“For all their posturing at being a meritocracy, the Deans of Sabbelah share many qualities with every other royal in the world.”

  -Lee Yang, Ao Guang poet, 6 weeks after his tour of the four continents, 3 weeks before his execution by the Imperial court.

  A common local joke was that the Grand Auditorium is located at the heart of the city, which is obviously north and slightly to the west of the cities center. Komena always took this as a sign of her countrymen’s poor, academic sense of humor, but she couldn’t deny that it was good orienteering advice. Vague enough to be easily remembered, effective enough get you close enough to see and hear the building. Then you could follow those signs through the streets until you arrived.

  Komena had been a young girl the only other time she’d been here. Her parents had thought it something she ought to see at some point and made the opportunity a history lesson. The Grand Auditorium had been built as a matter of convenience. The city’s first major expansion had required a massive excavation as the surrounding dunes were leveled off into a foundation. Rather than blow the dug-up sand away, the Deans of the time decided to put it to use. They wove enchantments into a mold the shape of a grand palace and filled it with the excess, compressing it enough to be as strong as granite. Maintaining the Auditorium was the first task set to every new Dean. The spells that kept its shape were recast with all the features of modern spell craft. Then the sand inside was set back in motion, turning the walls to a living mosaic. The gentle roar from the tons of perpetually grinding sand was an ever-present feature of the cities administrative district, much like the sound of waves at the docks. The only place to escape it was the inside of the Auditorium, which was filled with a reverent, artificial silence.

  To a child, it had made a strange impact. The power on display was both comforting and terrifying. Komena was far from comforted now, paying the cart driver and climbing the stairs leading up to the open Auditorium doors. She could feel the magic in the air, dense enough to almost push against her. A crackling current in the breeze that got worse with every step. By the time she was at the door, she could have let it push her back a step. Instead, the feeling vanished as she stepped into the building. Some kind of insulation inside the building against itself. The Faculties would never have tolerated that kind of irritation interfering with their work. Even if the change was a relief, the contrast was disquieting, like she had stepped into a place that was entirely isolated from the outside world.

  Putting those thoughts behind her, Komena went to the receptionist, a bored looking old woman, her skin tanned and wrinkled with her gray hair hidden under an equally gray headwrap.

  “I have a summons by the Dean for today. They didn’t give me a specific time, though.” Komena said, offering the note she’d been sent.

  “Ah, the inspector.” The receptionist said, snapping her fingers. A parakeet of glass formed out of the wall and flew down to her index figure.

  “They’ve been expecting you. Just follow the bird to the main gallery.”

  The parakeet flew off, the beating of its wings sounding like a chime. The bird was too quick for Komena to properly thank the receptionist, so instead she nodded and chased after it. She needed to almost jog to keep up with the bird as it led her through the winding, indistinguishable halls of sand. There was enough space that she didn’t worry about running into any of the bureaucrat’s milling around. There were a few strange looks from them, but she wouldn’t meet any of these people again.

  Finally, the bird landed and started picking on a door handle. It was a relatively simple set of double doors, almost indistinguishable the walls if not for the knob and a faint raised pattern of wavy swirls dancing across the surface. It’s felt like glazed stone as she knocked. The bird lit up like it had swallow a candle then shattered loudly. The broken pieces fell to the floor and sank into the moving sands. Hoping that was an invitation, Komena opened the door and stepped into the audience room.

  The most striking thing about the room was the size of it. It could have been a drydock, but instead of tools and a ship there were eight, elevated judge benches. Right now, only six of the benches were occupied, by two women and four men. One of the empty benches had a skull placed on it, facing into the center of the room. It was obvious from the extravagantly colored robes and the bored arrogance in their eyes that these were the Deans of Sabbelah.

  “My apologies. I thought that I was summoned before the full council. Am I early?” Komen asked.

  “Unfortunately, you’re right on time.” One of the women said. She looked a little younger than the receptionist, but that didn’t really mean much. A tall, leather strap of a woman, seeming as thin under her brown robe as the walking stick peeking out from behind her desk. “Our fellow from the Necromancy faculty rarely deigns to join these meetings.”

  “Save the etiquette, you up-jumped grounds tender.” Said a bald man whose muscles were straining against his dark blue robes. “The Transmutation faculty doesn’t have the time to waste toying with some back-alley gull. Explain what we want and send her on her way.”

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  “You will speak to your peers with respect, Transmuter. Lest you wish to have the ‘gull’ as your sole peer in this room.” Said a middle-aged man in bright yellow robes with a long gray beard and spectacles. He was even wearing a pointed yellow cap. It made him seem like he had stepped out from an illusionist’s tale.

  The brown robed woman, the Dean of Agriculture Komena assumed, let out a long-suffering sigh. “If the Deans of Transmutation and Healing could return to the matters at hand.” She said, glaring at both of them before turning back to Komena.

