Stabenow, Dana - Powers Of Detection (Editor) Read online

  “Im sorry, Jus, Radolphus said, pausing in the doorway. “Pack so you can stay a few days if need be.

  Actually, Gwynn did most of the packing, filling a large trunk with the magical supplies the Maestro would require and a small carpet bag with what she might need for an overnight stay. The Maestro packed his medicines, in a satchel nearly as large and easily as heavy as the trunk.

  It was midnight by the time they set out, and the six-hour trip seemed interminable, despite the relative luxury of the dukes coach. Largely, Gwynn decided, because of Reg. Although he appeared to sleep through most of the journey, his presence prevented any interesting conversation. And even asleep, his sour face and the memory of his brusque, almost rude manner cast a pall over the party. Or perhaps it was that Reg fell asleep so easily despite the jolting of the coach while the Maestros attempts at much-needed slumber failed miserably. Justinian finally gave up trying and sat, glowering at Reg and muttering under his breath whenever the manservants snores grew particularly loud.

  The Maestro put on his most gracious manner again when they arrived at the castle.

  “At least well have a good breakfast, he murmured to Gwynn, when Reg had deposited them in the dukes entrance hall and gone to announce their arrival. “The dukes personal chef is legendary.

  “Finally, the duke said, dashing into the hall. “Lets get straight to work. Reg, go have the kitchen fix a couple of cold plates and bring them down to the dungeons.

  Justinian sighed and followed the dukes stout figure down a forebodingly long, steep stairway. Gwynn trailed behind them, glancing nervously from side to side. But apart from being uncomfortably cold and damp, the maze of stone corridors beneath the castle held no particular horrors. From the length of their journey and the number of stairs they descended, the dungeons must be at the other end of the castle from the main gate and at least halfway to the center of the earth.

  They finally entered a large, low-ceilinged room with a straw-covered floor. A dozen soldiers stood inside, and even in the flickering torchlight Gwynn could see that they had split into two distinct campsthe black uniforms of the kings guards to her left and the dukes red-and-gold colors to her right. The two groups eyed each other without liking.

  “Theres the blighter, the duke said, pointing.

  Gwynn, who had never seen a murder victim before, stared curiously. Itor should that be he?hung from one of the sets of arm and leg irons bolted to the rooms walls at regular intervals. He was slumped so Gwynn couldnt see his face, only the blood that glistened on his body and the surrounding straw. Surely no one could lose that much blood and live.

  Waitthe blood was still wet. Should it be, after the half day it had taken for Reg to fetch them?

  Justinian stepped over to the body and examined it briefly, glancing once or twice with irritation at the torches. Was he annoyed by the low visibilityor was he, like Gwynn, wondering why the duke wasnt using some form of magic light? Was this a sign that the dukes tolerance for magic was waning?

  A figure stepped out of the shadows to the Maestros side. From his worn black robe, Gwynn deduced he was the dukes personal magician.

  “So, what have we here? Justinian asked.

  “Dead prisoner, the magician said. He was a thin, balding man with a look of habitual anxiety etched into his sharp features. “I cast a stasis spell on the body, soon as I could, so you could see it as near as possible to how I found it.

  “Stasis spell? the duke shouted. “I authorized no spells! Theres been enough magical skullduggery already!

  “But surely your grace ordered him to preserve the evidence as well as possible for my arrival, Justinian said. “Thats what a stasis spell does. Its a lot like what happens when somethings frozen. But frozen in time instead of temperature.

  “Ah, the duke said. “I see.

  He still looked baffled, but apparently decided to let the matter drop.

  The stasis spell, Gwynn thought, would account for the still-damp blood.

  “So, tell me the features of the case, Justinian said.

  As he and the castle mage talked, Gwynn decided that this magical murder was doing the Maestro good. Oh, hed complained about the cold air and the night journey. But the puzzle before him seemed to keep him from dwelling on his cold. He coughed and sneezed a lot less often, and without any magical side effects.

