《Murder in Wallsen》


 Some beginnings are endings

    The soon-to-be victim muttered incoherently to himself as he made his way through the dark alleyway. It was difficult not to wonder about the man. Where was he going? At this time of night and through such a rough neighbourhood?


    It didn¡¯t matter though. The victim¡¯s thoughts were screaming. Roaring like a storm-bell. And the Enemy hid itself within them.


    Creeping up behind him was easy, almost unreasonably so, as the tall, lanky man in tattered robes muttered, scratched his head and flailed his arms as he walked, absorbed in his own world. The noise of the Enemy was louder this close to him, a searing, buzzing, chittering scream of wants and needs that marked him, necessarily, for death.


    The murderer had killed before. Twice, not counting the last week. But before, it had always only been in self-defence. This was different. This was to protect the city. The teeming, strange, fabulous and awful city that was Sonderport. If the Enemy gained a foothold here, there would be no stopping it!


    ¡°No!¡± the soon-to-be victim exclaimed suddenly, making the murderer start and withdraw a little. ¡°Mad Anthrax commands it!¡± The soon-to-be victim fumbled with a book, which hung on a string on his belt, flopping around his knees when he walked. ¡°Will spell the spell, the god, he says it. He says no in his awesome majesty. Have to find a dead one. Important god-business!¡±


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    The man urgently flipped pages in the notebook, stopping in his tracks.


    Perfect. There was light streaming from a small window to the left, but the soon-to-be victim had stopped with his notebook just on the edge of the illumination that showed the dirt and grime on the ground.


    It was quick. The knife found its home in the victim¡¯s neck in one swift motion and every muscle in his body went rigid for a second as he was grabbed from behind, held on his feet as life left him like dirty gerbils scurrying from a sinking ship.


    The victim¡¯s warm, struggling body was thrown from the murderer¡¯s arms and the knife withdrew. Blood pulsed freely onto the wall and ground in dark, sticky spurts.


    The murderer looked at the victim, finally lying still and cold on the dirty ground, the roar of the thoughts stilled. The calm seemed almost unnatural on a character like the madman.


    It was wrong, all of it. But the screeching, howling babble of the Enemy had ceased. Still, the victim, however strange he might have been, deserved better than to rot in an alleyway in this shithole. There was no telling how long he¡¯d be allowed to lie here before the watch found him and brought him to the Bacon House for cremation. If any of his belongings stayed with the corpse for more than a minute, it would be a miracle. They¡¯d probably even steal his tattered robe.


    It wasn¡¯t right. The other victims of the Enemy¡­ No, he had to be laid out, so he would be found. One of the previous victims of the Enemy had been left in the bed where he died. Maybe he hadn¡¯t been found yet. A sobering, remorseful thought.


    With a sigh, the murderer bent down to haul the still-warm corpse off the ground.

 Things to do in Sonderport when you鈥檙e jobless

    Seeing Ailmon sitting alone at a table in the crowded tavern, Aran sighed. He wasn¡¯t really surprised. Still, it would be nice if, just once, everyone would be there on time. He made his way into the tavern, past tables of more or less drunk or dodgy parties to whom breakfast was obviously a meal that came in a mug. He pressed the hilt of his short sword down, so the weapon wouldn¡¯t clatter against the bench, and took a seat opposite to the slender bald man, dressed in his customary attire of an unassuming grey tunic and trousers.


    Ailmon nodded politely in welcome, but said nothing, and just continued eating his scrambled swizzard eggs.


    ¡°Do we know where the girls are?¡± Aran finally asked.


    ¡°I doubt if Shale would appreciate being termed a girl,¡± Ailmon mused with a small, thoughtful frown. It seemed to Aran like his face was made for that exact expression.


    ¡°Fine. Do we know where Shale and the girl are?¡± Aran countered, slightly exasperated.


    ¡°Shale is over there. Rough night is my guess.¡± Ailmon pointed to the end of the large taproom at a table in the far corner. The half-orc woman was draped across the tabletop, halfway hidden behind a wall of empty bottles, fast asleep. ¡°As for Naia¡­ Honestly, I doubt any of us have the mental fortitude to know.¡±


    Suppressing a small, theatrical shudder, Aran nodded and got to his feet, walking over to Shale¡¯s table. One of the many long braids that snaked across her head had been unbound, the tuft of hair stuck into one of the bottles in front of her. Vaguely wondering whether it was good for one¡¯s long-term health to poke a sleeping orc, Aran did just that and quickly stepped away.


    Shale slowly stirred; the violent reaction Aran had expected was completely absent. She blearily opened an eye and then pushed herself into an upright position on her chair, wiping the drool from her mouth.


    ¡°Ech. Dog-brown¡­¡± she muttered before blinking and focusing.


    ¡°Ready for the work meeting?¡± Aran asked and gestured towards Ailmon¡¯s table.


    ¡°That lousy little grotbag¡­¡± Shale just stated slowly and, going cross-eyed, looked at the un-braided lock of hair hanging into her tusked face.


    ¡°What? Ailmon?¡±


    ¡°Braid your hair for luck¡­¡± Shale rubbed her eyes and checked her belt pouch. ¡°Yeah¡­ I¡¯ll¡­ be there in a¡­¡± She shook her head.


    ¡°You better check if you have all your teeth. Falling asleep in a place like the Shindig¡­¡± Aran shook his head.


    ¡°Money is gone¡­¡± Shale said blearily. ¡°Good thing I drank almost all of it up¡­ Gotta find a loo. Get me some food, will you.¡± She stood, half a head taller than Aran and just as broad-shouldered, and made her way a little shakily outside.


    For the second time that morning, Aran sighed, ordered breakfast for both of them, and took a seat again.


    ¡°That went better than expected,¡± Ailmon commented.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t it just¡­ She mentioned you, though.¡±


    ¡°Pardon?¡± Ailmon looked up, face expressionless.


    ¡°Were you drinking with her last night?¡±


    ¡°Me? Good grief, what a thought,¡± Ailmon said.


    ¡°She must have been referring to some other grotbag, then.¡±


    ¡°Quite so. You did say ¡®meet at the Shindig at eight¡¯ and she was here.¡±


    Aran just rolled his eyes in reply, watching as a tray with legs made its way from the bar towards them. The tray was pushed onto the table, revealing a man of the small tribes with curly blond hair and large blue eyes underneath, smaller than others of his kind.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Aran said.


    ¡°No probs.¡± The small waiter smiled and turned to leave.


    ¡°Wait, quick question. Isn¡¯t it rough waiting tables in a crowd like the Shindig when one is¡­¡± he gestured up and down the small man.


    ¡°Nope. I punch at groin height.¡± The small waiter flexed his arms, making rude hand gestures, and went back behind the bar.


    ¡°Being weird to the staff?¡± Shale asked Aran and took a seat. ¡°Dibs on the apple spider!¡± She grabbed a plate and hungrily began eating.


    ¡°Ehm, maybe. I was just wondering how a little shit like him got around.¡±


    ¡°Same way everyone else does,¡± Shale grinned. ¡°I vaguely remember him being crazy drunk last night,¡± she looked questioningly at Ailmon.


    ¡°I really couldn¡¯t comment,¡± Ailmon said evenly.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Naia?¡± Shale asked between mouthfuls.


    ¡°She¡¯ll probably be here. Maybe,¡± Aran said.


    Shale nodded, somewhat doubtfully, and went back to shovelling food into her face.


    From the direction of the Guildhouse entrance, a laugh reached them. ¡°Be honest now, did I bed you already?¡± came a loud feminine voice over the din of the tavern patrons. All three at the table turned to look at the woman with short black hair, wearing a purple, clingy, knee-length dress that showed off a generous bit of cleavage and a pair of tight-fitting red trousers underneath.


    ¡°Oh, new victim,¡± Ailmon commented dispassionately.


    The handsome young man being addressed slowly shook his head, staring hypnotised at Naia¡¯s bosom.


    ¡°That¡¯s a problem! Meet me here tonight and we¡¯ll fix it,¡± she stated and, looking around, spotted her companions. She waved before making her way over. The young man¡¯s companions laughed raucously at his expense in her wake.


    ¡°Get your own breakfast,¡± Aran commented when Naia was within earshot.


    Casually, she gestured at the enormous orcish barman and took a seat, slamming a piece of paper down on the table with a flat hand.


    ¡°You¡¯re late!¡± Aran stated.


    ¡°Pff, details!¡± Naia retorted. ¡°Besides, we don¡¯t need to have a work-meeting, I already logged us a job! Solid pay. One hundred gost per person. That¡¯s a fortune!¡± She slid the paper over the table to Aran and shot him a confident smile.


    ¡°You logged it? You took a job on everyone¡¯s behalf?¡± he asked, incredulous. ¡°That¡¯s a group decision! You can¡¯t just¡­¡±


    ¡°I did! I logged it with ¡­raisin-lady, whatever her face is. At the counter. Besides, it¡¯s high profile.¡±


    ¡°That is not a consolation!¡± Aran barked.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    ¡°Just read the thing!¡± Naia exclaimed and nodded at the paper in front of him. ¡°The Guild Mistress, something something Bartolin, came down to hang it herself. She said it was vitally important. We have an appointment with someone, some Sef-guy, in an hour. Upstairs.¡±


    ¡°Hm,¡± Shale said, reaching for the paper and getting into a tug of war with Aran before Ailmon snatched it from the both of them.


    ¡°Investigative assistance needed,¡± he read out loud, ignoring the scowls at the table. ¡°Thinking about the recent murders in Wallsen, I feel it is time to show our civic-mindedness and put a stop to this nonsense. If I lose another guild contact, someone will pay in fresh liver. Talk to Sef for briefing and details.¡± Ailmon put the paper down. ¡°Interesting,¡± he commented.


    ¡°I think so too.¡± Naia nodded at him.


    ¡°And written with the guild¡¯s customary eloquence, I see,¡± Ailmon commented dryly.


    ¡°And especially wonderful since up until now we¡¯ve been hunting down nasty people who were alive! Not solving murders,¡± Aran said caustically. ¡°We can barely figure out how to meet at a tavern¡­¡±


    ¡°Hey! I was setting us up with a fabulously paying job, I wasn¡¯t late!¡± Naia said sharply.


    ¡°It¡¯s half past eight¡­¡±


    ¡°I like it.¡± Shale commented. ¡°We¡¯re probably ready to do something else... Besides, I felt sort of bad for the last fellow we tracked down.¡±


    ¡°He killed three people!¡± Aran stated.


    ¡°In self-defence, as it turned out.¡± Shale shrugged. ¡°Seemed sad to turn him in. So, you talked to the Guild Mistress?¡± she asked Naia.


    ¡°I did. Handsome woman, I must say. Really forceful, with this billowing aura of dark deliciousness just¨C¡°


    ¡°Can we please get back on track?¡± Aran interjected.


    ¡°It seems to me like the job requires the same level of tracking skills we¡¯ve displayed in our previous jobs,¡± Ailmon said evenly, making the others fall silent. ¡°Tracking down a living mark is the same whether we¡¯re dealing with a murderer or any other kind of fugitive.¡±


    ¡°Except this time, we don¡¯t actually know who we¡¯re hunting.¡± Aran threw his hands in the air.


    ¡°No, but that¡¯s the fun bit!¡± Naia grinned.


    ¡°It¡¯s not fun! None of this is fun,¡± Aran exclaimed.


    ¡°Fine¡­ It¡¯s serious. But it doesn¡¯t matter how you feel, because we have to meet with this Sef-guy in about an hour.¡±


    Aran ran his fingers through his short blond hair in frustration. When he began working with the others, he¡¯d secretly felt excited to not have to bear the responsibility of finding and doing the job all alone.


    That responsibility had certainly been lifted.


    o-0-o


    Over the last nineteen years, the Freelancers¡¯ Guild had grown and expanded organically in the slums known as Wallsen, ¡®wall¡¯s end¡¯ because it was where the city walls gave up, in the northern part of the city of Sonderport. By organically, most people, members of the fine problem-solving guild establishment included, meant to say like a tumour or one of those really annoying little blisters you sometimes get inside your mouth which just ruins your day a little.


    During a minor tiff many years ago with the more upscale establishment known as the Old Town Qualified Freelancers¡¯ Guild, which occupied a much fancier address in Sonderport, a banner had been nailed to the fa?ade of the Guildhouse saying, ¡®Absolutely no qualifications needed¡¯. Every member of the bureau in Wallsen had taken this upon themselves as a badge of honour, and the guild formally changed its name to the No Qualifications Needed Freelancers¡¯ Guild. Long-term members weren¡¯t shy to call themselves ¡®no qualifiers¡¯.


    The multi-coloured, timber-frame Guildhouse itself was really a sprawling hodgepodge labyrinth of several buildings, huddled weirdly and haphazardly together, sometimes connected by rooftop bridges or stairs, holes in the floor and secret doors.


    Aran, Shale, Ailmon, and Naia had made their way up stairs, down halls, up a suspiciously rickety ladder, over a connecting rooftop bridge, down more halls, and through an indoor marketplace where they doubled back, realising they were lost, before they finally found the right office. It was in a shabby corridor where the floorboards creaked so loudly it sounded like an animal in pain.


    Aran crossed his arms. Naia shrugged and knocked at the door where a small sign just said ¡®Sef¡¯.


    ¡°Do come in,¡± came a pleasant voice from inside, and when Naia opened the door, she stood still for a few heartbeats in astonishment. The spacious office stood in stark contrast to the shabby corridor, with soft sofas and chairs in bright colours, a beautifully carved desk, and a large cabinet of multi-coloured, expensive-looking bottles of liquor.


    ¡°Please, take a seat. The Guild Mistress told me you have come to solve our embarrassing little murder-problem.¡± The man who occupied the office fit the luxurious surroundings well. Tall and slender, with green eyes, dark hair down to his shoulders, colourful clothes of high quality, and a well-groomed short beard. He swung his feet off the sofa where was lounging and put down the book he¡¯d been reading.


    ¡°Come in, please.¡± He waved the group inside and they filed in, taking seats in the luxurious sofas. ¡°Shale!¡± Sef exclaimed.


    ¡°Forget it. I¡¯m not getting naked with you,¡± Shale stated evenly.


    ¡°You know each other?¡± Aran asked.


    ¡°Oh, yes,¡± Sef smiled brightly and looked at the half-orc woman. ¡°And somehow Shale believes that statement makes her less interesting¡­¡± He shook his head.


    Shale pointed to Naia. ¡°Other pair of tits. Focus on her.¡±


    Naia made a growling purr in her throat and shifted in her chair when her eyes met Sef¡¯s.


    ¡°We have to make sure to run into each other later,¡± Sef said to her, then clapped his hands. ¡°Well, to business. I don¡¯t imagine the Guild Mistress was very detail-oriented in the task statement?¡±


    ¡°No. Murders have been committed, the murderer should be stopped, but there were no details,¡± Aran said. ¡°So, we¡¯re going in blind and might not even be the right set of skills for the job,¡± he finished, looking at Naia, who just rolled her eyes.


    Ailmon held up the paper with the task briefing. ¡°As my compatriot hints, we need quite a bit of information. What exactly has happened? Which murders are we investigating, and have all the victims been guild contacts? Also, we need a timeline of the events as far as possible, what services the victims provided to the guild, and where they were found.¡±


    ¡°To business means to business with you, excellent,¡± Sef smiled broadly, got to his feet, and took a piece of paper off the desk. ¡°Here¡¯s a list of the deceased, their addresses, if applicable, where they were found and when. This last week has been quite annoying to the guild, as you can imagine. The first couple of murders, we thought nothing much of, to be honest. It¡¯s Wallsen. Not a day goes by without someone turning up dead. The guild has several contacts, as you can no doubt guess. It¡¯s good to stay informed on opportunities in the area and elsewhere. But now, it¡¯s beginning to look rather vengeful, if you have that sort of ¡­dirty mind.¡±


    Naia and Sef stared at each other for a moment, before he cleared his throat and continued, ¡°The latest victim was Sargon, the odd, screaming priest. Do you know him?¡±


    Shale nodded.


    ¡°He was active in Old Town, wasn¡¯t he?¡± Aran asked. ¡°I¡¯ve seen him stand there, near Mirea¡¯s temple. Tall, lanky fellow?¡±


    ¡°The very same. He went there every day to spread the, ehm¡­ good word of his god,¡± Sef confirmed. ¡°But in the process, he also picked up a wealth of information that was of occasional use to the guild.¡±


    ¡°But to my knowledge, Sargon was ¡­how do I put this diplomatically? A drooling lunatic. How was his information reliable to anyone?¡± Aran persisted.


    ¡°True, most of his information was shaky at best.¡± Sef nodded. ¡°But Sargon had his lucid moments, and even in his raving state, he was a curiously keen observer. He just did not know how to make use of the information he gained. That¡¯s where the guild stepped in to assist.¡±


    Aran just nodded. Assist, take advantage of¡­ maybe that was a grey area.


    ¡°Well, Sargon was found dead in front of the Guildhouse yesterday morning,¡± Sef continued. ¡°The corpse is down in the alchemy basement, perhaps you should start there? We spent yesterday making enquiries and talking to witnesses but ¡­here we are. Sargon wasn¡¯t the first to be killed; two of the guild¡¯s contacts in the area have died in the last week, as well as a young lady at a brothel that we are occasionally trading information with. She met a nasty end, and it¡¯s beginning to look like someone dislikes the guild for some reason.¡± Sef put the piece of paper he held down on the table between them, and Aran quickly snatched it up before any of the others could get to it. He quickly read the information and passed the paper to Ailmon, who read it with Shale looking over his shoulder.


    ¡°Keep me in the dark, why don¡¯t you,¡± Naia said with a theatrical sigh.


    ¡°Wait, Nester? The old drunk?¡± Shale asked, looking at Sef.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid so.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s Nester?¡± Naia asked.


    Sef gestured to Shale, who replied, ¡°A knight of the street. A sweet sort.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s a knight of the street?¡±


    ¡°A beggar, sorry,¡± Shale said. ¡°I didn¡¯t know he worked for the guild, though.¡±


    ¡°Well, none of the victims, so far, have been high profile informers, as you can probably guess,¡± Sef said, draping himself gracefully on the chair. ¡°But it¡¯s still enough to be worrisome when you add them all up. As you can see, I¡¯ve added a few words on the services they supplied us with.¡± He gestured to the list in Shale¡¯s hands. ¡°We need you to discreetly look for clues and find whoever is doing this. How you choose to deal with the responsible person is completely up to you, as long as the problem is solved discreetly. ¡­Did I mention discreetly? As in inconspicuous, unobtrusive? The Guild Mistress was quite clear on that. We can¡¯t risk things getting out until we know what we¡¯re dealing with. It won¡¯t do to tell everyone and their mother that we¡¯re attackable.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± Aran said, somewhat grudgingly. ¡°We can look into this.¡±


    ¡°Lovely,¡± Sef said. ¡°Any questions?¡±


    Aran looked at the others. Ailmon was characteristically dispassionate and wore his customary slight frown, Shale just nodded at him and Naia smirked predictably, her golden-brown eyes almost twinkling with triumph.


    ¡°No questions,¡± Aran said. ¡°Not at the moment. Except, how do we get to the alchemy basement? It took us half an hour to find this office.¡±

 Sargon, the mad priest

    ¡°Told you so,¡± Naia said as soon as the door to the office closed behind them.


    ¡°Your ability to restrain your childish glee in a grownup manner is a true marvel to behold,¡± Aran told her.


    ¡°Just admit I¡¯m amazing, and I¡¯ll let it go,¡± she said.


    ¡°I will admit that as soon as it turns out we were in fact qualified for the job and we get paid.¡±


    ¡°Right, so in three days, you say. In three days, you will admit I¡¯m amazing!¡±


    ¡°Where did the three days come from?¡± Shale interrupted.


    ¡°From the bet we are making,¡± Naia replied. ¡°I say we are done in three days. I¡¯m putting twenty gost and a bottle of fine Arabeskian arbit on it.¡±


    Aran made an involuntary disgusted sound.


    ¡°I will drink the arbit myself if you win, then!¡± Naia continued. ¡°Everyone likes arbit, what¡¯s wrong with you!¡±


    ¡°Nobody in Arabesk drinks that, they just sell it to the tourists,¡± Aran stated.


    Naia laughed. ¡°How the Hells would you know?¡±


    ¡°¡­Because I¡¯m from Arabesk,¡± Aran said, puzzled she didn¡¯t know, but not sure if he had actually ever told anyone. Why not, he wondered. It wasn¡¯t a particularly private fact.


    ¡°¡­Really?¡± Shale asked and opened a door as they made their way towards the basement. They had followed Sef''s instructions, but were now back at the indoor market, stretching the length of the block, seemingly with a bridge closing a gap between two houses in the middle. ¡°Right¡­ How did we¡­¡±


    ¡°I think I know where it went wrong,¡± Ailmon commented and led them back the way they¡¯d come.


