The building housing the law enforcement precinct of our large, still densely populated, but unfortunately far-too-remote-from-the-capital town was downright dreadful. Old, cracked, neglected, and long overdue for repairs, it did its best to decorate itself—with fissures, moss, mold, and in some spots, even dust and cobwebs. Looking at it, the law enforcement services inspired not fear, but pity.
In the summer, the place reeked to high heaven. The air was heavy and damp, and no one could stand being inside these walls for long. I suspect crime itself was terrified of ending up in the dungeons here, so it either reformed early or got craftier and simply avoided getting caught by the guards.
The stench and dampness were likely due to the river, which wasn’t exactly clean, or maybe because funding for the second most important institution after the mayor’s office was ruthlessly slashed in favor of—surprise, surprise—the first.
Until today, I’d never been here in winter. The guards usually preferred to stop by the Mountain Haven or patrol the streets. And now I understood why.
It was cold. Horribly, brutally, unbearably cold. I didn’t even try to hide or stop the chattering of my young, strong teeth. They were scrimping on heating, and the cracks in the windows let in not just drafts, but tiny snowflakes as well. All in all, I was frozen to the bone.
Making matters worse was the lack of proper warm footwear. Sitting in the interrogation room, I could hardly think of anything beyond my aching, freezing extremities and a desperate longing for a cup of hot tea. My depleted magical reserve didn’t help either—I couldn’t even warm myself with a spell. Warming spells were tough for me anyway, too energy-intensive. At best, I could warm my hands. And given the situation… using magic inside the precinct walls could easily be misinterpreted.
Probably the only thing keeping me from falling asleep or spiraling into a full-blown panic was this biting cold. My spent energy demanded replenishment in the simplest way possible. I wanted to eat, sleep, and most importantly, get warm. Exhaustion washed over me in waves, alternating between apathy and bursts of hysteria. And the investigator, as if testing my endurance, was dragging out the interrogation. Jerk. I’d probably get sick and end up bedridden. Then I’d definitely sue these combat mages for incompetence.
If I even got out of here. Right now, I was desperately clueless about how to untangle myself from this mess. If that dark mage had seen me use blood magic, then they’d gone way too easy on me. If he hadn’t, there’d be no way to trace it. None at all. Blood magic can’t be detected. Unlike Light or Dark magic, it’s tied to a person’s internal reserve and leaves no trace of interference in the world’s energy field. For instance, my Light-based spells would be visible to any investigator or combat mage—they leave holes in the energy dome. Those can be read, analyzed for strength and intent, and logged in a report. At least, that’s what we were taught in last year’s practicals. But the hole in my aura from a life-force transfer spell? That’s nearly impossible to notice. You’d have to know exactly where to look. And it could easily be chalked up to simple fright, overexertion of my reserve… anything, really. Auras are fickle like that. But these were combat mages. They were trained to hunt down and eliminate people like me.
Oh, sweet mother…
I started trembling again, harder than before. I wanted to go home. To Rose. And this hole in my aura was demanding, more insistently by the minute, that I take care of myself. Otherwise, I’d collapse with a cold. Or depression. I knew that much for sure, despite my very limited knowledge of the principles of Blood Magic. My education on it had lasted just two years, which was nowhere near enough for experiments like the one I’d pulled off today.
The door to the interrogation room creaked open, and I instantly tensed. But recognizing who entered, I relaxed again, continuing to chatter my teeth.
“You look awful,” stated young guard Sener Tor as he stepped in, setting a cup of spiced tea in front of me and sitting unceremoniously on the edge of the table.
I didn’t even try to maintain a shred of decorum, grabbing the steaming mug with its sharp, aromatic scent. Oh! Warmth. Finally, something.
Sener just snorted, not commenting on my behavior. He was a local, always sporting an open, infectious smile. True, the gods hadn’t blessed him with magical talent, but he was an excellent investigator and, more importantly, a kind and empathetic person. That’s probably what drew people to him.
We’d met a year ago during my internship with the district healers. Somehow, we’d become friends without really noticing. Most of my next term paper on fatal injuries was written thanks to the information he provided. Sener had made it a habit to stop by the Mountain Haven twice a week for broth in the winter or cranberry juice in the summer, sharing news and crime details that made patrons queasy and Rose’s bosses nervous. But no one dared kick out a law enforcement officer, and I listened, making mental—and sometimes written—notes. I still had a thesis to write.
