Dragon Precinct by Keith R.A. DeCandido

Author:Keith R.A. DeCandido [DeCandido, Keith R.A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Keith R.A. DeCandido, Fantasy, police procedural, Precinct, Dragon Precinct, magic
Publisher: eSpec Books
Published: 2018-04-01T04:00:00+00:00

SEVEN

“Chalmraik the Foul was killed over a decade ago.”

That was the first thing that Lord Ythran said when Danthres entered the mage’s office, Torin by her side, before either even had the chance to sit down. The local official in charge of Brotherhood affairs for the region including Cliff’s End, Ythran maintained this office in his mansion on the outskirts of the city-state. Despite Danthres carrying the the Lord and Lady’s seal (generously provided by an obsequious Sir Rommett and a frightened Bertram), she and Torin had been kept waiting almost two hours before Ythran deigned to see them this morning.

Talking to the Brotherhood was not a step Danthres was eager to take, but Osric insisted it had to be the next one, even before speaking to Genero and Ubàrlig (whom Jonas had sent away with apologies after Bogg’s interrogation the previous night). After all, the Brotherhood did regulate magick in Flingaria—in fact, the organization was formed after the overthrow of Chalmraik specifically to avoid someone like him coming to power again. If the Foul One was still alive, they needed to know about it, Osric said. Somewhat reluctantly, Danthres agreed, as did Torin. And so, first thing in the morning—when Torin finally showed up to work—they proceeded through Unicorn to Ythran’s mansion.

“Didn’t Chalmraik come back from the dead once before?” Danthres asked as she took her seat on the sofa opposite the wizard’s plush reclining chair. Ythran’s office was a plush, elegant affair, appointed with what Danthres assumed to be the finest furniture—including a small, overly decorated stone scrying pool—and several art objects. The east wall’s centerpiece was a bas-relief of the Brotherhood’s seal, and the rear wall was taken up entirely with a huge picture window providing a view of the Garamin.

“Not quite,” Ythran said testily. He snapped his gnarled fingers, and a mug full of some kind of steaming liquid appeared in front of him. Grabbing it out of the air, he sipped from it. After wiping his robed sleeve over his bearded mouth, he let go of the mug, and it disappeared.

Damned showoff, Danthres thought. And thank you for offering to share.

The white-haired old man continued. “Chalmraik faked his own death via magickal means. It was an impressive spell, in fact. However, that was not coming back from the dead. Now then, if you are through wasting my time—”

Danthres started to snarl, but Torin cut her off which, she had to admit, was probably wise of him. “Lord Ythran, we have barely begun. We have very good reason to believe that Chalmraik might be alive and well, and targeting people in Cliff’s End.”

Impatiently, Ythran said, “I am fully aware of the complaint registered by Brother Genero of Velessa. I scried the report made by the Velessan office when you arrived at the mansion. I’m afraid that I have to give you the same answer they gave the priest. Besides, dead or alive, Chalmraik is our problem, not yours. So this is not your concern from any angle.

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