Marked by Magic (The Baine Chronicles #4)(32)

The guards stiffened as we disembarked from the vehicles, hands going to the hilts of their swords. I bared my teeth at that – were they seriously going to fight us for entry? – but before I could take a step forward, Fenris grabbed my arm.

“Let the Mages Guild do their job,” he said. “We are here under their authority.”

I grumbled a bit at that, but allowed the Legal Secretary and his entourage to take the lead. Like Iannis and Cirin, the Secretary was a tall, lean man with long hair pulled into a low tail, and I wondered if ‘tall, lean, and long-haired’ were job requirements for high-ranking positions in the guild.

Council members excluded, of course, I thought with a sneer as I recalled Omonas ar’Candar, the fat, pompous councilman who had successfully blocked me from being allowed to join Iannis’s rescue team.

I racked my brain for the Legal Secretary’s name and came up empty – he was new to the position. The last one, a frail, ancient-looking fellow, had nearly been killed by the Resistance when Iannis’s delegation had been kidnapped on their way to the capital. Upon his return to Solantha, he had, understandably, retired from office, and now we had this new, much younger guy filling his shoes.

Well, at least he doesn’t look feeble, I thought as the mage came to a stop in front of the door. He looked commanding enough in his dark red robes, and his blond hair was pulled back tight, leaving his stern face unframed.

“Step aside,” he ordered the former enforcers, who had closed ranks and were blocking the door. “We are here on official business.”

“What sort of business?” sneered the deserter on the right, a burly guy with dyed-blue hair. I rolled my eyes at his eyebrow and lip piercings. What kind of enforcer actually had those, much less wore them on the job? It was like asking for trouble in a fight. “You can’t just come in here without stating your intentions.”

“My intentions are to shut down this miserable excuse for a newspaper,” the Legal Secretary snapped. He pulled a sheet of paper from the sleeve of his robe and held it up so the men could read it. “I have a decree, signed by Lord Iannis, stating as much.”

The other deserter, a leaner guy with white hair, snatched the decree and scanned it. “This looks like a bunch of bullshit,” he growled.

The Legal Secretary lifted his hand, and yellow energy crackled at his fingertips. “Would you like to test me?” he asked pleasantly as the air grew thick, charged with tension and magic.

The two deserters exchanged a long look, then silently moved aside. The Legal Secretary and his mages passed through the revolving doors, and Fenris and I quickly followed behind. I didn’t miss the dirty looks the men sent me as I passed, or the way their fingers twitched against their sword hilts – no doubt they were thinking that if they delivered my head to the Resistance, they would get a handsome reward for it.

The same curly-haired brunette I’d met last time sat behind the circular, white reception desk in the center of the gleaming lobby. Her oval face turned pale, but she stiffened her slim shoulders and lifted her chin as we approached.

“Inform your CEO that the Legal Secretary of the Mages Guild is here to speak to him,” the Legal Secretary commanded.

“I’m sorry,” she said coolly, “but the CEO is not in the building at this time.”

“Very well, get me his second-in-command then.”

“The deputy CEO is not here either,” she said, still in that same cool monotone.

“Are there any senior staff in the building?” the Legal Secretary asked, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice. “Or is everyone out to lunch?”

“I am under no obligation to answer that question,” she said in a voice like ice, and it was then that I realized she was expecting us.

“The CEO knew we were coming,” I said aloud. The Legal Secretary turned to face me, a look of censure on his face – clearly, he wasn’t happy with me speaking out of turn. But I plowed on. “Someone at the Palace must have tipped him off. I bet you he and his senior staff gathered any important papers and evidence and are already long gone.”

The Legal Secretary stared at me for a moment, then whirled back to the receptionist. “Where are your printing presses?”

“I am under no obligation –”

“Silence, foolish girl,” he said in a tone a thousand times icier than hers. Her eyes widened with fear, and she pressed her lips together. “I’m certain it would not take me long to find the presses myself, but I want you to tell me. If you don’t, I will have you arrested for obstruction, and will send you to Prison Isle. A pretty woman like you will have a grand time with the hardened criminals there.”

“D-downstairs,” the receptionist said in a shaking voice, and I almost felt sorry for her. That was, until the memory of Gorden’s crumpled body seeping blood in the back alley of the Enforcers Guild flashed in my mind’s eye, as well as all the wounded civilians from the airship yard attack.

No, this girl didn’t merit any sympathy. She was aiding cold-blooded killers and deserved whatever was coming to her.

The receptionist gave us directions on how to access the basement – through either the elevator or a stairwell around the corner. The Legal Secretary opted for the stairs, taking Fenris and one of his mages down there so they could disable the presses and send the remaining staff home. I went upstairs with the other two mages to scour the offices and check if the CEO or his staff had been careless enough to leave anything incriminating behind.