    ¡°I thought humans from Arabesk tended to be dark skinned¡­¡± Shale said.


    ¡°Same!¡± Naia said. ¡°If you didn¡¯t have a tan, I would have guessed you were a ghost with that white hair. Even your eyes are pale with white on them.¡±


    Aran closed his pale-with-white-on-them eyes for a moment and shook his head. ¡°Well, I am from there. And yes, a lot of humans from Arabesk are dark-skinned and have dark eyes. And they all hurry up to sell their arbit to anyone who will take it away from the City of the Five Academies.¡±


    ¡°Tell me something only someone from Arabesk would know!¡± Naia demanded playfully.


    ¡°You will per definition not know if it¡¯s true, will you? I can tell you anything I want.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps we should focus on preparing for the meeting with the corpse, when we get there?¡± Ailmon interjected calmly.


    ¡°Spoilsport!¡± Naia laughed and tried the handle of the unassuming but solid-looking metal door to the basement.


    As soon as the door swung open, a wealth of smells assaulted the group. Sweet, rotten, sharp, flowery, pungent with an undertone of blue cheese left in the sun.


    ¡°Ooiy!¡± Shale exclaimed and hid her nose in the crook of her elbow.


    Before them stretched a very long and narrow underground room. On either side were desks and worktables with complicated-looking distillery machines, hundreds of bottles, flasks, vials, and jars scattered on every available surface. The people at tables nearest the door looked at them in the glare of the hundreds of lamps and candles illuminating the basement laboratory. Then they shrugged and went back to their work.


    ¡°Rosk! This is awful,¡± Shale commented, muffled by her shirt sleeve.


    ¡°Come on, it¡¯s not that bad,¡± Aran said.


    ¡°Says the human with no sense of smell. We¡¯re only one fourth the same species.¡±


    ¡°Well, the corpse is here, somewhere, so we don¡¯t have much of a choice.¡± Aran walked slowly through the room towards the back, where it opened up in a circular space with many more tables scattered around and fewer people working. The smells were slightly less insistent here.


    ¡°Elsbeth! Elsbeth!¡± came a piercing, nasal shout from somewhere near them and a middle-aged man of the small tribes, roughly the size of a seven-year-old human child, decked out in elaborate robes and a leather apron with multiple pockets holding strange-looking tools, appeared before them. ¡°Elsbeth!¡± he shouted again, and a harried-looking young woman in a similar robe, brown hair held away from her face with a blue scarf around her head, and balancing a tray of glass bottles, hurried to his side.


    ¡°Yes, Doctor Cosmo?¡± she said, as the small man looked up at the group.


    ¡°There are freelancers in my basement! Fetch my ladder!¡± the small man exclaimed.


    ¡°Yes, Doctor Cosmo.¡± The young woman set the tray down and fetched a step-ladder, placing it near Doctor Cosmo.


    The tiny man climbed up and stood so he was at eye height with Shale, who was still slightly bent over, an arm covering her nose.


    ¡°Who are you and what are you doing here?¡± Doctor Cosmo demanded nasally.


    ¡°Ehm¡­¡± Aran shook himself, ignoring the strange display. ¡°We have taken a job for the guild and need to see the corpse that was brought down here yesterday.¡±


    ¡°Ah, finally! Some of the others are getting the wobbles over him,¡± Cosmo stated and then shouted, ¡°Elsbeth!¡± although the woman was standing just next to him. ¡°Show the freelancers where the corpse is. Quickly!¡±


    ¡°Yes, Doctor Cosmo.¡± She gestured to the group to follow her.


    ¡°Thank you kindly,¡± Ailmon said as they moved past the strange fellow.


    Elsbeth led them to the end of the circular room and through a doorway into a small chamber. On the table in the middle of the room lay a sheet-covered corpse.


    ¡°The belongings he had with him are on the shelf here,¡± Elsbeth said, indicating a small wooden tray holding a few items. ¡°Please let me know if you need anything.¡±


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    ¡°I do, actually!¡± Naia said. ¡°Don¡¯t let that little crud-bugger bully you around.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ ehm¡­ I¡­¡± the woman obviously had no idea how to respond, staring at Naia with huge eyes.


    ¡°That was it. I don¡¯t need anything else. You can go.¡± Naia waved her off and Elsbeth seemed to heave a sigh of relief as she fled the small chamber.


    ¡°That was a form of well-meaning insolence I¡¯ve never seen in action before,¡± Aran nodded.


    ¡°Enough talk, we¡¯re working,¡± Naia dismissed.


    ¡°Alright. Let¡¯s see.¡± Ailmon lifted the sheet off the corpse, revealing an ascetic-looking man, his ribs were clearly visible under the white, waxen skin. His silver-streaked black hair was long, thin, and greasy, and there was a shadow of stubble on his sunken cheeks. The pale eyes were half-open, staring eerily into nothingness. The jaw hung slack, giving them a clear view of the dead man¡¯s blackened teeth.


    ¡°Let me just see,¡± Shale said and fished out the list of the victims again. ¡°Sargon the priest,¡± she read aloud. ¡°Supplied us with information on high class individuals in Old Town. Stabbed. Found in front of the Guildhouse yesterday morning. Ehh. Corpse in basement¡­ we know,¡± she muttered. ¡°Then it says to talk to Ibbi Wazzle at the Shindig. He might have seen something.¡±


    ¡°Might have seen something?¡± Aran asked. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that Sef-guy know before giving us the job?¡±


    Shale shrugged. ¡°It says he was Wazzle-drunk when it happened. You know how he is.¡± She grinned. ¡°That guy can hold more liquor than me.¡±


    ¡°You know him?¡± Ailmon asked. ¡°Well, that will make things easier.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t you feel¡­¡± Naia said from behind them.


    Shale gave Ailmon and Aran a puzzled look. ¡°Of course. He¡¯s the small-triber guy.¡± She pointed up towards the ceiling and presumably the Shindig above somewhere.


    Both Ailmon and Aran just stared blankly at her.


    ¡°He waits tables? Aran was talking to him this morning. It was probably Ibbi who stuck my braid in a bottle when I went out cold. He¡¯s somehow able to not die from his massive alcohol intake.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like a fantastic witness!¡± Aran nodded.


    ¡°Let¡¯s worry about that after the corpse, shall we?¡± Ailmon suggested.


    ¡°Alright.¡± Shale had lowered her arm from her nose and walked around the table, looking at the dead man. ¡°Well, that¡¯s a clean stab wound. Look, straight through.¡± She pointed to the neck and the other two crowded around to see.


    A large wound on one side of the neck gaped dully at them, and on the other side was a smaller exit wound.


    ¡°Hm, a knife of about this length?¡± Ailmon held out his hands, indicating the supposed length of the blade on either side of the corpse¡¯s neck. ¡°Like the ones sailors carry.¡±


    ¡°That narrows things down in the greatest port city in the Life Sea¡­¡± Aran said.


    ¡°Any kind of thug could carry a long knife. I¡¯m carrying a long knife.¡± Shale drew a blade strapped to the small of her back and held it up in front of the corpse¡¯s neck. It seemed to fit nicely. She sheathed the weapon again in a fluid motion.


    ¡°He¡¯s¡­¡± Naia said hesitantly from behind them.


    ¡°Are you sure you didn¡¯t kill him?¡± Aran asked.


    ¡°Sure as there are sixty-two miin to a gost.¡± Shale grinned. ¡°He was found yesterday morning. I was drunk last night, not the night before.¡±


    ¡°With that suspicion out of the way¡­¡± Ailmon interjected seriously, ¡°the stab is clean through. That would require a lot of strength, so we¡¯re most likely looking for a human and upwards man, or perhaps a woman of Shale¡¯s stature. Also, there¡¯s not that much slant to the stab, which would indicate someone as tall, or taller, than the victim. So now we¡¯ve ruled out any of the small tribes, smaller humans and¡­ well, dwarves, I suppose.¡±


    At the mention of dwarves, Shale automatically drew a circle over her heart with her thumb, a superstitious gesture of protection.


    ¡°You¡¯re ¡­rather good at this, though, aren¡¯t you?¡± Aran commented.


    ¡°I¡¯m a court scribe,¡± Ailmon stated evenly and without any pride in his voice. ¡°I¡¯ve seen far too many murderers pass through to not pick certain logical methods up.¡±


    A clatter behind them made all three of them turn. Naia had dropped something onto the tray of belongings she¡¯d slowly been rummaging through in the background. She turned, an unusually subdued and worried expression on her face.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Ailmon asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ it¡¯s¡­¡± She gestured to the meagre belongings on the tray and took a backwards step towards the doorway.


    Ailmon, Shale, and Aran went to look.


    ¡°You could talk to him, couldn¡¯t you?¡± Ailmon asked.


    Naia went pale, staring at him. ¡°Well, normally¡­¡± she just said and then gestured to the tray of belongings.


    The tray held a notebook with a long string attached through the binding, a small leather pouch, a belt, a tattered, folded-up robe, and what looked to be a flat, circular, greenish stone.


    ¡°¡­You can talk to the dead?¡± Aran asked, sceptical disbelief clearly written on his face.


    Before Naia could answer, Ailmon reached for the book and Shale took the stone.


    ¡°No!¡± Naia held out a hand to stop Shale.


    The half-orc woman just looked at her, puzzled, as she held the stone. It was about the size of a small child¡¯s palm, but looked very tiny in her large hand. It was smooth and flat and perfectly round.


    Naia let her hand fall, just staring at the stone and then up at Shale. ¡°It was¡­¡± she faltered.


    Shale gave Naia a puzzled look and then turned the stone over, holding it up to the light of one of the lamps on the walls. ¡°Weird thing. Pretty though. I¡¯ve never seen a green rock before. Look at this. There¡¯s almost a purple shine to it.¡± She held it out for the others to see.


    Ailmon, still holding the notebook, leaned forward and examined the stone carefully. ¡°It looks a bit too expensive to be in the hands of so destitute a fellow, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Stop godsdamned playing with that thing!¡± Naia exclaimed.


    All three turned to look at her, the corpse behind them forgotten.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ I¡¯ve been trying to tell you. Something is wrong. Can¡¯t you feel it?¡± Naia gestured to the small rock in Ailmon¡¯s hand. ¡°That thing feels off, wrong, like the stink of egg-farts and¨C¡± Her eyes suddenly widened, and she stared behind them, a flare of dark fire appearing instantly in her hand.


    The three whipped around, Aran and Shale both with a hand on their weapon hilts. It took them a few seconds to register what was wrong, but then it hit them: The pale, waxy skin on the corpse¡¯s chest was rippling, almost imperceptibly, as if the dead man were in the midst of some unholy, post-mortem shudder.


    ¡°Oh, shit!¡± Naia exclaimed behind them and suddenly the dead man¡¯s head rolled sideways, staring blindly at them. A noxious cloud, greenish in colour, spilt forth between the slack jaws and conquered the room.


    ¡°Out!¡± Aran shouted, and in a panicked tumble, all four made for the doorway. Shale grabbed Ailmon and hauled him along as Aran slammed into her, forcing her towards Naia who was first out the door.


    Aran felt Shale¡¯s large body grow strangely sluggish against him as they entered the circular room beyond the chamber at a run. Shale¡¯s grip on Ailmon faltered just as Ailmon¡¯s steps became slow mere seconds after they¡¯d gotten clear of the corpse chamber.


    Then Ailmon and Shale slowly collapsed, first onto their knees and then to the floor.


    ¡°Help!¡± Naia shouted and a commotion of alchemists came running towards them to see what the fuss was about, accompanied by Aran¡¯s frantic attempt to pull both unresponsive freelancers as far away from the room with the dead man as possible.


    Both Shale and Ailmon lay unresponsive as several of the alchemists rushed in with potions and smelling salts. Somewhere in the confusion, a nasal shout of ¡°Elsbeth¡± was heard, and Naia started loudly explaining that the corpse had vomited a cloud of green gob on them.


    Aran quickly looked into the chamber, but the corpse lay there, just as they had left it, head tilted to the side. Some of the braver alchemists rushed into the chamber with the corpse, the small Doctor Cosmo loudly directing the action.


    Aran and Naia both knelt at the side of their fallen compatriots. Ailmon stirred when one of the helpers held a vial under his nose. A few moments later, Shale started blinking and batting away Aran¡¯s hand on her shoulder.


    Shale slowly held up her hand. ¡°Fingers,¡± she stated woozily. ¡°Fingers and heads and door handles.¡±


    ¡°¡­What?¡± Aran and Naia looked at each other.


    Ailmon reached for Naia¡¯s hand, holding it tightly.


    ¡°Think you can get to your feet?¡± Naia asked, clearly puzzled at the unusual show of familiarity.


    Ailmon nodded, looking a little panicked, and she hauled him to his feet, helping him steady himself.


    Shale blinked and sat up. ¡°What the fifteen Hells¡­¡±


    ¡°Well, you and Ailmon fell over suddenly,¡± Aran explained.


    ¡°Hm, that¡¯s new¡­¡± She took the hand he held out to her and shakily stood up. ¡°You didn¡¯t see the¡­ things?¡±


    ¡°What things? Alright, that¡¯s enough. We¡¯re getting out of this damned basement and getting a drink!¡± Naia stated.

 A tale of two visions

    When they got upstairs into the guildhall, the group immediately went and found a table in a slightly quieter corner of the Shindig, the tavern connected to the Guildhouse. Both Ailmon and Shale still seemed subdued and uncertain.


    Beer had been procured and Aran and Naia gave each other a sidelong, worried glance.


    ¡°Alright, so what happened?¡± Aran finally asked, when neither Ailmon nor Shale seemed poised to volunteer any information.


    ¡°Well¡­¡± Ailmon rubbed his bald head and then seemed to turn his thoughts inwards again.


    ¡°I had a sort of¡­ vision, I suppose. It was weird.¡± Shale took a large gulp of beer, halfway emptying the mug.


    ¡°You had visions? Both of you?¡± Naia asked, an entirely inappropriate note of excitement in her voice. ¡°I knew this was going to be a great job!¡±


    ¡°So, what did you see?¡± Aran asked, looking from the burly half-orc freelancer to the bone-dry bureaucrat.


    ¡°I¡­ ehh¡­¡± Ailmon faltered. ¡°It was quite¡­ emotional.¡±


    ¡°Oh, this I gotta hear!¡± Naia took a dainty sip of beer and grinned.


    ¡°Well¡­ I was all alone. I¡¯d been taken away from my¡­ family, I suppose. I felt like I was alone in utter darkness and sadness, and not at all sure what had happened or where I was.¡±


    ¡°Like a victim of a kidnapping?¡± Aran asked. ¡°Could it, somehow, be something the mad priest experienced? And what the Hells happened? What was that ¡­cloud that came from the corpse and¨C¡°


    ¡°Relax!¡± Naia exclaimed. ¡°We¡¯ll figure it all out in good time. First things first. So, you were all alone?¡± she asked Ailmon.


    ¡°Yes. I was terrified. I had somehow¡­ I don¡¯t really know¡­ sensed my family disappearing? And I wasn¡¯t sure who I was without them. As if I was in a panic at what was happening to me, but also somehow in a panic about my own identity without them. It was¡­ very personal for me,¡± he finished in a low tone of voice, averting his gaze. He then took the dead man¡¯s journal, which he had somehow managed to hold on to, and put it in a pocket of his grey, austere tunic. Then he took a drink from his mug with a certain finality, clearly indicating that he¡¯d explained what he was going to explain.


    ¡°Do we know if the corpse had any family?¡± Aran asked nobody in particular.


    Naia shrugged. ¡°Probably, I mean, he was born at some point. Everyone has parents.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve lived in Wallsen most of my life,¡± Shale said quietly. ¡°There are a lot of sad people here and Sargon was definitely one of them. I doubt if he had any family that recognised him.¡±


    ¡°Oooh, sad!¡± Naia said and carelessly took another drink. ¡°So, what did you envision?¡±


    Shale lifted her mug, drained it, and held it up, wiggling it in a clear gesture of no story time until I get another one. Sighing, Aran went and ordered a new round.


    ¡°Alright, what did you see?¡± he asked when the drinks were on the table.


    ¡°I was in a¡­¡± She stopped herself, then began anew, ¡°I had a body, but I didn¡¯t understand it.¡±


    No further information seemed forthcoming.


    ¡°Look, Ailmon practically told us someone¡¯s sad life story. I mean, for Ailmon, that was wildly and emotionally informative.¡± Naia gestured at Shale with her beer. ¡°But ¡®I didn¡¯t understand my body¡¯ just won¡¯t do. Come on! Your father is a bard, you have to have grown up on stories. You can do this!¡±


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    Shale rolled her eyes. ¡°Great. Fine. I was in a body, and I didn¡¯t know how to steer it. But I managed to wobble out a door, which I also didn¡¯t understand, and get into the street. There, I gave something important to someone, a young woman. And judging from the way she reacted, I must have looked a bit weird. But she took the thing I gave her, even though I didn¡¯t understand speech. There,¡± shale downed another generous gulp of beer, almost defensively. ¡°That¡¯s it.¡±


    ¡°What did you give her?¡± Aran asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ It was very, very important. Vital, that I should pass it on. I think it may have been a thing like this¡­¡± She opened her hand and put the small, greenish-purple stone from the dead man¡¯s possessions on the table.


    ¡°You did not bring that crud-trumpet with you!¡± Naia exclaimed loudly and pushed her chair a little away from the table, staring at the stone as if it might bite.


    ¡°¡­Which brings us to the next lovely questions in a long line of things we don¡¯t understand,¡± Aran interjected smoothly, turning to Naia. ¡°What happened to you down in the basement? You knew something was going to happen.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know the deader would sodding vomit on us!¡± Naia exclaimed vehemently.


    ¡°I¡¯m not saying you did. I just want to know what was going on. You were nervous.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t nervous! I¡¯m never nervous!¡± she snapped.


    ¡°Alright, you can take that up with the handful of darkness you suddenly conjured. I¡¯ve seen you defend yourself before, remember? That display in the basement? That was nervous!¡±


    Naia crossed her arms. ¡°Fine. It felt like something was going to happen. And it did.¡±


    ¡°How does that feel?¡±


    ¡°As if something was alive. In that vile little piece of shit!¡± She angrily stabbed a finger at the innocent-looking stone on the table.


    ¡°Alive? A rock?¡± Aran asked, not as incredulously as he would have liked. Absurd boisterousness and know-it-all attitude aside, Naia knew about magical forces, and he did not.


    ¡°Yes, why don¡¯t you eat it and find out for yourself! Maybe your entrails are smarter than the rest of you!¡±


    Ailmon cleared his throat, before Aran had a chance to respond, and stared pointedly at the both of them, an eyebrow slightly raised. Then he produced a small notebook and a stylus from his belt pouch. ¡°Questions: what did the visions mean, and how were they produced? Furthermore, of possible importance, why were only Shale and I affected? You were as close as we were.¡± He pointed at Aran with the stylus after finishing the sentence on paper.


    ¡°Good¡­ questions.¡± Aran took a drink from his tarbean tea.


    ¡°We also have a possible weapon in the form of Naia if she can somehow sense whatever it is that¡¯s involved in this. And now, we need to look at the list of victims and determine where we want to start investigating.¡± Ailmon found the list Sef had given them and put it on the table. ¡°The first death was the beggar, Nester. He was found five days ago in a tenement building entrance. He was bludgeoned to death. The next to die was a prostitute named Shandra who worked in a brothel called the Spire. She was found the morning of four days ago, stabbed.¡±


    ¡°I love brothels! So much energy there!¡± Naia commented. Everyone at the table gave her looks and she shrugged innocently, gesturing for Ailmon to continue.


    Ailmon cleared his throat. ¡°The next guild informant to die was a fellow named Corwin, who was found in his bed with his throat slashed. He was found three days ago. And finally, there was Sargon. Now, the question is if these are all the victims there are? There might be other murders not being noticed because the victims just weren¡¯t guild informers. Especially since the first murder, Nester, was not committed with a knife. That seems strange. Like it wasn¡¯t the same person doing it.¡±


    ¡°Maybe he was just warming up?¡± Naia suggested.


    ¡°Perhaps. We might learn more when we get there. So, where do we start? Do we go by geography and pick the closest location, or do we work backwards or forwards?¡±


    ¡°The brothel won¡¯t be open until this evening, and we want to go there during opening hours, right? It would be impolite to barge in when night-working professionals are asleep,¡± Naia said.


    ¡°Good point,¡± Shale said. ¡°Well, we already started with the latest, maybe the second latest would make sense? We work our way backwards? That would be Corwin.¡± She glanced at Sef¡¯s list. ¡°Corwin Notary,¡± she read out loud. ¡°Supplied us with information on societies focused on the redistribution of wealth in the area. Found three days ago in his apartment on Murder Street number six - I¡¯m not even kidding - with his throat cut.¡± She folded the note and put it in her belt pouch.


