Meet Markus Sevelien

As promised, here's another outtake from Magic Lost, Trouble Found -- scenes & chapters that didn't make it into the final version.

Markus Sevelien is the head of elven intelligence in Mermeia, and Raine's sometime client. In MLTF, Markus is referred to, but never appears. Here's a chapter that introduces Markus, and provides more insight into A'Zahra Nuru as well. If it had been included, it would have been a part of Chapter 6. I'll be posting this in three parts over three days. Enjoy!

Markus Sevelien's townhouse was in Brightleaf, the Elven District's oldest and most elegant section. Most of the old blood, aristocratic families maintained homes here, and as the Duke of Laerin, Markus more than lived up to the expectation to do the same. Trouble rarely came to Brightleaf, and on the rare occasions when it did, it had the decency to use the back door. The old blood disliked disruptions to their well-ordered lives, and maintained bodyguards to ensure it didn't taint their doorsteps. High-walled gardens further insulated them from the baser elements. If they couldn't make trouble go away, they at least went to great lengths to pretend it didn't exist.

Just because I didn't care to be around most elven aristocrats, didn't mean I couldn't appreciate their taste. Mermeia was built on a marsh, but a stroll through Brightleaf convinced you otherwise. It was amazing what a lot of money and a little magic could do. Aristocratic elves had a thing for trees. The more the merrier. Since Mermeia didn't have any, the elves brought them in. Brightleaf looked like a woodland park in the middle of the city. The flowers of the kembaugh tree attracted fireflies. I had to admit it made for a pretty sight at night with all the twinkling lights. All in all, a nice way to live if you could afford it.

As I walked along the cobbled and tree-lined avenue that ran next to the Old Earl's Canal, I caught an occasional glimpse of shaded courtyards through ornate--and securely locked--gates. Markus' house faced the canal, as did all of the finer homes. Mermeia's canals rose and fell with the tide, and the smell along with it. Not in Brightleaf. An elaborate system of filters had been installed at the entrance to every canal where it entered Brightleaf. The water was always pristinely clean, and smelled the same way.

A lone boatman leisurely poled his way down the canal. He sang as he went, a simple tune I had heard boatmen sing on canals all over the city. His voice was pleasant enough, but not really all that memorable. That was what I heard. What I felt flowing quietly under his song was something else entirely. Paladin Mychael Eiliesor was up early. I wasn't the only one with a morning mind visitor, but the boatman seemed oblivious. Unlike the Khrynsani shaman, Eiliesor didn't invite himself into my head, and using the boatman's voice wasn't all that invasive either. As far as doing something like that went, it was actually quite polite. It was also sneaky. The Guardian wasn't inside my head, so I couldn't do a thing to get rid of him. Eiliesor could follow me anywhere in the city using the same trick with any susceptible passerby.

I sighed. It was going to be a long day.

Markus should be up by now, and if he wasn't, his majordomo Giles would be. Normally, I would have suggested a meeting in a neutral place, but the circumstances made that a less than desirable choice.

Giles must have been waiting just on the other side of the door, his hand on the latch.

"Mistress Benares. His Grace is expecting you." He cast a quizzical glance at the traveling pack slung over my shoulder.

I beat him to it. "Don't worry, I'm not staying."

He smiled, and it was sincere. "That wouldn't be a worry, Mistress Benares, that would be a pleasure."

Despite the early hour, Giles was immaculately attired and groomed. But then I had never seen Giles without every blond hair in place--and without a response for anything. A hobgoblin could charge through the front door at dawn and Giles would have politely ushered the uninvited guest into the parlor and served him tea along with his utterly decadent almond cakes. The miscreant would then find himself awakening a few hours later in an agency interrogation room. Giles brewed great tea. Just make sure you were on his good side before drinking any.

"Could I fix you some tea?" he asked. "Some breakfast, perhaps?"

I knew I was on Giles' good side.

"Yes, to all of the above."

"I've laid a fire in the library," he said. "Would you like to wait there?"

"A fire would be wonderful. Where's Markus?"

"With a contact." His smile gave away everything and nothing. "A goblin contact."

That was interesting, and after last night, even more so.

"His Grace is in the receiving room. Next to the library," Giles added with complete propriety.

I smiled back. "Why Giles, I would love to wait in the library."