Sener was generally a good, kind, empathetic, and understanding guy. Though not today. A silent question lingered in his blue eyes, and his lips were pressed so tightly together it seemed he was holding back from saying something… I felt like any second now, he’d at least ask, “How the heck did you get yourself into this, Triss? Couldn’t you just sit still?” And I wouldn’t have a coherent answer. Simply because something like this… you can’t explain.
“Rose has already been informed about what happened,” Sener shared, glancing furtively at the not-quite-closed door. “And they’ve reported to the academy too. I don’t think these soldiers will keep you much longer.”
“More like freeze me much longer,” I tried to joke, taking a sip of the scalding but warming drink known in these parts as krok.
The guards loved krok. Especially during patrols in the cold—it warmed you up wonderfully without a drop of alcohol, keeping your mind clear. I often prepared it late at night specifically for the guards who popped in for a few minutes to warm up. Winter in our region was short but fierce, brutal. I’d call it merciless, much like the people who lived here. With rare exceptions. Plus, the drink was invigorating. Though not in my current situation.
“Drink up, warm yourself,” Sener nodded at the mug. And he was right—I started to thaw out. My toes prickled, and shivers ran through my body now and then, as if expelling the cold. It wouldn’t last long, but it was something. “They say you were casting spells today?”
I recalled the circumstances that landed me in the precinct—the pool of blood on the snow, the cold eyes of the combat mage in the black uniform, the ash of the burned Drag… And all that horror, which I thought had receded, came crashing back with renewed force. I started trembling again. This was bad. Definitely bad. And Rose would inevitably get dragged into this too. She wouldn’t be able to avoid it.
Worst of all, I didn’t even know if my actions had made a difference. What if that girl died along with her child? I didn’t even want to think about the baby—she had no chance. But the girl… could she have survived?
“They’re treating her. Mr. Petrens,” Sener whispered, answering my unspoken thoughts as he lightly touched my hand, as if trying to offer support. And I was genuinely grateful for it. “The dark mages are standing guard at the healer’s. That’s why they haven’t interrogated you yet.”
If Mr. Petrens was on the case, there was hope. He was the best healer in town, and I’d even worked with him a few times. If there was any chance to save the stranger, he’d cling to it like a Drag to a bull’s leg.
I desperately wanted to ask how this had even happened. How did dogs from the Dead Gorges end up in a town weeks away from the Dead Lands? And who was she, that girl? The town was big, but I knew its residents, if not personally, then at least by sight. Clearly, she hadn’t arrived with merchants—none had come through in weeks. And if she’d come with the last caravan, I’d definitely know. There weren’t many inns in town. Besides, a lady like her would be hard to miss. We hadn’t crossed paths before. I was as sure of that as I was that snow is white. And that wasn’t exactly reassuring. What was a combat squad doing here? Did they know about the Drags showing up in our town? Why hadn’t they prevented it? And… so many other questions. They multiplied the moment I started focusing on them.
But I bit my tongue, forced a smile, and said the only thing worth saying right now:
“Thanks, Sener.”
He returned a smile. His special kind, the one that made you want to smile back. But I’m afraid mine came out far less carefree.
Then Sener suddenly leaned forward, his lips almost brushing my cheek. From the side, it probably looked like a kiss.
“If anything comes up, pin it on me. I’ll back up every word you say,” he said quickly, offering me a level of trust that left me stunned. “I’ll figure a way out, Triss. But you…”
Sener probably wanted to say more, but the door creaked again on its long-unlubricated hinges. That meant our conversation was over. A far less pleasant one awaited me.
“Remember, you’re an adept at the Academy,” Sener advised quietly before stepping back and leaving the room, shooting the officer a look full of disdain.
I remembered. Just as I remembered that the Academy’s protection wouldn’t help me if the investigation was being led by combat mages.
And approaching the table was none other than a dark combat mage. The very same one who’d essentially saved my life by protecting me from the Drag a few hours earlier—and who’d just as calmly sign my death warrant if he deemed my actions a threat to the kingdom’s well-being.
