Chapter Thirteen – With the Magistrate

  Freek wasn’t in the magistrate’s office ten minutes before he came storming out.

  He didn’t say a word to Gray. He didn’t even look at him.

  Gray wasn’t surprised. Freek was a spoiled princeling, and all of his friendliness had been a lie. Gray’s friendship with Princess Lilian had taught him that being a part of a royal family came with immense pressure. Everything had been scripted in her life, and she felt caged.

  Maybe Freek felt the same way. Or maybe he was just an asshole. It didn’t matter. Just like Sindara didn’t matter.

  And yet, Gray remembered holding her while she wept. He remembered feeling core, seeing into her life, and listening to her desperate pleas. Rynn wouldn’t have let her walk away. She would’ve wanted to make sure she was safe, but then Rynn had grown up in a world where safety was possibility. For Gray, he couldn’t care what happened to others, not when he was struggling so hard to survive himself.

  Again, he had to force himself not to feel.

  Then Crewel’s crisp and powerful voice called to him. “It is your turn, Grayson Fade.”

  Gray entered the office. The walls were stone, but not the pink stone of the outside. Tapestries covered them, showing different battles across the history of the Belly. Gray saw Akazel the Bound and his seven wives, alone, fighting their way through the demon hordes. Then, the eight of them crafted the first tower in Wrath City. Ames wouldn’t be pleased. The tapestry didn’t have any Quelling elves helping them.

  Shelves covered the walls, and there were two small reading tables on either side of an ornate red rug covering the polished wood floor.

  The magistrate sat at his desk, framed by a window which had a view of the coliseum grounds.

  On the desk were stacks of paper. That was where Crewel had his plans for Soulshred Week. Too bad his office was the top of the Pink Palace. Yes, most of it was empty, since they didn’t have teachers anymore. There was a time when First Field was far more of a magic academy, but those days were gone.

  On one tapestry was a demonic figure with bone-white skin and flaming red eyes. His hair was long enough to reach his waist, and it too was white. In his hands was a massive two-handed sword the color of midnight. It was Malchutt, and he had a prominent place in the old man’s office.

  Crewel stayed seated. He sat upright and didn’t say a word. He gestured to the chair to his right.

  Gray sat down.

  Then Crewel stared at him with light blue, almost gray, eyes, so pale they were almost the color of his sickly gray skin. Crewel was a wrinkled old man, and yet, he spoke with a powerful voice and moved like a panther.

  Gray wasn’t going to be the first one to speak. He hadn’t wanted an audience, and it was a whole pallet of sea cow shit that he was there at all.

  Seconds ticked by and then minutes. Gray wasn’t going to get nervous, no, and he had several things to consider. One was the letter he still hadn’t looked at. Another was Settie’s promise to take them all on a run to the Weeping Well.

  Gray then wondered if Sindara’s murder had any way of affecting his future. Maybe, if he were framed and kicked out of First Field. He’d lose his stipend, which was a shame, but then Gray figured he would poach demon mana for the Widow Stone. Which led him to think about his meridians. Rynn didn’t know what he’d talked with the Widow about, only that lust had gotten in the way.

  He had to laugh himself. His mind was always working, always thinking, but then, that was what minds were for.

  Finally, the magistrate spoke, breaking the silence. “If you killed Sindara or Thormud, we will kill you. It wouldn’t be the first public execution, and it wouldn’t be the last.”

  “I’m assuming you’d need more evidence than some angry orc.” Gray was glad he’d brought his stick. It might not do much, but if Crewel came for him, he’d fight.

  Crewel steepled his fingers. “Do you know who Freek is?”

  “His real name is Fenrik Rabbia. There’s a chance he’s going to be the next duke. And I didn’t know it before this morning, but I guess he’s really wanting the job. He even talked about rebuilding the Wrath Tower and sealing off the Weeping Well.”

  Crewel smiled, showing yellow teeth. “It’s a quaint fantasy. We don’t have the power the ancients did. There is not enough mana in the world to craft another tower. He is having delusions of grandeur.”

  It was Gray’s turn to smile. “Let’s agree he’s delusional. I didn’t kill Sindara, and I didn’t know Thormud’s name until last night. Sindara told me. Yes, I saw her last night, and she said she knew who killed Thormud, but she didn’t tell me who. She also didn’t tell me who was paying Pamalee Thornpinch and her squad. Those are the two mysteries I’d like to solve. Well, three now, because I’d like to know who killed Sindara. To thank them. She betrayed us and our sponsor.”

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  “So you admit you hated her,” Crewel said. “Was it enough to kill her?”

  “Why would I risk it,” Gray asked. “We’re in first place. What would I gain? The answer is nothing. I have no real motive.” Gray paused. “I think you know everything that happens at First Field…that’s what you said, anyway. You knew about me and Rynn sparring, and you knew that she liked the orcish salute. Why wouldn’t you know who killed Thormud and Sindara.”

  Crewel lost his smile and sat staring at him.

  “I’m not going to sit here in silence again,” Gray said. “Either you have evidence or you don’t.”

  “Why do you think it was the same killer?”

  Gray shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t care. This has nothing to do with me. Sindara was afraid for her life, but she was also afraid her team wouldn’t do well during Soulshred Week. She wanted back on our squad. I told her I would ask.”