Giles' good side was good place to be. It was even better to have a client like Markus who encouraged eavesdropping, even if it was on him. His library was conveniently equipped for listening to conversations taking place in several rooms in the house. Though this morning, I was only interested in one room.

Markus was elven intelligence, but I tried not to hold it against him too often. In my business, clients could be stingy with information. Very often what they wanted me to find was a small, but vital part of a bigger picture. On more than one occasion, Markus had let me see the whole gallery. He didn't have to do that. Those were the kind of favors you didn't forget.

The fire was as warm and cozy as I'd hoped, and Giles came in moments later with a tray fit for a duchess with tea, almond cakes, and hot flaky scones with the raspberry jam he knew that I loved. And since Markus remained stubbornly single, Giles had only guests on which to dote. I always made sure his efforts didn't go unappreciated. I would love to steal him from Markus, but aside from annoying one of my best clients, there was the small matter of being able to afford Giles. I suspected that he made more than I did.

I let Giles prepare my tea, and went directly to the wall that separated the library from Markus' elegantly appointed receiving room. I knew where the screen was. I had made use of it before. Concealed by a particularly busy wallpaper pattern on the other side depicting a woodland scene with trees, vines, and in my opinion, entirely too many birds, the screen was undetectable.

Markus was in clear view, along with his guest.

This wasn't just any guest. I knew this lady. Or at least knew of her.

Primari A'Zahra Nuru was a goblin shaman of the highest order--and one who had a direct connection to, and the ear of, the Mal'Salin family. The primari, or holy woman, had taught the goblin queen mother, as well as the late queen. When Sathrik, the queen's eldest son, took the throne after his mother's sudden death, he encouraged Primari A'Zahra to retire. He provided her with a modest house and annual income in Mermeia, far removed from the goblin court. It seemed the new king didn't want his dead mother's tutor underfoot. Hardly unexpected considering A'Zahra's rumored abilities and Sathrik's recent activities, most notably the questionable circumstances of his mother's death.

The primari must have wanted to see Markus very badly to be out on a bright, sunny morning. Goblins were mainly nocturnal, by preference bordering on necessity. They could be out during the day, but their dark eyes were painfully sensitive to sunlight. Most chose to just remain inside. Shops and businesses in the Goblin District were open for business during the day, but kept extended hours in the evening for the convenience and comfort of their clientele. During the day, the windows were kept shuttered and the interiors dimly lit. Any human or elven customers had to make do the best they could. If goblins ventured out during the day, they wore dark-lensed spectacles.

A finely made pair of these dangled at the end of a delicate silver chain around Primari A'Zahra's neck. No doubt a deeply hooded cloak hung in Markus' marbled entry hall as well.

The diminutive goblin was enthroned in one of Markus' buttery-soft leather armchairs, a teacup perched on one silk-covered knee. She wore a simple gown of pale mauve silk, and her silvery-white hair was elaborately styled and held in place with tiny, jeweled pins. More pale gems glittered on the lobes of her upswept ears. As with Tarsilia, the years had been kind to A'Zahra Nuru. Her pale grey skin was still smooth over high cheekbones and fine features. The lady was also still upright, which meant Giles hadn't served her one of his specialty brews. Apparently Markus wanted to hear what she had to say. I was more than a little curious myself.

I handed the saucer back to Giles. I didn't want clinking porcelain to give me away. The amulet tingled in the center of my chest, and I had the sensation that someone had just woken up from a long nap. My hand instinctively went to the disk. It knew something I didn't, and I suspected the goblin primari had everything to do with it. No doubt she was alert when in an elven home. I know I would have been the same in a goblin house. But what I felt weren't shields. It was a searching spell, completely silent and more complex than anything I could have attempted, let alone pulled off. It spread towards me like surface ripples on a pool.

Sensing something that subtle was another first for me.

Her spell flowed through the wall separating us. I didn't try to stop it. I knew better. A block or deflection would have announced my presence like slamming a door in Nuru's patrician face. My stomach fluttered and my skin crawled as the spell flowed through me. The primari hesitated a fraction of a second, then continued speaking. I'm sure Markus noticed, but I doubted he attributed it to me. If the goblin could sense me, the amulet, or both, she either had the guile, good manners, or both not to mention it. The amulet was proving to be as good a watchdog as it was a nuisance. But just because it growled at strangers didn't mean I was going to trust it with my own neck.

Tomorrow -- Part 2 of 3.