Larana’s sobs started up again, and I glanced to where she sat on the floor, her shoulders shaking, her face buried in her hands. The weighty gazes of the crowd standing behind me settled onto my back, and I knew that I was only holding things up.
“Alright.” I pulled my wrist from Lakin’s grasp. “Ask for Comenius over at Witches End,” I muttered as I brushed past him. “He has what you’re looking for.”
Lakin started, but I didn’t wait around – my four hours were up and it was time I got back to the palace before the Chief Mage decided to fry my ass.
Chapter Fifteen
I threw open the doors to the Chief Mage’s study and stormed over to his desk, where he sat reading a thick, leather-bound book.
He barely looked up as I slapped down a newspaper on his desk, simply flicking his eyes up from the tome he was studying before returning to it. “You’re late.”
I balled my hands into fists, then unclenched them before I did something I would regret. “Sorry. I was a little busy dealing with the aftermath of another murder.”
The Chief Mage lowered the book onto his desk.
Taking that as an invitation to speak, I plowed on. “I was visiting Roanas’s grave when I got the news. Councilman Finehorn was murdered.”
Iannis listened as I recounted the story, his expression unreadable. When I was done, he simply gave me a look. “While alarming, there is no proof of interracial involvement here, or that silver was involved either. In fact, from what I’m hearing, Chieftain Baine sounds like the prime suspect.”
“She didn’t do this.” I ground my teeth. “Believe me, if I thought she did I would be the first to step aside and let the authorities nail her. But I heard the doctor – he said it looked a lot like silver poisoning. You can’t tell me it doesn’t sound like there’s a connection. And if that’s not enough, there’s also this.” I slapped my hand on the desk, drawing his attention back to the newspaper.
A frown creased the Chief Mage’s alabaster face as his eyes flicked down toward the paper, and then back up again. “I saw this headline this morning. Why are you bringing it to me now?”
I grabbed the paper – a copy of the latest issue from the Herald – and shook it in front of his face. “‘Strung-Out Shifters – The Newest Danger in Solantha,’” I recited, the headline burned into my retinas. I’d seen a copy of it fluttering from a newsstand on my way back, and had grabbed it. “Are you seriously saying that this piece of bullshit propaganda means nothing to you?”
Sighing, the Chief Mage picked up the paper, his violet eyes scanning the article. They narrowed as the seconds ticked by. “The Herald is reporting high incidence of drug use among shifters.”
I folded my arms. “Yeah, and you don’t see a problem with that?” I decided not to mention that the Herald had basically painted shifters as irresponsible druggies who were a danger to society and practically outright demanded that the mages annihilate them. The Chief Mage probably wouldn’t care.
“Of course there’s a problem.” The Chief Mage slowly set the paper down. “Shifters aren’t affected by narcotics. We bred you that way specifically so that as soldiers you wouldn’t be susceptible to the drugs and poisons normal humans would die from.”
I decided to pretend he didn’t say that last part – the last thing I needed was to get into another argument with him over the cruelty mages had inflicted upon shifters through the centuries. “Right. And all the shifter deaths in the papers that appear to be poison-related… those shouldn’t be possible either, right?”
The Chief Mage scowled. “This is not the appropriate time for this conversation, Miss Baine. My time is limited, and has been set aside so that we can work on your magical education, not on solving murders.”
“Oh yeah?” I scowled, wanting very much to plow my fist into that superior expression.
And that’s when an idea came to me.
“Why can’t we combine both?” I asked, dropping my scowl in favor of a sly grin.
Iannis looked taken aback. “What exactly are you proposing?”
I propped my hands on my hips. “I’m proposing that you teach me some kind of spell that I can use to drag your stiff ass around the city and show you what’s really going on in this town.”
I expected him to snap at me for the comment about his ass, but instead he simply pressed his lips together in thought, saying nothing as a calculating gleam shone in his violet eyes.
“You’re proposing some kind of... reconnaissance?” he finally asked. “Where we can observe without being observed ourselves?”
I arched a brow. Did he have to make everything sound so academic?
“Yeah, I guess.”