Free A Murder of Mages by Marshall Ryan Maresca Page A

dismissed.”
    “That sounds dismissive.”
    “Perhaps so.”
    “Are you trying to be deliberately ignorant of Circles and mage matters?”
    Welling was taken aback. “Absolutely not. However, I’ve reached the conclusion that our killer—or killers—is most likely not a mage of any sort.”
    “And how did you decide that?”
    “Consider the nature of the spike used in the murder.”
    “It seems magical in nature.”
    Welling’s eyes lit up as he snapped a finger. “Not so. Just the opposite, in truth. It is anti-magical.”
    “Is that a real word?”
    “If not, it needs to be. Consider the fact that the most brushing contact with it left me weak and dizzy. The prolonged contact necessary to subdue and bind our victim would be intolerable. Therefore, our killer cannot be a mage. The Firewings are therefore not going to prove a useful avenue of investigation.”
    “You don’t want to do this, do you?” she asked.
    Welling stopped walking and chewing, and gave Satrine a strange regard. “Why do you think that, Inspector Rainey?”
    “You’ve been noticeably out of sorts since we first decided to come here.”
    “We have only been in acquaintance for three hours, Inspector Rainey. I would be surprised if you could determine that in so short a time.”
    “Aren’t we supposed to make quick assessments of people, Inspector?” she asked.
    “And what is your assessment?”
    “Would you agree that the most logical action right now is to go to the Firewings chapterhouse? If for no other reason than to help identify our victim?”
    Welling made a face that reminded Satrine of pulling out her daughter’s tooth years ago. “Granted.”
    “Yet you seem to be deliberately delaying going.”
    Welling nodded in acquiescence, taking another bite of his wrap. “Another block to Jewel, and then we turn west.”
    “You don’t want to see any Circled mages, do you?”
    His voice dropped low. “It’s me they won’t see.” He quickened his pace, eating the last of the wrap.
    “Of course they’ll be uncooperative, Welling. Most Circles want nothing to do with Constabulary.” Since protecting member mages from spurious legal action was a primary function of Circles, not cooperating with law enforcement was standard business.
    “Me, especially.” He pressed his lead, and Satrine hurried up to catch him.
    “Trust me, Welling,” Satrine said. “They won’t be any nicer to me. I’m sure—” She crashed into a man carrying a pile of books. The man hit the ground, books scattered all over the walkway. “Sweet saints, I’m so sorry, sir.”
    The man, a narrow-faced young man with short hair and spectacles, stood up quickly, brushing himself off. “Not at all, lady, not at all. I was carrying far too much, as you can see.” He started collecting the books on the ground.
    “Let me help you.” Satrine started picking up the books closest to her. The title of one of them caught her eye. “My goodness. Lost Poems of the Sarani ?”
    “You know it?” the man asked.
    “Know it?” Satrine smiled warmly. “This book saved my life.”
    The man’s eyes went wide with surprise. He looked delighted to hear that. “Really? Tell me!”
    “This book—it’s a long story, you don’t—”
    “No, I do!” The man was breathing heavily with excitement. Welling had slowly returned to the vicinity, but he kept a wary distance.
    “Well, I—I was a street girl, just a few blocks from here. And I was sitting on the corner when Old Man Plum threw it at me—I mean that, he threw it at me.”
    “Old Man—that was my grandfather!” He shuffled the books in his hands to be able to offer one to her. “Nerrish Plum.”
    “Satrine Rainey. So do you still run his bookshop down there?”
    “I’ve just recently taken it over. But tell me, then what happened?”
    “He yelled at me. He said, ‘You stop wasting your time sitting and causing a nuisance. You read that instead!’”
    Plum laughed. “Sounds like him. But