I would invite a Sabbelah doctor to our court in an instant. I’ve seen what miracles they can do. But they’re also witches, and we’ve seen the venom of their ambitions before.

  -The Manticore, High King of the Eastern Veldeti coast

  The cursing continued for a minute, echoing through the warehouse. The dock workers glanced over, then consciously went back to work a little farther away from the pair. Khalid leaned back and looked down again while Kave’s eyes had glazed over. Eventually, she burned out. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to Khalid, making him snap to attention.

  “There actually is something I need you do for me about this, big brother.” She said. “There might have been some imps or such set to follow us here, and I would prefer not to be followed out. Is that something you could handle?”

  “Yes! Absolutely! Just give us a few minutes. It’s against corporate policy to have too many of those things buzzing around anyways.” he said, before pointing at the nearest cleaners. “You two! Come with me.”

  The three of them trailed out of the warehouse. The sounds from their hunt were mostly blocked out by the stone walls, save the occasional faint rumble or the thunk of an imp being impaled to the wall.

  “Another link leading back to this Trin person. If they’re so involved with this, shouldn’t our new priority be to find them?” Kave asked as they waited.

  “They were already a priority but finding this answer’s some of the questions I had for them. I’d rather focus on questioning the people we can find easily first.” Komena answered.

  “What does this wreckage answer? The equipment is too generic to draw conclusions from, and I couldn’t make anything out of that sludge. All we know is that she was testing spells on people, and any Faculty would benefit from figuring out how to break the Corpus law.”Kave said, prodding a heavy boot into a pile debris.

  Komena waved him off. “Answer’s wasn’t the right word. I have a theory, but we’ll wait to see if we can get some more confirmation first. I might be biased, and we can’t go off track chasing the impossible.”

  His next question was cut off by Khalid coming back, rolling his wrists and flexing his fingers. The two workers following him returned their posts as he came up to them.

  “The flock that was tailing you is gone now. In hindsight, I think I’m happier not knowing what you did to get that kind of attention.” Khalid said.

  “Yes, you are.” Komena said. “Now, before I go, is the clinic still nearby?”

  ***

  Komena didn’t go to healing clinics often. She didn’t have the money to get a regular check in; instead relying on an active lifestyle, household remedies and the common sense to avoid most serious injuries. The only time she remembered coming into one was when she’d been eleven. She had been helping her father on his fishing boat, too enthralled by the seabirds overhead to notice the swinging boom of the mast coming for her head. When she came to in a cot, a nurse said that her father had run through the streets with her in his arms to bring her there. Later, she learned that the treatment had cost most of their savings from the last two years.

  Clinics and hospitals weren’t uncommon in the city. Where other faculties had centralized around single buildings to teach and act from, the healers had built on every scrap of territory they could to expand their influence. Most were small things, though a few were palaces. The one by the warehouses had been built out of necessity, if only to stem the tide of crushed bones and knife wounds that came from distracted workers and smugglers.

  Stepping inside, Komena found the building impressively dull. It was large to be certain, as well clean and well built. You could fit warehouses under the domed ceiling. The reception area was half filled with waiting patients, a few holding injuries not deemed urgent. The furniture was still simple fused sandstone, but they had replaced the multicolored, speckled things Komena remembered with sleek, white benches.

  Despite the size and the crowd, the interior was quiet. There was magic cast in the halls, but they were small spells. Guiding lights and necessary patches to keep patients alive as they were brought to treatment rooms. No grandiose gestures where an efficient solution would work. It was the kind of practical thinking that happened when you could heal a bone in an instant, but still needed to set it correctly.

  “Why are we here?” Kave asked? “Looking for someone who was injured in the Dean’s warehouse?”

  “No. I doubt anyone who had been there when it all came down could afford proper treatment, if they even survived that downpour.” Komena said “I don’t know where the Dean of Healing is. This is just the nearest major center for his faculty, but he could be based out of any of them. or have a schedule he uses to visit them all throughout the year.” She said.

  “They would still need some trusted to run this hospital though, and if they’re trusted enough for this, then they’re trusted enough to know where he is.” Kave said.

  “I’m sure he also had a secretary, at the Grand Auditorium, so we could go through official channels if this falls through. They plan around the official channels, though. I’d rather catch him as off guard as we can.” She said with a nod.

  The two of them came up to the greeting desk stationed by a man in his mid-thirties, bald with broad shoulders and the glazed over expression all common desk workers developed.

  “We need to speak with the Director here. Faculty business. How can we arrange a meeting with them?” Komena asked, dangling the pendent like a badge of authority. The clerk recognized it and tapped a gem on his desk twice, making it glow a steady yellow. He passed the gem to them, and the glow came out as a little ball of light. The man’s tone was a dry rumble.

  “Follow the light. It’ll take you to her office. She’ll be expecting you but knock first.”