    ¡°As good a place as any to start,¡± Aran said. ¡°And he was lodging in a house on Murder Street. That sounds ominously fortuitous for us.¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Ailmon said dryly. ¡°Wallsen charm comes in many flavours. Perhaps, however, we should consider Naia''s expertise?¡± He raised an eyebrow and looked at Naia.


    ¡°Oh, no! I¡¯m not doing that! I would have to go back down there and that¡¯s not happening unless it¡¯s absolutely necessary.¡±


    Aran looked at her and then back at Ailmon, feeling like some sort of communication was happening between the two that he wasn¡¯t invited to.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Shale interrupted. ¡°Let me just see if I can find Ibbi before we go. He might be able to tell us, what he saw,¡± Shale said and went to the bar.

 Ibbi Wazzle

    It was a bizarre sight when Shale returned and Ibbi joined her from behind the bar. He was the one who had brought their breakfast earlier, Aran realised. Ibbi was a handsome young small-triber man with golden curls and blue eyes, but he only reached up to Shale''s thigh. The giant of a woman with her tanned green skin and large mane of dark braids made Ibbi seem even smaller. Shale was carrying a tray of several tankards.


    ¡°Find Ibbi a chair,¡± Shale declared. ¡°It¡¯s his break and he¡¯s graciously agreed to talk to us for a couple of beers and a chance to sit down.¡±


    Aran pulled another chair over and the small man sat down on his knees, so he was functionally above the tabletop. He held up a hand to stop any questions before they began, then grabbed a tankard and washed a good deal of beer down. He smacked his lips and grinned at them. ¡°Break-time¡­¡± he said. ¡°So, what do you crazies want to know?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re looking into the death of a¡­ mad priest. Sargon?¡± Aran said. ¡°We were told you might have seen something?¡±


    ¡°Oh, right,¡± Ibbi nodded. ¡°He was a special class of crazy and that really means something around here.¡±


    ¡°So, what did you see?¡± Naia asked.


    ¡°Well, alright, so I was drunk, right?¡± Ibbi clarified, looking at them meaningfully.


    ¡°Sure. You could still give us a hint,¡± Aran said.


    ¡°Right, I had sort of wandered a bit after going out for a piss. It was late. I know that because Old Man Clawface was at the bar, I¡¯m pretty sure I remember that.¡±


    ¡°And by what logic do you tell time by Old Man Clawface - and who might he be, if you please?¡± Ailmon asked.


    Ibbi laughed. ¡°Alright, I guess you¡¯re the brain in the outfit. Clawface is this old freelancer. He comes here every night around three hours past midnight. So it was around that time, maybe four-ish. I was off duty at midnight, but then beer happened. So anyway, I walked out. I don¡¯t remember how long I was roaming about, but¡­¡± He paused to take a drink, sighing happily. ¡°I remember I was leaning on a wall somewhere dark and saw this tall man, human most likely, with a hood pulled down over his face and maybe a scarf or something hiding the lower part of his face, carrying a body out of one of the alleys, right? I think it might be¡­ two alleys down from Excessively Happy Alley.¡± He frowned and thoughtfully drank his beer.


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    ¡°What colour were his clothes?¡± Naia asked.


    Ibbi looked blankly at her. ¡°No clue, lady. Sorry about that. Dark-ish?¡±


    ¡°So a cloak and a scarf. What else?¡± Naia asked.


    Ibbi kept looking at her, more puzzled than before. ¡°Ehm. I don¡¯t know. I mean, trousers, I guess? He wasn¡¯t naked as far as I remember.¡±


    ¡°And you are sure it was a man?¡± Aran asked.


    Ibbi appeared to give this a good think. ¡°Nope,¡± he finally said. ¡°But if it were a woman, I think it would be a Shale sort of gal. He, she, it, they, them was carrying a person over their shoulder. So¡­ I wasn¡¯t exactly steady on my feet, right, and I might have sat down for a bit. But when I looked up again, I saw that the person being carried had long hair. That was all. It was hanging down over the ass of the person carrying him.¡±


    ¡°Did you see what happened then?¡± Aran prompted.


    ¡°Well, sort of, but not really. I think I saw the cloaked person put the corpse down. You know, right at the main door to the guild. But I had keeled over, and it was far away. I know they passed the brazier down the street. At least I think I didn¡¯t imagine that.¡± Ibbi emptied the tankard and reached for another.


    ¡°So, a person, most likely a human male, carried the priest from an alley nearby to the front of the Guildhouse?¡± Ailmon stopped and looked at Ibbi questioningly. When Ibbi nodded, Ailmon continued, ¡°What happened then? How did he put the corpse down?¡±


    ¡°How? He just put him down, I guess.¡± Ibbi shrugged.


    ¡°Did he remain standing and just throw the corpse or did he put the dead man down more carefully?¡± Ailmon specified.


    ¡°Oh, like that¡­¡± The small-triber man thoughtfully took a swig from his beer. ¡°He was sort of careful, you know. Put him down nicely.¡±


    ¡°I see. Did you report this happening to someone?¡± Ailmon asked calmly.


    ¡°Emm, no?¡± Ibbi looked at him and then at Shale. ¡°They¡¯re new here, huh?¡±


    Shale shrugged. ¡°Well, not old Wallsen-gerbils yet, that¡¯s for sure¡­¡±


    ¡°Right¡­¡± Ibbi looked back to Ailmon. ¡°I was drunk. I passed out. I think I may have rambled something to some people in the bar before I went out cold, but then again, maybe not. Anyway, he was found pretty early when the guild woke up, I¡¯m told, so no harm done.¡± He seemed to give his statement a think. ¡°¡­Alright, no additional harm done.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Ibbi,¡± Shale said. ¡°Three alleys down from Excessively Happy?¡±


    ¡°Two, I think,¡± Ibbi corrected her. ¡°And no worries. ¡­You¡¯re going to freelance off and look in the alley, right?¡±


    ¡°Why do you ask?¡± Aran asked.


    The small man flashed them a smile. ¡°Because if you do it now, I get all your beer.¡±


    o-0-o


    ¡°So, that was a complete waste of time!¡± Naia exclaimed. ¡°I halfway thought he was sending us into an ambush, but no such fun.¡±


    ¡°Ibbi is a kind enough man,¡± Shale said. ¡°He might be a bit calloused, but we all are. If you go to pieces here in Wallsen, you really go to pieces. But I doubt if he would ever hurt anyone.¡±


    Aran cast a last look at the alleyway. They had found a dried spray of blood on a rough clay wall halfway down the alley, but no other evidence, except the behavioural type they could conclude from Ibbi¡¯s story, had presented itself.


    ¡°Kind? I don¡¯t know about that. Earlier, Ibbi did let me know he punches at groin height¡­¡± Aran noted and smiled at Shale.

 Corwin Notary, the wealth-redistribution informant

    Murder Street was predictably shabby.


    The two-storey buildings lining the narrow street were constructed of wood and most leaned drunkenly and lopsidedly on each other, ensuring that not a single right angle existed anywhere in the area. Garbage and chamber pot contents littered the street, and although wooden planks had been thrown over parts of the potholed, unpaved street long ago, the boards were slippery with waste and grime and more hazardous to step on than just walking in the dirt. The stench was made more intense by the dyeing workshops in the area. Dyed pieces of fabric in yellow, red, and green were hung out to dry many places where lines could be drawn between houses. They dripped their colours into the grimy mud.


    A few painfully thin dogs scavenged the street and in some of the doorways, rough-looking people, both men and women, were lounging, eying the group suspiciously. Naia stuck out especially with her bright purple and red clothes and the deep green scarf she insisted on tying around her hair when she went out, the only streak of colour in a dingy world.


    The sky itself was overcast and grey, doing nothing to lighten the mood.


    Murder Street number six was every bit as shabby as the rest of the street. They entered a small hallway with a door on either side. A rickety-looking stair led up to the floor above. From behind one of the doors, the sound of a man and a woman arguing fiercely could be heard.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t say which floor Corwin lived on,¡± Shale said, looking at the list. ¡°Let¡¯s have a look upstairs. It¡¯s either that or ask¡­¡± She nodded towards the door from where the argument could be heard. Something crashed and broke inside the flat and the screaming argument grew louder.


    ¡°I¡¯d really rather we just fix this ourselves. Before we get mixed up in another murder,¡± Ailmon commented dryly, nodding towards the screaming sounds, and set off up the creaking stairs.


    The others followed him upstairs to a hallway that was every bit as dingy as the downstairs. Grey, brown, dirty, and dilapidated. There were four doors up here. One was standing slightly ajar, the door itself hanging lopsidedly on the hinges, and the handle was bent as if it had been kicked.


    ¡°Do I win something if I guess that¡¯s the murder-room?¡± Naia asked cheerfully.


    ¡°The right to go first?¡± Aran suggested.


    Ignoring them, Shale walked closer and gave the door a gentle push. It scraped noisily on the floorboards.


    The flat was comprised of one room with rather sparse furniture. It had obviously been looted. After the scavengers had been here, the furniture was scattered and upended, all except the simple bedtable and the narrow bed that was built into the wall near a small window.


    The bed itself must have remained untouched since the corpse had been taken to the Bacon House, because it looked a lot less messy than the rest; the enormous, dried bloodstain blossoming on the sheets and pillow notwithstanding. The blood had spilt through the mattress and pooled on the rough floorboards under the bed.


    There was a small desk, the single chair toppled over. In the corner stood a narrow, simple wardrobe that had obviously been rummaged through. A few items of underclothes were strewn about and only a single pair of underwear still lay inside.


    The freelancers stood staring at all this for a moment, then Naia exclaimed, ¡°Dibs on the murder-bed!¡± She went over to look at the bloodied linen, finger tapping her chin thoughtfully.


    ¡°Before you do that¡­¡± Aran said, pushing the door shut behind them. ¡°Perhaps we should make a plan? What are we searching for exactly?¡± he asked, looking at Ailmon.


    The court scribe raised an eyebrow. ¡°Very well, we are looking for anything that might give us a clue about both the murderer and the victim. Was Corwin involved in something, and that¡¯s what got him killed? How did the murderer find him in particular and how did the murderer gain entrance to the apartment? Look for personal effects, look at the blood and see if the murderer might have left footprints in it. Perhaps there are loose floorboards or things under the mattress.¡±


    ¡°Alright, I¡¯m going to start with the table,¡± Shale said.


    ¡°I¡¯m on the wardrobe, then,¡± Aran said. ¡°You can supervise,¡± he added to Ailmon who just gave a small, doubtful nod.


    Ailmon went to Naia¡¯s side, studying her as she rummaged around, lifting the hay mattress from the simple bed frame made of wooden boards and peeling the stained sheets apart. He clasped his hands behind his back.


    ¡°You¡¯re being very teacher-like right now. Do you want to quiz me?¡± she asked, looking over her shoulder. Behind them, the sound of knocking was heard as Aran optimistically searched for secret rooms, both inside the wardrobe and on the floorboards.


    ¡°I was just thinking maybe the blood was useful to you.¡±


    ¡°Oh, well, not really. It¡¯s a little too old and blood rituals were never really where I excelled. Only works with my grandmother.¡± She patted her chest.


    Ailmon shook his head briefly, not comprehending the gesture.


    Naia pulled a chain that hung around her neck up from her cleavage, dangling the small vial encased in metal filigree. Inside was a grimy, dark liquid that seemed to still be viscously fluid.


    ¡°I see. Family is different, I suppose. Alright, so what are your thoughts?¡± He gestured to the bed and then clasped his hands behind his back again.


    ¡°Seriously?¡± Naia let the vial slip back under the low neckline of her dress and gave him a long, flat stare. Then she rolled her eyes and crouched down to look under the bed. ¡°The scavengers even stole the chamber pot and I¡¯m not seeing any incriminating footsteps, so I guess that means he wa¨C¡°


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    ¡°Or she.¡±


    ¡°Fine! He or she or it was either careful not to step in the blood or clambered out the window after slashing Corwin¡¯s throat.¡± She stepped onto the bed to look out, opening the narrow window. ¡°I guess for a tall, strong person, it wouldn¡¯t be that bad of a climb, really. Plenty of garbage down there to cushion the fall, too. If you don¡¯t mind bouncing into the equivalent of a latrine pit.¡± She waved a hand before her nose. ¡°I swear, Sonderport is the only place in the world where opening the window in a murder room makes the smell worse.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps someone saw the murderer afterwards. Climbing out,¡± Ailmon mused. ¡°That¡¯s a lot of blood. The murderer would be painted red.¡±


    ¡°Oh, aaand!¡± Naia handed him a small cloth bag, which she¡¯d held concealed in the hand. ¡°This was under the bed.¡±


    Ailmon stared sternly at her and then took the bag. A small paper tag was attached to the string. ¡°Rutherford Dibble¡¯s fever cure. Guaranteed relief,¡± he read. Then he sniffed the bag. ¡°Some sort of herbs.¡±


    ¡°So Corwin was sick before he died!¡± Naia exclaimed.


    ¡°I think I have something. Come look at this,¡± Shale said. She had taken the narrow, empty drawer out of the desk and was working it with a knife. ¡°There we are. Hidden compartment. Pure dumb luck the scavengers didn¡¯t take it.¡±


    With the tip of the knife, she lifted a wooden plate inside the drawer, revealing a small leather bag. She cast a glance to the door, making sure it was closed, and then emptied the contents onto the table.


    ¡°Oooh,¡± Naia began at the sight of the small golden gost coins that tumbled out, and then blurted out: ¡°No, gods damn this!¡±


    At the bottom of the small moneybag was a flat, circular disk. It even had the gall to look cheerful in the gloomy room, green and bright purple veins intermingling prettily across the surface.


    ¡°What the Hells are these things?¡± Aran asked. ¡°Vision-people, any thoughts?¡± He looked from Ailmon to Shale.


    Ailmon crossed his arms defensively.


    ¡°I think someone is distributing these. The person whose¡­¡± Shale shrugged, ¡°whose memory or dreams or whatever it was that I glimpsed. We glimpsed,¡± she amended.


    ¡°What are we going to do with that information, though?¡± Aran asked, thinking out loud. ¡°We can assume this person is giving these things out, and somehow that ends up getting them killed, but a small rock obviously doesn¡¯t wield a knife. So perhaps they function as some sort of sign? Some of the gangs in Wallsen have that sort of thing going on. To spread terror.¡±


    ¡°The Stain likes to send their soon-to-be victims dead birds¡­¡± Shale mused. ¡°The woman I saw in my vision, though¡­ She didn¡¯t look threatened or worried in the least. More like a little amused and grateful almost. I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Well, we need to know if anyone in the area saw or heard something, so I suppose joining the downstairs argument is inevitable. Let¡¯s knock on doors on this floor, too. The surrounding area as well. I suppose Corwin¡¯s small fortune can grease their palms. It¡¯s in his best interest that we find the killer.¡±


    ¡°And get a few rounds for our troubles,¡± Naia added. ¡°Should we split up?¡±


    Shale shook her head. ¡°Two and two might work, but nobody should find themselves alone here. Bad idea.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s stick together here, then we can knock on doors outside, as long as each group stays in sight of each other,¡± Aran said and counted out half of the gost coins, giving them to Shale.


    o-0-o


    The upstairs information-gathering yielded no results as nobody was home, and though Naia suggested they break in, she was voted down.


    They stopped before the door where the noisy dispute was still going on and Aran knocked loudly. The sounds from inside stopped and stomping footsteps were heard approaching.


    A thin human woman opened the door a crack, peering angrily out at them. Her mousy hair hung limp around a haggard face, and though she was presumably not very old, there were crow¡¯s-feet at her eyes and two sour lines between her brows. ¡°What do you want!¡± she barked at them. ¡°Piss off. We already paid taxes.¡±


    Aran tried to conceal an incredulous laugh at the likely lie. ¡°We¡¯re not tax collectors. Your neighbour was murdered three days ago. We were wondering if you heard or saw something.¡±


    The woman stared at them with her eyes screwed up. ¡°Wot! He owe you money or something?¡±


    ¡°Nope. We¡¯re just concerned citizens,¡± Aran lied. She was about to close the door, when he added, ¡°And we¡¯ll pay for any information you could give us.¡±


    He found one of the golden coins in his pocket and held it up. The woman hesitated. Footsteps were heard behind her and a man appeared next to her, opening the door further. He was tall and lanky with sunken cheeks, thin hair, and wearing a dirty, stained tunic over threadbare brown trousers. He snatched at the coin, but Aran quickly closed his hand.


    ¡°Information first!¡±


    ¡°Fine! What do you want to know?¡± the man asked aggressively.


    ¡°Your upstairs neighbour was found dead a couple of days ago. Did you hear or see anything that might have something to do with that?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, what with the blood dripping down here. Disgusting. So I went up for a look-see.¡±


    ¡°So you were the one who found him?¡± Aran asked.


    ¡°Yeah, kicked down the door and he was all dead and staring. Blood all over the place.¡±


    ¡°When did this happen?¡± Ailmon interjected, taking a step forward to be next to Aran.


    ¡°Couple days ago. We already said!¡± the woman answered sourly.


    ¡°Alright, how many days are a couple? And did you hear anything the night before?¡±


    ¡°How many days? Stupid gong-farmer! Couple days is a couple days, you daft?¡± she responded.


    ¡°You trying to be all posh and look down on us; you can piss off!¡± the man sneered vehemently, leaning close to Ailmon who didn¡¯t as much as flinch.


    Behind them, Shale straightened up in her full height and gave a growl in her throat, which made Naia giggle.


    The man leaned backwards again, into the safety of the doorway, and the woman punched his arm.


    ¡°Alright, fine,¡± Aran said before a fistfight had a chance to evolve. ¡°So did you hear anything, the night before the blood started dripping?¡±


    ¡°Sure. We heard creaking, like someone snuffling ¡®round and some shouts, and we thought it was someone getting their business on, so we listened in,¡± the woman said, completely unabashed.


    Aran and Ailmon cast a quick glance in each other¡¯s direction.


    ¡°What kind of creaking? Like someone walked past in the hall and the stairs?¡± Ailmon asked.


    ¡°Nah, not like that,¡± the man said. ¡°Like someone rummaging with a window or door. Then there was a scream, all hoarse and gahh-like.¡±


    ¡°Some man shouted something like, ¡®I¡¯m sorry. I can¡¯t let her something or another¡¯,¡± the woman added.


    ¡°Was that a verbatim rendition?¡± Ailmon asked, eyebrow raised.


    ¡°Wot?¡± both residents of the downstairs flat chorused.


    ¡°Did the voice actually say, ¡®I can¡¯t let her something or another¡¯?¡± Ailmon clarified.


    ¡°Nah, course not, you stupid?¡± the man snapped. ¡°He said something all smart, but we didn¡¯t really hear it, and it didn¡¯t sound like he was getting it on, if you know what I mean. But that dumb knobface deserved it. Always prancing ¡®round like he owned the place.¡±


    ¡°Corwin? Did you know him? What sort of fellow was he?¡± Aran asked.


    ¡°Corwin? That his name?¡± the woman said. ¡°He was all with his nose in the air like he was better than everyone. All quiet and know-it-all.¡±


    ¡°How long did he live here?¡±


    ¡°A year, maybe. I don¡¯t know,¡± she shrugged.


    ¡°Did he have any friends that came over?¡± Aran enquired.


    ¡°Nah,¡± the woman said. ¡°No girls either or boys or whatever.¡±


    ¡°Did he leave every morning? Do you know where he worked?¡±


    ¡°How should I know? I¡¯m not his mum, am I!¡±


    Aran looked at the others to see if any more questions were forthcoming.


    ¡°You said you kicked down the door¡­¡± Ailmon said. ¡°Did you try the handle first?¡±


    ¡°Sure I did. He¡¯d locked it, all important like,¡± the man said in a tone like that was an insult.


    Ailmon just nodded and took a small step back, obviously done with the questions.


    ¡°Alright, thank you for your help.¡± Aran handed the woman the coin.


    She snatched it and as the group left the building, she screeched, ¡°Hey, that was worth a lot more than one sodding gost!¡±

 One shick, many shicks

    The door-to-door search in the Murder Street neighbourhood had yielded nothing, and the freelancers had decided to regroup at the Shindig for a late lunch, so they could talk the matter over.


    ¡°What we know so far,¡± Ailmon said, looking up from his notebook, ¡°is that the murderer spoke in a man¡¯s voice, most likely entered the building through a window, entered the room, told Corwin, who might have been ill, that he was sorry and couldn¡¯t let her ¡®do something or another¡¯ before, or while, he slashed his throat. Then it seems he left again, probably through the window.¡±


    ¡°You wrote all that down in the last minute?¡± Aran asked.


    Ailmon looked at him, puzzled. ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Told you the ass-badger was a man,¡± Naia said.


    ¡°You did indeed,¡± Ailmon just confirmed.


    The group fell silent as their food was served by a surly old woman.


