From her vantage point on the roof across the street, Mei had meant to fire a warning shot at the black clad, gold masked wind mage who’d alighted gracefully in Sanford’s sideyard, but she’d ended up firing at another figure in black. Her shot had gone wide, and she’d been forced to scramble back from her assailant’s attempt to stab her with a dagger length metal spike.
Now, they faced off, Mei with her dagger and unloaded rifle, her assailant with his form fitted black clothes and ridiculous gray mask and strange spike like weapon. Mei’s eyes widened. No, it wasn’t a spike. It was a stiletto, and her killers were Dwayne’s robbers. Gold Mask was the wind mage who’d chased Juanelo and Gray Mask had been their ground pursuit.
Mei should be scared, but she was relieved. Neither of them could be her brother; Gold Mask was a mage, and Gray Mask’s height and muscles and blue eyes didn’t belong to her brother. Finally, she had proof that Huan wasn’t involved in any of this.
Still, as Mei parried a chest-level jab from her assailant, sidestepped an attempt to perforate her heart, and then leapt out of range of a furious kick, she wondered how these two had passed through a single pane of glass. No human could have done that without magic, and wind magic wasn’t enough, Fran had made it very clear that that was impossible. There had to be something else.
First, she needed to end this fight.
Mei dropped her rifle and thrust her dagger at Gray Mask’s stomach. When he caught her attack on the guard of his weapon, she kicked him onto his back, pulled Maggie’s sleep bomb out of her pocket, and raised her arm to throw it, pausing only to hold her breath.
Clink. Something knocked the bomb out of Mei’s hand, and it fell down to the street below and went off to screams and shouts. Mei jumped away from Gray Mask, but his hands were covered his chest and face from her dagger. He hadn’t done this.
The one who had stood to her right, was twirling two black-handled knives, and was dressed in rough brown and gray clothing and a plain blue mask. The knives weren’t familiar, but the clothes reminded Mei of the roofrunners, and the mask somehow reminded her of Tiger, maybe because of the strange gold glint to the eyes behind it. Or maybe because, unlike Gold and Gray, Blue Mask’s build was very similar to Huan’s.
“Ash.” Blue Mask’s Souran was flat and inflectionless. “Get up.”
Without a word, Ash flipped to his feet and started an argument that was conducted entirely in gestures, glares, and weapon flourishes. Mei didn’t bother to try to decrypt it since either both Ash and Blue Mask would come after her or she’d fight one while the other fled. Her priorities were, in order, to preserve her own life and to absolve her brother of her crimes. So when the argument ended and Ash headed east and Blue Mask west, Mei grabbed her rifle and chased the newcomer.
***
As he slid past a stack of beer barrels, Dwayne resolved to figure out how Magdala’s ancestor Berta Kalan made Sanford’s cellar so dry that all moisture had been out of his mouth. It certainly wasn’t because he was terrified of what he’d find at the other end of the room, where an icy blue light shook as crates were cracked open and books were sifted through. The outer cellar door lay in neatly cut pieces on the floor. Qe magic was rife with ways to cut, both indirectly using Water Qe and directly using Earth Qe, but since the floor was dry and the crash had been loud, the figure outlined in blue light had to be wind Qe.
Just like one of the murderers in Mei’s report.
Dwayne pressed his hand against his chest. “Qesuyit.” It was better to be prepared.
The whispered spell caught the attention of the thief, who spun to face him, her – even black windsong leathers weren’t bulky enough to hide certain curves – arms clutching a thick book to her chest.
“You’re, uh, in my house.” Dwayne couldn’t see the title of the book, but it was the right size to be Na’cch. “Look if you want a specific text, maybe we could-”
“lo!” A hard line crashed into Dwayne’s chest and knocked him into the beer barrels. “rut!” The thief fled the cellar on wings of wind.
Dwayne rolled to his feet, stepped over the shorn pieces of barrel ,and mentally sketched a line from the thief’s foot to Sanford’s courtyard wall. “Qethumlidug!”
The thief looked up. “aku!”
She rocketed up and then swung hard right into the courtyard wall. As the dazed thief slid to the ground, Dwayne entered the sideyard, his hand massaging the bright line of pain bisecting his chest. Whatever the thief’s prepared spell had been, it had been meant to cut him in two.
It was best not to let her try again. “Qesheffuf.” The ground beneath the thief sank. “Qesheffuf.” It wrapped itself over her, like she was a half-buried corpse.
“Let’s try this again.” Dwayne winced from a pain in his head, like nails being pounded into his skull. “Return that book and tell me who hired you.”
“Cups, what was that spell you cast?” drawled the thief, her voice muffled by her mask. “That was not canon.”
Noting that she had to be a Magisterium graduate, Dwayne edged closer to see the book. “Just comply and I’ll let you go.”
“You will not.” Thadden emerged from the cellar, his face sweaty from the effort of running to catch up to Dwayne. “That’s a criminal.”
“Baron,” Dwayne doused thoughts of ending this in flame, “I can handle this.”
“I will not entrust my security to someone who hires no guards.”
Dwayne frowned. Thadden had come through the front door and should have seen Huan. “My guard is dealing with this one’s associates.”
At least, he’d better be.
The thief giggled.
“What’s so funny?” asked Dwayne.
“See, even your captive thinks that’s ridiculous,” said Thadden.
“What the Wesen said was only ironic,” the thief’s eyes smiled behind her mask, “but what’s hilarious is that you think you matter, Baron.”
“I will not endure insults from a criminal.” Thadden turned to Dwayne. “And this martial use of magic does not become a proper Qe mage. You should have called the City Guard.”
“She would have gotten away if I’d waited, but if you want to, go ahead.” Dwayne could practically hear Thadden’s veins popping in his neck as he focused on the thief. “Miss, just hand over the book and you can go.”
“You’re no longer curious as to who hired me?” The thief giggled. “Well, no matter. My answer would have been no one, and you’re not getting this Natch book back.”
“Natch?” Dwayne blinked. “Oh.”
She meant Na’cch.
Despite the fury now licking at the edges of his conscious, Dwayne kept his voice very calm. “You will hand it over. It is a very important part of our collection.”
“Young Kalan, enough!” Thadden stepped between Dwayne and the thief. “As your future master, you will listen to me. Call the City Guard and let them handle this.”
“Get out the way,” Dwayne pushed past him, “and do what you will.”
“Oh,” the thief was no longer looking at Dwayne, “it looks like you’re out of time.”
Thadden rounded on her. “Criminals should be- Oof!”
Instinct made Dwayne drop to his knees, which meant he evaded the hand chop aimed at his neck.
“Qechireeut!” The spell jerked Dwayne left and away from a follow up kick, which would have cracked his ribs.
“Ash, stop!” shouted the thief. “You need him to free me.”
Dwayne rose to his feet and faced “Ash”, a gray-masked, black-clad brute who wielded a weapon that Dwayne had only seen in pictures. This was not good.
The brute pointed his stiletto at Dwayne. “Free her. Now.”
Admaeus Speaks 