23. Tobias
Chapter twenty-three
Tobias
T he house that Javen and the Crimsons had commandeered was the main headquarters of the town’s small police force, which meant it was stocked with enough basics for him to make a fire, some soup, and most importantly, some coffee.
Tobias sipped from a mug as he studied the book of fae symbols.
He sighed, running a finger down the open page, looking at all the characters he had yet to memorize.
To think he’d hidden his aptitude with language for fear of being stuck with a boring desk job.
No one ever asked a translator or an accountant to hunt down a fae spy.
Perhaps , he mused, boring was not such a bad thing where careers were concerned.
Studying the set of twisting shapes that made up another fae word, Tobias jotted down a note.
He’d noticed a few grammar rules, or at least, theories that he would like to prove or disprove as he further studied the language.
How he’d go about doing so, when Javen hadn’t even acknowledged the book, Tobias wasn’t sure.
Questions still swirled in his head in regard to the translations.
Was it a tool Javen had used on the front?
Did other Crimsons have a copy of it? Who had been the fae to provide the words?
Even the stories Tobias had heard of wildlings suggested they grew up not knowing how to speak their fae ancestor’s language.
The words were too complicated, too supernatural, for a mere mortal to pronounce.
Tobias wasn’t so sure about that. Then again, right now, he wasn’t sure about much.
He’d returned from the search in Lockwood Manor hours ago, but Javen was nowhere to be found. So Tobias, his head still buzzing with the encounter, the memory of that cold blade against his neck so vivid, decided the best thing to do was to stay busy with other work.
A clatter from the kitchen made Tobias sit upright. “Who’s there?” he demanded as he rose, taking the pistol from his belt.
Something crashed to the floor. Tobias sprang into action, shoving his shoulder into the closed door, then aiming his pistol directly at—“Captain Javen!” he blurted out, hastily dropping his arm.
The man stumbled forward. He threw out an arm but not before he’d nearly smashed his face into the table. Was he drunk? Injured? For Captain Javen, both seemed highly unlikely. Still, he looked like a complete mess, his white shirt was unbuttoned, his uniform rumpled and mud stained.
“Hey, hey.” Sliding the gun into his belt, Tobias cautiously approached. He didn’t smell alcohol. So, maybe not drunk. “C’mon, Jav.” The nickname slipped out but did nothing to draw Javen’s attention.
With a low growl, Javen braced himself against the counter before he tried to stalk away. He tripped, his hand slamming against the wall for support. The impact left hairline cracks spreading through the plaster wall.
As Javen stumbled into the dining room and collapsed into the nearest chair, Tobias followed.
Tobias cleared his throat. “What do you need? Water? Food? First aid?” He rattled off ideas, though he doubted any of those items could help the captain.
With a raspy voice, Javen whispered, “ Atelle. ” He tapped the leather book on the table.
“Uh.” Tobias blinked. Was he really being quizzed on vocabulary? “To light. ”
“ Vesh. ”
“Speed, to run.”
“ Ishni. ”
“Ember. Hey, Javen, what exactly is going on?”
Javen kept his hands covering his face as he answered.
The words were muffled, but still, the sentences weren’t in Rhydonian.
The fae language, he realized. It was beautiful to hear out loud, even muffled as it was, with smooth, soft consonants and the rolling cadence of water rushing over river stones.
Tobias recognized a few of the sounds from what he’d studied, but nothing else. “Sorry, not quite fluent yet.”
Another impossible-to-translate set of words was the only reply. Javen didn’t seem able to speak Rhydonian. This wasn’t an exam, but his desperate attempt to communicate.
“How can I help?” Tobias asked. “Uh, samele. Help.”
Javen lifted his head. His eyes blazed silvery-blue, wild, ignited like lightning. Just looking into them made Tobias’s stomach twist. There was nothing human in that gaze, only something cold and predatory, like a cat watching its prey.
Tobias retreated one step, then two. Javen had fae blood. The realization hit Tobias with all the subtlety of a freight train. A thousand questions rose to his mind, but he pushed them away, focusing on the words Javen had made him translate.
To light. Speed. Ember. He put the words together over and over, like sorting out puzzle pieces in his mind. To light… quickly? He wasn’t sure of the verb construction in the fae language. The book Javen gave him only provided simple definitions. And ember… did Javen want a fire? Was he cold?
No, that didn’t make sense…
He wanted something lit, and quickly.
“That’s it!” Tobias charged down the hall and into the small office Javen had made his own. Only one thing that Javen ever needed could be described as something to be ignited. On the desk sat a pack of his unlabeled cigarettes. He grabbed them and the matchbook before returning .
Tobias lobbed the pack to him, and Javen opened it, taking out one perfectly rolled cigarette. Before Tobias could throw the matches, Javen lit it with a flare of blue magic. Somehow the crackling light dancing on the man’s fingertips seemed like the most mundane part of the night.
