***

“So,” Kaelich repeats to the distraught jeweler, “the young mage made you think xe had already paid for the, uh, sapphire. And so you gave it to xem?”

“It was an aquamarine necklace,” the jeweler grumbles. “And of course I’d never just hand over such a valuable item to a customer, let alone a teenager. But I told you the story already! Why are you wasting time with me? Go catch the mage!”

Kaelich looks entirely at a loss. Xe doesn’t know how to deal with the posh jeweler, and has no idea how luxury goods are sold. The jeweler looks at him with growing disdain - I can tell he sees xem as an ignorant kid, despite the black uniform and rifle.

I’ve little sympathy for the old man. He’s flaunting wealth when the world spirals into ruin, and he’s being snobbish to an earnest soldier who tries to help. Still, I’ll humor him if it gets us answers quickly.

I don’t really care if a rogue mage robs some rich asshole. But I want to close my first case quickly, and the idea of a Liar or Telepath casually using xir powers in public is disturbing. Those are the most dangerous paths, entirely forbidden even to the Council, for good reason.

I’m also especially interested in xir modus operandi. Was I right after all, when I read the citizens reports, and suspected a rogue Liar could be on a crime spree? The crimes made little sense - but using magic to steal a conspicuous, hard-to-fence jewel seems incredibly stupid. Could the mage be seriously Else-touched?

“I can take the citizen’s deposition while you inspect the crime scene, Corporal,” I say.

Not that I have any personal experience with buying precious stones, but I had some seriously wealthy colleagues at the Academy, so I know how to talk with their kind.

“Proceed, private,” says Kaelich, looking grateful. Xe walks to Sorivel, who is mumbling and moving his fingers in a corner, while small drones buzz and crawl all around the shop. Hard to tell if he’s praying or commanding the swarm.

I walk to the jeweler, and he looks immediately less outraged, and more intimidated. It might be that I look much less friendly than Kaelich, or that I carry a silver sword at my side.

“Your assistance might help us locate the perpetrator,” I say, with my best haughty demeanor. “And your cooperation will be appreciated. Further suggestions about our priorities, however, will not be appreciated.”

I do my best to sound as threatening as possible, even if realistically, there’s nothing I can do to him unless he straight-up refuses to answer my questions.

“Of course, of course,” he says, hastily. “I apologize for my outburst, officer. You are just younger than I expected.”

That’s because the Agency is understaffed, and those of us who don’t die in combat leave to work as private security for ten times the pay. The process drains the Agency of talent, bleeds the Alliance of money and forces younger and younger agents to man the bases. With every passing year we spiral closer to disaster, as we grow ever weaker, and ever more demons spew from the Crack in the sky.

But that’s not his business, and like most people, he wouldn’t care.

“We don’t need a veteran team to deal with a single, likely inexperienced mage,” I say instead. “So, please come again - did you feel compelled to hand over the aquamarine necklace? As if your body didn’t obey you?”

“I… I wasn’t really compelled,” he says. “I felt just… confused. I couldn’t think logically. I checked the stone’s transaction history, but I couldn’t focus on my screen. I kept thinking that everything was in order, even if it made no sense.”

That settles it, the kid is a Liar. And not even a simple illusionist, who manipulates light and sound. Xe’s either a mentalist, or the very worst kind of Liar - a warper. Those are even worse than Mind-mages - a Lie spun by a Warper alters the very fabric of the world, and can even fool instruments if the mage is skilled. We’ll have to carefully check the security footage for inconsistencies.

“Did the ID scanner at the door work?” I ask.

“Xir ID wasn’t valid,” the Jeweller grumbles. “But that happens often with those foreign types. Their countries lack a proper identification system. But what can I do? Call the police on every foreign student that comes in?”

I just stare at him until he looks away. I didn’t miss the note of distaste when he said foreign types.

“Is there any electronic record of the alleged transaction?” I ask. “Even an incomplete, or rejected one?”

“No!” he says. “I checked, of course, and I couldn’t find his transaction, but… but I kept thinking that was right. Whatever xe said, it sounded right.”

I nod, relaxing a little. Xe’s likely a mentalist liar. Bad, but at last that doesn’t fool electronics and material evidence.

