Page 19 of The Affair of the Mysterious Letter
Augur Extraordinary Standfast’s attention did not waver from my companion. “Noted.”
“I... that... this is outrageous.”
It was certainly rather troubling. But, given the Augur Extraordinary’s demeanour, I considered resistance a wholly futile endeavour. Besides which, while I found it no small embarrassment to be arrested, I remained secure in the knowledge that the law was on my side and that my innocence would doubtless become apparent sooner rather than later. As for Mr. Donne, despite his moral culpability in the proceedings, he was entirely correct in his assertion that the Myrmidons had no authority over him except that which they exacted at gunpoint. Only Ms. Haas, I feared, found herself in real legal jeopardy, a state of affairs which appeared to cause her no concern whatsoever. Indeed, for a woman with a pistol at her head, who was bleeding from multiple lacerations, and who had until recently been possessed by more than a hundred furious ghosts, she evinced a quite startling air of boredom.
“You could at least let that one go,” she remarked, waving a languid hand in my general direction. “He’s clearly neither threat nor use to anybody.”
This was a little hurtful, but I chose to assume my companion’s intentions were, in context, benevolent.
It did nothing, however, to placate the Augur Extraordinary. “Silence, witch. Bring them.”
One of the burlier officers produced a set of manacles and was about to fasten them about my wrists when he was checked by the sudden entrance of a newcomer—a tall and, if you will forgive the indiscretion, rather handsome gentleman, with an intent, solemn look that, I confess, inspired in me an unexpected sense of fellowship. From the shade of his skin and eyes, and, for that matter, the fact that his left hand was a remarkable contraption of metal and gemstones, I assumed him to hail from the city of the Steel Magi far to the south, beyond El’avarah and the boundaries of the old caliphate. This assumption proved incorrect on deeper acquaintance, but my editor informs me that I am diminishing the tension of this interlude by such digression.
His expression, as he beheld the scene before him, was not encouraging. “If this is even half as bad as it seems, every single one of us is in for a world of vexation.”
Neither I nor any other member of the assembly could have been surprised that Ms. Haas was the first to respond. “Second Augur Lawson,” she purred. “And to think, until now, you’ve done such a fine job of enriching this evening by your absence.”
“Can it, Haas. I don’t even know what’s happening here, but I know it’s definitely your fault.”
The Augur Extraordinary seemed no more inclined to lower her weapon than she had before the arrival of the stranger. “Stand down, Lawson. These three are all implicated in offences under the Sorcery Act, First Year, First Council. You have no jurisdiction here.”
“And neither do you. That man”—he pointed at Mr. Donne with a mechanical finger—“is clearly wearing the sigil of the Ossuary Bank. If you arrest him, it’ll cause an almighty—”
And here, the gentleman addressed as Second Augur Lawson employed a colourful meteorological metaphor suggesting a wide-ranging and indiscriminate unpleasantness.
Augur Extraordinary Standfast at last took her eyes off Ms. Haas, but only to glare at Lawson. “That is a matter to be resolved between the necromancers and the Office of Augurs Extraordinary.”
“I think you’ll find,” piped up Mr. Donne, “that particular matter was resolved a century ago. The Charter of Sepulchres grants the bank exclusive licence both to practise necromancy and to punish its misuse. I’m not very good at being threatening, but as an accountant, I can assure you that thoughtlessly provoking a conflict with my employers will prove extremely costly for the Myrmidons.”
Second Augur Lawson made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan. “I was just coming off duty. I bought a pie from Cordwangle’s Superior Pie Emporium and was really looking forward to eating it. I really do not need any of this right now.” He turned to the somewhat bemused-looking officers. “Clear off, the lot of you. Augur Extraordinary Standfast is out of bounds and anybody who backs her up will be up on disciplinaries faster than you can say ‘Sorry we interrupted your dinner, Second Augur Lawson.’”
I could not help but note that the Augur Extraordinary waited until the uniformed Myrmidons had departed, which they did with great alacrity and a palpable sense of relief, before rounding upon her colleague. “You will regret this, Lawson.”
“Already do. Now let these people go.”
Ms. Haas, who had watched the altercation with obvious pleasure, chose this moment to interject. “You heard the man. Put your little pistol back in your trousers and go back to flogging yourself and crying or however else you spend your evenings.”
Needless to say, this did not inspire the Augur Extraordinary to lower her weapon. “I’m taking the sorceress.”
“You know what?” Second Augur Lawson spread his hands in anexpansive gesture of apathy. “Fine. You can have her. She’s more trouble than she’s worth.”
Ms. Haas shot Lawson a familiar smile. “And there I was thinking you didn’t like me.”
She then permitted herself, with an uncharacteristic lack of protest but a characteristic air of superiority, to be led from the building by the Augur Extraordinary. Mr. Donne, for his part, apologised several times, thus somewhat undercutting his effort to portray himself as the untouchable representative of his order, and thanked me rather abashedly for the small part I had played in preserving his life during the evening’s events. Then, with a rather regretful look in my direction, he quit the hall. This left me alone amongst the glittering wreckage with the Second Augur.
“If I were you,” he said, “I’d go home and forget this ever happened. And maybe in future try to avoid standing between two angry wizards.”
“Thank you for the advice, but I hope I shall never sit idle in times of trouble.”
Sentiments such as those I had just expressed seldom drew approval in Khelathra-Ven and, on this occasion, earned me a hard stare from the Second Augur. “In my experience, people who sit idle live much longer lives.”
“I was raised to believe that longevity has little value without purpose. And surely,” I added, rather more boldly than our acquaintance warranted, “a public servant cannot be so cynical?”
“Have you met the public?”
“Well”—I blinked—“not all of them. But, then, I rather think that would be impossible.”
The Second Augur narrowed his eyes. “Is that what passes for a joke in Ey?”
