interest, the closest he ever got to an actual expression, crossed his face, and Vocho wondered how much he’d heard of what they’d said. Not that it mattered – a lot of things seemed to pass straight through Dom’s skull without pausing.
“Is this what you were asking about, Ranvoschan?” he asked, peering more closely at the chest. Vocho belatedly hoped like hells Egimont didn’t have any identifying crest on it.
“My… er… my mother’s chest,” Kacha said. “She always said to be careful opening it.”
He took that well enough. Considering he believed everything Vocho told him, it was a fair bet he couldn’t tell a lie from a hole in the ground.
“Well, I can’t see any magic on it. And if it’s been sitting around a while, any magic would have faded a long time ago in any case.” He looked up at Kacha like a dog hoping for a bone. “My father made me study all this sort of thing, you see. Sent me to Ikaras University. Such an interesting country. Do you know the thirteen provinces each used to be the private estate of one family, before the Great Fall? There are a few records left, you see, in Ikaras. The families used to compete, and built each capital after their own expertise. So not much clockwork in Ikaras – that family were more scholars than engineers – but they actually still have magicians, if only a few. Scary sorts, to be honest. Need to be careful of looking at the patterns on their hands. Anyway, I think my father always sort of hoped the prelate would get around to making a few new nobles out of the clockers, and wanted me to be prepared. Old stories, histories, why the old empire fell, the war to establish the city-states and the lines of kings, famous magicians, he had me study everything. Total bore, but some of it stuck. Magic uses blood, for example. A magician can store a spell, such as a ward for this chest, but once the blood is dry it doesn’t last long. Not unless they permanently mark it into skin, like a tattoo. That’s the only way it lasts, you see? Constant blood supply. And the skin ones tend to be very limited, and specific, unless they’re actually on a magician. Anyway, without a blood supply, this wood wouldn’t hold a spell for long.” Dom stopped to take a breath – the man could talk for Reyes when he had a mind.
Vocho thought back to the magician’s hands with their weird moving pictures, and the paper with the bloody patterns on it. That’s what the magician had been doing before Vocho got in the carriage, just in case. Probably he’d meant to take the chest with him when he went, but a sword in the throat will change a man’s priorities somewhat.
“So, just the locks then?” Vocho asked.
Dom’s watery smile broadened. “Yes, should be. Did I help?”
Kacha caught Vocho’s eye with an implied promise of violence later, smiled sweetly and took Dom by the arm. “You did, very much. Now if you’d—”
“I, I was wondering,” Dom said before he cast a glance Vocho’s way. “Um, Kassinda, I was wondering if you’d do me the honour of coming to the spring dance with me? That’s why I said I’d come today, you see. An ulterior motive.”
“Well I’m not sure…” Kacha sighed at the sudden crestfallen look. “I’ll consider it, Dom, definitely.”
That perked him up. “Excellent! Oh, and one other thing. You might want to be a bit careful. I brought you these.”
He patted himself down, muttering under his breath for a minute or two, brought out a box of snuff, two more handkerchiefs and a small exquisitely decorated box before he found what he wanted. “Actually, these brownies are for you as well. I baked them myself. My speciality. Real fudge pieces. But here. A lot of trouble out in Fusta Wood. Cut-throat robbers on the road. So, please be careful.”
He pulled out two sheets of paper and put them on the table, smiled his watery smile, bowed low to Kacha and left with a spring in his step and a flutter in his handkerchief.
The newspaper wasn’t much of a thing – in the capital they ran to a dozen sheets or more and often had pictures for those that couldn’t read – but that didn’t matter. What mattered was the headline: ex-lord and prelate’s man egimont robbed in fusta wood! Followed by a report that