Free Dead Letter by Benjamin Descovich

around to the
edges and rolled it up. The food looked fine to Kettna; the
flatcakes were still warm and the jam dripped in devilish red
stickiness. She took a bite and smiled. “This is very good. Much
better than the cold breads the dormitory kitchen lay out in the
morning. Oh, and this jam is divine.”
    Lanuille
shook her head at the cards and frowned, not bothering to comment
on Kettna’s breakfast critique. The adept was all cloud and no
sunshine. Her kind was never enthused by a morning person enjoying
the day.
    The
innkeep approached Kettna with a pot of tea. “Mistress?”
    “ Thank you, Innkeep.”
    “ Oh, you must call me Rimple, as my friends do.”
    “ Then, thank you Rimple. Tea is just the thing to fortify me
before I confront the day ahead.”
    “ And would the queen of cards like a fresh brew of black?” he
asked Lanuille.
    She kept
her eyes on her game, only giving a brief shake of her head.
Innkeep Rimple released the tiniest glimpse of frustration with a
tightening of his brow then asked the twins who were quietly
peeling illusory boiled eggs. Kettna was hungering for the very
thing.
    The
twins at least gave polite nods and took tea. Lanuille had a way
with manipulating illusions and Kettna wondered if the twins were
of her design or that of the Archmagus’ maternal protective care.
They must have been enchanted upon one of the edicts Kettna
carried. How else would they follow her? Nothing else in her
possession was from the elders or her parents. Illusions usually
only persisted until the viewer realised their true nature. The
kitchen hand had behaved as though they did not exist, although
they continued to appear for her. It was intriguing that a common
worker was immune to the illusion, yet she, trained to know such
things, could not extinguish their presence in her mind. Rimple saw
the twins. Did Lanuille? She was much better at illusion than
Kettna. If Lanuille was the master of their interactions then one
assumed that her morning rudeness was actually committed
concentration to maintain the twins’ activities. Kettna couldn’t
enquire about it in present company. The questions would need to
wait.
    “ Before you go, Innkeep. Might I enquire about Master Mertin
again?” asked Kettna. “Did you ascertain if he’d be in
today?”
    Rimple
turned and his scowl was removed, ever the kind host, needing only
gratitude to fuel him. “I did ask my guests last night, Mistress.
Yet, none knew where he would have been. Old Fruiter Shile saw him
making haste through Salt Gate Market yesterday morning, though. So
he’s probably opening again today and was just out for a supply
trip.”
    “ Thank you. I’m sure you’re right. I’ll check in again
today.”
    Rimple
glowed with the simple praise of his knowledge and hustled back
into the kitchen.
    Lanuillle gathered the cards up in frustration and returned
the pack to a pouch. She had lost another round. “Let’s go
then.”
    ***
    Kettna
crossed the street to Mertin’s Alchemy and Sundries with her
entourage. She knocked with an efficient rap of her knuckles, which
received no reply. The door, however, was accommodating and came
slightly ajar, exposing a bent latch. This was not good. Had she
missed this yesterday or was his shop broken into last
night?
    Kettna
pushed the door open with her foot and called inside. “Is anyone
here? Master Mertin?”
    There
was no answer.
    “ The place is abandoned,” said Lanuille.
    “ Perhaps he’s too deep in debt and has run off instead of
facing the Order,” suggested Kettna, checking the windows for
breakage.
    “ Lucky it’s the Order he owes,” said Lanuille. “There are
others in Calimska who would not be so kind.”
    “ We’re coming in!” called Kettna.
    The shop
looked neat and tidy at the front. It was full of stock that could
be sold to recover debts. Books, potions and magical equipment of
all descriptions lined the shelves. A display cabinet featured
sophisticated alchemical glassware.