Kaldar took another breath. “Eight hours ago, the West Egyptian authorities discovered that a group of thieves broke into the Pyramid of Ptah. The perpetrators stole a magic device of great strategic value. It was a theft for hire, and the Dukedom of Louisiana’s Hand was the intended recipient of the device. In the early-morning hours, the thieves crossed the border and arrived here, to meet the Hand’s operatives. The Hand is infamous for double-crossing the hired help, so the thieves picked a public, well-known location for their own safety. As you can see, their fears were justified.”
“So Adriana was never the intended target?” Kaminski asked.
“No, Sheriff. It was simply the closest public place. Your people are safe.”
“Thank you,” Kaminski said simply.
“If the city was never the target, why is the Mirror involved?” Rodwell frowned.
“Because the attempted exchange took place on our soil, West Egypt requires our assistance in recovering the device. It’s a diplomatic nightmare already. We must resolve this and quickly, or they may take matters into their own hands. Nobody wants to have half a dozen of the Claws of Bast running around in the realm.”
The undersheriff winced. Even Kaminski looked taken aback for a moment. The Claws of Bast had a certain reputation.
Kaminski surveyed the rubble. “All those pieces look like they belong to the same body, and according to you, they’re pieces of a Hand operative. No other body parts. The thieves got away.”
Kaldar nodded. “Indeed. Somewhere out there, in that mess, is a clue that will tell me where they went.”
“I can have my men pull the rubble apart,” Kaminski said. “I can put sixteen undersheriffs on this. We’ll throw up a grid, work in shifts through the night, and have every crumb and rock cataloged for you by morning.”
Kaldar grinned. “I appreciate the offer, but time is short.”
The two men stared at him. Showtime.
“Do you have any coins on you, Undersheriff?” Kaldar asked.
Rodwell dug into his pocket and came up with a handful of change. Kaldar plucked the small silver disk of a half crown from the man’s palm and held it up with his thumb and index finger. The rays of the morning sun shone, reflecting from the small disk of silver. “I bet you a half crown that I’ll walk out there and find this vital clue in the next three minutes.”
Rodwell glanced at the half crown and back at the sea of debris. A small smile bent his lips. “I’ll take that bet.”
A spark of magic pulsed from the coin in Kaldar’s fingers. It shot through him like lightning, awakening something lying hidden deep in the recesses of his being, just on the edge of consciousness. The strange reserves of magic sparked to life and solidified into a tense, shivering current that burst through the coin, through his spine, up through his skull, and down through his legs and the soles of his feet. The current speared him, claiming him, and he shuddered, caught like a fish on the line. This was his own special talent. If he got someone to accept a bet, his magic skewed the odds in his favor.
The current pulled on him, and Kaldar let it steer him. The magic led him, guiding each step, maneuvering him around the pitted pavement, over the heap of shattered marble, to a cluster of splintered wood. The coin tugged him forward. Kaldar bent. Something shiny caught the sun in the crevice underneath a twisted wreck of metal that used to be a tea-making machine. He reached for it. His fingertips touched glass, and the current vanished.
Kaldar pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wrapped it over his fingers, and gently pried the glass object free. A six-inch-long tube with a wide bulb on the end. Dark soot stained the inside of the bulb. How about that?
He turned and brought his find back to the two men.
“What is that?”
“That’s an ‘I Love You Rose.’ These tubes are sold in certain shops.” Namely, the gas stations near ghettos in the Broken. “There is usually a cheap fake flower inside. They’re bought by addicts who drop cheap narcotics into the bulb and smoke the tube like a pipe.”
Kaminski raised his head. “Bring the goleeyo!”
A young woman, whose blond hair was carefully braided away from her face, hurried over, carrying a contraption of light bronze resembling a long flashlight. She glanced at the pipe, snagged a small leather book chained to her belt, tore a piece of thin paper, and looked at Kaldar. “Hold it up, please!”
He raised the meth pipe. Most of the Weird’s gadgetry was still new to him. He hadn’t seen this one before.
The blonde clicked the flashlight. A bright beam of pale green light stabbed the pipe, highlighting dirty smudges, specks of dirt, and, on the bulb, one large, beautiful fingerprint. The woman placed the paper between the light and the fingerprint, holding it an inch away from the glass, and clicked the flashlight again. The flashlight whirred. Its back end split, the metal plates lifting up, revealing the interior: a series of small gears speckled with tiny gems. The gears spun. The flashlight clicked loudly in a measured rhythm. With each click, the light turned darker and bluer. Thin lines appeared on the paper, growing darker and darker. The beam of the flashlight turned indigo and winked out. The blond woman handed Kaldar the piece of paper with the fingerprint squarely in the center.
He hit her with a dazzling smile. “Thank you, m’lady.”
She smiled back. “You’re welcome, m’lord.”
If he didn’t have to leave, he could’ve asked her to share a meal with him, and she would say yes. Kaldar checked the hint of a smile hiding in her eyes. She would definitely say yes, then he would get her to say yes to a night together, and it would be a lot of fun for them both. Unfortunately, he wasn’t his own man at the moment.
“So what’s next?” Kaminski asked.
“Next, I’ll go hunting,” Kaldar said.
Fifteen minutes later, Kaldar finished with the pleasantries, shook the hands, thanked and was thanked, and finally headed to his wyvern, waiting for him on the edge of town. Addicts in the Weird didn’t use meth pipes, which meant the West Egyptians were right. The thieves must have come from the Edge or the Broken. Almost four months had passed since he had visited either place. The hop back across the boundary was long overdue.
Of the three people involved, the picklock had to be his best bet. A man with a gift like that wouldn’t stay idle for long. Somewhere, somehow, that man had left a trail. All Kaldar had to do was find it.
He couldn’t wait to meet the talented bastard.