I looked at this mage in a completely different light. Dark. I felt an urge to shudder at the bad memories, but I brushed them aside. Now wasn’t the time to drown in my hatred.
They were all like this—arrogant, polished, cold as mountain peaks. And dark in every way. Uniform, hair, eyes. Tattoos on his neck, hands—I’d bet his entire body was covered in intricate designs. Which meant, as a mage, he was incredibly powerful. They say a strong magical potential leaves its mark on the bearer.
But if that were true, I’d have to accept that I’d never become a powerful healer. Because from the first glance, everyone assumed I had a dark gift. Sure, I was a brunette with dark brown eyes the color of strong tea, and tanned skin to boot. Probably because we hailed from the south, right on the border with the Dead Lands. But that explanation was something I couldn’t offer. That, too, was a secret Rose and I kept.
The officer stopped by the table. The door slammed shut on its own, cutting us off completely from the outside world, and I felt like prey caught in a trap. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at me. Tall, broad-shouldered, with the dangerous grace of a predator in every movement. Dangerous. And arrogant. He didn’t even introduce himself. But he looked at me in a way that made me uncomfortable. My hands trembled so badly I nearly spilled the krok, so I set it on the table and pushed it as far from me as possible.
The officer watched all of this in silence, then grimaced. He snapped his fingers, and a warming spell enveloped me in heat. It even got a little too warm. Unexpected, but pleasant. Maybe things weren’t as bad as I’d imagined? Maybe he was just waiting for the results of the operation at the healer’s. For now, they’d take my statement and send me home.
The mage waited until I composed myself, then asked calmly:
“So, Ms. Trev, for what purpose did you open a portal to the Dead Lands and bring those dogs into the city?”
It was a good thing I wasn’t drinking, eating, or even breathing at that moment. Because the question was… absurd.
Of course, I’d expected accusations. For using magic as a student without a license. Maybe even for using blood magic.
And while I could easily dismiss the second accusation—prove I even know how to use it—if he’d seen everything with his own eyes, then sure. And if that were the case, I wouldn’t be sipping krok in an interrogation room; I’d be spitting blood in a torture chamber. Sure, I had a pin in my hand, but so what? I could’ve had it for anything. And I always made sure any telltale injuries were inflicted in a way that couldn’t be linked to magic, healing them immediately after.
The first offense would cost me a fine, community service, and a punishment at the discretion of the academy and city guard. I could survive that, especially since I’d soon be able to form a bond and get a job. And even though the shadow of the Etkloners loomed over all of this, just as it did over my entire life with Rose, it wasn’t as terrifying as…
What this… officer was trying to pin on me. The crime itself was horrific, inhuman. And the punishment matched it.
Worst of all, I hadn’t even considered that I could be accused of something like this. So I hadn’t prepared a response. I didn’t even know what to do or how… to stay alive.
“Me?” I stammered, unable to control my emotions or my voice, which cracked embarrassingly. I cleared my throat and tried to pull myself together. I had to stand my ground firmly. “I didn’t do anything! I was there saving a girl!”
“One doesn’t preclude the other,” the officer smiled, but that smile made me tremble twice as hard. Doesn’t preclude it? Had they seen the map of my magical potential? It’s a miracle I was still on my feet after the number of healing spells I’d cast to help that poor girl. “You opened a portal. Summoned the Drags. But you didn’t expect them to attack an innocent girl, did you? So you did everything to divert suspicion from yourself.”
“I’m sorry, but where are these baseless conclusions coming from?” I shot back with a question of my own, gripping the edge of the table. Fear turned to anger, and that gave me strength. “Wouldn’t it have been more logical for me to get rid of a random witness? Besides, the beasts attacked me too. You saved me yourself. And anyway, just read the traces of magic use. Everything will be clear. I didn’t open any portals. I was saving a life. And why would I summon monsters into the city?”
My voice broke, grew hoarse, and my hands shook uncontrollably. I was glad I’d set the mug down. But I was trembling from outrage. I genuinely couldn’t fathom what kind of monster you’d have to be to summon Drags into a town. They sow death. And the only person who could handle them without killing them was my father. A memory flashed of him feeding Drags raw meat straight from his hands, but I quickly pushed it away.
