Free The Scofflaw Magician (The Artifactor Book 3) by Honor Raconteur Page B

Dropping the spoon down in disgust, she went
back to the naan. “How do you people eat something this spicy?”
    Xald chuckled
and pushed the naan closer to her. “You’re an amusing woman, Artifactor Warran.
I now understand why Prince Bellomi and King Aren and Princess Hana are all so
fond of you.”
    “They’re
strange, addled people,” she informed him, soothing her burning mouth with more
of the lemon-mango drink. “I wouldn’t trust their opinions.”
    “As you say,”
he replied, eyes dancing.
    “And call me
Sevana, would you?” she requested. “I have a feeling we’ll be working with each
other for several weeks before we see the end of this problem. No reason to
stand on ceremony.”
    His eyes
softened into a gentle expression. “It is my honor to do so.”

Not being able
to get much sleep due to aching muscles, Sevana did not laze about in bed but
instead got up early. It turned out that most of the city chose to rise early,
and even though the sky was barely light enough to see by, the city was for the
most part awake. It took her only a moment to realize that most people would
choose to work in the pre-dawn hours and then retreat into their homes during
the hottest part of the day. It was the only sane decision to make, in this
high desert.
    Xald was
downstairs and tucking into a breakfast as she came down, and he quickly got up
and fetched her food, of the non-spicy variety. They ate companionably before
leaving the palace and tracking down the rest of the people on their list. Or
trying to. They were only able to find two before the breakfast bell rang
throughout the city, the sound long and ponderous. Then they quickly retreated
back to the main gates, not wanting to miss their appointment with Petran.
    Sevana’s guess
about Petran turned out to be dead on. He was a minor nobleman, so minor in
fact that he actually worked as a merchant in order to support six children, a
wife, and his aging parents. He was very anxious as he showed them into his
home where his family was gathered, waiting on them.
    She took in the
situation at a glance. The building was heavy in stucco, everything gleaming
white from fresh paint; flower boxes and miniature fountains along the walls; a
small inner courtyard leading into a four story house that screamed age. It was
in good repair, but this was obviously an ancestral home that had been in the
family for many generations.
    The family was
crowded into the courtyard, hovering near the doors, their eyes anxious. The
youngest child, who must have been four, was gripping his mother’s leg, her
hands on his shoulders. The rest of the children were either holding onto their
grandparents or each other, their ages anywhere between six to fourteen, at a
guess. So it was the oldest son that had disappeared?
    “Artifactor,
this is my family. My wife, Matika, and my parents, Samid and Sariah.”
    Sevana offered
them a bow, her hands tucked in at the waist, as customary. “Artifactor Sevana Warran.”
    Matika stepped
forward, maneuvering her way around her youngest child without actually letting
go of him. “Artifactor, you are welcome into our home.”
    “I thank you
for the welcome.” Niceties out of the way, she went straight to the point.
“Show me precisely where the musician and the painter were in your house.”
    Petran led the
way and she followed, eyes taking everything in with quick glances. Yes, the
man did well in making a living for his family. There were several vases and
paintings that would cost a minor fortune. Even if some of them were inherited,
this was a place of wealth and comfort. No wonder they were able to afford
entertainment on a regular basis.
    Her guide went
into a family room and stopped dead, gesturing around him. “They were only ever
here, in this room.”
    Sevana looked
around her, eyes peeled, alert to the faintest hint of magic. Something about
this room was making the fine hairs on the back of her neck tingle. Nothing
looked strange,