With a sigh, Javen took a deep drag of the cigarette. The tremors wracking his body slowed, then stopped. Tobias had heard of men shaking from craving a drink or a smoke, but this… This didn’t feel like that. It felt far stranger, far more unearthly.
The business card from the wealthy man was still in Tobias’s pocket. There was a telegram operator in Wesburg. If Tobias truly wanted to, he could relay this occurrence back to the capital.
Doing so would be a betrayal of Javen, though. The captain had never before shown a shred of vulnerability, or even much trust, in Tobias before now. What sort of a man would he be if he turned around and stabbed Javen in the back at this first opportunity.
When Javen spoke again, it was in his usual precise tones, and his eyes were their normal shade of cold, human, blue. “Your studies are proceeding well, then?”
Stunned by the change of conversation, not to mention demeanor and appearance, Tobias rubbed the back of his neck. “Is that really what you want to be talking about right now?”
“Why else would I have asked?” he exhaled, fanning the eddies of smoke around him. “I would appreciate silence about the events which have transpired tonight.”
“Uh, yeah, sure.” Pulling the other chair toward him, Tobias spun it around so that he sat backward. “I can’t say I don’t have questions, though.” Because it wasn’t every damn day one’s boss stumbled in lit with magical fire and muttering in a foreign language.
“I would expect nothing less.”
Javen didn’t tell him not to ask. Which meant Tobias now had a chance of getting answers, as long as he asked a worthy question. This time, he wouldn’t flub his opportunity. “What’s in those?” He pointed at the cigarettes .
Javen tossed the pack to him, his way of telling Tobias to figure it out. The box seemed like any other cigarette box. Unrolling one, Tobias brought it to his nose. Minty, spicy, and as he recognized it, utterly terrifying. “Cadevesh? This stuff will kill a man.”
“A human.” Javen reclaimed the pack, slipping it into his coat pocket. “Cadevesh will kill a human man. For others, it temporarily dissolves magic, though with some cost to one who consumes it.”
For others. For someone not human. A week ago, Tobias would have been shocked. Now, he just shrugged. “Makes sense.”
A flicker of surprise crossed Javen’s face.
Tobias fought his smile, as he realized his failure to react had given him a speck of respect from the captain.
Javen pulled a large map of Rhydonia onto the table.
He smoothed a hand over it, then snapped his fingers.
The smallest flare of blue light appeared, floating above his hand.
Using two fingers, he drew the light through a series of twisting shapes, some of which looked vaguely familiar from Tobias’s book on the fae language, then waved his hand downward. The chain of glittering shapes hit the map and spread, like a miniature forest fire.
Except the paper did not burn.
Instead, the flickering flames raced over tiny hand-drawn mountains, across the forest, and ended at Lake Lochna itself. The lights flared bright then disappeared. Javen seemed utterly nonplussed by the occurrence and took down a note in a small pad of paper.
Tobias swallowed the lump in his throat. Better to reason what the magic had done, than asking anything about it. The lights moved in a curving line all the way, into the Gloaming, and to Lake Lochna. So was it a tracking tool?
That made sense. Tobias drummed his fingers on the table like Javen would when he was questioning a suspect. “Couldn’t you toss the cadevesh on the fire, like you did for me?”
“I prefer a more portable format. ”
“That’s fair.” Tobias kept his tone light, even as he filed away pieces of information. “Does the missus mind much? Ashes and soot on your uniforms must be a beast to clean.”
Javen’s lips twisted, not quite a smile nor a smirk. “I do my own laundry.”
“Your wife’s a lucky lady, then. My ma, she—” Tobias trailed off, seeing that unfeeling mask once more appear on Javen’s face.
“My wife,” Javen ground out, the two words more full of agony than he’d expected of the stoic captain, “is dead.”
That explained… a lot. It also ruined his theory about Javen having some secret lover.
Perhaps, it revealed who the drawing had depicted.
A widower, by etiquette, no longer needed to wear a ring after only a month’s mourning.
He’d known Javen for longer, and the man still wore the ring, holding his grief close.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Javen ground out the cigarette into the dining table. It marred the wood, leaving a black mark behind, a tiny, deliberate act of destruction from the normally stoic captain. “You had no part in her death.”
Tobias rubbed his face, exhausted. How could the clock only show a half hour had passed when he felt as if he’d aged a hundred years? “It must hurt. The loss. The curse, too, or whatever you need the cadevesh for. So, just know that I’m here.”
“I am aware of your proximity.”
“No, I’m here for you. I joined the service to protect people. That includes you, sir.”
Javen raised an eyebrow. “I do not need protection.”
“What about—” He gestured at the map, the burned-down cigarette, all the relics of the strange last hour. “Who cursed you to…” Tobias hesitated again. “To require the cadevesh?”
“Are you so sure you want that answer?” Javen regarded Tobias with skepticism. “What if I told you it was the Queen herself?”
Tobias found his confusion growing with every answer. “But why? What does she have to gain by hurting you?”
A dry laugh echoed down the hall. “Everything.”