The officer’s lips curved into a hint of a smile, but his gaze turned icy. And then it hit me. This was some kind of interrogation tactic. Accuse and disorient me so I’d start defending myself. And I did. Boy, did I. And judging by his look, he was analyzing me the whole time, determining if I was telling the truth.
Eternal gods, I’m an idiot!
“So you’re trying to convince me,” the dark mage spoke completely calmly, “that you just happened to be in a completely deserted part of town, alone. That you just happened to stumble upon a nearly dying girl… right in time to help her?”
He spoke slowly, calmly, watching me closely. I don’t know what he was hoping to see, but I knew for sure—I was about to faint. Faint from sheer terror. Especially since explaining what a Call of Life was without exposing myself—and Rose—was impossible. How could I get out of this? Tell the truth, and they’d execute me. Make them doubt my story, and they’d execute me anyway. I had to… figure something out.
“Divine intervention, I guess! The thing is, I thought I heard someone calling for help,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “I’m a healer, and I couldn’t just walk by.”
Well, technically, I hadn’t lied. I am a healer, and I did hear a call I couldn’t ignore.
“And what happened next?” the officer pressed, his tone still deceptively soft.
“I found a dying girl,” I continued, finding it easier to stick to the truth since there was nothing left to hide. “I called for the guards and healers, provided first aid using a series of standard spells. And then… I was attacked by a Drag. That’s it.”
“A Drag?” the officer latched onto my carelessly thrown word. “You said ‘Drag,’ Ms. Trev. Are you familiar with this type of creature?”
Damn it! These creatures had never existed anywhere in the empire except for a small kingdom on the border with the Dead Lands and the Wastes themselves. Even in that kingdom, they were only kept in my father’s kennels. And this officer had no idea how often I’d encountered these spawn of the Dead Gorges.
“My late father dealt with these animals,” I admitted reluctantly, still not lying. I knew a lot about these dogs. I even knew that, contrary to popular belief, they could be trained.
“Did he fight in the war with Aratshishan?” the officer asked, his tone softer now, different.
Oh, yes, he fought. He fought hard. Just not on the side this officer assumed.
“He died in that war,” I confessed, not even trying to hide the pain and bitterness of that old loss, which settled like wormwood on my tongue.
The officer tapped his fingertips on the tabletop thoughtfully.
“Did you notice anything unusual? Maybe magic? Anything at all…” he asked, direct and to the point, no longer trying to blame me for all the empire’s woes.
Now this was a different conversation. I was perfectly willing to cooperate with the investigation on these terms. I took a deep breath, trying to recall the recent events, but nothing unusual stood out. Still, I recounted everything in as much detail as possible, omitting only what was forbidden by imperial law. The mage asked clarifying questions, jotted things down, paused at times to study me as if he saw far more than he should. Under that gaze, I felt uneasy.
“The girl isn’t local,” I mused aloud as I wrapped up my account. “Maybe she got lost, of course. But I find it odd that a pregnant outsider was wandering there at all, not knowing the town or its people.”
A chilling draft swept through the already cold room, feeling almost like a graveyard breeze. Even the frost on the walls seemed to glint differently. I exhaled sharply, not surprised by the thick vapor escaping my lips. What had I said? What had struck such a nerve?
“That’s impossible…” the officer muttered.
“Well, not impossible, of course,” I shrugged. “Even a local could get lost there, no problem.”
I cut myself off mid-sentence… It wasn’t about her getting lost, but about the fact that she was pregnant.
It seemed the officer knew this lady far better than he’d let on. And could it be his child she was carrying? Or… had been carrying?
“I’m afraid the fact of her pregnancy is no longer relevant,” I said, looking away. My chills reached a new level. “The child couldn’t have survived. Mr. Petrens will confirm that as soon as he finishes the operation. It’s a miracle she survived at all.”
The door opened, and a tall, broad-shouldered man in military uniform appeared on the threshold. He cast a quick, unreadable glance at me, approached the officer, and placed a folder on the table.
“Roy,” the officer said coldly, his words clipped through gritted teeth, not even glancing at the case files. “To my office, and don’t show your face until I get there. And you’re free to go, Ms. Trev. But don’t leave town. I might have more questions.”
