The mage was halfway into his carriage for his next appointment before being called back. Already running late, the delay just irritated the man further.
That was until he saw the glyph on the floor.
Crouching down, the mage looked over the glyph. The two guards had gently lifted the corpse onto its side under the mage’s instruction, checking for traps and evaluating whether the glyph was active.
Declaring that it was fine, the corpse was finally removed, and the room became populated again.
"Well?" Plut asked quietly, the short man standing over him with his hands in his pockets.
"It is very complicated," the mage breathed, eyeing every line as if it was a work of art. "I am only a Third Grade mage myself. This level of complexity easily surpasses the Sixth Grade, at a guess."
"Hmm." Plut nodded quietly, musing. Smoke continued to get trapped at the brim of his hat above his eyes. "Thomas, make sure they take enough pictures of this."
The junior inspector went off to his task.
"Ignoring its complexity, what can you tell me about it?" Plut said, continuing to stare at the chalk lines.
"What I know for a fact..." the mage began, straightening from the floor. "Its design is such that it only needs a small amount of mana, the outer design amplifies that source for the purpose in the middle."
Plut listened, not interrupting.
"The purpose in the middle is singular. I can say as a fact that the glyph has one operational job. Multiple tasks are not at play here."
After a moment of quiet, the inspector asked, "What’s your opinion on its purpose?"
"I would wager a guess, some form of force, would be the function of the glyph. Complex fire, complex air. Something singular and powerful. But, with the size of the glyph, nothing to warrant disturbing destruction."
Plut recalled the state of the corpse’s right leg, and privately disagreed.
The inspector and the mage eventually left the building into the crowded alley. Officers were coordinating the scene and the flow of evidence and people.
Thomas was there waiting for Plut.
"Well?" he asked his senior partner.
"Tell me again about the owner of the building," Plut said, discarding his stub of a cigarette and taking out another.
Thomas fumbled through the stack of parchment he was carrying, plucking one out and beginning to read from it.
"Er, Eric Lancen. Retired Royal Knight, minor nobility. Owns a dock business and warehouses at the harbor, nothing huge. A couple of homes and buildings throughout the city, not a large portfolio. He was interviewed early this morning when requested."
Plut nodded slowly along, looking down the alley at the organized chaos, beginning his fresh cigarette.
"And I take it, he insisted he knew nothing of the nature of what was happening in this building?"
Thomas nodded. "Yes, sir, he did."
Plut then looked up at his partner, the junior inspector. Thomas was taller than him, and a bit younger. About mid-twenties, good-looking, innocent, with his whole life ahead of him.
They had been partnered a few months back, with Plut being the senior mentor, who had to ’rub some wisdom’ into him. Despite that annoying arrangement, he had been quietly pleased with Thomas’s progress and dedication.
He would make one hell of an inspector in the future.
"And reading his story transcript," Plut asked quietly, eyeing Thomas, "do you believe him?"
"Well, taking everything into account, it does seem he genuinely had no idea, as hard as that is to believe. But it’s possible."
Plut continued to stare up at Thomas. "And your unofficial thoughts?"
"I think he is a slimy git, sir." The younger inspector concluded, with just a tiny amount of embarrassment.
"Hmm." Plut nodded in agreement, finally turning his gaze away from the nervous Thomas.
Exhaling a tuft of smoke, the older inspector commented, "We need to talk with some of the children again. We have some stronger foundations for our questions. This, Mr. Bell, we need to talk to the young man he rescued and spoke to first."
"It’s likely he murdered Blink? Would they rat out their savior, though?"
"We don’t need to go that far, we just need perspective. An idea of what Bell is. Who he is. And hopefully, he wasn’t the person who made that glyph upstairs."
Thomas could see the hard line of Plut’s jaw. "Did the mage say what it was?"
"Just enough technical detail for nothing good."
The younger inspector looked away with a frown. "I know Blink wasn’t the model human, but getting taken out, even by a civilian... It’s not the most heinous crime?"
"Murder is murder, young Thomas," Plut corrected, not sharply. "We need to find this Mr. Bell, confirm his intentions regarding what took place here. If he did in fact murder Mr. Blink, I’d like to know why other than the obvious. How did he get there? How did it happen?
His younger partner nodded dutifully along.
"And more importantly," Plut continued, his voice much quieter now. "If he is a mage so capable of creating something that has a seasoned mage scratching his head, I would want to get a brief check of this Mr. Bell’s sanity and world outlook, wouldn’t you?"
Before Thomas could agree, someone called out for Plut from the building.
Both the inspectors turned back around to the doorway. The guard who called was running down the narrow staircase, carrying a glass evidence jar.
Both men’s expressions sharpened as they walked back inside to meet the runner in the hallway.
"What’s this?" Thomas asked.
The guard held the jar up to both of them. "Found it on the floor in the corner of one of the rooms, sir, beside the shackles."
Plut leaned forward, gazing into the jar as smoke ballooned from his mouth around it.
Inside lay a tiny piece of paper, with a faded, intricate glyph on it.
Plut’s face darkened as he turned to glare at Thomas.
His younger partner, now a veteran translator of the language that was ’Plut’, spun around and ran out of the building.
"Stop the mage’s carriage! We have more evidence!" He shouted.
The poor mage wasn’t making his next appointment after all.