PROLOGUE
The Rogue Sorcerer
The jostling ride came to an end, and Kellin hastily exited the armored wagon, which had parked
in front of the Hotel Amboise in downtown Auvinen. He glanced at his pocket watch to observe
the time of his arrival—four minutes later than he’d anticipated. He cast a scowl at the driver
before meeting his man at the hotel door, where he was standing by a bellman whose uniform
had been patched at the left elbow. This hotel was shabbier than most. The walls hadn’t even
been repainted in years.
“Is he still here?” Kellin demanded in a furtive voice of to Arbuckle, his deputy, who had
met with the informant to ensure he was a reliable source before getting Kellin involved.
Arbuckle turned to the bellman with an expectant look and an impatient nod.
The bellman was fidgeting. He was obviously hoping to earn some cuppers with his
information but perhaps was wondering how valuable it truly was. “Yes, sir. I mean, I believe so,
sir. He’s not checked out and it’s early in the evening still.”
“What room is he in?” Kellin asked brusquely. He was eager, for they’d been looking for
this rogue sorcerer for quite some time.
“Room four hundred sixteen, sir. Fourth floor,” said the bellman. He offered his hand
discreetly. His glove had holes in two of the fingers.
Kellin brushed past him with Arbuckle at his side and entered the hotel. The bellman
would receive better compensation if the information led to an arrest.
“Did you alert the Marshalcy?” Kellin asked Arbuckle, who was a junior officer in the
private security firm but had wealthy and well-connected parents. The cream of Auvinen Society.
“I thought you wouldn’t want that, sir,” Arbuckle said.
A wise choice. Some junior officers wanted to get in good with the Marshalcy, maybe
assuming they could make a bid for a ranked position with them, but Arbuckle was loyal to the
firm.
“When did you hear about this?” Kellin asked.
“A little after midnight. The fellow checked in to the hotel after hours. Suspect was about
the age we’re looking for. Also had a violin case tucked under his arm and no suitcase. That
made it stand out.”
A violin case! It really could be their man!
They went to the staircase and began to rush up the steps quickly.
Kellin was the head of the firm in Auvinen, a capable investigator who knew most of the
tricks sorcerers used to escape detection. Agents of the Trilby weren’t bound by the same code of
conduct as officers of the Marshalcy, which meant they often got better results. Paying off a man
or beating him with a truncheon often produced faster and more useful dividends than mere
questions. Better yet—the Marshalcy was usually willing to ignore the odd swollen eye if it
meant solving a case sooner.
Kellin was thirty-four himself and had worked for the firm since finishing his studies. He
vastly preferred his line of work to the tedium of college life. Cases required imagination.
Cleverness. An eye for detail.
When they reached the fourth floor in the stairwell, Kellin opened the door and they
marched down the carpeted hall. The carpet was threadbare in places, with some unseemly stains
that had never been rubbed out. Shabby indeed.
They reached the marked room—416—promptly. It was the second from the main
hallway, with a position near the stairs for a quick getaway. Clever man. But this particular
sorcerer had shown himself to be particularly clever. He’d enchanted objects for the ruffians
living in the tenements to cause incalescence or generate light—items owned by the landlord
who would have to pay the fines if caught, not the tenants. A few even played music, which was
an absurd waste of magic. About as useful as listening to the annoying chirp of crickets. The cad
had done it all for free, probably thinking it a favor, but magic was illegal and a favor to no one.
Arbuckle pointed to the door and raised his eyebrows inquisitively. His sideburns were
cropped to his lower jaw, his cravat and waistcoat more fine than his companion’s, although his
jacket was humble enough to mask the rest. Kellin preferred to be clean-shaven himself. To dress
as inconspicuously as possible.
Kellin reached into his pocket and withdrew the small, handheld quicksilver bulb. It was
glowing, which signaled proximity to magic. Devices such as this one were highly illegal, but
Kellin had a writ of permission, signed by the head of the Marshalcy, granting him permission to
use it to hunt down and apprehend sorcerers.
Arbuckle gave the bulb an appreciative nod. Such trinkets were expensive on the black
market, especially because being caught with one could condemn a man or woman to one of the
many debtors’ prisons throughout the city. The fines for possessing magic were so steep that
incarceration was the likely outcome for all but the wealthy. And most prisoners would languish
there until that debt was paid or they died within the prison of natural or unnatural causes.
Kellin nodded and slipped the tube back into his pocket and drew his pistol. Arbuckle did
the same.
Kellin carefully reached for the door handle and twisted it. There was likely a chain bolt
in place. But they were frequently broken, and a hotel as decrepit as this one might not even have
a functioning one. Another guest was moaning down the hall behind a closed door.
Kellin turned the handle and pushed. The door swung open effortlessly.
The two men stormed inside, pistols raised. It was a squalid little room with a single bed,
a dresser with a bowl for washing, a window too tiny to crawl in or out of. The blanket on the
bed was still unruffled. Next to the bowl of water, there was a little bronze bell, like the kind
from the hotel desk, that was radiating warmth.
Kellin walked over to the dresser and gazed at the bell, scowling fiercely.
“This room hasn’t even been used,” Arbuckle said, lowering his weapon.