  Komena nodded her thanks, though he had already gone back to his paperwork. As they walked through the halls, Kave muttered something about how any idiot would know to knock. It was a nice distraction from the noises of the hospital, the moans of the sick, the occasional muttered doctor’s conversation and an oppressive quiet that amplified both.

  The light led them through the main halls and up the stairs, until they reached came to the center of the third floor. The light came to a stop in front of a door, same simple wooden design as the rest of them, illuminating a plaque with the name “Dr. Amara Vairusta, Director” written on it. Komena grabbed the handle, knocked twice, and stepped inside, Kave glaring two holes in her back as he followed.

  “I’m tempted to have this little breach of etiquette be the end of our meeting. Most people try to give at least a few hours warning.” The Doctor said from her desk.

  Her office was the kind of organized that only workplaces achieved. Everything useful was in immaculate stacks wherever was most practical for it to be. There was nothing personal on the walls or desk. It was obvious that a cleaner came through once a day to scrape away any signs of humanity that had leaked into the space.

  The Director herself was similar. An older woman, her gray hair framed severe features, unblemished by any cosmetics. She wore a simple but immaculate doctor’s robe, the same bright yellow as the sun. Under that were a simple white button-up shirt and trousers, cut elegantly for ease of movement. The only accent was a silver chain that hung around her neck and slipped under her shirt, hiding whatever was on the end of it, like she thought a pendant would be too gaudy for her role.

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  “Our apologies, Doctor, but this is urgent. We were hoping that the Dean of Healing would be here. Would it be possible for you to arrange a meeting with him for us? It’s for an official faculty investigation.” Komena said.

  Amara’s composure cracked for the length of an eyebrow twitch.

  “You understand that there is a standard process for this? He has a secretary and I’m too busy to play her role.” She said.

  “Of course, but that process could take some time, and we don’t have any to spare.”

  “Considering how important my husband has made your little investigation out to be, I’m sure he would push you to the top of his priorities. Which I suppose means I’ll need to arrange that meeting for you.” The doctor said with a sigh. Komena glanced over at Kave, who shrugged.

  “I didn’t know he was married.” He said.

  “We keep our personal lives private, and we married before our relationships would have been newsworthy.” Amara said, with a casual gesture.

  “Well, now I’m more invested in this than the investigation. How’d you two meet?” Komena asked. Amara’s glare intensified.

  “I’m not going to engage with this.” Amara said. “I can arrange a meeting for you tomorrow at his office, and that will be the end of my role in this.”

  Komena looked down at the papers stacked on the Directors desk. They were boilerplate forms, permissions for this and requisitions for that. There was a quill set put to the side, just a basic wire frame like the one on her own desk. It provided organization, but was so small a breeze could have knocked it over. Too small to hide information under or inside.

  “Understood. A scandalous, dramatic tryst as students it is.” Komena said as she looked.

  The doctor’s glare changed. It was still intense but nuanced now. An eyebrow going up instead of dropping.

  “What could possibly give you that idea?” she asked, standing up from her work.

  Komena shrugged, as the blind throw hit home. “Did you expect the Dean’s to choose some back-alley investigator for this? There are only a few ways you could have been married young enough for it to not be news big enough for me to have heard. Even less that you refuse to speak of.”

  That wasn’t dignified with a response, but Amara wasn’t trying to rush them out anymore. That parlor trick of a deduction had earned them a little interest and a little time.

  “I will happily take your offer for a meeting tomorrow, but could you tell me what your husband has been doing for the last month?” Komena asked, stepping closer to the desk.

  “There’s not much to tell. About half of this desk needs to go to him for final approval and there’s a similar amount of work coming in from every clinic in the city.” A standard answer to a standard question. Interest apparently didn’t translate to openness.

  “Yes, Deans are all very busy, but if they were all dedicated public servants without side projects, we’d all be happier. Has there been a subject he’s been throwing himself into lately?” Kave said, arms crossed as petulantly as his tone.

  “Just medicine. It’s an expected part of the role that he constantly design new spells for the school. Less than one a month would be a failure. Blood in the water for the rest of the mages under him.” Amara answered.

  “Well, has there been a focus with his latest spells? Any passion projects? Diseases he takes a personal exception with?” Komena asked.

  "There hasn’t been anything I’ve noticed. I can get you a list of what he’s published for you to check yourselves, but I won’t tell you about his future projects.”

  Komena had thought that went without saying. No one was going to volunteer what they hoped to accomplish until they had already completed it. An open and unnecessary refusal was interesting.

  “Do you not know anything about them?” She asked. Amara didn’t rise to the jab.

  “I know a little. I didn’t get my own position by marriage. Sometimes I provide a fresh set of eyes for the final product, but nothing’s at that stage yet. Besides, it’s not really my place to say, is it? If there’s one thing your investigation should have taught you, it’s how important secrecy is to magic research.” The doctor answered.