    ¡°Well,¡± Shale said after the server had left. ¡°Right now, we can follow up on the curio shop, wonder about why Corwin had a small fortune lying around, or proceed to the next location. That would be Shandra¡¯s murder. At the brothel.¡±


    ¡°The Spire isn¡¯t open for another seven hours or so,¡± Naia said. ¡°And what curio shop?¡±


    ¡°From the bag of herbs.¡± Shale gestured at Ailmon, who put the small bag of herbs found in Corwin¡¯s apartment on the table. She held the small paper tag between her large fingers. ¡°Rutherford Dibble runs a curio shop and a ¡­museum, I guess it is. My mum used to take me there when I was little.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been there. It¡¯s a weird place,¡± Aran said. ¡°And Dibble is a weird character.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes,¡± Shale just nodded.


    ¡°I know him from the courts,¡± Ailmon supplied. ¡°He¡¯s occasionally indicted for this or that and always manages to slither out of everyone¡¯s grasp. Quite professional, really. I can¡¯t help but admire that sort of tenacity. I¡¯m sure he¡¯s better acquainted with the laws of Sonderport than most judges.¡±


    ¡°¡­Did he ever kill anyone?¡± Aran asked.


    ¡°No, no, I highly doubt it.¡± Ailmon waved the question off. ¡°Dibble might be crafty in matters of finances, and perhaps procures things of a shady nature through questionable means, but he doesn¡¯t strike me as a person who would use physical coercion of any kind. According to rumour, however, he has dealings with the Hildana dwarves of Uldran Underwaves occasionally. I presume it¡¯s to turn over kemlek objects he might have come across, as the law dictates, but I¡¯m not certain.¡±


    Shale made the symbol to ward off evil at the mention of dwarves. ¡°Good grief¡­ Thank you for ruining a beloved childhood memory,¡± she said, looking as forlorn as her tusked visage would let her.


    ¡°Oh.¡± Ailmon¡¯s usually impassive face twitched just a little. ¡°I do apologise. That wasn¡¯t my intention.¡±


    ¡°So, any thoughts on how a man living in the absolute arse-end of Wallsen would have forty gost lying around in a secret drawer?¡± Aran asked, stabbing at his slobnog pie to let the steam out. ¡°He could have bought the house. I mean, the note did say he supplied the guild with information on thief gang activity in the area, but he must have had his fingers in something serious.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Ailmon rummaged in his bag and produced the book with the string through its binder that Sargon had had with him when he was killed. ¡°Perhaps the same was true of the mad priest.¡±


    ¡°The shitty rocks - the shicks - might be some sort of symbol of a gang or club or cult or whatever,¡± Naia added.


    ¡°We are not calling murder investigation evidence ¡®shicks¡¯,¡± Shale stated calmly.


    ¡°Not all of the evidence, no, just the shicks.¡±


    Shale drew a deep breath.


    ¡°You know what, let¡¯s call the rocks shicks,¡± Aran said. ¡°Why the Hells not. Provided,¡° he said, holding up a hand to stop Naia cheering, ¡°you tell us what exact quality they¡¯re imbued with that makes them ¡®shitty¡¯. And ¡®they smell of egg-fart¡¯ won¡¯t be enough.¡±


    Naia rolled her eyes. ¡°It¡¯s unbelievable you can¡¯t feel it! You people have got to be blind on the inside of your skulls. It¡¯s like egg-fart inside your head. Like a yellow-brown, vile ¡­something, wanting whatever, tickling your brain in a really, really ¡­crappy way. There! I don¡¯t know how else to say it. Those little shicks want something. And maybe they even got whatever they wanted from the victims.¡± She stared pointedly at Aran, unusually serious. ¡°There might be some guy out there doing the actual hands-on stabbing and slashing, but the shicks got there first and they are nasty!¡±


    ¡°Look¡­ A yellow-brown, vile something is not a helpful description¡­¡± Aran gestured vaguely, then shook his head. ¡°Could you be more specific?¡±


    ¡°Fine, it wants something. The shicks want to¡­ I don¡¯t know, make a home for themselves in your mind. Why can¡¯t you just trust me on this, it¡¯s ridiculous! If Shale said, ¡®oh, this has a yellow smell, let¡¯s not try to put it in our mouths¡¯, you would agree with her instantly! It¡¯s not fair!¡± Naia crossed her arms and scowled.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    The scowl turned into a pout as Aran stared at her. ¡°Alright, perhaps you¡¯re right,¡± he finally admitted. ¡°But the chance of Shale describing something we¡¯re supposed to evaluate as a threat in terms of vague mental colours and smells is ¡­fairly low. I do trust you that the rock¨C the shicks are a threat, but if you can¡¯t explain how or what kind of threat they are and what we¡¯re supposed to do about it, I just don¡¯t know how to deal with it. How are we supposed to take precautions against the colour yellow?¡±


    Naia rolled her eyes and sighed. ¡°Fine! But I can¡¯t explain something magical to someone who doesn¡¯t get it. It would be like explaining why sex is fun to someone with no body. And I don¡¯t even know what they are.¡±


    ¡°So¡­¡± Shale said hesitantly, ¡°The shicks are magical?¡±


    ¡°Of course they are! That¡¯s the most basic and obvious fact,¡± Naia said, exasperated. ¡°It¡¯s just a nasty, sickly sort of magic that I¡¯ve never ever felt before.¡±


    Aran stared at her, then closed his eyes for a moment. ¡°You could have led with ¡®oh, look, a magical stone¡¯, you know.¡±


    ¡°I thought that was implied! Ailmon brought me along to this ridiculous group because I¡¯m needle-touched and an amazing caster. What did you think I meant!¡±


    Ailmon cleared his throat. ¡°Could you perhaps tell us how magic feels ordinarily, so we gain a frame of reference? It¡¯s difficult to assess how wrong magic is when we don¡¯t know it when it¡¯s right.¡±


    Naia sighed and stabbed at her food. ¡°I thought this was just common knowledge with people like freelancers. I mean, when we hunted down that guy last month, he was wielding magic, and none of you batted an eye.¡±


    ¡°We didn¡¯t need to; you took care of it, if you remember,¡± Shale shrugged.


    Naia took a bite, chewed for a long time, and then finally said, ¡°Magic of the kind I deal with is based on shadow and all the force of life dissipating. It has a warm, closed-off sort of sensation. Like being in a nice, red bedroom, snug under the covers when it¡¯s freezing outside.¡±


    Aran, Shale, and Ailmon just looked at each other.


    ¡°Life dissipating?¡± Shale finally asked.


    Naia shrugged happily. ¡°Like shadows are a product of light, a sort of in-between of light and dark, death is a product of life. That in-between place where life dissipates holds a freakish buttassload of force, just waiting to be played with.¡±


    ¡°Sooo,¡± Aran said slowly. ¡°You¡­¡±


    Naia looked expectantly at him.


    ¡°You somehow draw on death to do what you do?¡±


    ¡°Aran, you are seriously not a careful listener!¡± Naia snapped. ¡°It¡¯s the in-between force I do stuff with. It¡¯s like clay, just sitting there, waiting to be shaped into something useful.¡±


    ¡°But you can¡¯t have life dissipating if you don¡¯t have death.¡±


    ¡°Sure you can. If someone is bleeding out, that gives me a lot to work with, but they can still be saved afterwards. If they¡¯re freshly dead, the flesh usually still remembers the withering, but it¡¯s not quite as amazing.¡±


    ¡°So then, on a battlefield for example, with people dying all around you, you¡¯d be unstoppable?¡± Shale asked.


    ¡°Oooh, pretty much. I¡¯d love that. But, booo, war is bad. Except when it isn¡¯t.¡± She grinned. ¡°I have serious wet dreams about an attack fleet somehow making it past those weird rock trolls at the Harbour Chain and attacking the city.¡± Naia sighed wistfully. ¡°But, you know, I take what I can get naturally. That¡¯s why Wallsen is such a great place. There¡¯s always in-betweening happening somewhere nearby.¡±


    ¡°Alright, thank you for clarifying that. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever been more disturbed,¡± Aran said, nodding.


    ¡°Oh, come on!¡± Naia exclaimed. ¡°You run around stabbing the crud out of people and sneaking around like a ghost, but I¡¯m disturbing? Do you remember those guards in New Town when we were hunting that Kai-guy down? You were just suddenly there, and they just suddenly had knives in their necks. No talking, no thought, just stab-stab-arrgh!¡± She mimed stabbing several times to illustrate.


    ¡°That¡¯s a very legitimate argument,¡± Ailmon interjected before Aran could respond.


    ¡°I¡¯ve killed too. I always let the attackers hit first, or try to at least, but let¡¯s face it,¡± Shale said, ¡°we¡¯re violent people. It comes with the freelancer title. Well, and Wallsen. But we¡¯re not taking any steps to become less likely to fight our way out of things.¡±


    ¡°Hurrah!¡± Naia raised her arms in the air in triumph. ¡°I¡¯m normal!¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t go that far!¡± Aran said. He would have liked to stay stern, but a tiny smile annoyingly tugged at the corner of his mouth.


    Naia held up her cup. ¡°A toast to you twat-waffles asking what I mean in clear terms if you¡¯re confused by my wealth of inherent knowledge.¡± She grinned.


    ¡°A toast to Sonderport only being attacked if Naia is here,¡± Shale said with a tusked smile, holding up her cup.


    ¡°A toast to our resident near-death caster never going power-mad,¡± Aran said good-naturedly.


    ¡°Hey! Shut your bunghole!¡± Naia laughed.


    ¡°A toast to us getting back to work,¡± Ailmon said, killing the mood.


    All four took a drink and then Shale said, ¡°So, the book of the mad priest?¡±


    Ailmon picked up the book, rifling through the pages that were almost all closely written and drawn upon in a strange, unsettling jumble. He pushed it over, so Shale could see as well, turning the pages to the last one. The entire book was full from one end to the other.


    They both studied the pages, turning them slowly while taking bites of their food.


    ¡°Mad Anthrax, creator of cabbage, bless the¡­¡± Shale read aloud, staring at the next word with her brow furrowed.


    ¡°Sand people?¡± Ailmon suggested, struggling to read the lopsided, random script.


    ¡°Not sure¡­ does that say ¡®hunting¡¯ or ¡®mutiny¡¯?¡±


    The pair kept reading, quite often wondering at words in the bizarre collection of Sargon¡¯s prayers, disjointed thoughts and apparent impressions on things happening around him. Aran and Naia just watched their struggles while they ate.


    ¡°I hope he reported his wisdom in spoken form, when he worked with the guild,¡± Shale commented. ¡°If he wrote them reports, it would be a real mess.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t really seem like that thing will yield much,¡± Aran commented after the meal. ¡°Unless you come across a paragraph stating that someone specific paid him to babysit a shick, and details about why they purchased that service from him.¡±


    ¡°I fear you are right. This seems like mad ramblings at best. If the shicks want to live in people¡¯s minds, I doubt if the d¨¦cor in Sargon¡¯s mind was to their liking,¡± Ailmon said dryly and turned a page. ¡°I¡¯ll read the last tonight and see if there¡¯s anything useful to learn, but I doubt it. Oh, unless one of you want to go over it?¡± He held out the book to Shale, who just rubbed her eyes, and then across the table to Aran and Naia.


    ¡°No thanks, I value my sanity,¡± Aran said.


    ¡°Same here. I don¡¯t really want to touch it. Besides, I¡¯m sitting here contemplating going power-mad, so I¡¯m pretty busy.¡± Naia breezily waved the book off.


    ¡°You¡¯re never going to forget that comment, are you?¡± Aran sighed.


    ¡°Not a chance! So,¡± Naia said briskly, grinning. ¡°Watch me, I¡¯m going to do an Ailmon now: We can¡¯t sit around wondering about the money since we don¡¯t have enough information to make any kind of conclusion on it. So, we should head off to that shop-museum thingy and ask if Corwin was there.¡± She looked quite proud of herself and smiled confidently.


    ¡°I would have said ¡®let¡¯s go to The Astounding Cabinet of Unbelievable Rarities¡¯,¡± Ailmon commented. ¡°But close enough.¡±

 The Astounding Cabinet of Unbelievable Rarities

    The venerable Rutherford Dibble, salesman extraordinaire, was the owner of The Astounding Cabinet of Unbelievable Rarities, situated in a rundown part of southern New Town, close to the checkpoint known as Hole in the Wall dividing Wallsen and New Town.


    New Town was several city wards away from Old Town, being surrounded by Wallsen to the west, Urod Circle to the south, and Draggok Hill to the east. The area wasn¡¯t exactly extravagant, but it was far from the squalor and lack of attention to details which Wallsen embodied full force. The houses here were mostly built of stone or brick, not wood, timber-frame, or mud. The streets were considerably cleaner and the stores around this part of town sold goods of a much higher quality, comparatively. ¡®What a difference a wall makes¡¯ was a Sonderport proverb.


    The building itself was an ordinary-looking, two-storey tenement house of whitewashed brick, and the windows into the shop on the ground floor looked greyish and rain-spattered. The sign hanging above the door, however, was wildly colourful, which made it seem quite loud in the slightly dreary street.


    It was comparatively much more expensive to live in New Town, but the Sonderportians living here happily paid the extra money to at least half the chance of getting mugged or murdered.


    Naia gave a low whistle when they neared the curio shop and she spotted a small cart in the street, where a young man was selling flowers. ¡°Imagine how quickly he¡¯d be mugged, raped, and murdered just a few minutes¡¯ walk in that direction¡­¡± She pointed a thumb over her shoulder in the direction they had come from.


    ¡°It makes quite a difference,¡± Shale agreed. ¡°Wallsen has gotten better though, just in my lifetime.¡±


    ¡°Better? Are you serious?¡± Aran asked.


    ¡°Statistically, there¡¯s been a four percent drop in conviction rates of Wallsen citizens in the last twelve years,¡± Ailmon supplied.


    ¡°I thought you¡¯d been here for a long time,¡± Shale said, looking curiously at Aran.


    ¡°Long enough to know some people. Not long enough to recognise improvements, it seems.¡±


    ¡°The analysis of conviction rates isn¡¯t complete without mentioning that the slums outside the walls,¡± Ailmon nodded in a northerly direction, ¡°has seen a rise in crime, which with a quick estimate equals every single person living outside the walls of Sonderport committing roughly nine separate crimes a day. So, let¡¯s not get our hopes up.¡±


    ¡°Absolutely! Let¡¯s stay depressed!¡± Naia commented.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m sure there was a time when¡­ I don¡¯t know, Spire Ward was on the outskirts of the city and full of crime,¡± Shale said. ¡°It seems the less fortunate are just pushed north as the city expands over the centuries.¡±


    ¡°Quite so,¡± Ailmon confirmed. He pushed the door to the curio shop open and a wealth of small bells chimed. The bells were hanging intermittently on a long string that was pulled when the door opened, winding across the ceiling into the murky back of the shop.


    Inside, the oblong room stretched to either side of the door, with shelves lining every wall from floor to ceiling. Ordered lines of shelves marched down the middle to form aisles down both sides. Every spot on every shelf was full of goods of all kinds. Small statuettes and figurines of every description, books, bags, pouches, jars or strange things, boxes, dried herbs, weapons and every other kind of item imaginable. A full suit of armour stood menacingly on a stand right before the door and behind it was a long wooden counter, brightly lit by a large lamp, with a doorway behind it, shrouded by a dark blue velvet curtain.


    The man behind the counter looked up from a large book he¡¯d been writing in when they entered. He was a lanky, thin human, looking to be about fifty years of age, weathered and a bit dusty, with short, wispy grey hair and lively grey eyes. He was dressed in a colourful, well-worn assortment of a tunic and vest with several pockets and a short, green cape draped over.


    ¡°Marvellous!¡± the man exclaimed, suddenly animated and lively to fit his colourful clothes. ¡°Come in, come in! What can I do for you this fine afternoon?¡±


    ¡°Hello, master Dibble,¡± Shale said and approached the counter. ¡°My friends and I are here because we need information on a product you¡¯ve sold.¡±


    Dibble looked at her intently while she spoke. Then he looked some more, narrowing his eyes a bit. ¡°I¡¯m very happy to help you, young lady, but you look familiar! Have we met before? And do forgive me if I don¡¯t remember it.¡±


    Shale looked over her shoulders where the others had gathered and then back at the shopkeeper. ¡°Well, I was here as a child, but I haven¡¯t really been back here since.¡±


    Dibble suddenly clapped his hands sharply, grinning. ¡°Of course! You are Narga¡¯s daughter, aren¡¯t you! ¡­Shale?¡±


    ¡°Yes¡­¡± Shale said, dumbfounded. ¡°You remember my mother?¡±


    ¡°Of course, of course. Lovely woman, I do hope she¡¯s doing well?¡± Dibble said energetically.


    ¡°Yes, very well. Thank you. I¡¯ll tell her to come by.¡±


    ¡°How wonderful. And look at you; sweet, tiny, shy Shale, all grown up.¡±


    Aran took a step to stand next to Shale at the counter. ¡°Please tell us more about sweet, tiny, shy Shale,¡± he requested wholeheartedly.


    The half-orc woman looked down on him with a stern stare.


    ¡°Alright, maybe later.¡± Aran shrugged and sidestepped so Ailmon could approach and put the pouch of herbs from Corwin¡¯s room on the counter.


    ¡°We found this,¡± Ailmon said, nodding at the bag of herbs. ¡°We were wondering if you remembered selling it?¡±


    ¡°How very intriguing!¡± Dibble exclaimed, taking the pouch and looking at the note attached before he turned his gaze to Ailmon. ¡°What a truly astounding day! It began so very drearily, but here you all are on a mysterious errand, doubtlessly to do good. I¡¯m happy to see that young Shale is in fine and lawful company, my good man,¡± he said in an earnest tone. ¡°Not that I¡¯m surprised at that, but I must assume that your present quest has a tinge of something legal, since an official of the courts is involved.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here in a private capacity,¡± Ailmon just said. ¡°You have an impressive memory for faces.¡±


    ¡°Why, yes. Yes, I do.¡± Dibble smiled broadly and sincerely. ¡°It¡¯s rather a fine quality when running an emporium of the strange such as I do. And indeed, good luck for you, since I do remember the gentleman in question. He came in here¡­¡± Dibble turned a few pages in the large book on the counter, ¡°nine days ago. He looked quite frightful, poor fellow. I trust my amazing fever cure worked like a charm?¡±


    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Well¡­¡± Shale said. ¡°It probably did. However¡­ he¡¯s not exactly on his feet these days.¡±


    ¡°Oh, dear. I¡¯m sorry to hear that! He was such a polite man, even in the state he was in.¡±


    ¡°What state was that?¡± Aran asked.


    ¡°Well, he was rather on the pale side, poor fellow. And he looked to be sweating a bit and I do remember his hand was shaking when he paid. We talked a bit, so I could figure out what remedy to mix for the poor man, and he said he could hear whispering in his ears. Quite disturbing!¡±


    ¡°Whispering in his ears?¡± Aran asked.


    ¡°Told you the shicks sucked,¡± Naia called out from somewhere in the store where she¡¯d apparently wandered off to. Aran pressed his lips together to not give a sharp reply under the shopkeeper¡¯s watchful, enthusiastic stare.


    ¡°Yes, quite. Like someone was talking to him just on the cusp of hearing, as he described it. Now,¡± Dibble leaned over the counter slightly, eyes almost glowing with excitement, ¡°what manner of thing might a shick be?¡±


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s¡­¡± Aran faltered, looking quickly at Ailmon and Shale, searching for agreement as to the wisdom of revealing that information.


    ¡°A magical rock,¡± Naia called out from wherever she was browsing, ruining any kind of strategy, and though he couldn¡¯t see her, Aran was sure she had rolled her eyes when she emphasised the word ¡®magical¡¯.


    Aran closed his eyes for a second as he sighed inwardly.


    ¡°A magical rock? How absolutely, horrifically delightful!¡± Dibble exclaimed enthusiastically. ¡°Do you happen to have this amazing thing in your possession, by some wonderful stroke of luck?¡±


    Shale, Aran, and Ailmon shared a look between them. Then Ailmon gave a little nod, and Shale found the shicks in her belt pouch, handing them to the shopkeeper.


    ¡°Oh, my word, how very unusual¡­¡± Dibble held the small, flat disks, turned them over, and held them up to the light from the lamp on the counter. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anything like these in real life. Quite a find, I must say. Would you be interested in¨C¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Aran quickly said. ¡°We¡¯re not selling them. We need them. For now, anyway. Until we find out what the Hells they are.¡±


    ¡°Intriguing, my fine fellow,¡± Dibble commented. ¡°You don¡¯t know what these are?¡±


    ¡°Do you?¡± Shale asked.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Dibble gave a laugh. ¡°Half the astounding things in here,¡± he gestured grandly at the hodgepodge of items surrounding them, ¡°escapes even my astute eye. They do look somewhat familiar, however¡­¡± He gestured with the stones. ¡°What with the positively delightful lines on them. There¡¯s a bit of a memory stirring at the back of my mind, though it might be entirely too fantastical for you and your lovely friends, to say nothing of your mysterious purpose.¡±


    ¡°Honestly,¡± Shale said, ¡°any help you could give us would be appreciated.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m only too happy to help, my dear, but perhaps you¡¯d be interested in a trade? It would be a pity to see such lovely items thrown to the winds when you no longer need them, and I¡¯m sure I could display these in my cabinet of the astounding to delight both young and old and everyone in between!¡±


    ¡°After we are done with them?¡± Shale asked.