  “This morning, the Dean of Evocation was found murdered in her study. Our attempts to divine the culprit have returned nothing. At the suggestion of the Dean of Illusion, we have decided that bringing in a third party would be the best way to resolve this issue. We decided that would be you.”

  An ugly man in in purple robes gave her the slightest of waves with a gnarled claw of a hand. His hooked nose curved over a weak chin and a neutral, unreadable smirk.

  “Respectfully, Dean, this is not something I am equipped to deal with. I solve smuggling and thievery cases. Local ones, small cases that I can scavenge. Surely, you have access to more suitable resources to resolve this?” Komena said.

  “At first, we did. Do you want to know why we approached you instead?” A thin man in gray robes said. He was the youngest of the Deans, with thick black hair and a well-trimmed beard. He didn’t wait for her answer. “When we decided to hire an investigator, we cast another divination to find, and I quote, the most successful Investigator in the city. Frankly, I was hoping for someone in our employ already, but we found you. Then we did some research to assuage our disappointment. Did you know that you have successfully resolved every case that you have taken?”

  “I did. But like I said, I exclusively take very simple and small tasks. My success is to be expected. Surely one of your guards would still be better choice. Or I know a recent exile from Ao Guang who used to do similar work for nobles. I could get in touch with them in your stead, should it please you all.”

  “We are well are of the Water Worker’s location in our city. And we came to same initial conclusions as you. But at the Dean of Healing’s suggestion, we did more research into you.” The gray Dean pulled out a notebook and flipped through it as the Dean in yellow nodded.

  “Of the one hundred and seventy-nine cases you have undertaken in the last year, you have solved each one considerably faster than other similar cases have been solved. It is also notable that the work you have done was low stakes, but not simple. In many cases, you worked with almost no leads. Scouring districts for lost items, working out affairs from vague suspicions of paranoid lovers. A surprising number of requests from children, who I can’t imagine gave very good information. Or paid you as well as we intend to.”

  “Like you said though, we do have conditions to ensure you don’t disappoint us. The referrals of brat’s don’t inspire confidence.” Said a bored looking woman, a little older than the Dean in gray. She was wearing a vibrant orange robe, her hair was uncovered and brought back into a tight bun.

  “We agreed before you arrived that we would give you a week to investigate and see what progress you made. A compromise to justify my decision to consult a third party. I’d advise you not to disappoint us in that time if you wish to stay involved in the case.” The Illusionist said.

  Encouraging words from the man who was supposed to be in her corner. From his tone, he and the orange woman expected her to fail. At least they were upfront with her being expendable. The others likely agreed with them but were better at hiding it.

  “When will I be able to see the scene of the crime?” Komena asked.

  “After you introduce to yourself to your handler. It wouldn’t do to have you running around unsupervised. You’ll be reporting to Struth Ironheart, an associate of the Mundane faculty. His overseeing Dean will introduce you.” Said the woman in brown robes. The man in gray nodded.

  “I question why you called for me if you have this little faith in me.” Komena said. They were already half convinced to not bother with her. Her hesitance might be the final push they needed.

  “Don’t misunderstand. If anything, assigning Struth to overlook you is a sign of our faith in you. If we wanted to know your every moment, conjuring up something to observe would be simplicity itself.” The yellow clothed dean of Healing said over steepled fingers as the woman in orange purred in agreement.

  “I see. I appreciate the trust you’re giving me then. With your leave, I’ll resolve this issue swiftly.” Komena said sketching a quick bow, dropping her face to hide her disappointment. Still, a week without results would let her wash her hands of this.

  “Excellent, we look forward to seeing your results. Do not disappoint us.” The Dean of Illusion said. The gray Dean stood and stepped down from his bench. He began to lead Komena out of the room, but she stopped halfway to the door.

  “One more question, honored Deans.” Komena said. “When I find the murderer, should I make a point to look for whatever was stolen from the Dean of Evocation?”

  A wall of fire erupted between Komena and the door. It wasn’t close to her but the heat was intense enough to dry her eyes from paces away as the Dean in blue sprang to his feet.

  “How did you know? You are beneath such knowledge.” He roared. Komena turned to face him.

  “First, the only absence you excused was the Necromancer’s. The rest of you, Illusion, Summoning, Agriculture, Transmutation and Mundane, are all accounted for. That only leaves the Dean of Evocation absent. There’s only one possible reason for that. And for all your talk of a united front, the rivalries between your various faculties are well known. If this was nothing but murder, you all would have simply strengthened your own defenses, put out some feelers to catch the murderer later, and waited. Instead, you rushed to me.” Komena said. “Evocation is a school of magic focused on the application of elemental energy. I’m sure the murdered Dean had other passions, but one doesn’t rise to your position without enjoying one’s work. I can begin to imagine the things that could be stolen from their room. Wands of incineration, cubes of thunder. Other, worse things that I’m sure I am ignorant of. So, what do you need this gull to scavenge for you? The murderer or what they took?” Komena asked.