Leave town? They’d probably slap a tracking seal on me the moment I stepped out of this interrogation room. They’d find me anywhere after that. But those were minor details. Considering I’d be able to leave the precinct at all. Alive.
“As you wish…” I faltered, realizing I still had no idea what his name was. Oh, to hell with it. “All the best, Officer.”
I was right. I hadn’t even crossed the threshold of the interrogation room when Sener grabbed my arm, practically dragging me up to the second floor. That was fine by me. I didn’t have the energy for a sprint. On my own, I’d have taken until evening to reach the right office. I wearily thought that after they placed the seal on me, I wouldn’t be able to go anywhere at all. I’d have to wait for Rose.
“You’re a magnet for trouble,” Sener muttered, overly tense, nearly flying up the stairs.
“Oh, come on, don’t exaggerate. I got into a mess once in my life, and now you’ll hold it over me forever. By the way, I was saving a life!” I rattled off in one breath, probably from nervous strain. “And slow down, have some pity on a poor girl.”
He listened, took pity, and slowed down. But my thoughts, for some reason, drifted elsewhere—to the interrogation. Something about it felt off. Too… direct, the way they accused me. As if they genuinely suspected me. Sure, I had no idea how combat mages interrogated suspects, but… this wasn’t normal. It made me think that the mage who opened the portal might have magic similar to mine. Light magic. It would take a few days to check all the magical traces and figure out who they belonged to. But you could tell right away that the mage was a Light wielder.
I thought about it. Then immediately stomped on my own conclusions. That was pure nonsense. No healer, even a deranged one, would condemn dozens, maybe hundreds, of innocent people to a painful death. It went against their very nature. It seemed more likely they were just testing my resolve. That’s all.
Or was it? Ugh…
Sener stopped in front of the door to the chief’s office but didn’t let go of my arm. I set aside thoughts of bloodthirsty healers for a more opportune time.
“Triss, I don’t like any of this. And the last thing I want is for you to get tangled up in it. So… whatever he,” Sener nodded at the door, “comes up with—don’t agree to it. No matter what he offers in return, it’s not worth it. Don’t get involved, Triss. I’m telling you this as a friend.”
There was so much worry in his eyes that I couldn’t help but feel scared. Of course, nothing good could come from Drags and a combat squad showing up in town. But this genuine concern and care… I tried to smile while searching for a somewhat neutral response. Lying or making empty promises wasn’t my style. And I was already genuinely curious about what the city guard chief wanted from a mere healer adept.
Good thing Sener didn’t need an answer. He looked at me, assessed my pitiful state, sighed mournfully, and pushed open the door to the chief’s office, letting me go in first. He stayed behind in the hallway.
The city guard chief’s office wasn’t much better than the interrogation room. The same old furniture barely holding together, peeling paint on the walls with patterns of mold and frost, and the biting cold. Nothing special. The exception was the smell. If the interrogation room stank of musty rags and some kind of rot, Mr. Thompson’s office reeked of cigar smoke. The smoke hung in a thick, gray curtain, obscuring my view, much to my dismay.
And while I’d endured the stench of the interrogation room with grit, the stink of tobacco smoke made me outright nauseous.
“Mr. Thompson, you wanted to see me?” I asked the portly man perched on the windowsill with a infernal cigar in hand.
The city guard chief was at an age where the main goals in service were peace and stability. Years and stress on the job had already driven most of the hair from his crown, and the remaining patches above his ears and at the back of his head had turned snow-white. Wrinkles and bags under his eyes betrayed a man who dealt with stress in less-than-healthy ways. Judging by the bags, stress was winning. And it wasn’t surprising that Mr. Thompson didn’t need any more problems. Anything to avoid stirring up trouble and adding to his workload. It wasn’t hard to imagine that the arrival of combat investigators had been a shock to him. So here he sat, a man already counting the days to retirement, smoking and drowning his sorrows in hard liquor.
“I did, Triss,” Mr. Thompson sighed, heaving himself off the windowsill and approaching a desk cluttered with papers. He flicked ash into a grimy ashtray and sank into his chair, nodding at the other one for me. I sat down, mostly because my legs could barely hold me. “I’ve got a proposition.”