    ¡°Quite naturally, I wouldn¡¯t want to interfere with your wonderful quest on that poor man¡¯s behalf, far from it,¡± Dibble confirmed.


    Aran shrugged. ¡°We can¡¯t really give you any guarantees¡­ Since we don¡¯t know what they are¨C¡°


    ¡°Magical, I told you!¡± Naia said, approaching the counter, holding a small mask in her hands.


    ¡°Since we don¡¯t know what sort of magical they are or what they are used for, we can¡¯t say what might be the end of this,¡± Aran finished tersely.


    ¡°Understandable, of course,¡± Dibble nodded. ¡°But in case it turns out you are in a position to part with them afterwards, I should be very happy to give them a good home here.¡± He put the shicks on the counter. ¡°Now, let me just see if I can find a certain book I seem to remember, do give me a moment.¡±


    Dibble disappeared behind the velvet curtain into the murky, unknowable back of the shop and they heard a door open and close from back there.


    Aran turned to Naia. ¡°Seriously?¡± he said in a low tone of voice, so Dibble wouldn¡¯t hear from wherever he was.


    ¡°Is that guy helping us? Why, yes, he is!¡± Naia stated, waving the small mask at the curtain to the back rooms. ¡°Because he saw a chance to sell the shicks, or exhibit them or whatever? Also yes. Yes, he is!¡±


    ¡°Are you really, seriously saying this was a calculated move on your part?¡± Aran asked.


    ¡°Of course. We can walk around and not tell anyone anything, but look.¡± She held the mask up in Aran¡¯s face. It looked like a hideous, deformed baby¡¯s face and was fashioned in some sort of dark metal he didn¡¯t recognise. ¡°This was just sitting on a shelf. It reeks of magic. Reeks! Most of the things in here are just bollocks, but some of them are legitimately powerful. I¡¯m guessing he doesn¡¯t know which is which, but I wouldn¡¯t bet on it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s exactly why we shouldn¡¯t go around tel¨C¡± Aran hissed, but the sound of the door behind the curtain made him stop and settle for giving Naia a sour look.


    She shrugged and rolled her eyes as the shopkeeper came back, carrying a very large, yellowed book which he put down on the counter.


    ¡°Here we are,¡± Dibble exclaimed happily.


    ¡°The Amazing Impossibilities of Bestial Life as Recorded by a Scholar of the Fantastic,¡± Naia read the title on the cover aloud. ¡°Interesting. If I had to be a scholar, it would be of the fantastic!¡± she said with emphasis.


    ¡°I feel exactly the same, young lady!¡± Dibble exclaimed. ¡°I believe the writer in question has been dead for quite a few decades, though, and the title is currently free.¡± He gave Naia a roguish wink and she laughed.


    ¡°I¡¯ll give that some thought!¡± she said as Dibble began leafing through the enormous work. Several of the pages were closely written, but some featured whole-page illustrations of strange beasts and phenomena, one more unlikely than the next.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­ I believe it was¡­¡± Dibble mumbled, then commented without looking up from the pages, ¡°If you do take up the work of a scholar of the fantastic, young lady, do make sure to put an index in your works; that would be most appreciated. Ah! Here we are!¡± he exclaimed happily and quickly ran his finger down the heavily written page as if reading at breakneck speed.


    Dibble then turned the cumbersome tome on the counter so the group could see the illustration. The picture filled the whole page. A towering, bipedal, and monstrous thing, covered in what was either round scales or some sort of tumours plodded across a landscape of what appeared to be a forest of thick, winding growths. The beast had no visible face or means of seeing or hearing, only a broad, tapering head atop lumbering shoulders.


    ¡°Hm, looks rather nightmarish,¡± Ailmon said evenly.


    ¡°What¡¯s it supposed to be?¡± Shale asked.


    ¡°Ah, I¡¯m glad you asked,¡± Dibble rubbed his hands joyfully. ¡°This rather horrific thing is called a spirit-snare. They are supposed to be living on different islands in the southern Life Sea. Our good scholar of the fantastic is reluctant to share their specific home address, however. But the book details how they communicate using their minds and will attack passing ships, driving the sailors quite mad. Terrifying, isn¡¯t it?¡± he asked exuberantly.


    ¡°And you think the¡­ shicks are their scales?¡± Aran asked sceptically, eyebrow raised.


    ¡°With no sort of certainty, but it could be.¡± Dibble found the shicks from under the tome and put them on top of the drawing, so they lay on the page like the creature¡¯s scales.


    ¡°Right¡­¡± Aran said. ¡°So, does your scholar of the fantastic say how big these things are supposed to be?¡±


    ¡°Sadly, that detail is omitted in specific terms, but from the illustration, I surmise it might be human-ish in stature, though I cannot be certain.¡±


    ¡°So what are these supposed to be?¡± Shale tapped one of the disks on the page. ¡°Those things covering it?¡±


    ¡°Why, I believe they are its seeds,¡± Dibble said. ¡°Like a tree would scatter its fruits to seed new of its kind, the spirit-snare would drop its seeds where it went.¡±


    Shale picked a shick up. ¡°Feels a bit more personal, now. Like I¡¯m groping someone¡­¡±


    Naia giggled. ¡°You¡¯re being handsy with its reproductive organs. Sadly, we can¡¯t just give it a kick in the shicks.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s not be too hasty in accepting this theory,¡± Ailmon interjected and then nodded at Dibble. ¡°Thank you for your assistance. It¡¯s an interesting theory and we¡¯ll take it into account.¡±


    ¡°Oh, my absolute pleasure! Do come again if I can be of service. And please remember me when your grand quest is at an end.¡± Dibble smiled broadly.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, we will!¡± Naia said, holding up the small, hideous mask. ¡°Now, all that business aside, how much is this? And how does one make money on being a scholar of the fantastic?¡±


    Dibble put a hand over his heart. ¡°Ahh, a discerning woman with her priorities in order if ever I met one!¡± he exclaimed joyfully.

 The Spire

    Shale stifled a yawn as they made their way through the evening-crowded streets, towards the brothel called the Spire in the south-eastern end of Wallsen, Naia leading the way.


    Most muggers were civilised enough to ply their profession without witnesses, so the streets were considerably safer - meaning not at all safe - this time in the evening when the sun had just set and all the people of Wallsen woke up. The streets were crowded, the shady bars were open, and prostitutes and street vendors were out and about.


    ¡°After this, I¡¯m going to bed,¡± Shale said. ¡°Alone. In case anyone was wondering.¡±


    ¡°Ooh.¡± Naia raised her hand. ¡°I wasn¡¯t!¡± She laughed.


    Shale gave a snort that could be either disdain or laughter.


    ¡°So, just for the record,¡± Aran said, ¡°how many here actually believe we are dealing with a monster?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­¡± Shale began. ¡°It seems farfetched. Especially if it¡¯s supposed to be our size, more or less. I¡¯ve heard no rumours of strange creatures roaming the streets.¡±


    ¡°And why would an alleged monster, who can attack from afar with its mind, run up and stab someone?¡± Ailmon added. ¡°There are plenty of monsters in Sonderport, but I doubt a walking collection of seeds is to blame.¡±


    ¡°Will you change your mind when we find a shick at the brothel?¡± Naia asked. ¡°Because we will. I just know it.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s consider if Naia is the murderer¡­¡± Shale said.


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that just make everything much more interesting!¡± Naia exclaimed happily. ¡°Especially since I don¡¯t even know it. But someone could have given me brainworms who are controlling my mind and actions.¡±


    ¡°That would explain a whole lot,¡± Aran commented.


    ¡°Did you know the brainworms¡¯ ancient enemy is alcohol?¡± Naia asked nobody in particular. ¡°We¡¯d best get a drink when we get there.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not sitting down for a drink on-site during an investigation!¡± Aran stated.


    ¡°Spoilsport!¡± Naia said. ¡°Of course we should have a drink, we¡¯re in Sonderport. It¡¯s rude not to!¡±


    ¡°Perhaps we should prepare so we are in alignment about what we need to know and how much we are prepared to give away this time.¡± Ailmon dryly interrupted.


    Shale found the note from Sef in her belt pouch and read aloud, ¡°Shandra, employed at the Spire, a brothel on Luck Lane. Supplied us with drawings and descriptions of people on occasion. Found stabbed in her room the morning of four days ago. If you go to the brothel, tell Madam Clara it¡¯s on guild business and that I¡¯ll pay her back in seashells; she knows what it means. Then she¡¯ll trust you. Well, trust-ish. You know how it is¡­¡± Shale put the note back in her pouch. ¡°So, I suppose we talk to Madam Clara first?¡±


    ¡°That might be difficult; she¡¯s rarely out when the Spire is open for business. I guess she doesn¡¯t like people getting handsy or something,¡± Naia said.


    ¡°But she¡¯s there, right? She¡¯s the owner. Can¡¯t we just ask for her? Besides, we¡¯ll be there about two hours and some before they open, unless you lied.¡± Shale said.


    ¡°I would never lie to colleagues!¡± Naia stated vehemently. ¡°And I guess we can just ask for an audience. We should probably lead with the ¡®investigating the murder on behalf of the guild¡¯-thing, so we sound more serious?¡±


    ¡°Sound? We are serious,¡± Ailmon amended evenly.


    Naia rolled her eyes. ¡°Anyway, front door or green door?¡± She nodded down the street where a large building was in sight. It had obviously been a stable at some point but had been added to over the years, so it now featured an additional storey on top of the two-winged building with a small courtyard in the middle.


    The Spire was a lot less run-down than the rest of the city ward and seemed out of place, what with the small trees in clay pots flanking the large double doors to the main building and a sprawling trellis on poles above the entrance, overgrown with wine leaves that snaked through the latticework. The building itself was nicely whitewashed and had only gone a bit grey with Wallsen-grime. A narrow, grubbier alleyway ran along the side of the building, where two rather brutish-looking fellows stood at a peeling green door, just visible from the angle the freelancers stood at.


    ¡°I guess the green door is more fitting. I don¡¯t imagine the owner wants it known broadly that one of her staff was murdered, so we¡¯re on a more clandestine errand,¡± Shale said thoughtfully. ¡°We need the Spire to stay in Wallsen. And to stay open. Though most people think of it as putting on airs, it does bring a lot of business to the area and helps get young people off the street.¡±


    ¡°Working at a brothel is not likely to be anyone¡¯s dream occupation, however,¡± Aran pointed out.


    ¡°In this part of town? Three meals a day with a safe place to kip, and making money on top of that? It¡¯s as good as anyone here who¡¯s not a sailor or a freelancer can hope for,¡± Shale said.


    ¡°Sadly, that¡¯s a good point,¡± Ailmon interjected. ¡°But social philosophy later. I assume those gentlemen are guards?¡± He nodded down the alleyway.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go ask,¡± Naia said and walked down the narrow, piss-stinking alley.


    ¡°We want to be honest with this Madam Clara person, we all agree on that, right?¡± Aran asked.


    ¡°Agreed, it seems she and the guild handler have an understanding,¡± Ailmon confirmed as they drew near the two large guards in the alley.


    Both men straightened up and looked at them as they approached.


    ¡°We¡¯re closed. We don¡¯t open until later,¡± one of them said when the freelancers were near the narrow green door.


    ¡°We know,¡± Aran said. ¡°We are no-qualifiers on guild business. We¡¯ve been asked to look into the murder of Shandra, the girl who was employed here.¡±


    The two guards looked quickly at each other.


    ¡°We¡¯ve been told to speak to Madam Clara for permission,¡± Shale said. ¡°Could one of you perhaps go and let her know we¡¯re here?¡±


    Again, the two guards shared a look and then one fished a key out from under his shirt, unlocked the door, and let the group file inside.


    The room they entered was small but comfortable, decorated with colourful fabric draped across the walls, a couple of soft-looking sofas, and a cupboard with elaborate liquor bottles. A door opposite to the one they entered through presumably led into the brothel.


    ¡°Wait here, I¡¯ll go talk to the Madam and see what she has to say,¡± one of the guards said and left through the other door into the premises, locking it behind him. The other guard just nodded at them and left through the green door, locking that as well.


    ¡°Quite careful,¡± Ailmon just commented, clasping his hands behind his back.


    ¡°I suppose that¡¯s natural. I can imagine the people working here are uncomfortable knowing one of their colleagues was murdered in the house,¡± Aran said.


    ¡°So, we should ask for permission to see her room, right?¡± Naia said, draping herself on a sofa. ¡°Everyone who works here lives here too, so she probably had the shick here somewhere.¡±


    ¡°You are very sure of that,¡± Ailmon said.


    ¡°Yep. You might not believe in the monster, but I do. The shicks are definitely monstery and that whole thing with Sargon¡¯s corpse? Death-vomiting and visions? As madly monstery as it gets!¡±


    ¡°When did ¡®monstery¡¯ become a word?¡± Aran asked.


    ¡°Since I used it,¡± Naia stated casually with a small shrug.


    ¡°We should definitely ask permission to see Shandra¡¯s room in that case,¡± Shale said, frowning. She looked down for a moment, turning her head as if listening to something. ¡°But we should ask her colleagues too if she was involved in something. Corwin had no friends as far as we know, but here we have a good opportunity to learn more of the victim.¡± She turned to look at Aran, who just nodded imperceptibly.


    ¡°It makes sense that they¡¯d be very careful where they can be. As soon as the brothel opens for business, there¡¯s a limit to the possible vigilance,¡± he just said softly.


    ¡°Huh?¡± Naia looked up at them, puzzled.


    ¡°Well, we should be tactful while we are here,¡± Aran just said. ¡°The guild handler apparently knows this Madam Clara enough to send her rather personal-sounding messages to make her allow us entry. I really don¡¯t want my standing with the guild tarnished b¨C¡°


    Outside the door, footsteps were heard. Shale, Ailmon, and Aran turned towards the door when a key was inserted in the lock. Naia sighed when Aran sent her a sour look and then got off the sofa just as the door swung open.


    ¡°Madam Clara will come down to see you.¡± The large guard stepped aside, holding open the door to the inner room. ¡°Please go in and take a seat. She¡¯ll be here in a moment.¡± The large man gestured to the tables in the middle of the room.


    The main hall of the Spire was spacious, lit by several lanterns shaded by different colours of glass hanging from the ceiling. A large staircase occupied most of the wall on one side of the room, and next to it were the double doors leading out into the courtyard. A long bar of polished wood ran the length of another wall, bottles and glasses gleaming in the light from the lanterns. There was a row of more private booths, separated with decorative curtains, along the other walls. In the middle of the room, several drinking and gambling tables stood. Naia went and sat down at one of them. The others followed her example, Shale and Aran looking around, Ailmon making a few notes in his notebook.


    A young man was stocking the bar, and two additional guards stood at the double doors near the stairs, talking quietly together as they studied the freelancers.


    ¡°So, nice place. A lot nicer than I imagined when the terms ¡®brothel¡¯ and ¡®Wallsen¡¯ were mentioned¡­¡± Aran mused.


    ¡°Yeah, isn¡¯t it? You¡¯ve seriously never been here before? That¡¯s so weird. Who do you bonk, then?¡± Naia asked conversationally.


    ¡°That is extremely private information,¡± Aran stated.


    ¡°Sure, but I¡¯m serious! Maybe you¡¯d be less intolerable if you got yourself some naked time.¡±


    Shale gave a deep laugh. ¡°Look what it¡¯s doing to you, though,¡± she said, grinning.


    ¡°Ooh, a strict regimen of regular saucy sex and alcohol is keeping me sharp and happy, you should try it!¡± Naia responded.


    ¡°Name me one man who could actually handle me and not die when I sat on him and I¡¯ll be all over it¡­¡± the half-orc said casually.


    ¡°Hmmm, alright, I do agree. Size really does matter! You could go orc, you know.¡±


    ¡°I could, but most don¡¯t stay here and most of them are not exactly overjoyed about mixed species.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Naia said dejectedly. ¡°The orcs are speciesist? Seriously? I sort of thought they just bumbled around mating with whatever was in sight.¡±


    ¡°Are you kidding? The orcs have more social laws than Sonderport has laws about money. They trade and make war just fine, even form friendships with other species on occasion, but they keep their gonads in their trousers while doing it. You wouldn¡¯t believe the kind of abuse my mother had to endure from her own clan when she met my father. They ended up throwing her out.¡±


    ¡°What a bunch of bungholes! You¡¯re better off without them!¡± Naia stated with an angry frown.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Shale said, a small smile hiding behind her tusks. ¡°It¡¯s hard to miss something you¡¯ve never had, though.¡±


    ¡°Pardon the interruption,¡± Ailmon interjected, still looking into his notebook. ¡°We need to take a look at the young lady¡¯s room - yes, searching for a stone and whatever else might turn up,¡± he acknowledged, looking pointedly at Naia before she could interrupt. ¡°Then we need to interview her colleagues to see if the young lady was involved in anything. A religious movement, some sort of crime, anything really. We need as thorough a list of her contacts as possible. We might want to have some of those gost handy for that; I¡¯m sure it will make the questioning easier if we make it worth people¡¯s time.¡±


    ¡°Agreed,¡± Aran said and looked at the stairs leading to the upper floors. ¡°I think that must be Madam Clara,¡± he said, nodding in the direction of the stairs and standing up. The others looked too and got to their feet to greet the woman.


    The lithe and willowy blonde woman was dressed in a dark grey, severe suit of trousers and a knee-length tunic that was tailored elegantly, a collar buttoned with small pearls all the way up her slender neck. The only golden-brown skin showing were her hands and face. Even her hair was as far from frivolous as it was possible to be, braided and rolled into a tight bun at the top of her head. Not a single hair was out of control. Her ears tapered to a point, marking her elven heritage, which was a rare sight in Sonderport since the War of Ocean¡¯s Rage over two centuries ago, in the chaotic aftermath of the Upheaval, after which elven-kind retreated to their mystery-shrouded islands somewhere in the Life Sea.


    She stood still for a moment, regarding them with calm green eyes, hands clasped before her. Then she nodded and approached.


    ¡°I understand you are freelancers?¡± she asked, her voice surprisingly deep and soft.


    ¡°Correct. We have been sent to look into the murder of your employee.¡± Ailmon held out a hand to her and when she shook it, he introduced the group.


    All five of them took a seat at the table again. ¡°I¡¯m gratified the guild has noticed. I¡¯m quite certain they are not investigating this out of kindness, however,¡± Madam Clara stated. ¡°What is the real reason you find yourself here?¡±


    Aran, Shale, and Ailmon shared a quick look. Before Naia could open her mouth, Aran quickly said, ¡°The guild has lost a handful of contacts in the last week and a half. Enough to take notice. Your employee, Shandra - and this establishment by extension - was counted among them.¡±


    ¡°I see. Well, it looks like we¡¯ve all had a rather bad week, then.¡± Madam Clara nodded to herself.


    ¡°Also, Sef says that if you help us, he¡¯ll pay you back in seashells!¡± Naia added, staring straight at the elven woman.


    A very slight rose-tint blossomed in Madam Clara¡¯s golden-brown cheeks. ¡°Very well,¡± she said, ¡°What do you need for this investigation? I cannot let you disturb business, naturally, so whatever you need must be done in the off-hours. You understand, of course.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Ailmon said impassively. ¡°We should like to look at the victim¡¯s room, if possible. We should also like to talk to some of her friends and co-workers who might have seen or heard something.¡±


    ¡°I can let that happen,¡± Madam Clara said. ¡°We have cleaned Shandra¡¯s room, naturally, but it isn¡¯t in use tonight, so you won¡¯t be in the way. As for friends, Shandra was known as Shandra the Silent; she was quite a shy girl. She was well-liked here, but to my knowledge, she didn¡¯t have any really close friends. She spent most of her free time with her drawings as far as I know. I believe the one she was closest to was Minna, one of the girls here, though I¡¯m not sure they were close enough to share any secrets.¡±


    ¡°In any case, we would like to speak to her,¡± Ailmon said.


    ¡°Of course, I will send for her as soon as we are done here,¡± Madam Clara nodded.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Our briefing-notes said Shandra used to draw people for the guild?¡± Aran asked.


    ¡°She did. On rare occasions when the need arose. I permitted it for the sake of the friendship between our professional establishments, but Shandra was under strict orders never to draw her clients unless told otherwise, and I cannot imagine she ever broke those orders. If you are hoping for a quick solution to your search through those means, I¡¯m afraid you will find yourself disappointed.¡±


    Aran almost smiled. ¡°It¡¯s never that easy.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m happy we understand each other,¡± Madam Clara said calmly. ¡°Do you have other questions I can answer?¡±


    ¡°How long had she worked here?¡± Ailmon asked.


