Regdar nodded and said, "Go ahead."
Naull called the spell to mind. This one was just a bit more difficult than the last, requiring a very peculiar cadence to the incantation and an overly precise dip of the left ring finger. She performed the spell adequately, though, and was reassured by a smaller, nettling feeling in her eyes. She scanned the room, concentrating on the uncomfortable sensation.
Regdar was smart enough not to disturb her, even after she'd made a full circuit of the room without giving her report. She concentrated more deeply and was rewarded by a growing pull on her senses that made her turn her head to the left, and tilt down. She felt like something was gently but firmly pulling her face to the floor, through it, down, deeper. When she closed her eyes, the pull was broken.
Naull shook her head to clear the spell from her consciousness. She needed a few seconds to focus again on Regdar, who was approaching with a hand extended and a worried look on his face.
"I'm all right, Your Lordship," she said, stepping away from him.
Regdar pressed his lips together and sighed.
"There's a secret door," she said, breaking the uncomfortable moment she was happy enough to have instigated. "Not in this room, but somewhere at least a couple floors down-likely the basement or the wine cellar."
Regdar nodded and said, "Handy spell."
Naull shrugged and replied, "I have my moments."
"What else have you got up your sleeve?" he asked.
Naull looked around and her eyes settled on a cloak that was draped over one of the chairs at the table. It was a fine cloak.
"Was anything stolen?" she asked.
Regdar shook his head, then stopped to think about it.
"I don't know," he said.
Naull crossed to the chair and touched the cloak. It was made of very expensive silk and quite masterfully tailored. She patted the length of it and felt something not only swing against the chair behind it, but she also felt lumps in one of the cloak's pockets.
"Something in there?" Regdar asked.
Naull slipped the cloak off the back of the chair, and said, "I guess so."
Under the cloak, hung on the back of the chair, was a thin leather belt on which was suspended a stunning jeweled rapier and a long dagger of matching design. Even Naull recognized them as a significant pair of weapons, likely a family heirloom.
Regdar stood next to her and pulled the weapons belt from the chair. He examined the rapier closely with a soldier's eye for both form and function, then drew the dagger. The blade was so highly polished that it sent up a flash of reflected candlelight that made both Naull and Regdar blink.
"It's a safe bet these belonged to the victim," Regdar said. "That's an aristocrat's weapon if I ever saw one."
Regdar slid the dagger back into its sheath and returned the belt to the chair.
Naull turned her attention to the cloak, fishing around in the pocket instead of looking at Regdar. Her hand closed on something made of cool metal and she drew out a long, thin vial of brushed electrum, stoppered and sealed with wax. There was something else in the same pocket, and Naull reached in again, still holding the vial. She wrapped her finger around a length of soft cord and pulled out a small, suede pouch.
She set the vial and the pouch carefully on the table. The telltale sound of coins rattled in the pouch. Naull hung the cloak on another chair as Regdar examined the contents of the purse.
"Gold," he said, "and platinum."
Regdar dropped the pouch on the table and stepped back, examining the newfound riches with a creased forehead.
"If you were going to murder someone," he asked, "would you leave this kind of loot behind?"
"I'll bet you double or nothing for that pouch of coins that at least some of this stuff is magical, too," Naull said.
"Can you find out for sure?"
Naull nodded, and brought a third spell to mind. Regdar took a few steps away from the table.
"It's all right," she said. "It's not a fireball."
Regdar smiled sheepishly and gestured for her to continue.
Naull cast the spell-again, not the most complicated casting. She was rewarded immediately with the presence of magical auras sprinkled about the room.
She narrowed her gaze, kept her breathing even, and concentrated.
"The vial," she said in a distracted monotone, "the rapier, the dagger, and the cloak."
She took a deep breath and narrowed her focus again, keeping calm, waiting, and it all started becoming more clear.
"Something in the vial," she whispered, "not the vial itself. It's an enchantment, I think…a potion…"
Her voice trailed off, then she looked up, scanning the rest of the room. Regdar's magical accoutrements glowed in her vision, as did her own-and there was something on the door.
She didn't risk stepping closer, just let her mind concentrate on the door. It was a weak aura typical of old signs.
She closed her eyes, let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, and let the spell fade.
"The door," Naull said. "A spell was cast on the door."
"What kind of spell?" Regdar asked.
"An abjuration," she said.
"What does that do?"
"All sorts of things," she answered. "It's a school of magic, not a specific spell. It's very weak now, and it looks like it was never very strong to begin with. I'd bet it was designed either to hold the door shut or make the caster aware of someone passing through it."
"Like an alarm?" Regdar asked.
Naull nodded.
"What about the rest of it?" he asked.
"The potion is likely meant to make you do something," she said, "or think something…I don't know. The cloak, the rapier, and the dagger, I have no idea. Other spells could tell me, but I would need a few days at least to get through all of them by myself."
"We should take them with us, then," Regdar said.
"The murderer wasn't interested in all this valuable magic or gold and platinum coins," Naull replied.
"Apparently not," Regdar said.
"So," said Naull, "it's personal, then."
Regdar nodded, then picked up the weapons belt, the pouch, and the vial. He nodded at the cloak and Naull picked it up, draping it over one forearm.
"Can you cast a spell," Regdar asked, "like the one that sealed the door, if that's what it did?"
"I can," she answered. "Actually, I have one in mind that'll likely do a better job of it. I'll be able to open it, but it'll be a tough one for anyone else."
"Good," Regdar said. "I think we've seen all we need to see here for now."
Regdar stepped back, gesturing for her to precede him to the door.
"So, Your Lord Constableness," she said, not moving, "is your high and lofty office going to cover the twenty-five Merchants in gold dust-twenty-five each go, mind you-that I'll need to cast the identify spells?"
Regdar rubbed his chin with his big, callused fingers.
"You know what?" he said with a twinkle in his eye. "I don't know."
11
Maelani slipped the fine linen camise over her naked body and luxuriated in the soft caress of the floral-perfumed fabric. She shook her long, clean hair out of the plunging neckline and reached for the stomacher of azure silk that Theria had laid out for her.
Maelani had taken longer than she'd liked to finally get rid of the ever-present maid so she could dress herself in peace. Theria wasn't a gossip, and she kept any number of secrets for Maelani, but that didn't stop her from whining or from trying to talk Maelani out of this plan, that scheme, or the other subterfuge. It was as if the chubby little maid wanted Maelani to settle for some loveless, political marriage.
Maelani wrapped the stomacher beneath her breasts, adjusting the fit to make the most of what nature had given her. She smiled at herself in the full-length silver mirror and tried to see herself as Regdar would see her.