And that would’ve been fine, except Sener had warned me so earnestly, so urgently, that I tensed up involuntarily, even before hearing the terms of the proposed deal.
“You know… I’m not sure I’m in a position to help the precinct…” I began, fidgeting nervously in my seat.
“And I’m sure of the opposite,” the guard chief cut me off sharply, peering into an empty glass that had held either whiskey or brandy, sighing, and setting it aside. Great. If only he’d put out the cigar too, since it was making me genuinely sick. “Do you know who you saved today?”
“I have no idea,” I admitted honestly.
I had neither the energy nor the mood to dodge or lie. All I wanted was to end this conversation as quickly as possible and get home. Aunt Rose must’ve been going out of her mind with worry.
“It’s their healer,” Thompson enlightened me, finally stubbing out the cigar. Though that hardly made me feel any better. At least it explained the reaction to the girl’s pregnancy. Something like that should’ve been reported to command, not left to wander through unfamiliar city alleys. “She’s alive, by the way. And even the child survived. Though I don’t understand how that’s possible. In that situation.” Mr. Thompson gave me a look, as if seeing me for the first time, and offered a curt praise: “But you did good.”
I should’ve been thrilled that things turned out even better than I’d hoped. I should’ve been proud of Mr. Thompson’s praise, but for some reason, I had a sinking feeling that everything was bad. For me personally, everything was very bad.
“But here’s the thing…” the guard chief dragged out his proposal. And my nerves were starting to fray, the trembling returning. “They’re without a Light mage now. You understand, that’s against regulations. They requested one from the capital, and they… well, here.” A letter with an order landed on the desk in front of me. I read it, and a chill ran down my spine. “They’ve ordered us to recruit locals and provide any assistance necessary. And where am I supposed to find a Light mage?” At this, Thompson’s nerves gave out. He shot up from his chair and started pacing the office, measuring it with his steps. “I’ve got three mages under my command! Three! For the entire precinct. Two of them are Dark, and then there’s old Petrens. Is he supposed to run around the city with this squad of young bucks? They’ve taken all the halfway decent talent to the capital, and now what? What am I supposed to do? Become a Light mage myself?”
Thompson ranted. I stayed silent. If things were clearer, I’d have sympathized and offered support. But I wasn’t quite sure what this had to do with me. So I kept quiet and waited. And I got my answer.
“Listen, Triss… maybe…” Mr. Thompson began in a tone that suggested he hadn’t orchestrated this whole performance for my benefit. The guard chief’s gray eyes glinted slyly, promising nothing good.
“No!” I refused categorically, guessing where he was going with this. After barely escaping the attention of the combat mages, was I supposed to stick my head back into the beast’s jaws? I still wanted to live! “I’m not allowed to practice yet. I’m still just an adept. My diploma is two weeks away… and my internship… I can’t, Mr. Thompson. I’m sorry…”
“Oh, come on now,” Thompson wasn’t fazed by my stammering. “I’ll talk to the magistrate. He’ll be all for it. Especially since you’re so talented. You practically pulled a corpse back from the other side.”
“That was spontaneous,” I noted grimly.
“Nothing happens by accident,” he declared dramatically, raising a finger. “You’ll hang around with the combat squad for a bit. Maybe even snag a good husband out of it.” But seeing my expression, he quickly backtracked, realizing his argument had missed the mark. “Plus, think of the first entry in your record—and what an entry! ‘Healer Mage of a Combat Mage Squad’! They’ll snap you up for a job in the capital, hands and feet included. Especially since you’re already involved. Why disrupt someone else’s peace of mind, huh?”
Good ol’ Mr. Thompson.
“I’m sorry, but my own peace of mind is a bit closer to my heart,” I said. Yes, I’m selfish, but who in this world will look out for me if not myself?
“So that’s how it is. Ungrateful! And here I am, personally signing off on your internships—past and future,” the guard chief pressed, playing on my conscience and sense of gratitude as he sank back into his chair. Seeing it didn’t work, he played his trump card. “What if I step in and help reinstate your aunt’s license? She’s a healer too, after all. I can do that. How about a favor for a favor? Hmm?”