  “Did you ask?”

  “I was going to talk about it with our sponsor this morning, but then, Dame Hekla announced the news. It’s not an issue now. I doubt it would’ve happened. I’m not exactly the forgiving type, and neither is Settie…Captain Sevanya.”

  Crewel let out a single dry laugh. “She lets you call her Settie. She must like you. And I thought she preferred the touch of women. Cradleport women.”

  “See? You know everything, including who killed them. I’m wondering why I’m here. Why am I here?”

  Crewel’s normally rich voice turned into a monotone. “I’m doing a thorough investigation. You are suspect, albeit a poor one. You and your squad weren’t in Third Barracks last night. Where were you?”

  “We have a house in town,” Gray said. “That’s not illegal, is it? I don’t think you much care as long as we paid our rent. Which we have. My entire squad were in our house last night.”

  “And if I wanted to search this house?” Crewel asked it with a twist on his lips.

  Gray called his bluff. “Sure. Any time. But you would discuss that with Captain Sevanya and not me.”

  “With Settie?”

  “I’m fairly certain she’d want you to call her Captain Sevanya.” Gray stood up.

  The magistrate remained seated. He pointed. “Sit.”

  “No. We can talk with me standing.” Gray glanced down at the desk and saw a piece of paper, written in the world’s language, and it was for the brackets and seeds for Soulshred Week. He couldn’t stare, no matter how much he wanted to. But there it was. He needed to get back into this office, but how could he manage that?

  Crewel stood. “You weary me, Grayson Fade. Your attitude. Your power. Your secrets. This bond you have now. And still all the girls get weak-kneed when you are around. I don’t know why. You can’t even get mana into your meridians.”

  “The person who murdered Thormud and Sindara must be very connected for you not to go after them. I might be convenient patsy, especially since I’m on Captain Sevanya’s squad, and everyone n fucking hates her. The only problem is, I’m innocent. Anyone with divination magic would know that. Am I worth framing?”

  “No,” Crewel said. “You will pass through here, and you will be gone soon enough. No one really cares about the recruits, whether they live or die, and I would imagine we’ll have more murders. It’s not worth my time investigating them. You are here as a favor to Fenrik Rabbia and his father, the duke. In the end, Freek will become duke, as long as he doesn’t die. Soulshred Week rarely kills recruits. The Reckoning is a different matter. I can truthfully say that I interrogated you, you were innocent, and I let you leave.”

  Gray nodded. “Then I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

  Crewel shook his head. “No. You didn’t sit when I asked you to. You made me speak first. You are arrogant, a child, dealing with forces you can’t comprehend. I will not forget this slight. Blythe was right about one thing, Soulshred Week will be impossible for a team of five. I will enjoy watching your fall from grace, just as I enjoyed that last two of Settie’s squads who failed.”

  “I think you mean Captain Sevanya’s squads. Were they murdered here?”

  The magistrate didn’t say anything more. He sat down and started working again.

  Gray turned and left. He didn’t need permission. It was clear it was over, but he hadn’t made any points with the magistrate. That troubled him more than Sindara’s death. Crewel could make things terrible for them.

  Well, since he was pissed off, Gray might as well figure out a way to breaking into his office. How much worse could it get? All was the Testing and all was the Test.

  Fieldkeepers, armed with their cudgels, escorted him through the empty hallways of the Pink Palace. The floor underneath the offices was where Crewel lived with a few other staff and faculty. Dame Hekla had a room there, as did Mana Cinders and the archivist, Quinly Quillswrath.

  The two floors under them were deserted, and on the ground level, there was a kind of museum chronicling the events of First Field. Then, of course, there was another level where the library was.

  Gray could figure out a way to get into Crewel’s office, but how could he stop Crewel from knowing? He really did know everything, including all the drama at his school. And yet, he didn’t care.

  Would he care if Gray broke into his office?

  He might. Gray had to kick himself. He’d told Ames that when it came to drawing flies, honey worked just as well as rotting sea cow. He should’ve been more honey than rot with the magistrate. It was too late. He’d lost control.

  He thought his day was ruined until he walked out into the rain. Down underneath a tree, his squad waited, along with the captain.

  “Well?” Settie asked, her face serious. Clearly, she was fearing the worst.

  “Innocent,” he said.

  “That’s all you have to say?” the dragon lady asked.

  He shrugged. “It’s enough. I can go into detail now, or we can talk later.”

  “Later,” Settie said. “I think with tensions so high, this morning, we should train in Old Town.”

  Gray gave her a long look.

  The captain smiled. “Yes, Gray, since there is murder in the air, let’s take a little trip to the Weeping Well.”

  Tomi pinched her nose. “I knew I should’ve taken the day off to nap. I knew it. I knew it.”

  Midj had an apple in her hand, but she wasn’t eating it. She looked scared. She reached out and grabbed Rynn’s hand. The elf girl was staring at Gray. Obviously, she had something on her mind, and he didn’t think it was Malchutt’s homeland.

  Ames looked like she’d just been given a present. “Yes. The birthplace of my ancestors. The gateway to hell. In the rain, our sins will be washed away in blood.”

  “Not helping!” Midj yelled, then grunted in pain, then sighed.

  Tomi snickered. “Just another day at First Field where trips to hell are just another part of the curriculum.”