    ¡°Two years as a girl, but about five before that, working as a kitchen aid and seamstress.¡±


    ¡°So, in seven years, she didn¡¯t make any close friends here?¡± Shale asked. ¡°That seems a little odd. I imagine the employees here are a fairly close-knit group?¡±


    ¡°We are, certainly, and Shandra never had any conflicts with anyone as far as I¡¯m aware. She was kind and gentle, and we all miss her.¡± Madam Clara¡¯s otherwise emotionless expression softened just a little. ¡°We especially lament the awful way she left this world. She had friends, yes, but as I said, none that she was particularly close with. At least to my knowledge. To be truthful, she could be so quiet on occasion that she became quite unassuming. She was never far from her sketchbook when she was on her own time, whenever I would see her around the house.¡±


    ¡°May we have access to her drawings?¡± Ailmon asked.


    ¡°Of course. They are in her room. You may take them with you if that will be helpful. My own people have already looked through them.¡±


    ¡°¡­So, you have people out to search for the murderer yourself?¡± Shale asked.


    ¡°Naturally. I¡¯m not in the habit of sitting on my hands until the guild or anyone else come and save me,¡± Madam Clara answered with a tiny shadow of a smile on her lips.


    ¡°Would those people perhaps have any information we have missed?¡± Aran asked. ¡°Perhaps we could compare notes?¡±


    ¡°Possibly. It depends on what you know, however. My people haven¡¯t reported any success yet, and I cannot say how willing they would be to discuss an ongoing investigation. I will ask them and get in touch with you via the guild if they agree.¡± Madam Clara gestured to one of the guards at the main door, and when the man approached, she said, ¡°Please go and find Minna for me and ask her to come down here.¡±


    The guard nodded and turned to go upstairs, when a small, girlish voice was heard, ¡°I¡¯m here, Madam.¡± A slender, young, human woman with long chestnut hair falling around her shoulders stepped out from behind one of the curtains closing off the private booth, near the door they had entered the main hall through. She wore a long, white dress with laces running along the low neckline, girlish but revealing at the same time. She clasped her hands in front of her anxiously and lowered her gaze to the floor where she stood. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Madam,¡± she said.


    ¡°We will certainly talk about this later, Minna,¡± Madam Clara said calmly. ¡°For now, I¡¯d like you to show the freelancers to Shandra¡¯s room and assist them as needed in their investigation, provided it won¡¯t interfere with business.¡±


    ¡°Of course, Madam,¡± Minna said and gazed at the group at the table. Her large blue eyes were a bit red-rimmed, as if she had been crying recently, and the smile she sent them was rather on the pale side.


    ¡°I hope you find the one who did this,¡± Madam Clara said as she rose from her chair. ¡°I do request, however, that you keep me informed of your progress. When you find the one who murdered my girl, I should like to have a say in determining his fate.¡±


    ¡°Oh, we¡¯d love to!¡± Naia said, grinning, as the group got to their feet.


    ¡°Circumstances permitting, that is,¡± Ailmon quickly amended.


    Madam Clara looked them both over, her face unreadable, before she nodded silently. Then she gestured at the young woman. ¡°I leave you in Minna¡¯s hands. Let me know if I can be of further assistance.¡± With a small, gracious nod, she took her leave and went upstairs as the group turned to look at Minna.


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sorry. I shouldn¡¯t have spied on you, but¡­¡± Her voice faltered.


    ¡°You were listening in when we arrived as well, weren¡¯t you?¡± Aran asked.


    Minna nodded guiltily and a pretty blush coloured her cheeks.


    ¡°Why?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I was curious, and¡­ well, I really hope you can help,¡± Minna said, fingers twisting the skirt of her dress.


    ¡°Were you and Shandra friends?¡± Shale asked. ¡°Like Madam Clara said?¡±


    ¡°Well, yes, we were friends. We were.¡± The young woman nodded, but her eyes filled with tears and she bit her lip. ¡°I did care a lot about Shandra, but what will you do about Ginnifer? It wasn¡¯t natural, I don¡¯t believe it!¡±


    ¡°Ginnifer?¡± Aran asked and looked sideways at the others. Naia shrugged.


    ¡°You don¡¯t even know about it?¡± Minna asked, as if her regard for the group had just taken a dive. ¡°She¡¯s my best frie¨C Well, was my best friend. But she died too, and nobody cares because she killed herself, but it wasn¡¯t natural, I beg you to believe me, please!¡±


    ¡°Your friend, Ginnifer, she committed suicide? I¡¯m really sorry, but I don¡¯t know how we would go about investigating that,¡± Shale said sympathetically. When the young woman craned her neck to look up at the half-orc nervously, long lashes wet with tears, Shale hastily added, ¡°Why don¡¯t you show us to Shandra¡¯s room and you can tell us about what happened to your friend? To Ginnifer.¡±


    ¡°Alright, I suppose,¡± Minna said, obviously caught between dejection and hope. ¡°Please, follow me.¡± She started up the stairs, and led the group down a long corridor running the length of one wing of the building. There were many doors on either side, and occasionally there would be sounds behind a few of them - talking, laughing, rummaging around - but mostly the floor was silent.


    ¡°Where is everyone? You open shortly, don¡¯t you?¡± Aran asked.


    Minna nodded. ¡°Most are downstairs in the kitchen for breakfast,¡± she said, and then she stopped. ¡°It¡¯s here.¡± She pointed to a door and slowly went to open it. As if reluctant to enter, she stood aside, letting the group in as she hovered in the doorway.


    The room was small, with a single window looking out over the narrow alley where they had entered the brothel. A large bed and a narrow bedtable took up most of the space, but a row of shelves was set into the walls, covered by a curtain, and a small table with two chairs stood in a corner. The bedclothes and blankets had been removed from the bed, along with the mattress. On the floor, scuff marks and a lack thereof made it clear that there had been a rug by the bed which had now been removed. The floor underneath had clearly been scrubbed and even planed.


    ¡°There was a lot of blood,¡± Minna said, almost in a whisper.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to do this to you, but can you tell us what the people of the house are saying about Shandra¡¯s death?¡± Shale asked in a gentle tone, while the other three began looking around as they listened in.


    ¡°She¡­ she was stabbed. Twice. In the neck,¡± Minna said slowly, tears pooling again in her eyes. ¡°It must have been her client who did it. He hired her for the entire night, so nobody was surprised that she didn¡¯t come down the rest of the evening. ¡­That¡¯s the worst of it. She was lying here, dead, and we didn¡¯t even know. Nobody but him knew.¡±


    ¡°Did anyone see him, the client?¡± Shale asked.


    ¡°Well¡­ I¡­¡± Minna faltered. ¡°We¡­ all of us who were working the bar, saw him. He took the main doors and, well¡­ he found Shandra.¡±


    ¡°So, what did he look like?¡±


    Minna shrugged her delicate shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I don¡¯t really know. He was hiding under a hood and a scarf. Like this.¡± She held up her hand to hide the lower half of her face.


    ¡°But you saw him move. Saw his eyes?¡± Shale inquired.


    ¡°He¡­ I¡¯m sorry.¡± Minna gestured with her hands in frustration before her arms fell to her sides dejectedly. ¡°I had just lost Ginnifer, everything is so awful, and I wasn¡¯t really paying that much attention.¡±


    ¡°I understand. It¡¯s terrible.¡± Shale¡¯s large hand reached out and gave Minna¡¯s slender arm a little squeeze in sympathy. ¡°But I think you may remember more than you give yourself credit for. How tall was he?¡±


    ¡°He was¡­ tall.¡±


    ¡°Like me? Or like Aran?¡± Shale pointed to Aran, who had opened the window to look out.


    ¡°A little shorter, not much.¡± Minna nodded at Aran. ¡°A little broader over the shoulders maybe? But¡­¡±


    ¡°But?¡± Shale prodded.


    ¡°He was a little hunched.¡±


    ¡°As if he was trying to hide himself?¡±


    ¡°Maybe. But I saw him rub the side of his head. Almost like he was hurting.¡± Minna made a gesture like trying to rub a headache away.


    ¡°What about his hands?¡± Shale asked. ¡°You must have seen them, then?¡±


    ¡°He had ¡­gloves on. Leather gloves, like the sailors and dockworkers have. They weren¡¯t of fine quality. His clothing was the same. Just shirt and trousers. Not shabby, not fine.¡± Minna looked at Shale with surprise in her eyes. ¡°You were right, I did see a lot more than I thought I did.¡±


    Shale gave the small, controlled smile she used so as to not unnerve people with her sharp teeth. ¡°So how long was he here? Before he hired Shandra.¡±


    Minna thoughtfully put a finger on her lips. ¡°For about the time it takes to drink a Roar while playing dice,¡± she said, clearly warming up to her memories. ¡°I was working the downstairs and the gambler I was servicing ordered a Roar, the most common of the drinks at the bar, and I got it for him. I saw Shandra¡¯s client come in when I was bringing the drink, and he went up the stairs with her when I was bringing the next one!¡±


    ¡°Did you see what he was doing before he found Shandra? Did he have a drink or¡­¡±


    ¡°No, he sort of just stood near one of the walls and then a seat became available and he sat in a corner looking at everything, rubbing his temples. As if he was studying the workers. Making up his mind.¡±


    ¡°Did nobody wonder about a man who was so intent on hiding his identity?¡±


    Minna shrugged. ¡°Not everyone wants to admit what they do here. Sometimes people even wear masks. Though that always means it¡¯s someone from Old Town, of course.¡±


    ¡°Ah, right¡­ So how did he choose Shandra, did you see?¡±


    ¡°Not really,¡± Minna said after a thoughtful pause. ¡°But I saw her walk up the stairs with him and I talked to the downstairs Lady when I logged my client and she said Shandra had a whole-night booking.¡±


    ¡°Could we talk to her, too?¡±


    ¡°Tia? I suppose. She¡¯s working as Lady tonight downstairs. If you stay until opening, I guess you could ask her.¡±


    ¡°Alright, we will. Did anyone see him leave?¡±


    Minna shook her head. ¡°No. None of us. We all suppose he climbed out the window.¡± She gestured vaguely to the other end of the room. ¡°Shandra was still dressed when she was found. Right there.¡± She pointed to the floor by the bed, her lips trembling.


    ¡°What about Shandra?¡± Shale asked. ¡°Did she seem like herself in the days up until her death?¡±


    Minna took a deep breath and looked down, an adorable little wrinkle between her brows. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. I¡¯m sorry. She was maybe a little bit quieter, and I think she said something about feeling a little ill, but¡­ after everything that happened with Ginnifer¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­¡± came Ailmon¡¯s impassive voice from inside the room. ¡°How relatively unsettling.¡±


    The others gathered around him where he stood by the table in the corner, a large stack of sketchbooks taken from the shelves piled in front of him. One book lay open. And between the pages was a small, unassuming disk-like rock, shining in hues of faded green and purple.


    ¡°Yes!¡± Naia exclaimed. ¡°Told you so!¡±


    Aran gave her a sidelong glance.


    ¡°I mean, booo, shicks suck!¡± she amended.


    The page in the sketchbook was filled out with a portrait that drew the eye in a disquieting fashion. At first casual glance, it was just a portrait of an elderly woman, but on closer inspection, everything about her was ¡­off. It almost seemed as if the artist had been told what a human face looked like but had never actually seen a human in real life. Something about the dimensions of the face just didn¡¯t fit together and the expression was a strange mix of blankness and need, giving the impression that the intelligence behind the eyes was utterly foreign.


    Minna gave a small gasp. ¡°Why did she have a stone, too? And¡­ That drawing¡­ it can¡¯t be right, it¡¯s ugly. Shandra was really, really good at drawing. That doesn¡¯t make sense. Look.¡± She turned the pages so they could see samples of the dead girl¡¯s other drawings. They were of everyday things and situations, people shopping at stalls at the market, drunk revellers at the recent Festival of Rosk celebrated in Wallsen, the other men and women at the brothel. All of them were made with a sure hand, movement and expressions clearly marked with a few precise strokes of the stylus. She flipped the page back to the one with the shick.


    Ailmon tore his gaze away from the portrait of the elderly woman with some difficulty. He pointed to the flat stone and looked at Minna. ¡°You have seen something like this before, I take it?¡±


    The young woman nodded. ¡°I have. Ginnifer had one. I don¡¯t know what it is, but she had it in her hand when¡­¡± Minna bit her lip and looked fearfully up at Shale. ¡°I didn¡¯t know what it was, so I put it in her hand¡­-¡± She drew a shuddering breath. ¡°-at the funeral. It went on the pyre with her. I¡¯m so sorry. Was it important?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± Aran said. ¡°You couldn¡¯t have known. And we still aren¡¯t sure what their significance is.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Minna said in a small voice. ¡°Can I please tell you about Ginnifer now? I don¡¯t know how to do what you freelancers do. I don¡¯t know how to give my best friend peace on my own and there is no way she would kill herself. I know her!¡±


    The freelancers shared a quick look.


    ¡°We very much want to hear what happened to your friend,¡± Shale said kindly, ¡°but can you just give us a moment to finish up in here?¡± She quickly looked to the door.


    Minna looked down, bit her lip, and nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll wait outside,¡± she said and closed the door quietly behind herself.


    ¡°Heh, look at this! If I wasn¡¯t with you sorry lot, I¡¯d nick this, call it a string of prayer beads, and have a priest bless it!¡± Naia held up a sturdy, silk string with six large, polished wooden beads placed at intervals along it, which she¡¯d fished from the drawer of the bedside table.


    ¡°Naia, seriously¡­¡± Aran wrapped his hand in his sleeve, took the ¡®prayer beads¡¯ from her, and put them back in the drawer.


    ¡°See, you need horizontal refreshments! You should stay here tonight! Way too high-strung!¡± Naia rolled her eyes.


    ¡°Can a man safely climb out the window?¡± Ailmon interrupted.


    ¡°Yes. I would be able to do it quite easily,¡± Aran said. ¡°There aren¡¯t many windows in this direction on the other building, but there might still have been someone who saw him leave.¡± He lowered his voice to a whisper, nodding towards the door, ¡°¡­Provided we believe the young lady.¡±


    ¡°We will confirm her information with the others in the house,¡± Ailmon said softly.


    ¡°The murderer must have been used to this, though. Climbing, I mean,¡± Aran continued in a normal voice volume. ¡°So we now have a human male, seems to suffer from some sort of pain to the head, athletic enough to plan on climbing down from the first floor, and aware that he should protect his identity, but still bold enough, or driven enough, to enter a brothel teeming with staff and guests to commit his murder.¡±


    ¡°We also have a shick and a drawing of a messed-up old lady-thing, and another shick that a woman who killed herself had,¡± Naia added. ¡°Did we miss anything? Except for a wealth of sex toys?¡±


    ¡°I think that wraps it up nicely,¡± Aran said.


    ¡°Really good Ailmon-ing, by the way,¡± Naia said, giving Shale an appreciative punch to the arm.


    ¡°Thank you, that was sort of what I was aiming for.¡± Shale grinned. ¡°Did I miss anything?¡±


    ¡°You fell way out of character when you were nice to her, but other than that, no!¡± Naia confirmed.


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ never unkind to people, I believe,¡± Ailmon said.


    ¡°Sure, didn¡¯t say you were,¡± Naia put a hand gently on Ailmon¡¯s arm and gave it a squeeze in sympathy, as Shale had done with Minna. Ailmon didn¡¯t flinch, but a nerve twitched in his cheek and his lips pressed slightly together.


    Naia laughed. ¡°Point proven, friend!¡±


    ¡°At least Ailmon isn¡¯t looking for sex toys to rob from a dead prostitute, so¡­¡± Aran interjected.


    ¡°But that¡¯s my secret, Aran. I¡¯m always looking for sex toys!¡±


    ¡°We just aren¡¯t capable of staying on task for very long, huh?¡± Shale mused. Aran and Naia sent each other a sour glance.


    Ailmon cleared his throat. ¡°Well¡­ Let¡¯s go hear about Ginnifer.¡±


    o-0-o


    They were all seated in Minna¡¯s small room, very like Shandra¡¯s. A bed and bedtable, a chest for personal belongings and clothing, and a small table with two chairs were all there was room for. Naia, Aran, and Shale sat on the bed, Ailmon and Minna at the table. The window in this room was turned towards the courtyard in front of the house, where torches in sconces along the walls were being lit in preparation for the opening hour, and an outdoor bar area was being set up to draw customers in.


    ¡°So, tell us about Ginnifer. You were friends?¡± Ailmon began.


    ¡°Yes, she was the one who got me the job here originally. She was really cheeky and funny, and she always made me laugh when things were rough. She is just¡­ she was really good at enjoying the small things in life and she could always see everything from the funny side, you know?¡± Minna said, wiping a tear away. ¡°I have to make this quick. Nobody wants to hire a snot-nosed whore. That¡¯s what Ginnifer would have said to make me laugh.¡± She gave a tearful laugh and visibly pulled herself together.


    ¡°We, ehm¡­¡± Ailmon cast a quick glance at Shale. ¡°We are very sorry you had to go through this.¡± He patted her hand awkwardly.


    Minna looked up at him tearfully and smiled a little. Then she flung herself at him and gave him a hug. On the bed, Aran gave Naia an elbow in the ribs to stop her giggling at Ailmon¡¯s panicked expression.


    ¡°So, ehm¡­ tell us, please, what ¡­happened?¡± Ailmon stammered as Minna sat back in her chair.


    ¡°I¡¯m so grateful you have come along. Nobody believed me.¡± Minna drew a deep breath. ¡°Ginnifer sort of fell ill a little, I think. You know, like you feel just before a cold hits you, so she was out of sorts.¡±


    ¡°When was this?¡± Shale asked.


    ¡°About a week ago. She said she was feeling all funny and she was much more quiet than normal. But then five days ago, in the afternoon¡­¡± She paused, then continued, ¡°I was in my room, but I heard running feet and a sort of muffled scream. I looked out in the hall, but I didn¡¯t see anyone. But then, after a little while, I heard screaming in the street.¡± She pointed weakly towards the window. ¡°I went to look, and I saw Ginnifer¡­¡±


    ¡°What was she doing in the street?¡± Ailmon asked quietly.


    ¡°She looked¡­ wild. Crazy. Her hair and dress were in disarray and her feet were bare. She was waving her fist at people in the street, and just¡­ screaming all this strange madness out at them.¡±


    ¡°What happened then?¡± Ailmon asked.


    ¡°I ran down there, so did a few others. All this was before that awful thing with Shandra, so we didn¡¯t have as many guards. But when I came out¡­ she was shrieking at people, saying all sorts of mad things that didn¡¯t make any sense. Like, ¡®She wants her babies. She¡¯s crawling with gerbils. She¡¯s screaming at me¡¯. It was terrifying. And she¡¯d grab at people passing by, screaming into their faces like she¡¯d gone mad.¡±


    ¡°What happened then? When you came out and saw her?¡±


    ¡°She was shouting at some man in the street, grabbing at him, and he pushed her. She grabbed at the knife in his belt and sort of stumbled backwards. Then she screamed ¡®I won¡¯t let you, evil strumpet¡¯, and¡­ I tried to run to her, I did. I ran all I could but she just... It all happened so fast. There was so much blood. I tried to stop it, but she just¡­ she fluttered away before I could do anything. There was so much blood.¡±


    Minna finally seemed to have run out of tears, and she sat quietly, staring at nothing, her hands twisted tightly into the fabric of her skirt.


    ¡°What could Ginnifer have meant by what she said? Who was this ¡®she¡¯ that she kept talking about?¡± Ailmon asked carefully, exchanging a look with the rest of the group.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m sorry. It didn¡¯t make any sense. But she had that stone in her hand. It fell out when we carried her into the house. I didn¡¯t think it was odder than what had happened. I don¡¯t understand. She screamed all those things, but it doesn¡¯t make sense.¡±


    ¡°Do you have any idea if Ginnifer was perhaps involved with anyone? Were there any new people or interests in her life that she told you about?¡± Ailmon asked.


    Minna looked at him for a while, her gaze empty. ¡°Do you mean like a lover?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps. Or maybe a new friend, a new group she had encountered, a new interest that caught her fancy?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Minna said, shaking her head slowly. ¡°No, there weren¡¯t anything like that happening. Not that she told me, and we shared all our news.¡±


    Ailmon nodded. ¡°And Ginnifer was never given to any sort of¡­ irrational behaviour in the past? Could she perhaps have been ill from some natural cause?¡±


    ¡°No, no, she was not mad. She was the least mad person here. Please, don¡¯t say that. And apart from feeling a bit ill, there was nothing wrong with her. A cold doesn¡¯t make people kill themselves.¡±


    Ailmon nodded.


    Minna straightened up in her seat and rubbed her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I have to get ready to work,¡± she said.


