Murder at the Cosmopolitan
Epilogue. Melisante's Story
Thaumont 6, The Great School of Magic.
It was the gala night of the newest Glantrian opera, The Doom of Alphatia. The whole of Glantrian society was at the Cosmopolitan Theatre that night. And yet, Melisante Erewan was nowhere near the hubbub of schemes and intrigues. Instead, Melisante meandered in the near-empty halls of the Great School of Magic.
A gremlin had been following Melisante for the past few days—no doubt some wizard’s familiar, spying on her, a member of the Paparazzi Glantri and a specialist in divinations in her own right. But this night, Melisante was the one following it, hoping it would lead her to its master—or at least, satisfy Melisante’s irrepressible curiosity.
The gremlin led Melisante through a labyrinth of secret libraries and laboratories hidden in the depths of the Great School, sometimes called “the Wizard Warrens.” This portion of the Warrens, Melisante recognized, was an area dedicated to air magic, but has since been abandoned, with the destruction of Blackhill by the Great Meteor and the death of majority of the Alphatian air wizards.
Melisante traversed the area, mindful not to alert the gremlin or trigger the sorcerous traps that protected the area. Fortunately for Melisante, most of the magical wards had decayed, while the few mundane contraptions were easily detectable by her divinations.
The gremlin entered one of the private chambers in the Warrens. This chamber, like others of its kind, often served as study, laboratory, workshop, as well as bedroom, kitchen, and toilet, to many wizards who forwent mundane pleasures—and even basic physical needs—all for the sake of that one thing worth pursuing in Glantri: magic!
Before Melisante approached the door, her spells had already told her the private sanctum once belonged to the Prince of Blackhill. Before Melisante touched the door, her divinations had already told her of the spells that protected the door—and that those spells had long faded and been dispelled. In fact, the door was strangely ajar—and Melisante knew exactly who was inside.
He knows I am coming. Is this an invitation—or a trap? Melisante thought as she braced herself for her entrance.
“Oooh! Lathan! Why are you here? I thought you’d be at the theatre at the new opera about Alphatia...”
Melisante know how nonsensical that comment would have sounded—and it was just as she planned. The Melisante most people knew was a twittering, frivolous, airhead who blurts out the most inappropriate things—not the shrewd investigative diviner who caught every detail of what was going on around her. Besides, saying something utterly stupid like that could get him off his guard.
“Why would I watch a stupid play where my father is depicted as a villain and a traitor?” Lathan said coldly.
Melisante noted that in the half darkness, Lathan’s profile was distinctly reminiscent of the late Prince Volospin Aendyr.
“Oooh! Tee-hee-hee! I just thought… ‘cuz everyone would be there!” chirruped Melisante in a masterful non sequitur. “Princess Carnelia, Prince Malachie, Princess Dolores…”
“Ah yes! My alleged half-sister…” Lathan remarked coolly, looking into his crystal goblet of pink champagne.
“Oh my Rad, yes!” Melisante exclaimed in mock surprise, sensing an opening into a matter that had intrigued the cognoscenti for years. “Princess Dolores would be your half-sister, because her father is your father, so why is it that she has never ackno—”
“Would you like a drink, Mistress Melisante?” Lathan interrupted Melisante’s deliberate babbling. The dark intensity of the last scion of Blackhill could not be resisted, and Melisante was surprised to find herself sipping into a goblet of sparkling pink wine.
“Tee-hee-hee! Curious! It reminds me of strawberries,” Melisante giggled in her pretend voice, trying to hide that she was overwhelmed by the heady fragrance of the drink.
“It’s an ancient Alphatian blend,” Lathan responded unemotionally.
Melisante was trying to magically read his thoughts but his mind was a blank. Either his thoughts are really blank, or he has some spell to protect his mind.
As Lathan lifted his glass, Melisante noted the ring on his finger—not so much for the magical aura it radiated, but the inset gemstone. Where have I seen that before?
“Oh my Rad!” Melisante blurted out in honest surprise, that she had to stopper her own words with a gulp from the aromatic drink.
Lathan looked at Melisante intently, almost menacingly. “Yes, Judith has a similar piece… also set with an onyx…”
Melisante’s head was swimming in pink waves of seemingly random thoughts. Judith Beaumarys-Moorkroft…A mute wizardess… Lathan’s lover… An onyx choker that allows her to speak mentally…
“And read minds…” Lathan stated, finishing Melisante’s spinning stream of thoughts.
“Have another sip of the wine,” Lathan suggested. “It will make you relax.”
The sun was rising when Melisante returned from the Wizard Warrens. Melisante meandered aimlessly and pleasantly, filled with nothing but fuzzy pink feelings. She could not remember where she was the night before, and she felt that it didn’t really matter.
Hours later, she was shocked to hear about the assassination attempt on Princess Dolores Hillsbury.
Somehow, in the back of her mind, Melisante felt she should have known something about it…
