Free A Murder of Mages by Marshall Ryan Maresca Page B

it saved you?”
    “Well, I had the book, then. I couldn’t read it at first, of course. But I kept it, and used it to teach myself to read.”
    Plum nodded, his tone now more muted. “Of course. That would have saved your life.”
    “I still have the book.”
    “That’s excellent.” He took the books from her, completing his pile. “He would have been very pleased to know he had that effect on someone’s life.”
    Welling edged closer. “Inspector Rainey? We really should continue.”
    “Of course, Inspector,” she said. “A real pleasure, Mister Plum.” She shook his hand again, and continued down the street with Welling.
    “You’re smiling quite broadly, Inspector,” Welling said. “It’s a bit disturbing.”
    “A rare happy memory of this neighborhood, Welling,” she told him. “Don’t worry, they’re unlikely to come up often.”
    “It is odd, though,” Welling said. “He seemed to be excited to hear your story about the book, but almost disappointed in the actual story.”
    She shrugged. “An old man throwing books at a child is more or less the climax.”
    Welling nodded. “So correct me if I make any mistakes.”
    “All right,” Satrine said, not sure where he was going with this.
    “You grew up in this neighborhood, but haven’t been here since adolescence. Self-taught street girl, and this was in the 1190s, so at the height of wartime scarcity. A fair amount of scrapping and scraping to stay alive. Probably more than one altercation with Miss Hoffer.”
    “You’ve been paying attention,” Satrine said.
    He took this as a sign to continue. “At around the age of fifteen, you left Inemar, in an atypical way. I couldn’t possibly ascertain the specifics at this point, but I’m willing to wager that it was some form of recruitment into Druth Intelligence.”
    “Fourteen,” Satrine said, trying to keep a straight face. She wondered how much else he had figured out.
    “Of course, that is not the secret you are keeping from Captain Cinellan,” Welling said. “But it does explain your skillset, and his interest in taking you on at this rank without previous Constabulary experience.”
    “If it concerns you so much, Welling—”
    “It doesn’t,” Welling said. “I am reasonably certain that your secret does not present a danger to the Constabulary or myself, and I’ve already observed sufficient competence on your part that I have no desire to root it out.”
    Satrine took that as a cue to let the subject drop and walk in silence.
    Jewel 817 was an unremarkable brick row house, nearly identical to the rest of the ones along the block: three stories high, iron-grated windows, gabled roof. The only thing making it stand out was the small flaming hawk painted onto the front stoop—easy enough to notice, so someone looking to hire one of their mages couldfind it easily, but not so ostentatious that the locals on the block would get too riled.
    Satrine couldn’t remember if there had been any Mage Circle chapterhouses around her blocks when she was a child. If there had been, it simply wasn’t part of her world at the time.
    “This is the place,” Satrine said.
    “So it is,” Welling said. He stood still at the bottom of the steps. Satrine gave him a moment, but realized he wasn’t going to move without action on her part. She went up to the door and pounded on it.
    Silence from within.
    Welling pulled his pipe out from his pocket, not moving from his spot on the street.
    Satrine pounded on the door again. “Constabulary!”
    “Now they’ll never answer,” Welling said. He pinched some tobacco from his pouch and put it into the bowl.
    A small panel in the door opened up, just enough for Satrine to see a hint of a man’s face.
    “What?” the man asked.
    “We’re inspectors from the Constabulary House, investigating the death of—”
    “Do you have a warrant?”
    “No, we just have—”
    “Go away.” The panel slammed shut.
    Satrine pounded on the door. “We