The Queen of Lies by Michael J. Bode Page B

and I need for you to answer a simple question. Friend to friend.”
    Daphne shrugged. “Yes, the clerk used to be a mage. She had a Hamartia of the Seal of Memory; she couldn’t remember anything for longer than two weeks. That level of confidentiality and discretion will be very hard to replace. Does that help?”
    “Of course you know why I’m here.” Heath slid the picture of Milk Eyes across Daphne’s desk. “What haven’t you told the Invocari about this man?”
    “You won’t find him unless he wants to be found,” Daphne said, glancing at the parchment. “I told the Invocari the same thing when they asked us to go on this wild-goose chase they have you going on.”
    Heath shoved the paper in her face. “Who is he?”
    She rolled her eyes and swatted the paper away. “He’s called the Harbinger. He’s a like vulture circling above a cow as it crawls to its death in the desert. He appears whenever chaos or destruction is imminent. He doesn’t interfere; he just watches. He’s been around as long as we’ve kept records: plagues, wars, upheavals. He’s a symptom, not the cause.”
    “What is he?” Heath demanded.
    Daphne shook her head. “We don’t really know. For lack of a better term, we call him a Traveler, although sometimes the Cantos refer to them as saints; the Prophet James seems to be loosely based on him.”
    Sword scratched his head. “You mean the First Mages? That’s what we used to call them back in the old days, Second Era and whatnot. Mostly they kept to themselves and their own crazy hobbies, like collecting one of every kind of bug or teaching squirrels witchcraft. Last time I saw one was in the Shadow War—when they got off their arses and helped us. The Long Night wouldn’t have ended without their help.”
    “Indeed,” Daphne said. “They’re Creation’s defense against forces of cosmic potency. If the Harbinger is here, it could be a sign that they’re taking interest. And until he deigns to make contact with us, his investigation is above our pay grade.”
    “But he does know something about the killings,” Heath said.
    “I’m sure he knows everything”—Daphne gestured to the air—“but he’s not going to tell you anything useful. These people trade in impossibly cryptic half-truths about the future that are only made clear in retrospect. It’s worse than useless. But you’re welcome to try.”
    Sword nodded. “Getting a straight answer out of one of those blokes is like trying to eat your own teeth.”
    “I wish I could be more help, old friend.” She took a folio of papers from her desk and slid them over to Heath. “But while we’re engaging in the friendly exchange of information, I did come across something unusual. Do you still talk to your ‘friend,’ Maddox Baeland?”
    “Ancient history,” Heath said. “Why?”
    “Fucking barmy tosspot.” Sword got ready to spit on the ground to emphasize his distaste, but a sharp glance from Daphne stopped him cold. He covered his mouth and gulped.
    Daphne slid the bundle of parchments over to Heath. “According to the Lyceum, he has a flawed Seal of Vitae that’s not reacting as expected. The new dean claims Maddox died and came back to life, and they have four confirmations of multiple witnesses under the Veritas Seal. He’s floating out there, and I’d like to have a conversation with him.”
    “Four?” Heath asked. The seal wasn’t as infallible as the mages wanted to believe, but beating it took a rare talent for deception.
    “You can imagine my concern if this is true,” Daphne said bluntly.
    “If I see him, I’ll tell him you’re looking.” Heath smiled.
    She laughed. “I doubt he’d come see me willingly.”
    Sword asked, “What’s the bounty then? The little bastard is a telekinetic ball of needy rage.”
    “We’re not doing this, Sword!” Heath shouted as he threw the papers off the desk. This is what Daphne did—reasonable requests but always pushing the limits of what