"Where is Seiren Nithercott?"
Rowan swept into his office, surprised to not see Seiren's brooding face in his armchair. He'd slipped into her pigeon hole the scroll with an apology only the afternoon before; she would have dropped into the council room and seen that by now. Perhaps she skipped the meeting to spite him? But surely she had more professionalism than that, even if Rowan did accuse her of being a murderer.
"Regretting your action, short-ass?"
Rowan flinched at the coarse voice. Kommora's snipe from yesterday gnawed on his conscience. He never thought he'd lose his cool like that. And there Kommora stood now, leaning against his shelf, her arms crossed and a most disgruntled expression on her face.
"Can I help you, Mage Haigh?"
"Rinoa Gruger. You can help me eviscerate her."
Rowan did a double take. Kommora's glower did not falter.
"Wh... what did Mage Gruger do?"
"Stick her nose in where it didn't belong, like the rest of them damned king's mages."
Rowan's heart skipped a beat. It couldn't be.
"Loren...?"
"Yes. They took over the bloody investigation. Again." Kommora seethed. Her greying hair almost crackled with rage. "It's no longer within my jurisdiction, they said. It was endangering mages, so it was the duty of the king's mages to facilitate further investigation. It was about all I could do to not let them get rid of the guards outside Rummage's room."
"But why?" His mouth dried. "Why would -- she's the only who's seen the rogue mages! Why would they get rid of her guards when she's so vulnerable and she's the only survivor?"
"That's the question, isn't it?" Heat radiated off Kommora's slim body. He didn't like the way Kommora's thought process was going. "Butterworth's magic was at the site where Loren was found. They're saying it was the rogue mages attacking her... and yet they aren't concerned about her safety."
"But Loren's safe?"
"Of course. Don't be brain-dead. At least those ass-kissing imbeciles have no control over my guardianship of Rummage. I have every right to ensure her safety until she regains consciousness. Every one of those guards has been personally vetted. It'll be over my dead body if anything were to happen to her again."
"I--"
"And if you have even a single active brain cell, Woodbead, I'd go make sure Nithercott stays safe. She's seen Halen Ashworth and lived. She's next on their kill list, just like Rummage is, and you can bet your short ass she doesn't have an inkling of Rummage's sense and will run straight into her doom soon enough." A small explosion appeared to take place within Kommora's remarkable mind. Her eyes bulged. Rowan took a step back. "I need access to the royal archives. Whatever Rummage discovered, I need to get my hands on it."
"Be--" Rowan started, but Kommora already vanished out of the door. "...careful."
"Um..." Tylene poked her head through the door, biting her lip, her spiky short brown hair defying gravity as usual. She gave a nervous glance over her shoulder at the whirlwind that would have been Kommora Haigh about to threaten some higher-up to gain the restricted access to royal archives.
"Yes, Tylene?"
"I spoke to Felora yesterday. Mage Nithercott's heading to Iwade."
Rowan frowned. "But today's her teaching day! Why has she headed to Iwade of all places? And why would Felora of all people know?"
"Felora was setting off with Peron when I left... they've been sent to accompany Mage Nithercott now that Mage Rummage is recuperating in hospital."
"But why Iwade?" he said again, incredulous. Chilly and grey for at least ten months of twelve, it was not a city he wished on his worst enemy. Even worse would be Acrise, the northernmost city before broaching the Hannan border. Felora's blank look was not helpful.
He could understand Seiren taking off without a word. They had yet again left on the worst of terms and Rowan regretted it. Seiren grated on him like no other he'd ever met, but she had great talent and a good heart; Loren wouldn't have given her such a glowing account otherwise. And as the tutor, he should have known better -- Loren would have lectured him as much.
His heart panged. There was nothing he could do now. Loren was in good hands, in the healers' hands, although the best thing would have been chaos magic. But she was the only person in the whole of Karma who could perform it.
Rowan sighed. "Fine. Let's go to Iwade and find Seiren. I've done most of my paperwork anyway. I'm sure the office can afford me a few days away."
There was a tap tap tap on glass. He strode over and threw the windows open. A round pigeon sat there, crimson eyes staring at him. It cooed. Out of habit, Rowan slipped the scroll from its leg and fed it some seeds before letting it flap away. The scroll unravelled when he undid the violet rune.
He swore loudly under his breath.
"What is it?" said Tylene, alarmed.
"We're leaving for Iwade."
"Right now?!"
Rowan didn't answer her. He snatched a few documents and his cloak and tore out of his office, his heart thumping against his chest, the message scrunched in his fingers against his front.
The words repeated themselves in his head.
Emergency: requesting assistance from nearby mages for attack of Mage Recca Mirren in the city of Iwade. Take caution due to rogue nature of attackers.
