother. Others around the city outside the Citadel’s perimeter might long for a glimpse inside its walls.

  Thea would be happy to never see inside. To never see another Ageless again.

  Bright blue sky. Cold air, biting into her face as she fell. Down down down. Towards the pale stone below and the smallest speck that was all that was left of her brother.

  “Officer March? Are you alright?” Niath asked.

  “I can’t,” Thea said, forcing the words out. “I can’t go. This isn’t Watch business,” she added. That was not the real reason, but it was true. The Watch’s authority ended at the perimeter drawn around the Citadel and its surrounding buildings. The Ageless were content to leave what they called the petty concerns of the city’s population to the Watch. But that was all. Her uniform and her badge meant nothing beyond the perimeter line.

  “No, it isn’t Watch business. I can’t ask the Captain,” Niath said, voice heavy. “But I hoped you might help.” He hesitated, then added. “We worked well together.”

  She stared at him in the dark, trying to breathe through the cloying panic in her throat, her heart racing too hard and too fast. The Citadel. The Ageless. The Archon. She had avoided them as much as possible in all her time in Accanter. She could not go willingly into their Citadel. She could not.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, voice harsh. “I can’t.”

  Niath straightened, shoulders squaring, expression changing to a cold stranger.

  “Then the Treasurer’s workers will die,” he said. “Because nothing I can say to him will convince him that they are innocent. And because he cannot discover the guilty party, he will kill all of them.”