Now that was an offer you don’t refuse. My resolve wavered, cracked. I pressed my lips together.
There was a lot to think about. Still, if I didn’t flaunt my abilities—which wasn’t a problem—I could help out for a few weeks. In return, my aunt would get her license back and stop working as a dishwasher. She could at least become an assistant to Petrens. He’d take her on. He’s kind, just very old. He’d promised me a spot for my internship, and he’d provide it. Except internships only paid ten percent more than my academy stipend, which wouldn’t make much difference to our small family’s budget. Unlike a full-time job for Rose.
“And if the combat squad refuses?” I asked tensely, realizing that by asking, I’d essentially already agreed. “Why would they want an undertrained adept? Or they might request someone else from the academy.”
“That’s not my problem,” Thompson waved off tiredly. “I’ll provide a candidate as per the order. And I’ll still help with the license. So? Do we have a deal?” Mr. Thompson extended his hand to seal the agreement.
Really, what did I have to lose? If I approached this carefully.
“Deal!” I agreed, shaking his calloused, tobacco-stained hand.
Sorry, Sener, but in my situation, I couldn’t turn down an offer like this.
A quarter of an hour later, I left Mr. Thompson’s office after signing all the pre-prepared contracts drawn up by his secretary. All that was left was to fill in my name and sign, so confirming our agreement didn’t take long. The line for the combat squad commander’s signature remained blank. Not even a name was listed. Which was honestly beyond strange.
A pleasant bonus was that they didn’t bother placing a nondisclosure or travel ban seal on me.
The guard chief promised to personally handle the approvals with Magistrate Snorri. I secretly hoped the magistrate would tell Thompson to… take a hike. He was capable of it. He could even tell off the mayor. I think he’d even tell off the emperor if it came to that. So, my contract might get nullified. Which, frankly, wouldn’t upset me one bit. Because the license would be reinstated regardless of the negotiation outcome.
And that single fact lifted my spirits, despite the situation, the headache, the exhaustion, and the nausea.
The hallway was empty, dark, and smelled as bad as ever. But after the smoke-filled office of the guard chief, the air in the corridor could almost be called fresh. Even so, it didn’t make me want to linger and enjoy the precinct’s hospitality.
“…Tell me you didn’t know! Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t know she was pregnant!” I heard through the slightly ajar door of another office. I immediately recognized the officer who’d spoken to me without ever introducing himself. I even slowed my steps, listening in. “Roy, I’ll never believe she hid this from you.”
“She did,” came the hollow, pained response from his conversational partner. The same one who’d brought the folder during my interrogation. And, it seemed, the would-be father. At least, that’s my guess. The officer had called him Roy.
“I trusted you. You… you swore to me that you’d never let anything happen to her, and… what do I see?” The officer didn’t raise his voice or lace his words with emotion, but that didn’t make it any less heavy.
The mage hurled accusations like stones. I wouldn’t want to be in Roy’s shoes. Though it was odd he was even here and not at the healer’s. On the other hand, as Mr. Thompson had said, she’d be fine. She was probably sleeping and would sleep for at least another day. Better to use this time to hunt down the attackers.
“Nilay didn’t tell me anything,” Roy admitted, his voice so hollow and full of pain that I felt sorry for him. “And I didn’t think…”
But I wasn’t allowed to eavesdrop further. From the other end of the hallway, charging up the stairs and nearly out of breath from running, Rose came barreling toward me.
“Triss…” she exhaled, and I could almost physically feel her relief.
“Everything’s fine, Aunt Rose,” I said, forgetting the conversation I’d been listening to as I headed toward her. “I’m okay. It’s all behind me. Don’t worry so much.”
“Don’t lie to me! At the very least, you’re exhausted!” she fumed. And I didn’t argue with her. To avoid making things worse, as they say.
Only after Aunt Rose had patted me down and checked for injuries—though a simple touch would’ve been enough for her—did I allow myself to glance back.
In the hallway, arms crossed over his chest, stood the officer who’d never given his name. He was watching Rose and me. And I took cowardly comfort in the fact that I couldn’t make out the expression in his gaze.
Maybe I’d been too hasty in agreeing to the guard chief’s proposal.