“That information will help us,” I say. “Now, what about accomplices? Was anyone else in the shop while the mage was here?”

“No one,” he says quickly, sweat on his brow, “but there are security cameras! They recorded the entire exchange!”

He must think I’m accusing him of making this up - I’m tempted to let him stew, but I mostly want to wrap this up.

“I’m not doubting your version, currently,” I say. “We already know for a fact that magic was used here. I’m trying to pinpoint what kind of magic xe used, and what xir strategy was. An accomplice would be expected in this kind of situation.”

Syndicate mages usually work with at least one non-mage accomplice. Scholastic mages always operate in teams - not that the Hidden Schools bother with simple theft. The Faceless rarely let any witness live. If this mage acted alone, xe was a rogue.

“Xe was the only person in the shop.” The jeweler lowers his voice, as if confessing something, “But xe didn’t need an accomplice. It felt… It felt as if anything the kid said had to be true, and the world would change to fit whatever xe claimed.”

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

I shiver. In training, a Council mage made us feel the effect of a Lie. She made me believe I had decided to drop the Academy and try my luck as a street mime. At first, I laughed about it, and so did my classmates. But then, for days, I wouldn’t trust myself about anything. I started keeping my diary back then, to check that my reality is consistent.

I feel doubly grateful for the silver in my helmet - the only real protection against magic mindfuckery.

“Thank you for your contribution,” I say. “Please wait here while I discuss with my colleagues.”

Kaelich is standing near Sorivel, and I join them. They’re glaring at Jaeleri, who’s finally doing his job, drawing burning red symbols in mid-air with his fingers. His magic is a red so deep, the rubies in the shop look drab by comparison. It’s strange to watch someone… just do magic, like that. But of course, this is tightly controlled. Regulated, as everything should be.

“Remember this, if everything else is forgotten,” Sorivel mutters, in his scripture-quoting tone, looking at the mage. “Reach not past the Veil. Seek not the power that is in the Else, for it will devour you, and worse, through the tears in the Veil the enemy might follow.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Kaelich tells him, “good warning, but a bit late. You know, we sought power, reached past the veil, blah blah, the moon broke, demons everywhere. But it happened, like, two hundred years ago. I don’t think Council mages can make things worse, and Jaeleri definitely can’t, since he’s the worst mage ever.”

“There’s no salvation to be found in the Dark Power,” Sorivel adds, very serious, and finally I’m convinced his zeal isn’t an act. I wonder if he was like that before getting his silver tattoos.

I also realize that if we get assigned a mage like Jaeleri, our career is done for. And my sanity too.

“Council mages have worked with the Agency since its very beginning,” I say, trying to avoid sounding too annoyed, “and we won’t be changing policy soon.”

Sorivel brings two fingers to his heart.

“I know,” he says, “and I’m not saying we shouldn’t use them. But we shouldn’t get used to them, either. Even if you don’t think it’s a sin, magic is always dangerous.”

“Yes, yes,” Kaelich mumbles, “but I’ll be happy as long as we get a mage who actually does their sinful job, honestly. Anyway - got something with your drones?”

Sorivel nods. “I sent Truth and Justice around. I think…”

“Wait, what?” I ask.

Sorivel looks at me, perfectly serious. “Truth and Justice. My scout drones. I name them all after the virtues of the Officers.”

Oh, Lost Stars. “Of course, of course,” I answer. “Silly me for asking. Go on.”

“Truth could pick up the foul stench of the Dark Power,” he says, and he must see my expression, because he quickly adds, “or residual theta activity, if you like that better. I followed the trail all the way to the tube station, but from there I lost it. The mage took a train.”

“Residual activity, all the way to the station?” I ask. “Why was xe still channeling magic? It looks like xe dropped the Lie as soon as xe left the building.”

Sori nods. “I was wondering about the same. I checked the security cameras, and you can tell the moment the Lie ends because the shopkeeper looks like he’s suddenly waking.”

“Maybe xe had other spells going on?” I suggest. “Maybe a disguise.”

“That, or xe’s not very skilled, and kept Channelling by accident,” Sorivel adds. “I’ve seen trails like that with rogue mages - they can’t cut the connection to the Else cleanly, after using a lot of power.”