  And she was glad it wasnt her job to figure out what had happened. The evidence was sparse. In fact, apart from the blood-smeared body of the dead anarchist, nonexistent. His live confederate, still chained to the opposite wall, tried to look fierce, and occasionally muttered under his breath about damned unnatural spellcasters. The dozen guards readily demonstrated that their muskets and pistols had not been fired, and the few knives they carried were free of blood, not to mention far too small to have produced the prisoners wound. And anyway, nothing physical could have produced the wound without piercing the prisoners shirt and doublet which were, apart from dirt and bloodstains, undamaged.

  “Filthy black magic, the surviving anarchist muttered, when Justinian and the castle mage had confirmed this.

  “Fascinating, Justinian murmured, as he examined the doublet.

  He gestured and murmured a few words. Gwynn recognized the incantation that would strip away the stasis spell. And then another spell, less familiar to her.

  Justinian paused as if listening to a sound inaudible to the rest of them, then looked around with unfocused eyes.

  “No taint of magic, he murmured, with a puzzled look.

  “As I said, my spells couldnt detect anything either, the castle mage said, a little defensively.

  “Your spells couldnt detect a turd in your soup tureen, the duke said. “Leave this to a real mage.

  But the dukes tone made Gwynn glance in his direction. The duke lookedscared would be an exaggeration, perhaps. But definitely uneasy. It was one thing to see his personal mage baffled. No spellcaster of any real power would settle for a post as a mere castle mage. But to see the powerful Master Justinian baffledthat would make anyone uneasy. Gwynns own stomach tightened a bit at the thought.

  “A fascinating puzzle, Justinian said.

  He gestured again, then frowned. Gwynn and the castle mage were probably the only ones who realized that his spell had fizzled. They looked at each other with alarm.

  Justinian sighed and rubbed his forehead as if it hurt. Gwynn felt a little reassured. Obviously his stuffed-up head was bothering him. Hed do better when he felt better.

  Although he could be in for a miserable few days in the meantime.

  “So what are we standing about for? the duke asked.

  “Your grace the castle mage began.

  “Now that the experts here, shouldnt you be seeing about the wards? the duke asked.

  The castle mage looked, if possible, even more anxious.

  “Ive already tried everything I know, he protested. “I was hoping Master Justinian...

  “Of course, Justinian said. “My assistant will go and... um... begin running the tests Ive planned to diagnose the problem with the castle warding spell, while I work on the murder.

  “Me? Gwynn wanted to squeak, but she managed to hold her tongue in front of the duke.

  “Ah, there you are, Reg, the duke ordered, seeing that his manservant had arrived carrying a covered platter. “Show her to the gatehouse.

  “Just pretend its a class exercise and try to find out whats wrong with the wards, Justinian murmured, picking up her small carpet bag and handing it to her as carefully as if it were full of volatile potions. “If the dukes magician hasnt brought down the castle walls trying to fix it, youre not likely to do any harm. If you fix it, marvelous; if not, Ill deal with it when Im finished with this.

  Gwynn nodded and followed Reg back to the gatehouse. It took fifteen minutesthe castle was more like a small city.

  “Latest expert on warding spells, Reg said, turning her over to the captain of the guard, who, after quirking one eyebrow, seemed to accept Gw
ynns expertise. Or perhaps he was just happy to see Reg leave.

  “Not sure what you can do about the damned thing, the captain said. “Works one minute and not the next. Apparently thats a lot harder to fix than if it just flat out didnt work.

  Unfortunately, he was right, Gwynn soon realized. Intermittent problems were the worst. She ran tests all morning, and the warding spell worked perfectly. The guards could come and go at will without setting off the alarm bells, but they rang furiously whenever an intruder entered the castleintruders being represented, for test purposes, by a motley collection of peddlers, minstrels, and Gypsies unfortunate enough to show up at the castle that day.

  Gwynn hated to disappoint the Maestro, but she was beginning to think hed have to solve the problem. Though shed keep trying for a while, since obviously his own work on the murder wasnt going well. She saw him crossing the courtyard occasionally, always with a slightly more worried look on his face. She didnt want to bother him yet.