****
A large train station with glass panels opened before Seiren as she hopped off the train. The ceiling was an attempt at looking sleek and polished, but the smoke from the old coal-powered trains had coated its surface so that it was sooty and filtered out most of the sunlight. The glass hadn't been cleaned despite the trains being replaced with the modern, smokeless, rune-powered ones. The streets had more young people; most brushed past Seiren, their caps pulled low over their dirt-streaked pink-cheeked faces and their equally dirty outfits flapping in their wakes. She kept a tight hand over her purse this time round, ensuring it was in the inside pocket of her black travel cape.
"Gee, isn't this a friendly place?" she said in a sour voice. Her breath came up in small puffs of white mist. Her nose tingled with the chill in the air and she tugged the neckline of her cape closer around her.
"Iwade is a town that focused on apprenticeships. These are all probably pressed for time -- the training is quite unforgiving," said the girl guard, studying the people passing, some of them as young as twelve. She shivered. "My brother trained here. He was hoping to be an engineer when he heard the runed motors were in their beginning stages. He's always had a fascination with trains and wanted a more compact, road-friendly version."
"Is he working here?" Seiren hoped she wouldn't be privy to some sickly family reunion.
"No." Her -- Felora? -- elfin features darkened; her pointy nose reddened with the cold. "He never got the engineer apprenticeship. Our family hit hard times and he was forced to work in the coal mines in Keycol. Two years ago the mine collapsed on him and a group of workers. He died. He was only sixteen."
"Oh." She didn't know what to say, so she said nothing.
A simple 'sorry' would suffice, Seiren.
Too much time had passed for that. If she said anything now, it would be awkward. Madeleine sighed. Seiren shifted the bag and glanced around. A big exit at the far right, in the shape of a semi-circle, opened to grey skies and bustling crowds. It was around noon; she might as well take advantage of the remaining daylight to snoop around for Halen Ashworth.
Now, if I were a psychopathic backstabbing ass-faced cow, where would I hide?
She hardly stabbed you in the back, Seiren.
Do I look like I care?
Madeleine sighed again and squinted through Seiren's eyes. Seiren stared at the passing faces; none of them had the cold, demonic blue eyes that occasionally snuck up on Seiren in her nightmares.
Halen Ashworth's still going after mages, right? And she likes to track them down until they're alone and then kill them. Maybe it's worth a shot finding the mage assigned to this town and talking to them, Madeleine said.
Going by my luck, Ashworth would have hunted down the mage here and killed them already.
Well, it would explain why she's in Iwade, at least.
For a moment, Seiren almost expected an explosion like the attack on Loren to hit the air signalling Ashworth's attack. But all she could hear was the hustle and bustle of people hurrying to their next destination and the screech of metal on metal from the train engines. The air was stagnant with the scents of sweat and smoke.
She checked in at the first inn off the main streets. Her steady source of income was a relief, although she still couldn't afford the easy-to-access places. Nevertheless, the narrow brick building was warm. Large old paintings decorated the inside; gilded windows faced the front. Long recliners lined one side and a thick carpet gave way a little with every step beneath Seiren's leather boots. A large fire crackled just adjacent to the check-in table, behind which an overweight woman sat. Seiren stood before her.
The woman ignored her and picked at her nails, fluttering her eyelashes that were caked thick with makeup.
You think if I stand here all day, she'll just sit here and ignore me all day?
I miss Bicknor, said Madeleine, sounding as baffled at the woman's attitude as Seiren.
Seiren cleared her throat. It was only after her second forceful clearing did the woman finally look up.
"Yes?" she said in a snippy tone.
"I'd like a room for tonight please," said Seiren in as neutral a tone as she could.
"We don't serve children," she quipped. "I'll speak to your parents, little boy."
A barely-snuffed guffaw, probably from Felora, reached Seiren's ears. Seiren gave the inn owner a withering stare Kommora would have been proud of.
"I'm eighteen. And my name is Mage Seiren Nithercott," she enunciated every syllable, "probationary mage from the Council of Mages."
Too many 'mage's.
To her satisfaction, the woman's face flushed pink above the rouge. She jumped to her feet; her chair creaked in protestation.
"My apologies, Mage," she said in a new-found greasy voice. "Now, is that one room or one for each of you and your companions?"
Seiren fought not to roll her eyes and turned to her guards; it only just struck her that she'd no idea what the protocol was for military personnel accompanying mages.
"The military funds our stays. We stay wherever you do."
"Three," said Seiren, stony-faced.
Several minutes later, she locked her door and swung her bag over her back, having escaped the fawning of the innkeeper. She shuddered. What a two-faced lowlife.
I think it's the same everywhere. People in Bicknor tend to be nicer and don't treat you any different, like with Loren, but everywhere else... I remember Mother used to say even the people in FInberry would suck up to her just because she was a mage, but were pretty foul to each other.
Seiren scowled. People sucked.
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