What would it have done to him, Dema wondered, to wake at twenty with strange magic on his back? He wasnt sure. Like every other child of Clan Nomasdina, at the age of five he had been interviewed by mage testers. Once they proclaimed him a fledgling mage, Dema began the years of lessons, experiments, tests and study under various teachers. After hed earned his credential from Heskalifos at twenty-two, he d chosen a career, knowing that his position as a mage would make his advancement easier.
He had not known that the average arurims view of a new mage was one of cheerful contempt. One of them had advised him to your little magic and don t bump into the furnitureThey were laughing at him tonight, as Dema went everywhere with a basket on his arm. No matter that the nearness of the lightning globe made the hair on his arm prickle, or that every t ime he accidentally touched it he got a small, nasty sting. He wanted the thing where he could see it when the lightnings cleared.
In the meantime, he investigated the newest victim. Her name was Rhidassa; she had been a tumbler and a dancer. She left behi nd a husband and two children, all shattered by her death. She had not told them if she had noticed anyone strange loitering about in her last days of work. Her family s blank faces and hard, shiny eyes told Dema that they might not tell him if they did know of such a person. Fortunately his truth spell worked on them. That was reassuring: his self-confidence had suffered when Kethlun s magic had scorched it from existence. That was the problem with spells cast by those without innate ability as truthsayers: they were easily destroyed by strong magic.
Defna was drinking tea at his favourite shop on Peacock Street when he wondered if Keth realized just how strong his power was. Probably not, since hed taken his failure to clear the globe he d just made personally. Dema hoped Tris would tell Keth that he had done better today than most student mages did after years of study.
Two hours before sunrise Dema realized hed brushed the globe without being stung. Looking at it, he saw that the surface lightning was reduced to specks that flashed and vanished. The bolts inside looked as if they were thinning out. At that point he gave up any pretence of investigating further. He ordered a horse saddled and a squad of arurimi prepared to ride with him, then sat at his desk to wait for the globe to clear. It did, an hour before dawn, to show a dark-skinned yaskedasu in a flowing, silvery kyten. She lay on an altar Dema did not recognize, the yellow veil knotted around her throat.
He ran outside to the arurimi hed kept waiting. any of you know where this is?he demanded, holding out the globe.
They gathered around, bleary-eyed and no doubt thinking of the end of their shifts in two hours. Most shook their heads, but a twenty-year veteran frowned. She traced the line of the altar and the image of a cow-headed goddess behind it with her finger.
you know it, sergeant?asked Dema. if you do.
s a shenos temple, one of them inland religions,she replied, squinting. aye, the Temple of Ngohi. But Dhaskoi , its near the crossing of Apricot Street and Honour Street in Fourth District. Out of our boundaries.
Dont care if its in Piraki,retorted Dema. on.He put the globe in his saddlebag, mounted his horse, and galloped out of the courtyard without waiting to see if the amrimi followed or not. He urged his horse onward through the nearly empty streets, the animals hooves striking sparks from the cobblestones. Late guests of Khapik, staggering home, scattered out of his way.
The temples doors were unlocked. Dema seized his mages kit and rushed in, searching for the altar. There was the statue, three times the height of a normal human being. The altar, and the latest victim, were in front of it.
He approached as he fumbled in his kit for heartbeat powder. He didn t know how long it would take for the priests to arrive, but he had to learn as much from the dead woman as he could. He sprinkled the powder over her, watching as its colour shifted to the faintest shade of pink. She had died re cently, maybe as little as two hours ago.
Next came the vision powder, sprinkled over each bulging eye. Inside Dema felt shame for treating her this way, for using her as a source of information rather than mourning her. Even yaskedasi deserved better.
The powder revealed only smudges over her eyes. -She had not seen her killer. In all likelihood he had come up behind her.
Next he got the bottle of stepsfind, took a mouthful, and sprayed it over the body with a fresh, silent apology. Looking down, he saw the killers footprints, shadows that led through a side door into an alley.
Three white-clad priests were there, building a circle of protection around the temple. did you know?cried Dema, furious past all common sense. did you know about this?
One of the priests, the one who held their supplies, turned to look at Dema. Behind him his partners, a man and a woman, closed the protective circle and brought it to blazing life, cutting Dema off from the killers traces. You walk perilously close to the defilement of all you touch, Demakos Nomasdina,the priest whod looked at him said, grim-faced. You would have carried the pollution from the corpse you just saw out into this district, letting the rot spread to innocents. We knew you were capable of it. A watch was placed on you.
had me followed! shouted Dema. what right? I am a citizen of Tharios, a member of the First Class, and I am doing my duty towards the city!
vision of your duty blinds you to the risk you take, involving yourself with the rotting shell that once housed a spirit,retorted the priest. Continue as you meant to just now, and you will carry spiritual rot to the houses of the First Class and to the temples and offices that serve them.
The female priest looked at Dema. pollution spreads over the First Class, the city is doomed,she said flatly. It is our purity that saved us while an empire was falling to pieces. It is our cleansing and our vow to stay clean despite temptation which makes us a great power now. And you would destroy that, in your arrogance, in your belief that only Demakos Nomasdina of the arurim dhaskoi may speak for one of the Fifth Class. She is before the All-Seeing. He will judge her as well as her killer.