5 The Taste of Magic

ARTORIUS AGRIPPA STOOD outside of the baker’s shop within a stone’s toss of the River Sulk. The streets of Icarthya were deserted, the people huddled inside their homes. The wind whipped at his dark green cloak, but thankfully the night was warm despite it being late autumn.

It felt like a storm was coming, but for some reason it never arrived. For now, another type of tempest was already breaking. The bodies lying in the street didn’t include the baker. Just his wife, two daughters, and a son. The father’s body was still inside, cooking along with his wares by the sweet stench. It certainly didn’t smell like his usual fig cakes and olive cheese bread.

The captain, a woman by the name of Lazar originating from Ancyra, was poking the bodies with the tip of her spear. An odd woman, Lazar, and terribly loyal considering her origins. Rebellion had been a pastime in that part of the imperium. Also fastidious in her duties like all Ancyrans, and with little sense of humour, even the dark sort.

‘Captain, would you mind not doing that?’ he asked, holding a rag to his face to block out the stench of the baking baker.

‘Oh, sorry sir,’ she muttered a little sheepishly, withdrawing the spear and handing it to another greencloak. ‘Just never seen nothing like it, marshal.’

Well, he had to admit she had him there. It did look like something to be poked rather than mourned, although Ancyrans did have a twisted fascination with death. They celebrated an annual festival devoted to the dead every year; it was due to begin in a week’s time. Quite a morbid people when all was said.

The four bodies were bloated and blackened, but not as though they’d been burned or dragged from the river. Artorius had seen plenty of charred and drowned bodies during his twenty-eight years serving in the legions. Never a pretty sight at any time, but preferable to today’s offerings.

The nearest corpse stared up at him, eyes bulging in her head. He thought it was the mother, this cadaver being the largest. The veining in her face was akin to thin black worms writhing beneath the skin. He guessed it was why the captain had been fascinated, but he knew it wasn’t anything natural. It made the corpses look like they were still alive, arms and legs trembling.

‘We should burn them,’ suggested another greencloak by the name of Brell who looked pale. Artorius didn’t disagree with his logic, but they needed to find the cause of their deaths first. He still hadn’t gone inside the shop, and wasn’t certain he would. I’ll never eat cake again in my life, he promised, as it was unlikely he’d forget this stench.

‘No,’ said Artorius, ‘let the medicary have these, or at least one or two. We need to know what happened.’

‘You think a medicus can figure this out?’ asked Lazar, with raised eyebrows. She gave a low whistle. ‘I wouldn’t like to be them. Cutting one of these things open—’

‘That’s enough, soldier.’ She was right though. ‘I’ve already given instructions for two mages to meet him in the Medicary.’ As if his words were magic, and how often he wished they were, two mages and several more soldiers appeared, the latter carrying litters.

The mages barely acknowledged him. He knew all their hopes rested on these undead, on their dark arts, to save the city, and if he understood things correctly, maybe the world too.

It wasn’t like he could forget his first proper encounter with magic. He’d been with the former imperial marshal, Scatter. The memory of that thing kept him up nights. A vanth, she’d called it.

One of the mages sauntered up to him. He recognised her; a girl in her late teens, but he knew appearances where virals were concerned could be deceptive. In her case, he’d been informed she was at least two centuries old, her soul brought back from wherever it had been, like all the other virals.

Tezcat Licolo knelt beside what had been one of the baker’s daughters. She looked tired, which was unusual for a viral. The girl prodded the body with her finger, and then stuck it in her mouth, making a sucking noise. The captain gawped at her as well she might. For his part, Artorius tried not to throw up, bile burning his throat. What a sight that would’ve been, the imperial marshal losing his supper over a few dead bodies.

Tezcat rose, pulling her finger out of her mouth with a pop. ‘Tastes like magics,’ she announced, as though she had solved the whole incident. ‘Dark magics, very dark.’ She had an unusual way of speaking, which might have led some to think her a dullard, but Artorius knew she was intelligent. These days she spent most of her time in the palace libraries, studying.

She waved her hands in the air over one of the bodies in a peculiar fashion. He saw a dark webbing flow in the wake of her movements, which then lay across the body like a shroud. However, he was too busy feeling ill to be certain. She did the same over the other three.

Tezcat sniffed the air. ‘Smells like fig cakes,’ she added brightly. ‘I likes fig cakes. Any survives the fire?’ She looked at him hopefully. ‘I don’t minds if they is over cooked.’

Bile rose again in the marshal’s throat, and he fought to keep it down.

‘Afraid that’s the baker you’d be smelling,’ said Lazar, not helping him at all. ‘Not much left of him to examine, I’m afraid. They chopped him up and stuffed him in his own oven. Along with his cakes. He often worked until late, supplying the garrison in this area.’

‘Who did this?’ asked the viral.

‘That’s what we’d like to find out.’ Artorius was massaging his forehead. ‘There’s been strange goings on in this city.’

Tezcat appeared to think about it for a moment. ‘At least, he smells good,’ she said, earning stares from the others. ‘A good ways for a baker to go. Smellin’ like his own cakes.’