“This mage looks pretty good, though,” Kaelich says, “xe’s above level one, and xe didn’t go nova nor completely mad, so xe must have some training. And xe managed to force a Lie that was impossible to believe.”

“But if xe’s a competent mage, and obviously rogue, why do this at all?” I ask. “It’s irrational. The jewel is so valuable, it’s difficult to fence. And the mage used so much power xe triggered our alarms. If xe can make people believe snow is warm and the sky is green, xe could steal money in smaller amounts and never get caught. That’s what rogue Liars usually do.”

Kaelich shrugs. “It’s strange,” xe says, “but mages are weird. Like, really weird. We can ask xem for an explanation when we catch xem.”

I suppress a sigh. My colleagues at the Academy loved speculating and nitpicking theories. I like Kaelich, but xe’s definitely a simpler sort.

“Truth has something,” Sorivel says, and then kneels. A creepy spider-like drone scuttles to his hands. He whispers something that sounds suspiciously like good girl.

“The Officers are with us,” he says. “This hair belongs to our mage,” he says, delicately holding up a short, dark hair in his gloved hands.

“Wrong color,” Kaelich says, “xe’s blond.”

“I think that was part of xir Lie,” Sorivel answers. “We can’t be completely sure, yet. But this was in the display case of the stolen necklace, and I can tell you it was lost today. The color doesn’t fit the jeweler, so if the case hadn’t been opened for other clients, it must be from the mage.”

“Cool! Great job, Sorivel!” Kaelich says, raising a hand for a high-five, and hastily turns it in a thumbs-up gesture as he doesn’t return it.

“You should thank Truth. She’s a good drone,” Sorivel says, looking away. “Anyway, it’s probably enough to extract DNA. We’ll have a name by the evening.”

“If we get xir magical signature, too, xe’s good as caught,” Kaelich says, enthusiastic. “Honestly, I hope we catch xem soon. I’ve seen the security recording, and xe looks barely stable. Xe needs help, xe could go nova at any time.”

Part of me is disappointed. I have to admit, a master thief with reality-manipulating powers sounded more interesting than some stupid kid who acts on impulse and might be going veil-mad. But Kaelich is right - we need results, and the mage needs silver tattoos. Plus a good stint in re-ed.

“Jaeleri, do you have xir magical signature?”

The mage jolts, startled, and turns to us, then rolls his eyes. The glyphs he had drawn in midair dissolve in a red flash.

“Well, now I definitely won’t,” he says, “and it’s too late to try again, it’s too decayed. Maybe I’d have one if you hadn’t interrupted me.”

Lady of Pains, if we get a Council agent half this insufferable, I’ll strangle them.

“What can you tell us about the mage?” Kaelich asks. “Is xe trained?”

“Partly, I’d guess,” Jaeleri answers slowly, as if it pained him to give us any information. “Xe’s pretty powerful, and channeled magic without hurting xemself, so xe must have some training. But xir magic is sloppy, and xe didn’t even try to hide the signature - literally the first thing any rogue mage learns, or teaches. So either xe had a terrible mentor, or xe studied on a Council-approved book of magic.”

“Why do you say a council-approved one?” Kaelich asks.

Jaeleri rolls his eyes.

“Because council textbooks don’t teach you how to evade detection, idiot,” he says. “As if we didn’t all figure it out within the first year. Also, Council books are easier to get than the books from the Hidden Schools or the Faceless.”

I feel the familiar thrill of excitement - books of magic. The Hidden Schools. The real root of what makes our enemies dangerous, the mysterious enemy I meant to dedicate myself to fight.

But I squash the excitement, hard. The big picture is no longer my problem. I deal with the day-to-day fight against mages.

Never mind if I know our strategies aren’t working. Never mind if the Alliance is crumbling, and I’m stuck chasing some idiot kid.

No. This is not the right way to think. I can still use my understanding of the bigger picture to solve this case. This mage had a Council book. Where did xe get it?

More importantly - the Council doesn’t teach the Path of Lies. Either we’ll catch xem soon, or xe’ll need a different book. Xe’ll seek it. I file that information away for later.

“Well, we have the DNA at least,” Kaelich says, crestfallen. “If we’re lucky xe still lives at xir registered address and we can catch xem easily. Let’s go.”

***