cloth barriers around the defiled statue until it and its surroundings could be purified. They turned to watch him pass. Seeing their eyes on him, Dema remembered his own, slow process of cleansing at their hands — a day and a night stolen from his hunt for the Ghost! — and the priests’ complete lack of interest in the methods needed to trace a murderer. What if the Keepers of the Public Good ignored his arguments? When all was said and done, he was still an arurim dhaskoi of less than a year’s standing, without enough service to Tharios to give weight to his words. He must not waste a trip to Balance Hill or worse yet, waste the clan’s bribe money. In theory the Keepers were duty-bound to hear any Tharian, but there was a great deal of difference between the ear of the Keepers when they were awake, and that of vexed, half-asleep Keepers. There was also a difference between the Keepers and their obligations, and the interests of those who served the Keepers.
It was the sight of Phakomathen, stabbing into the grey mists of rain that gave Dema an idea. The Keepers would have to listen to him if he came with support from Heskalifos, particularly those mages who attended the conference on visionary magics. He turned his mount aside, and rode to the university.
He arrived at the conference hall shortly before the midday break. He waited outside until the doors opened and mages of all races and nationalities spilled out, then strode through them into the hall. The morning’s speakers were still on the dais, talking to one another and collecting their notes. One of them was Jumshida Dawnspeaker; another was Tris’s teacher, Niklaren Goldeye.
Jumshida smiled when she noticed him. “Dhaskoi Nomasdina, is it not?” she asked, her rich voice friendly. “Have you come to join us?”
“Actually, no,” he said, nervous. “I’ve come to beg you for help. The Ghost killed another yaskedasu last night — another woman who lives in the same house as Kethlun Warder.” Jumshida drew the circle of the All-Seeing on her forehead. Dema continued, “I’m on my way to Balance Hill to speak to the Keepers. It was my hope that you would lend me your support.”
Was it his imagination, or did she stiffen?
“I fail to see what use I might be to the arurim,” Jumshida said.
“You underestimate the honour you have in the city,” Dema replied. “You are First Scholar of Mages’ Hall, Second Scholar of Heskalifos. You are responsible for bringing together the greatest vision mages of our time, to produce a work that will define vision magic for centuries.” Children of the First Class also learned the art of flattery. One of their maxims was that bees went to sweet-smelling flowers, not earth-smelling mushrooms. “How would the Keepers not value anything you have to say?”
Everyone but Goldeye left discreetly, watching Jumshida from the corners of their eyes. “What, exactly, do you wish them to value from me?” asked Jumshida, smoothing the folds of her mage’s stole.
“That Khapik must close until this monster is caught,” replied Dema. He took a breath. “And that cleansing the site of a murder must wait until the arurim can trace every influence present.”
“Very sensible,” Goldeye said tartly. “I can’t believe this hasn’t been raised before.”
“Why should the Keepers listen to any thoughts I might have on Khapik?” asked Jumshida. “Have you considered the serious hardship a closing would place on the shopkeepers and the yaskedas. They exist day by day on their earnings. As for the other…” She looked at Goldeye. “You don’t understand, Niko. Killing destroyed the Kurchali emperors, with their mass executions and their gladiators fighting to the death on sacred days. Why else would the blood plague have begun here, where people bled to death through the very pores of their skins? It was a thousand years ago for you of the north, but it took us three centuries to recover from the disorder of those times.” She turned a stern face to Dema. “You are a Tharian, Demakos Nomasdina. You already know these things. It was the cleansing, and the banishment of pollution through death, which saved us from the chaos that followed the emperors.”
“But it hurts us now,” argued Dema, wanting her to understand. “In the case of these murders — ”
She covered her ears with her hands. “You speak blasphemy,” she retorted when he stopped talking. “So the rumours are true. You risk your soul and the