Artorius was less shocked, knowing she had an odd streak. He believed most of it was a façade to make her seem more mysterious, but wasn’t sure.

The undead girl gestured at the soldiers who, under the direction of the other mages, lifted the bodies carefully. None of the greencloaks gave the corpses a second glance, save one, a recruit. He looked ready to hurl. Can’t say I blame him.

The soldiers left with the other mages in tow, but Tezcat hung around, seeming to enjoy the scent of burnt baker in the evening air. Artorius shook his head. It had been a long day with a dozen other incidents throughout the capital and reports of more in Byrsa, Tystria and deeper within the imperium. The imperatrix wanted answers, but he had no idea how he was going to provide them.

Not to mention he now had to worry about Morla joining the ranks and getting hurt. He would have to make certain she was posted to some obscure guard duty, within the palace if possible. Anything to keep her from dealing with this sort of thing.

‘Something else we can do for you?’ the captain asked, giving Tezcat a good look up and down. Lazar was familiar with virals, but like all Ancyrans, and many Icarthians, she had her prejudices. He’d heard her say once that the undead should be made properly dead, the correct order of things restored. It wasn’t a view he tolerated, and she’d not mentioned it again.

Tezcat just offered her a toothy smile. ‘I was just thinkin’, I is good at stuff like magics. I can finds out what’s been happenin’.’

‘Over two dozen imperial mages,’ said Artorius, just wishing he could go home, ‘have been trying all day today, yesterday, and the day before to figure it out.’ There were two bottles of Valtari spiced red awaiting him and a hot bath, if he could just get back home.

‘I knows,’ said Licolo with a hint of a giggle in her throat. ‘I were the one what opinioned them o’ the first place.’

Artorius stared at her, confused.

‘I think she meant, “appointed them,”’ offered the captain with a roll of her eyes.

‘What I said weren’t it,’ said Tezcat with a scowl for the woman. ‘Opinioned, as in I offered my opinion on what mages should be appointed.’ There was a hint of a smile on her lips. Oh yes, thought Artorius, very intelligent, and her speech improved so quickly there. Likely, she didn’t want anyone taking her seriously until it was too late. A dangerous one, this girl.

‘Anyhows,’ continued the undead mage, reverting back to her usual way of talking, ‘as I were sayin’, the problem were none o’ them mages were me.’

She did look tired. Artorius knew she’d been using her magic to bring Sarscha Todralan to different points of the imperium. She’d also brought him and two others to Cantrip. They’d each resisted at first, but the imperatrix could be a stubborn woman.

He gestured at the bakery with a sweep of his arm, more dramatic than he’d intended, but he was as tired as she looked. ‘All yours, mage.’ The sooner he could put this business to bed, he could put himself there too. He wanted as little to do with magic as he could get away with.

Instead of entering the shop as he expected, Licolo turned and stalked towards the river. ‘Them attacks been happenin’ a lot, right?’

‘Yes,’ answered the imperial marshal with a sigh. ‘They began a few days ago, but they’re growing more frequent.’

‘Always near the water?’ asked the mage.

‘Up and down the length of this river, actually,’ said Lazar. ‘Why, what do you think is going on?’

Tezcat stood by the river’s edge, arms raised. There was the stink of rotten eggs emanating from the water. Again, the marshal saw the ghostly image of a dark weave spreading outward from her hands. He’d heard it described once by Todder, but had dismissed it. Apparently, the living couldn’t see it, so what did it mean if he saw it, no matter if it was so faint it was like evaporating smoke?

The magic settled onto the water and diffused across its surface until he couldn’t see anything. He sighed, thinking tonight had been a monumental waste of time. This war, if one could call it such, had nothing of the usual fare, such as soldiers and armies and all the death and dying. It was just one long interminable wait, with little happening.

A ripple in the river’s surface appeared, and another. At first, he assumed it was a fish, but the ripples grew larger. Then the river began to burp and slosh, the stench of rotten eggs worse.

What came next, the poor marshal could never have imagined in his worst nightmares, and he’d suffered some terrible ones.

With a gurgle, the river disgorged its occupants. At least half a dozen creatures clambered up the stone quay. Their bodies glistened wetly, but to Artorius' eyes, they were an impossibility. His mind couldn’t accept what it was seeing.

They were formed of river grass, mud, and fish. He noted a dark weave holding it all together, but it was too faint for him to be certain. His trembling hand went to his sword as he took a few steps backward. Behind him, the rasp of swords being drawn was a pleasant sound, but he couldn’t imagine what good they’d do.

Part of him wanted to believe the viral girl had conjured these creatures, but in his heart, he knew she hadn’t. Far more likely, she had discovered their presence and drawn them out. So, these were what terrorised the city night after night. He heard Lazar curse with vigour in her own tongue, as well she might.

Tezcat turned and smiled sweetly at them. ‘Told you I’d figures it out.’ She paused, and then added, ‘Um, you’d best backs off a fair bit though. Killin’ these nightmares might takes a while.’

Artorius could see no fault in her logic as he found his voice and shouted instructions. Lazar was still cursing for all her worth, but he saw no point in stopping her. He felt like screaming himself, if he was honest.

Then, the creatures attacked.