“You’re right. I’m afraid it’s just a decoy,” Kellin said, disappointment throbbing in his
stomach. He picked up the little bell and nearly smashed it against the dresser, but he subdued his
rage.
Too late, Kellin realized the clever sorcerer’s ploy: He had rented this shabby room for a
few cuppers, made a show of himself by coming in late, and then had stolen the bell from the
front desk, enchanted it, and left it to be found later so it would trigger the quicksilver bulb. He’d
probably slipped out the back to avoid being seen and then went to another hotel incognito, to
spend the rest of the night untroubled.
“Another miss,” Arbuckle said. “From what the bellman said, he could be every man.
Didn’t even get a decent look at him but noticed the dark, unkempt hair.”
“By design, no doubt,” Kellin said stiffly. “Well, that was a waste of time.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I thought the lead was promising.”
Kellin gave him a reassuring gesture, pretending to pat him but not actually touching him.
“This is what I pay you for, Arbuckle. You were right to call me in. This rogue sorcerer is
proving himself very canny indeed. He knows this city well.”
“When the college was shut down, they were easier to catch. Or so I’ve heard.”
“I was a lad myself back then,” Kellin said. “You weren’t even born.”
“The stories I’ve heard.” Arbuckle had a wistful look on his face. “Would have been
interesting to see how magic was used everywhere by practically everyone.”
“You mean the lies,” Kellin said in rebuke, and the wistful look vanished.
“Of course, sir.”
Kellin yawned and checked his pocket watch again.
“You’ve had a late night, sir.”
“I’m normally abed by now, yes. The play is moving to Bishopsgate in two weeks, and
then rehearsals start for the new one opening in Tanhauser.”
“You’ve seen the play every night, sir. Some can’t even get tickets. They’re sold out.”
“They’ve been sold out for months. Everyone wants to see Miss Kauer perform.” A
vague smile came to Kellin’s mouth. He’d provided security for the company while in Auvinen,
which had given him access and privileges that other men would have murdered for.
Miss Kauer was a sensational actress who had captured the imagination and hearts of the
citizens of the empire. She’d even been invited to perform before the emperor’s family in a gala
concert. Her current play was very popular, but her manager had said that the playwright who’d
penned it had come up with another one, a play about the Aesir. It would be controversial by
design, and her manager knew it would cost a fortune to create—the permits alone to use music
would be expensive—but it would reap an even greater fortune in return. Miss Kauer would play
the titular role—the Erlking’s daughter.
He was eager to see what sort of costume she’d wear.
No one really knew what had become of the Aesir since they’d left the world over twenty
years ago, driven out by the military. The conflict between humans and Aesir had gone on for
centuries, but it was over at last. And what an ending. After the citizens learned the Invisible
College, which they’d thought was protecting them, had in fact been in league with the enemy,
retribution had been fierce. Laws were passed to abolish the sorcery school, and the various
quorums, both large and minute, were shut down and vacated. Some properties were still
derelict, as it was not clear who had legal ownership of the grounds, and contests were being
dragged out through legal auxiliaries. Businesses that had used magical means of production
were forced to either shut down or replace their methods with machinery. When recalcitrant
sorcerers continued to display magic, they were jailed, and the penalties had become increasingly
stiffer to discourage rebellion.
Kellin knew there were still sorcerers among them. Like the cocky violin-playing one
who’d been wandering the tenements of Auvinen. But soon they would be no more. The order
would be stamped out and eventually forgotten.
“You get to escort Miss Kauer to her hotel every night,” Arbuckle said with a tinge of
envy in his voice.
“Or her manager,” Kellin said, trying not to sound too proud.
“If you ever need help…?” Arbuckle hinted with a twinkle in his eye.
“Oh, I doubt I shall,” Kellin retorted.
“Some think she’s rather plain. That it’s all the costumes and makeup they use for her on
stage.”
“Oh, she’s devastatingly beautiful even without all that,” Kellin said, feeling a slight pang
in his heart. She was astonishingly pretty. But quiet. Guarded. There were secrets in those
beautiful eyes. “I’ll return to my quarters and get some sleep, I think,” Kellin said, stifling
another yawn. “I have a meeting with her manager this afternoon.”
“I’ll pay the bellman,” Arbuckle said. “Get some rest, sir.”
Kellin gave him a nod and then put the warm bell in his pocket. Who knew how long it
would remain enchanted. It all depended on how long the sorcerer had imprisoned the
intelligence powering it. Was it just for a night? Or had he cursed the bell permanently? The
hotel manager wouldn’t want an illegal artifact to be found on his premises. He too could end up
in debtors’ prison, regardless of whether it was his fault. Those Marshalcy laws regarding
magical artifacts were very strict.
Kellin bypassed the bellman without a word and looked up at the driver. “Home,” he said
curtly.
The smell of manure made him grimace. The streets of Auvinen were caked in refuse.
Flies abounded. He had vague memories, from his childhood, of seeing little metallic sweepers
scurrying up behind horses and carrying away the dregs.
That job was rarely done anymore with the rampant labor strikes. He climbed into the
armored wagon and sat by himself on the back seat, checking his pocket watch again. He should
be home in thirty-two minutes.
The driver got him there in thirty-six. ...
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