    ¡°Thank you for helping us,¡± Shale said and got to her feet.


    ¡°If you find out¨C when you find out what happened to Ginnifer, you will tell me, right? Please, promise me,¡± Minna pleaded.


    ¡°Of course, we promise,¡± Shale stated before the freelancers left the room.


    o-0-o


    The night was getting rather old when every possible witness available to them had been talked to and the streets of Wallsen were largely deserted, not counting the last opportunistic thugs hiding in the shadows.


    Shale shook herself awake in the cold air as they walked towards the Guildhouse and their various lodgings. The others were silent next to her, Naia stifling a yawn.


    ¡°We did an impressive amount of work today,¡± Shale remarked to nobody in particular.


    ¡°I¡¯m rather pleased as well,¡± Ailmon said. ¡°Tomorrow, we should focus on thoroughly discussing everything we have so far. There is a certain uniformity to some of the information we¡¯ve obtained, which we need to address.¡±


    ¡°When we¡¯re awake,¡± Shale added.


    Aran nodded. ¡°So, eight o¡¯clock, bright a¨C¡°


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare!¡± Naia interrupted. ¡°Eight is in a few minut¨C¡°


    ¡°Hours!¡±


    ¡°Minutes! I¡¯m not getting up before they serve lunch!¡± Naia stated.

 Lunch at the Shindig

    A piercing whistle cut through the crowd of the Shindig. Several people turned to look as Naia stood up and waved at Aran when he entered. When she noticed the additional attention, she waved everyone off with a hand gesture and sat back down.


    Aran made his way over to the table she occupied, right in the middle of the large taproom. Neither Shale nor Ailmon were anywhere in sight.


    ¡°Aha!¡± Naia said triumphantly, slapping a hand on a notebook that lay in front of her, so forcefully her tea sloshed. ¡°Not in a hurry to get here before everyone else so you can be all high and mighty, huh? That seems strangely out of character for you, Aran!¡±


    ¡°If I¡¯m not mistaken, they only just started serving lunch.¡±


    ¡°Ha! It¡¯s been at least six minutes! Oh, looky, my lunch is being served,¡± she said, gesturing to the tray-on-legs deftly making its way towards them through the crowd, ¡°because I had time to order, and they had time to make my food.¡±


    ¡°¡­Yes, I hear you. You got up early.¡±


    ¡°Yes, to spite you, of course,¡± Naia said casually as Ibbi slid a tray with her food onto the table. ¡°Thanks,¡± she added.


    ¡°No problem, hot stuff. Did you catch the killer yet?¡± Ibbi asked, obviously curious.


    ¡°Nah, but we¡¯re working on it, me especially. We¡¯ll let you know as soon as we catch the little cockweasel,¡± Naia said.


    ¡°If my hair was long enough, I¡¯d braid it for luck,¡± Ibbi said and looked at Aran. ¡°Can I get you anything?¡±


    ¡°Eh, I guess; a plate of goblin dippers and a tarbean tea.¡±


    ¡°Coming up,¡± Ibbi said and left.


    ¡°So, anyway, I¡¯ve been working hard this mor¨C¡°


    ¡°Oh, no. What did you do?¡± Aran demanded.


    ¡°I went all Ailmon and made a list of when things happened.¡± Naia grabbed the notebook in front of her and slapped it angrily down on the table. ¡°Sheesh-a-dripping-loo, Aran, stop being up my nose and down my pants all the time!¡±


    Aran stared at her, expressionless.


    Naia, annoyed, waved a hand in front of his face. ¡°Hello!¡±


    ¡°Sorry, let¡¯s see your list, then.¡±


    She narrowed her eyes, staring harshly at him. ¡°No. Let¡¯s not yet. Let¡¯s talk about you until the others get here.¡±


    ¡°About me? Why?¡± he asked, confused.


    ¡°I hardly know anything about you, and I need to figure out what your problem is.¡± She crossed her arms, glaring at him.


    ¡°I hardly know anything about you either¡­¡±


    ¡°Yet you believe you know enough to be all over everything I say and do because I have actual fun with the job!¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not doing the job to have fun!¡± Aran snapped.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t! But why not! There¡¯s absolutely no reason why you can¡¯t do a good job and enjoy the process,¡± she shot back. ¡°Why are you so damned gloomy whenever something seems interesting?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m not gloomy!¡± Aran put his hands on the table and leaned towards Naia, who mirrored his movement and stared angrily at him. ¡°Why are you so damned happy and unaffected?¡± he demanded. ¡°We¡¯re wading in corpses and you¡¯re walking around like it¡¯s a wonderful celebration.¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m not! I¡¯m walking around as if death happens, and I¡¯ve seen a lot of it!¡± Naia gave an exaggerated sigh.


    ¡°Alright, fine. Look, here¡¯s my problem.¡± Aran closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°It¡¯s really hard to work when you¡¯re bouncing around, giggling at everything, and I have to keep an eye on you to make sure you don¡¯t tell everyone what we¡¯re doing.¡±


    ¡°You mean with that Dibble guy? You¡¯re still sour about that? We weren¡¯t getting anywhere and just lying to him would have been useless. I can bet you fifty gost he¡¯s a brilliant liar, so he¡¯s probably also pretty good at spotting lies.¡±


    ¡°So what? At least he wouldn¡¯t have known ¡­everything!¡± Aran snapped.


    ¡°Really? Because I think he¡¯s a curious man with a lot of resources, so if he sniffed a mystery that remained a mystery, he¡¯d likely start spying on us and interfering. Now, with my intervention, he settled for trying to buy the shicks and helping us. We became a curiosity, not a personal quest!¡±


    ¡°Are you seriously, seriously saying you did that on purpose? Honestly? Hand on your heart?¡± he asked.


    Naia put a hand over her bosom and stared grimly at Aran. ¡°You think being professional is all about being boring and not enjoying anything. And that being smart means being silent. Well, you¡¯re wrong!¡±


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    ¡°Look.¡± Aran held up his hands. ¡°You¡­¡± he faltered. Naia was looking at him with big eyes and it seemed her anger had unexpectedly gone.


    Suddenly, her shoulders dropped. ¡°We¡¯re pretty different people, huh?¡±


    Aran nodded, unsure what to say. It seemed he¡¯d unwittingly dodged the Naia-maelstrom. ¡°Yes, we¡­ we are.¡±


    Naia leaned back in her chair and looked at him. She crossed her arms.


    ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ I have no idea how to handle¡­¡± Aran began, Naia raised an eyebrow. ¡°Poor choice of words,¡± he amended. ¡°I ¡­have worked alone for over ten years. Shale and Ailmon, they function like-¨C¡°


    ¡°Nicely and quietly, like you,¡± Naia interrupted.


    ¡°Well, yes. I guess so,¡± he admitted, though it felt like losing ground.


    ¡°Your food.¡± Naia still held his gaze, but nodded sideways towards the bar.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Aran just said as his lunch arrived. He waited until Ibbi had gone again, then he sighed.


    Naia clapped her hands sharply. ¡°I know! I should teach you to not be a stick in the mud! Maybe it¡¯ll help!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a ¡®stick in the mud¡¯, what does that even mean!¡± he snapped harshly.


    ¡°Yes, you are, but we can fix that! A little, at least. You¡¯ll lighten up and I¡¯ll lighten down!¡±


    ¡°Naia, I¡­¡± He looked at her for a while, from the short, dark hair framing her pretty face to the wild colours of her dress, unsure why it was necessary for her to reach this accord between them.


    ¡°Come on!¡± she said, exasperated. ¡°We¡¯ve known each other for months now and I just want to know if it¡¯s actually possible for you to say the words ¡®good job, Naia¡¯! And I¡¯m willing to work for it. But of course, if you¡¯re just a coward¡­¡±


    Aran rolled his eyes but suddenly realised what exactly was so odd about this conversation. ¡°Why do you care?¡± he asked. ¡°You strike me as a person who doesn¡¯t give a damn what others think. So why is this so important?¡±


    Naia just looked at him like he was powerfully dim-witted. ¡°Because I like you. You smell good.¡±


    He opened his mouth to respond but closed it again.


    ¡°¡­Which is frankly a bit weird, since you¡¯ve been wearing the exact same clothes every single day I¡¯ve ever seen you,¡± she added.


    He put a hand on the chest of his dark grey shirt and tightfitting jacket in the same colour, made with a wealth of hidden pockets with room for the smaller tools of his trade. ¡°I like this, so I just have ten of them.¡±


    ¡°Are you serious!¡± Naia exclaimed. ¡°You only have the same kind of clothes? Gods below! You are such a dork!¡± She shook her head, eyes wide.


    ¡°I¡¯m really not going to sit here and defend my fashion choices.¡±


    ¡°So, you¡¯re saying you actually could?¡± She pushed the notebook into the middle of the table. ¡°Anyway, it gives me plenty to work with and the others have been hovering for a while, wondering when we¡¯d be done arguing.¡±


    Aran leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and drew a long sigh. ¡°Of course they have,¡± he just said.


    Naia gestured to the others at the bar, and Ailmon and Shale came over with their plates and mugs.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Shale said. ¡°Technically, we are late, but you seemed to have something you needed to sort out.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s very diplomatic of you,¡± Aran said flatly and forcefully stopped himself from rolling his eyes.


    ¡°So, back to work,¡± Ailmon said, taking a sip from his mug. ¡°I propose we¨C¡°


    ¡°I¡¯ve made a list of when things happened, since we never counted the extra dead prostitute into the mix before,¡± Naia interrupted.


    ¡°Very well, a good place to start. Please enlighten us.¡± Ailmon nodded at her.


    Naia smiled triumphantly. ¡°Six nights ago, our murderer¡­ maybe¡­ found Nester and killed him by bashing his brains in, right? That was what the note said?¡± She looked at Shale, who patted her belt pouches and found the note from Sef.


    ¡°Correct. The note says, ¡®found dead five days ago¡¯, but that was yesterday,¡± Shale said. ¡°¡¯Found in a tenement building hallway five days ago with his head bashed in¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Thanks. He was killed by being hit over the head, so it might not be related,¡± Naia said. ¡°Anyway, two days later, during the day, Ginnifer runs out and kills herself opportunistically. Definitely not the work of the stabby-stab-man. Then, during the late evening, stabby-stab enters the brothel, hires Shandra, and stabs her. That¡¯s the first one we know is on him, for sure.¡± She looked to the others as if expecting resistance, but nothing was forthcoming, so she continued, ¡°Then, the night after that, stabby-stab is at it again, going into the house on Murder Street and killing Corwin in his sleep. I guess we now know from the brothel that he could climb in and out the window. Then, two nights later, he goes and kills Sargon in the street. But weirdly, he takes the time to carry the corpse to the Guildhouse. That¡¯s strange, right? Since Nester and Corwin were just left where they were.¡±


    ¡°Maybe he had a more personal relationship with him?¡± Aran suggested.


    ¡°Yuk-o-rama!¡± Naia exclaimed.


    ¡°Well, that alley where the murder happened was pretty secluded,¡± Shale said thoughtfully. ¡°Maybe he wanted to make sure the corpse was found? The others have been easy to find.¡±


    ¡°Corwin wasn¡¯t. Rather the opposite, actually,¡± Ailmon said, frowning thoughtfully. ¡°If any of them should have been carried into the street, it should have been him.¡±


    ¡°Would have been a bit risky, though,¡± Aran said. ¡°In a building with several tenants.¡±


    ¡°Or perhaps he¡¯s not a trained assassin who really knows what he¡¯s doing?¡± Shale offered. ¡°Corwin¡¯s downstairs neighbours said they heard someone apologise. I mean, that¡¯s not really a lot to give your victim before killing them, but still¡­¡±


    ¡°So you mean he¡¯s doing it against his better judgement?¡± Ailmon asked.


    ¡°That might be stretching it, but for whatever reason he¡¯s doing it, he might not be too happy about it?¡± Shale mused, pulling one of her braids thoughtfully.


    ¡°All of them were sick,¡± Aran said. ¡°Ginnifer was falling ill, Corwin was hearing whispers in his ear if Dibble is to be believed, and Minna said the murderer was rubbing his head as if he seemed to be in pain too.¡±


    ¡°Oh, now you¡¯ve done it!¡± Naia said excitedly. ¡°What if he gave them all some disgusting disease, and now he¡¯s realised that he has it and so have they, so he¡¯s running around killing his old bedfellows, apologising as he does so? Maybe he¡¯s doing it to spare them the pain and dripping humiliation?¡±


    ¡°That might not be completely farfetched ¡­to some degree. Perhaps he did know them, maybe even work with them,¡± Ailmon added.


    Naia gasped theatrically, ¡°It could be that Sef guy. He probably dealt with them all.¡±


    Shale chuckled. ¡°He also didn¡¯t seem particularly ill. And he sent us out to solve it.¡±


    ¡°A clever ruse!¡± Naia stated, then gave a laugh.


    ¡°There might actually be someone who handled information retrieval for the guild and had contact with all of the victims as a result of that. I don¡¯t find that particularly hard to believe, I suppose we just have to poke deeper into the inner workings of the guild, which might not be particularly welcome, but let¡¯s see what the day brings,¡± Ailmon said, stabbing at his swizzle eggs with a frown.


    ¡°Excellent!¡± Naia said, looking at Aran. ¡°So let¡¯s hurry over and investigate Nester¡¯s death so I can show off my timelining skills.¡±

 Nester, the knight of the street

    When the freelancers approached the house at Rosk Way, they found a small, dank, two-storey tenement-building with no lock on the outside door. Aran pushed it open.


    A short, dark hallway stretched before them, leading to a wooden staircase to the upstairs. Next to the stairs was a rather narrow corridor and they could just see a door hidden in the recessed corner.


    Aran pointed to the floor at the base of the stairs, ¡°Who wants to bet this is where he was found?¡± he asked, stepping aside to prop the door open and let in as much light as possible. Before the stairs was an area where someone had scrubbed the floorboards and left a visible clean-spot, looking rather out of place in the ramshackle building.


    There was a stuffy, sharp smell to the air in the hallway, as if something was rotting away under the floorboards.


    ¡°We should talk to the tenants here,¡± Ailmon commented and approached the clean spot on the floor, casting a glance up the stairs where they could just make out a door leading into an upstairs flat in the gloom. He turned to look at the others after giving the clean spot a long stare.


    Naia was staring fixedly at it on the floor, unmoving, and Shale was standing transfixed, staring blankly into the middle distance as if thoroughly lost in thought. Ailmon looked questioningly back and forth between the women and then at Aran, who just shrugged.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look at me. I don¡¯t think it was something you said, though¡­¡± Aran commented.


    Ailmon cleared his throat pointedly.


    Naia shook her head and blinked. ¡°Something is really, seriously odd. Did one of you knobbers slip a shick in my pocket or something?¡± She patted her clothes frantically. ¡°If you did, I will make you wish you had a giant, mangy badger stuck in your godsdamned underwear rather than ever having met me!¡±


    Shale turned around abruptly and stalked past Aran, out of the house. She stopped in the street, turned to look back, and then walked back inside, looking around with a deep frown-line running between her brows. Even Naia stopped her search for an imaginary shick to stare doubtfully at her.


    ¡°Shale?¡± Aran said.


    She let out a sigh as if she¡¯d been holding her breath.


    ¡°Sorry, ehm¡­¡± she stopped herself halfway. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve been here before.¡±


    ¡°Why would you have?¡± Ailmon asked, puzzled.


    ¡°Well, just¡­ This place feels strangely familiar. I think maybe it was in the vision, but I never saw Nester, so it doesn¡¯t make sense. I¡¯m¡­¡±


    ¡°Could I be picking up the weirdness from you?¡± Naia asked, eyebrow raised. ¡°Maybe some of the corpse vomit stuck on you and now you¡¯re sharing it? I mean, without wanting to, obviously!¡± she added.


    Shale looked a bit lost and shrugged.


    ¡°Aha!¡± Aran snapped his fingers. ¡°This is your chance to be more specific, Naia. I¡¯m pretty sure Shale didn¡¯t slip you the shicks, so what is going on?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s just¡­¡± Naia glared at him, clearly not happy. ¡°I have a feeling like it itches in my mind. Like when you smell something so horrible it physically hurts!¡±


    ¡°So, you are in pain?¡± Aran lifted an eyebrow sceptically.


    ¡°Sort of¡­¡± She looked around the small, dank entrance hall. Then she crouched down and put her hand on the floor that had been scrubbed. ¡°Not really getting anything from here specifically¡­¡± she mumbled, cast a glance up the stairs, and then walked halfway up, the others just looking on. She halted and looked over the bannister to the narrow corridor where the door to the downstairs flat was.


    With a frown, she skipped down the stairs and approached the door. The others filed after her as she stood still, listening at the door.


    ¡°Could you perhaps further enlighten us as to your impressions?¡± Ailmon requested.


    ¡°It¡¯s still itchy and strange like it¡¯s sort of pulling at me. I don¡¯t get how you aren¡¯t feeling it.¡± Naia pressed her ear to the door and then stepped back and knocked hard. The sound seemed to fill the small entrance hall.


    All four of them stood still for a second, listening for any sign of movement on the other side. Then Aran pushed Naia aside and knocked again. ¡°Hello,¡± he called out. ¡°We¡¯re here to look into the death of the beggar that was found here. Can you open the door, please?¡±


    ¡°Oh, how revealing! Excellent! I¡¯m evidently having a good effect on you!¡± Naia commented and crossed her arms.


    ¡°Are you sure whatever it is you are feeling is coming from here?¡± Shale asked.


    ¡°Sort of. Maybe. Yes,¡± Naia said and gave a little shiver.


    ¡°We could perhaps take a look¡­ Considering the confusion of information and impressions we have concerning the stones, it would make sense that someone could conceivably be hurt or dead in there,¡± Ailmon suggested calmly in a low tone of voice and turned his gaze to Aran.


    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    ¡°Are you seriously suggesting we break in?¡± Naia said.


    ¡°I¡¯m seriously suggesting we take a look inside to see if what you are feeling pertains to our investigation, yes.¡± He nodded calmly.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you had it in you!¡± Naia said and punched his shoulder playfully.


    ¡°Are we doing this?¡± Aran asked.


    ¡°Let¡¯s just be sure nobody is home,¡± Shale said and leaned over Aran¡¯s shoulder to knock thunderously at the door, so the wooden boards shook.


    They all waited with bated breath for any sounds from the other side. When nothing happened, Aran reached for one of the pockets in his jacket and drew forth a set of lockpicks. ¡°If it¡¯s barred with a bolt from the inside, we will have to go around,¡± he said. ¡°But one of you should watch the stairs, and the other two, go around to watch the window.¡±


    ¡°Dibs on stairs!¡± Naia said.


    Shale and Ailmon looked quickly at each other and then Shale nodded. ¡°We¡¯ll see if we can catch a glance inside through the window. Give us a moment; if there¡¯s anything to report, we¡¯ll come back.¡±


    Aran nodded and the two of them left.


    Naia had just positioned herself at the foot of the stairs, when the sound of a door opening and closing was heard from upstairs, followed by footsteps on creaky floorboards. Aran quickly put the lockpicks back in his pocket and hurried to the stairs.


    The man who came down was tall, lean, and broad-shouldered with a kind of sinewy strength hiding in his movements. He had sharp, suntanned features and his black hair was drawn back in a ponytail. He was dressed in baggy trousers, a shirt and vest, and his hand rested lightly on the hilt of a dagger hanging from his belt.


    He stood still for a moment, halfway down the stairs, dark eyes calm but alert as he studied them. ¡°Who are you?¡± he demanded sharply.


    ¡°We are freelancers,¡± Aran said, taking a step forward. ¡°We are here to inquire into the death of the beggar, Nester. Who are you?¡±


    ¡°Freelancers? Who¡¯s paying you?¡± the man asked with a suspicious frown.


    ¡°The guild,¡± Aran responded. ¡°I take it you live here?¡±


    The man nodded curtly, then he walked down the stairs, stopping in front of Aran, who was blocking his way. They were roughly at eye height with each other, and the man pinned him with a stern stare, crossing his arms. ¡°Why would the Freelancers¡¯ Guild throw money at a beggar? I didn¡¯t know it was a charity,¡± he said sharply.


    Aran nodded sideways to the clean spot on the floor. ¡°He wasn¡¯t the only one to die,¡± he said. ¡°Now, would you mind answering a few questions?¡±


    ¡°Make it quick,¡± the man said brusquely.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name and how long have you lived here?¡±


    ¡°Nataniel Bargess. A few years. I¡¯m rarely here,¡± he said.


    ¡°Why is that?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a sailor on the Herradine.¡± Nataniel¡¯s gaze flickered to Naia who stood next to Aran, her arms crossed, and stared directly at him.


    ¡°Were you here when the beggar was killed?¡± Aran asked.


    ¡°I was, but asleep. I found him in the morning.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t hear anything during the night? Anything at all?¡± Naia interjected.