  Besides, she was a little worried about what would happen when Justinian saw the warding spells control device: a perfect little miniature of the dukes castle, complete with a working drawbridge and portcullis. Justinians intense passion for disassembling small mechanical objects was matched only by his complete inability to reassemble them. What if the Maestro decided he needed to take the model apart to repair the spell? Gwynn tried not to think about it.

  If she hadnt been so worried, shed have found the model castle fascinating herself. You could keep track of everything that went on in the castleoutdoors, at any rateby watching the small, ghostly figures that moved around in it. Gwynn spotted the tiny image of Master Justinian standing on one of the ramparts and paused to watch. From the slumped set of his shoulders, she deduced that things were still going badly. She sighed, turned her back on the model, and tried to think.

  “There really doesnt seem to be anything wrong with it, Gwynn muttered.

  “Useless things, these magical devices, said Reg, from the doorway. Gwynn jumped; she hadnt heard him come in. And his presence was the last thing she needed. He had a personality like a cold, wet drizzle.

  Suddenly the bells began ringing. Gwynn and the captain ran to the front of the miniature castle. They could see a group of small, ghostly figures entering it. A troop of wood trolls, armed with scythes and machetes. And yet, glancing out of the window of the guardhouse, which overhung the real gate, they saw no trolls entering the castle. Nothing was entering the castle, not even a chipmunk.

  “It was working fine a minute ago, the captain said.

  “If you say so, Reg said, with a shrug. “Ive never seen it work right myself.

  “Send some of the Gypsies in and out of the gate, Gwynn said.

  The captain shouted some orders down into the courtyard. The wards ignored the Gypsies plodding in and out, though they continued to show the purely imaginary trolls wandering about the courtyard.

  Or were they imaginary? Gwynn decided to cast a quick illusion-stripping spell on the courtyard. Permanently dispelling illusions was a job for a master mage, of course, but Gwynn thought that if any magically cloaked trolls lurked in the courtyard, she could probably make them visible for a second or two.

  “Watch the courtyard and tell me what you see, she told the captain and Reg.

  And then she gestured.

  “I dont see anything, Reg said. The captain shook his head as well.

  Of course they didnt see anything, Gwynn thought. The spell had fizzled. And yet, this morning, when she had cast the same spell on the courtyard as part of her tests, it had worked perfectly. The only illusion shed dispelled this morning was a passing courtiers toupee spell, but her illusion-stripping incantation had worked, just the same.

  What was different now?

  “I dont hold with magic, Reg said, lounging in the window. “Useless stuff. Never works the way its supposed to.

  Gwynn suddenly remembered how the Maestro had been able to sneeze without ill effect when Reg had been in his study. And in the coach, all the way from the college to the dukes castle.

  “I want you to help with something, she told Reg. She rummaged through her carpet bag and handed him a small crystal. “Here, take this. Go down to the gate, walk out and keep going in as straight a line as you can until I call for you to stop.

  “Whatever you like, Reg said, with a sneer. He shoved the crystal in his pocket and sauntered out.

  “Keep the Gypsies going in and out, Gwynn told the captain.

  Gwynn glanced back and forth between the miniature castle and the outside world as Reg left the castle and ambled toward the edge of the wood. The tiny trolls appeared to be setting the model of the stables afire. The Gypsies were nowhere to be seen in the model, although she could see them well enough in the real world, marching back and forth through the gates with resigned expressions on their faces. When Reg was about a thousand yards from the castle gate, the phantom trolls suddenly vanished from the model and the Gypsies appeared.

  “Do you see that? she asked the captain.

  “Now its working, he said.

  “Let him get to the edge of the woods, then call him back.

  The captain did so. When the manservant got within about a thousand yards of the castle, the images of the Gypsies winked out in the model, and the phantom trolls reappeared. They seemed to have captured the keep and were throwing tapestries and furniture into the moat.

  “I think you may be on to something, the captain said. “What is that crystal?

  “An excuse to get him out of range, Gwynn said.

  “I beg your pardon?

  “Could you send someone to fetch Master Justinian? Gwynn asked.

