Page 168 of Turncloak

“I have no idea.”

Sebran switched to talking aloud. “I always wondered how the brand worked—how it stayed permanent without Lyrian having to sacrifice a portion of his own well. It shouldn’t be possible without medei perpetua.”

“Perhaps he did use medei perpetua,” the mage said slowly. “Perhaps that’s why he was never as powerful as a mage in his position ought to be—his greatest asset was his memory, not his enchanting. Perhaps he sacrificed most of his well to keep the scarlets loyal to him.”

“In which case, now that Lyrian is dead…”

Something brightened behind the mage’s eyes. “The enchantment would no longer be active.”

Sebran shrugged. “You’re probably free to go.”

The brightness dulled almost as fast as it flared. “I’m afraid to try.”

“In less than a quarter hour, I plan to be inside that portari gate on the third floor. The last thing I will do in this hellforsaken place is set the whole thing ablaze. The ascenite won’t burn, but everything else will. Gather as many innocent mages as you can. Tell them the truth about the brand—that it is no longer holding them here—and flee. Flee the city, flee your grotesque lives. Flee.”

And because Sebran had commanded it, he knew the mage would obey.

With a final nod, Sebran handed back the mage’s wand and strode down the corridor toward the staircase, his vision starry and swaying, his silver cloak flapping around his ankles.

When he staggered to the dragon statue in the hallway, he plucked a tongue of flame from the nearest lantern and flung it around the creamstone chamber, hoping his wielding was strong enough, hoping the fire would find enough fuel to catch.

It caught.

It caught the crimson carpet runner streaking down the hallway.

It caught the tapestries and drapes hanging on the walls.

Sebran tapped the stone claws and descended into the chamber housing the portari gate, and then he stepped inside.

69

• • • •

Lunes

Night was falling over Lunes, and Auria could barely breathe.

Detective Jebat had pulled together a tactical team remarkably fast, and they’d arrived in Lunes in dribs and drabs via portari gate over the course of the afternoon so as not to attract attention. They wore plain clothes, cloaks of black and emerald and navy, chattering casually as they exited the station into the village. Of course, in a place as small as this, locals would eventually notice the slew of unfamiliar faces, but that couldn’t be helped.

Auria stood in the station for hours, nodding calmly to the stream of detectives filtering in, her pulse thrumming like a long, drawn-out chord.

She had just taken the biggest gamble of her career. Her life.

“How’s it going?” Nissa asked via wand tip. Outside the station, dusk was a moody indigo, the sky bruised with rain clouds.

“The last of the tac team just arrived. They’re setting up position in Renzel’s Wandery—it has a strong vantage across the village green. To the east it has eyes on the portari station, and to the west the Saints hall. Most of the action in Lunes seems to happen between these four points, so we’re in a good spot to watch how things play out. Move in when we can. The local streetwatch is small, only half a dozen or so on the force, but primed to offer backup if we need it.”

She needed killing curses to be fired between the whites and the scarlets. She needed their leaders to be drawn out, dragged into the fray. She needed to bide her time, letting enough momentum build for the arrests to be airtight. Thankfully Detective Jebat had a lot of field experience—Auria was skittish, prone to playing a hand too early, but he’d know when to move in.

Tonight was the night. She felt it in the hum between her ribs, the jangle of her nerves, the thunder charge at her temples.

“Any updates at the apothecary?” she asked Nissa.

“Contact dropped between the Whitewing and the boy, Relar. Ferrow told him that his Bloodmoon protections were dead, and I think he’s gone dark. Now Ferrow is sending threatening messages, promising to kill his grandmother unless he answers, but…if I were the lad, I’d know it was a lost cause.”

“Are you going to intervene if Ferrow tries to kill her?”

“It’s your case. Do you want me to intervene?”