  “Yes, the Dean of Evocation’s efforts to hide her work have certainly impeded our efforts.” Kave said.

  Silence lingered as both women looked past him, confirming the door was closed. Amara stepped out from behind her desk to close in on him.

  “Don’t make assumptions about who knows what, boy. I don’t soundproof this room and people use those halls.” Amara said, forced into a quiet hiss.

  “Our apologies. We have been trying to keep the actual crime secret while we investigate.” Komena said shooting Kave a look and putting her hand on the woman’s desk. The doctor ignored the gesture, maybe thinking it some juvenile power play.

  “It looks like you already know what’s happened, though.”

  “There are some perks to dinner conversation with a dean. So yes, I know the crime and I knew the victim. I’ll also sleep easier once the culprit is no longer running free, but I am not going to give away my husband’s research. It’s simply not my place to do so.” The doctor said, turn back to Komena.

  “That’s fine. We can respect boundaries, especially when you’re doing us a service. Is there a time we should see your husband?” Komena asked.

  “Early morning. He does paperwork then and will be happy to have the distraction of your company.” She answered.

  Komena nodded and turned to leave, trailing her hand on the desk. One casual brush caried the quill rack off the edge, crashing to the ground too quickly to be caught by spell or hand.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry! I haven’t slept much since I was hired. The exhaustion must be getting to me.” Komena said as she kneeled to pick up the quills. Fortunately, Dr. Amara did the same. Gravity pulled her pendant down against her shirt placket, but not hard enough to slip out between the buttons.

  Komena weaved what little magic she could without gestures or reducing herself to a gasping mess. Her will reached out to the pendent and tried to slip it through between the buttons. Instead, the chain jingled a little, like it was hanging in a light breeze. It was all she could do to not pant as she put the last quill back in the frame. Dr Amara stood back up, putting it back on the desk and lining it up with the desk corner.

  “Yes, this entire situation has been stressful for all of us in the know. Though you’ll forgive me if I insist you go through the secretary next time.” She said, turning back to face the two of them. The motion seemed to twist the necklace just enough to slip it out of her shirt.

  The pendent hanging from it was in the shape of a four petalled flower, just tracing the outline of each petal and the center they connected to. That center was set with a large, yellow opal. Komena found the jewel gaudy, too bright and big enough to practically swallow the elegant metal work. It was also polished platinum hanging from the cheaper, silver chain. Hospital directors made enough that they didn’t usually need to make unfashionable, practical compromises like that.

  Not a moment passed before Amara noticed the pendent was out and tucked it away again. Kave and Komena left her quickly and quietly. The gem the receptionist had given them didn’t light up again to guide them out. Instead, they relied on a colored line transmuted into the floor to guide them back through the halls. They were a few halls down before Kave spoke.

  “So, why did you want to see the pendent?” he asked

  “Curiosity.” Komena said. “Don’t look at me like that! Sometimes it works out.”

  “I’m not looking at you!” He said, bringing his glare under control. “It wasn’t that big a risk. You need to work on your timing, though. Spells like that work best if you use the person’s momentum as well as magic. Makes it easier and more believable.”

  “I’m surprised you’re so good at moving things that delicately. I mostly see you using more direct methods. Like burning.”

  “Well, you know how it is. People have a talent for one thing, but practice another. Pickpockets make more money than arsonists on the streets, and the little lab work I did benefits from a subtle touch.” Kave said. “More importantly, was it at all important?”

  “Hard to say. I don’t know enough about flowers to really tell. Was that covered in your education? Maybe a poetry lesson?” Komena answered.

  “No. What lessons I could scrape my way into were more practical than that. Hard sciences and spell craft.” Kave said. They went down another hall before he continued “Struth insisted that I start learning something cultured, so he’d been tutoring me. I think he wanted me to have some kind of connection to the motherland.”

  “Did it work?” Komena asked, remembering Struth’s attempt to give her a tour of her own hometown.

  “No, not really. We had just gotten through the history he wanted to cover before we met you. Corlin’s history is all very grim until you hit this century. The Deans somehow seem benevolent compared to what those mud farmers used to serve.” He said.

  “And there’s nothing you did for fun? No favorite story or song?”

  “By the time I learned to read, I didn’t really see the point of fiction and I didn’t have time or desire to go out to concerts.”

  They returned to the lobby in silence. Komena placed the gem back on the reception desk without acknowledgement from the man who had given it, and they left the clinic. As they stepped out, Kave stopped on the top step.

  “Struth would sing old marching songs occasionally.” He said. “When he’d been drinking mostly. As a party trick.”

  “Was he any good?” Komena asked. The potential was there. He had had the lungs for it at very least.

  “No, he was terrible at it and the songs were just as grim as the history, so you couldn’t even laugh at it.”