  From the cloud of camphor that arrived with him, Gwynn deduced that the Maestros cold was no better, and judging from the expression on his face, Gwynn suspected his investigation was still going badly, too. She winced when she saw the duke trailing in his wake, looking like a thundercloud about to spew lightning.

  “This better be important, the duke snapped as he entered the room.

  “A moment, your grace, Justinian said, and drew Gwynn to one side.

  “Im sorry Ive interrupted your work, she began.

  “Im not, Justinian said, rubbing his forehead again. “Im in no shape to be doing magic. One minute my spells work, the next they fizzle. And even when they work, Im not finding anything that could account for that poor benighted mans death.

  “Perhaps this will help, she said.

  She showed him the model castle, where the triumphant miniature trolls were now roasting tiny castle guards on spits and eating them with gusto.

  “Fascinating, Justinian said, fingering a model catapult on the castle walls.

  “Typical, the duke said, with disgust. “Damned useless piece of junk.

  “Patience, your grace, Justinian said, toying with the miniature drawbridge. “Something of great import is afoot.

  He looked at Gwynn and nodded.

  While the duke and the captain of the guard looked on with puzzled expressions, Gwynn demonstrated how the wards worked again when Reg was out of range.

  “Of course, Justinian said. “Hes been hovering over me all morning. That explains everything. Follow me!

  He dashed off at a breakneck pace. Gwynn, Reg, and the duke followed him back to the dungeons.

  “What are we here for? the duke asked, when hed caught his breath.

  “I need to question your surviving prisoner, Justinian replied.

  The remaining anarchist flinched. Obviously, he was more used to the dukes style of interrogation than the Maestros.

  “You saw the wound in your comrades chest, did you not? Justinian asked.

  “Filthy magic attack, the anarchist muttered.

  “He was wounded before in just the same fashion, wasnt he? Justinian asked.

  “Aye, the anarchist said, looking puzzled. “Stabbed in the chest in a scuffle with the kings guardsmust be five years ago. We thought he was a goner, for sure, but w
e had this mage with us

  “A mage? With you? Justinian said.

  “A hostage, more than likely, the duke said.

  “Something like that, the anarchist said. “Anyway, the mage fixed it. Healed the wound so you couldnt even see it, and we managed to get out of the city that night. Guards were looking for a wounded rebel, not a healthy one.

  “Aha! Justinian said, dramatically. “Most helpful. Now I know how he was killed.

  “Some kind of magic, the anarchist muttered.

  “No, Justinian said. “He was killed by the complete absence of magic.

  “I beg your pardon? the duke said.

  “We already know the castle warding spell has been... temperamental, Justinian said. “Have you noticed problems with any other spells? Food preservation spells wearing off prematurely? Healing potions not working as designed? Cosmetic spells not performing reliably?

  The duke nodded and narrowed his eyes. From the murmurs Gwynn could hear from several other people nearby, she suspected that there had, indeed, been many magical malfunctions recentlyprobably more than the duke ever dreamed.

  “The light globes havent worked for weeks, the castle mage said, glancing up at a flickering torch.

  “Its him, Justinian said, pointing at Reg.

  “Me? Reg exclaimed. “Im no bloody mage.

  “Well see about that, the duke said, gesturing to his guards to seize Reg.

  “No, Reg is right, your grace, Justinian said, waving the guards back. “Hes no mage. He has no magic whatsoever. Probably born that way. Hes what we call a magic null.

  “A what? the duke said.

  “A nullhe cancels out magic by his very presence. Like water and fire. Pour water on a fire, and it fizzles out. Pour water on gunpowder, and you cant even light it. Thats what he does to magic. Snuffs it out like a candle.

  “Explains why the warding spell wasnt working, but not how he killed my prisoner, the duke said. “Unless youre trying to tell me that anarchist was a mage. Which doesnt make sense; they hate mages. Besides, you arent harmed by him.

  “It goes back to that wound your prisoner got five years ago, the Maestro said. “The one his confederate here says their captured mage healed. They probably had a knife to his throat, poor man. But he was clever. He didnt perform a healing spell at all.