    Nataniel¡¯s gaze flickered to the clean spot at the foot of the stairs and then back to Naia. ¡°I¡¯m really not sure,¡± he said.


    ¡°Is that remorse in your voice?¡± Naia asked suspiciously.


    Aran¡¯s shoulders dropped at her blunt approach. But then Nataniel¡¯s stern demeanour softened a little as he looked at her. ¡°Perhaps it is¡­¡± he said. ¡°He wasn¡¯t a bad sort, the old boy. I think I woke up during the night. Not fully, though. I think I heard someone crying, but I dismissed it and slept on.¡± He shook his head. ¡°Maybe it was a dream. I¡¯m not sure.¡±


    ¡°So, it was you who found him?¡± Aran asked.


    Nataniel just gave a nod.


    ¡°What had happened? We only had a cursory description. We don¡¯t even know what the murder weapon was.¡±


    ¡°A stone, it was left here,¡± Nataniel said, nodding to the floor. ¡°His head was ¡­If I hadn¡¯t known he was kipping here, I wouldn¡¯t have known it was him.¡±


    ¡°What did you do after you found him?¡± Naia asked, eyes narrow. ¡°Give him a decent funeral?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Nataniel responded with taut anger in his voice. ¡°I did! Most of us don¡¯t get much honour in life, but at least I could give him honour in death.¡±


    ¡°Honour in death, huh?¡± Naia said speculatively.


    ¡°Did you know him well?¡± Aran hastily asked.


    ¡°He slept here on occasion. If I was home, I gave him a meal when he did. He¡¯d trade me a tall tale. There, anything else? I have to go,¡± he said brusquely.


    ¡°Do you know who else lives here? We¡¯d like to talk to the other tenants.¡±


    ¡°There are only four flats here,¡± Nataniel nodded to the door on the ground floor. ¡°That one and three upstairs, mine and two empty ones.¡±


    ¡°Who lives in there, then? They may have heard something more.¡± Aran gestured to the door they had been knocking at.


    Nataniel snorted. ¡°You won¡¯t get her to open up.¡±


    ¡°Why? Who is she?¡±


    ¡°I think her name is Nebbeth, but I¡¯m not sure,¡± Nataniel said. ¡°She¡¯s a recluse. I¡¯ve only seen her a few times and only when she was spying out the door. I don¡¯t even know how she gets her food, I¡¯m not sure she ever goes outside. Anything else?¡± he demanded.


    ¡°Did you go through Nester¡¯s belongings?¡± Aran asked, keeping his voice level.


    ¡°They did at the Bacon House. Asked if I wanted it. They assumed I was next of kin.¡±


    ¡°Did he happen to have¨C¡± Aran began.


    ¡°A flat stone, about this size,¡± Naia interrupted, drawing a circle with her finger on the palm of her hand. ¡°With a greenish-purple colour?¡±


    Nataniel looked at them pointedly for a moment. ¡°He did. Why? What was it?¡±


    ¡°Where do you keep it now?¡± Naia asked, ignoring the question.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t rob a dead man!¡± he snapped. ¡°It went on the pyre with him. I assume it was an heirloom of some kind.¡±


    ¡°So it was burned with him?¡± Naia asked. ¡°He didn¡¯t have any family?¡±


    ¡°People with a family who care about them rarely end up as beggars, girl! I have to leave now.¡± He pushed past Aran and walked outside, past Shale and Ailmon who had been standing near the door. He gave them a quick glance, but then set off down the street.


    Naia looked at Aran. ¡°Was I the only one who thought he was as fishy as one can be without gills?¡±


    Aran shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m not so sure. We were planning on breaking into a flat and he might have sussed that out. So his abrupt manner¨C¡°


    ¡°Are you seriously making excuses for the guy who matches the size description we have from the Spire and who lives in Murder House One? When this whole place gives me the creepies? Oh, and not just me - Shale too!¡±


    Shale and Ailmon came into the hall.


    ¡°How much did you hear?¡± Aran asked.


    ¡°Most of it, I believe,¡± Ailmon said. ¡°I agree with Naia. And if it turns out he has nothing to hide, at least we can cross him off the list.¡±


    Shale nodded, still frowning. ¡°Better hurry,¡± she said. ¡°I saw him turn the corner and go left at the shrine to Vela.¡± She nodded down the street in the direction Nataniel had gone.


    ¡°I¡¯ll meet you at the Shindig later,¡± Aran said and quickly left the house.

 Margan Elfslayer鈥檚 Hospital

    During all the years he had been working without companions, Aran had amassed a certain number of rules that came from behaviour he had observed. One of the rules stated that only people who had something to hide would look around to see if they were being followed.


    Nataniel Bargess made his way through the grubby streets of Wallsen without once looking over his shoulder. On occasion, some rough types would give him a glance, but the man reacted much as Aran himself would, by staring back sternly and putting a hand on his weapon in the promise of a fight. Most people in Wallsen were desperate in one sense or another, but few were suicidal, and robbing a man who could defend himself was rarely worth the risk.


    On the way through the city, Nataniel stopped at a street vendor to buy some bread and then continued on his way, eating as he went, with Aran following calmly at a distance.


    They reached the south-eastern end of Wallsen, and Nataniel calmly turned down the broader street running the length of the city wall and continued east until he reached the large, imposing building known as Margan Elfslayer¡¯s Hospital. He walked in through the open front gates and Aran had to hurry to not lose sight of him.


    The building itself was by far the largest and sturdiest in the area. Build from robust stones, its symmetrical main building with two wings rose three stories tall and largely dwarfed any of the surrounding timber-frame tenements. The main yard had a small colonnade all around the building where patients sat on benches in the shade.


    All the patients were dressed in the same simple but clean linen shirt and trousers. From where Aran stood, seemingly just paused at the entry gates, he could see a reception desk in the main building through the open double doors.


    There were a few patients in the open yard before the building, sitting at a table in the bright sun. When Aran quickly glanced over them, they seemed rather strange. One was rocking back and forth; one old woman was picking incessantly at her long, tangled braid; and another was even sucking his thumb. A plump, kindly-looking human woman with a green armband tied over the sleeve of her dress and her dark, silver-streaked hair in a careless bun was watching over the patients, seemingly trying to get the group to relax and enjoy the springtime weather with somewhat mixed success.


    Aran sighed inwardly and walked towards the main building, going through the most common names he¡¯d heard in Wallsen in his mind. He quickly considered saying he was a friend of Nataniel¡¯s to be given leave to follow him, but that would include the risk of staff members asking the man if he¡¯d caught up to him and giving a description, which he had no doubt Nataniel would recognise instantly.


    When he entered the cool, shaded hall in the hospital, Aran quickly scanned the area for Nataniel, but he was nowhere in sight. There were only three ways he could have gone, however. Down one of the corridors to the wings of the building or up the stairs dominating the hall. He considered just walking in like he knew where he was going, but a young man at the desk looked up at him and gave a polite nod, so that was out of the question.


    ¡°Hello,¡± Aran said, smiling calmly at the young man. ¡°I¡¯m here to see Basil. I understand visits are allowed?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± the young man said, leafing through a large book on the desk, closely written with names and numbers in columns. ¡°He came here three days ago?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right, as far as I know. I just heard it, so I thought I¡¯d go and cheer him up.¡±


    The young man shook his head and looked Aran over. ¡°If you could, that would be appreciated. He has given the staff quite a heap of problems. Are you family?¡±


    ¡°Yes, second cousin, twice removed.¡± Aran shrugged. ¡°But who¡¯s counting.¡± He gave the young man a grin. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear he¡¯s been trouble, though. I¡¯ll see if I can help calm him down.¡±


    ¡°Upstairs, first floor. Go right, and he¡¯s in room fourteen.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Aran said and took the stairs two at a time. He looked down the corridor he¡¯d been shown to and then quickly down the corridor of the other wing. There were windows spaced at intervals, giving a rather sad view of the city wall just a narrow alley away, benches under each of them, and a long row of doors down the other.


    Several people in the garb of patients were walking to and fro. Most seemed afflicted by injuries of different kinds, and a few doctors were there as well, all marked by a green armband over their civilian clothes, but Nataniel wasn¡¯t in sight. A few of the doors along the corridor stood open, so Aran casually strolled down the row, casting glances into the rooms, all senses alert. It was as good a place to start as any other.


    Thanking Kaela, the goddess of thieves and lost things, in his mind, Aran heard a voice he was certain was Nataniel¡¯s from the room two doors down at the end of the corridor. The door was slightly ajar, and though he didn¡¯t dare look in for fear of being spotted, he took a seat under a window near the door. Noting a room close by where the door was open if he needed to get out of sight quickly, he listened.


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe this¡­¡± he heard Nataniel say. He sounded almost exasperated. ¡°I know it was a hard journey and the sickness was painful, but snap out of it. Gods!¡± The scrape of a chair being pushed back was heard and Aran calmly got to his feet again. He walked next to the door to lean against the wall, staring out of the window as he continued to listen.


    ¡°Talk to me!¡± Nataniel demanded from inside.


    Aran thought he heard a sigh. Then Nataniel¡¯s voice became calmer. ¡°I talked to the Captain yesterday. She¡¯s been reluctant to leave without her quartermaster, but business is business, you know.¡± There was a pause. ¡°We¡¯ll set sail again for the Far Isles in three days. Everyone is skittish about it, but the Captain says we have to turn our luck around. This time with extra provisions¡­¡±


    There was a new pause. ¡°Eli¡­¡± Nataniel said and then faltered. ¡°Captain Ara named Jareth as our new quartermaster; can you believe it? ¡­Good for him, I suppose. But she¡¯d rather have you at your post.¡±


    Again, there was silence from inside, and Aran imagined the strain of carrying the conversation alone was wearing on Nataniel. He¡¯d hardly seemed the chatty type. ¡°Well, I¡­ I have to go to the Herradine now and see if something needs doing,¡± he said, sighing. ¡°If you won¡¯t, or can¡¯t, talk to me, I suppose I will go. Oh, here. That sugar-bread from the bakery in Wallsen.¡± A little bit of a rustling sound and some footsteps were heard. ¡°Me bringing the quartermaster food, isn¡¯t that at least a little entertaining?¡± Nataniel asked. No response seemed forthcoming.


    Footsteps were heard, and Aran quietly turned and looked into the room close by. He hovered there a moment, looking at the man inside, lying in bed, his back turned. From the room of the patient called Eli, footsteps were heard. Aran quietly slipped into the room where he was out of sight of Nataniel in the hall and listened as his footsteps, quick and regular, vanished down the corridor. Aran leaned out to confirm his identity, watching him go around the corner to the stairs out of the hospital.


    It seemed Nataniel had a friend who refused to speak to him, and Aran wasn¡¯t sure if he thought this had anything to do with the investigation into the murders. Still, he had come this far. It wouldn¡¯t make sense to leave without either looking in on Nataniel¡¯s friend or following Nataniel for the rest of the day until he did something more interesting than visiting a sick friend. Nataniel didn¡¯t seem to Aran to be hiding anything, regardless of what mystical itches Naia felt. And besides, he could always go to the harbour and take a look at the Herradine if he wanted to catch up with Nataniel. He quickly decided and slipped out of the room, over to the one Nataniel had just left.


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    The door was ajar, and Aran pushed it open. The room was like the others he had seen along the corridor; a bed, a small chest for personal belongings, and a narrow table and two chairs. In one of the chairs, placed by the window, a man was sitting, hunched over to stare at the floor, his face in his hands as he rubbed his temples. He was dressed like the other patients at the hospital in linen shirt and trousers and cloth shoes. Though he was tall and well-muscled, clearly used to hard work in the same way Nataniel was, he seemed fatigued, and his light brown hair fell into his face in uncombed tufts.


    For a few seconds, Aran stood and watched him, but then the man started as if suddenly realising he was being watched and looked up. For a second, his tired and sunken green eyes were sharp and piercing, but as quickly as the vigilant look appeared, it vanished again to be replaced with an empty stare.


    Aran stood for a while, observing the man who Nataniel had called Eli. The man just kept up the blank stare, as if fixing a disinterested gaze at Aran¡¯s hairline, never actually making eye contact. Then he leaned back in his chair and just looked out of the window instead.


    ¡°Hello,¡± Aran said.


    The man didn¡¯t respond, and Aran looked around the small room for any kind of touch of something personal that might be of use. A pair of boots stood under the bed by the wall and an open cloth bag of sugar-bread was left on the table, presumably by Nataniel. Everything else was as blank as the man¡¯s stare.


    ¡°I¡¯m lost, maybe you can help me?¡± Aran asked.


    Eli still didn¡¯t respond and just sat calmly by the window, looking at nothing.


    Aran evenly approached, taking care not to seem threatening. The man didn¡¯t flinch at his presence now, and Aran started doubting if the look in his face had really been vigilance. Perhaps it had rather been sudden shock at seeing a stranger?


    ¡°Are you alright? Can I help you in some way?¡± Aran asked, placing himself so he could see the man in profile, but out of immediate reach, just in case. ¡°Your name is Eli, right? I heard your friend say it.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know you¡­¡± the man said softly, still not moving his gaze.


    ¡°I know, I¡¯m sorry to barge in here like this. What happened to you?¡± Aran asked, observing Eli closely.


    For a while, he didn¡¯t respond. Then he just repeated himself, ¡°I don¡¯t know you¡­¡± he said as if it was a deeply uninteresting fact.


    Aran looked around again. The boots under the bed looked sturdy and had a bit of dried mud on them. There was no lock on the chest for the patient¡¯s belongings.


    ¡°It¡¯s a nice spring we¡¯re having, huh?¡± Aran said, not expecting much of a reply but hoping he could annoy Eli into dropping the ruse if it actually was. ¡°It¡¯s nice how it only rains at night.¡±


    Eli, predictably, said nothing.


    Aran went to stand next to him where he sat in the chair, and gazed out of the window overlooking the main gates and yard in front of the hospital. ¡°There seems to be a bit of a party going on down there, huh?¡± he said conversationally, nodding down at the table in the sun where the strange patients he had seen when he entered were sitting. He knew that Eli wouldn¡¯t be able to see them from where he sat and was hoping for a reaction, though not expecting one.


    ¡°You¡¯re not Enna¡­¡± Eli just said tonelessly and then fell silent again.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m not. Who is Enna?¡±


    Eli didn¡¯t respond.


    Aran gave a sigh. ¡°Alright, I suppose it is weird having a stranger in your room for no good reason¡­ Why was the door open?¡± he added, opportunistically, but didn¡¯t receive a reply to that either. He waited a few moments, studying the man¡¯s exhausted, blank stare. Then he said, ¡°I¡¯ll go find Enna for you.¡± There was still no response. Eli¡¯s tired eyes kept staring out the window emptily.


    Quietly, Aran left the room, softly shutting the door after him. He waited a few moments in the hall to see if the patient named Eli would come and open it again, but he was either still staring blankly in there or too smart to react promptly.


    Shaking his head, Aran went back to the reception area and found the young man who had directed him to ¡®Basil¡¯s¡¯ room. ¡°That didn¡¯t go exactly as planned,¡± he prefaced. ¡°He kept asking about someone named Enna; do you know who that is?¡±


    ¡°Oh, she¡¯s one of the doctors here. I didn¡¯t know she had been by to see your¡­ cousin, was it? She¡¯s out on the lawn for a session with some of the patients.¡± He nodded outside.


    Aran looked outside. ¡°By the table?¡± he asked.


    The young man nodded and got to his feet, but Aran just gestured for him to sit. ¡°I¡¯ll let her know and ask her a bit about how I can help. Thank you,¡± he said and walked into the bright sunlight outside, knowing that Eli¡¯s room overlooked the yard; he¡¯d be able to look in on their conversation if indeed there was a mystery that gave him a reason to. Which Aran rather doubted. Nataniel¡¯s reaction to finding four strangers milling about suspiciously in his building was perfectly reasonable, and his visit to a friend and colleague who had fallen gravely ill was the same.


    ¡°Excuse me, are you Enna?¡± he asked, smiling at the doctor who was tending to the patients at the table.


    She turned and gave him a motherly and sincere smile that almost took him aback. ¡°Yes. Can I help you?¡±


    ¡°Eh¡­ I was just visiting someone here and I talked a bit with a patient who asked for you.¡±


    ¡°Oh, who was it? I¡¯ll go look in on them as soon as we are done here.¡± She looked at the people at the table. ¡°No, sweetie. No,¡± she said to the patient who had been sucking his thumb and was now putting the old lady¡¯s braid in his mouth. The old woman¡¯s eyes were wide in what was either panic or anger and she looked about to scream until Enna put a gentle hand on the shoulders of the two would-be rivals. ¡°Shh, it¡¯s alright, Gallimima. I think Gar just got a little confused for a moment,¡± she said softly.


    ¡°Confused,¡± Gar said, neither confirming nor denying anything, and popped his thumb in his mouth again.


    ¡°My cat can paint,¡± another patient at the table interjected, as still another drew her feet up on the bench so she could hug her knees and start rocking back and forth, mumbling, ¡°Silly, silly, silly, silly¡­¡±


    Aran looked at the party, torn between staring at it out of morbid curiosity and simply giving up and leaving. Enna was gently calming everyone, signalling to one of the other doctors who summoned more staff. They began escorting the strange patients back into the hospital.


    On the way, the old woman with the chewed-on braid grabbed Aran¡¯s jacket. ¡°Sacrifice a goat to the sleepy demon under the city when the full moon comes,¡± she said conspiratorially.


    ¡°Ehm, alright. Thank you, I¡¯ll be sure to do that.¡± Aran nodded as the old woman was led away. He looked after the retreating group, wondering who had the easier job: Enna, in dealing with clearly not sane people for some reason, or himself, in dealing with Naia. Probably Enna. She presumably got paid for it.


    ¡°There.¡± Enna smoothed her apron and smiled at him. ¡°Well, an hour a day is about as much as the patients can realistically handle.¡± She smiled. ¡°Sorry to keep you waiting; who was it that was asking for me?¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Aran snapped back to reality. ¡°It was a guy named Eli,¡± he said, seeing Enna¡¯s eyes widen in surprise. ¡°I was wondering what¡¯s wrong with him?¡±


    ¡°Did Eli speak to you? Did you have a conversation?¡± Enna asked, a note of excitement in her voice.


    ¡°Well¡­ It was mostly me doing the talking, to be honest. But he said something about a ship, and it piqued my curiosity,¡± he lied.


    ¡°Really? That¡¯s wonderful news.¡± Enna clapped her hands together in a gesture of excitement that almost seemed Naia-like. ¡°Perhaps that means he¡¯s finally beginning to recover a bit.¡±


    ¡°What has been wrong with him? He seems strong and not at all ill. Except for the strange mood.¡±


    ¡°Well, there was an incident during his last voyage. He¡¯s a sailor. His friend and his captain told me he had fallen into madness for no reason they could discern after they had been in rather threatening circumstances at sea. But the madness seemed to befall him after the calamity had passed, which is strange, don¡¯t you think?¡± she said, largely rhetorically, it seemed. ¡°I theorise that something he can¡¯t express gave his emotions a shock if you will, and all of his feelings revolted against him at once. I just need to get him to trust me enough to tell me what it was, so I can help him through it.¡±


    ¡°His¡­ feelings revolted?¡± Aran asked.


    ¡°Why, yes. Sicknesses don¡¯t just attack the body, they can also attack the mind and the feelings,¡± Enna said kindly. ¡°My work here is largely about treating those. Although it¡¯s a little-known field of study, and frankly, most of my colleagues here are somewhat sceptical though it¡¯s quite obvious. Those people you just saw-¡± She gestured at the now-empty table behind her. ¡°-are obviously suffering from diseases of the mind and feelings, and they deserve to be cured as much as anyone else,¡± she finished passionately.


    Aran just nodded. ¡°¡­So, you don¡¯t know what happened to him? I noticed the door to his room was ajar, is that ¡­significant in some way?¡± he asked hesitantly, not really certain how to proceed.


    ¡°Oh¡­ yes. The poor dear gets quite upset at too-closed spaces. He went into a fit a few days after he came here. We¡¯d been out on a small excursion to the festival that day. I thought it might help him to see something familiar. But maybe that was too much of a shock for him. Normally we lock the rooms of the patients at night, so they don¡¯t wander around when the staff is quite sparse, but for him, we had to make an exception.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I see,¡± Aran nodded. ¡°Well, I hope he gets better,¡± he finished and turned to leave.


    ¡°If he did indeed speak to you, perhaps you could come back tomorrow and try to talk with him again?¡± Enna asked opportunistically.


    ¡°If I have time, I will,¡± Aran said without promising anything and left Margan Elfslayer¡¯s Hospital to go to the harbour district.

 Fungal fun

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe he did that without a fight!¡± Naia said sourly, looking out the door to the street where Aran had left. ¡°If it had been me suggesting he go after that guy, he¡¯d be standing around arguing until the guy had gone!¡±


    ¡°You two maybe have some things you should talk about¡­¡± Shale suggested with a small shrug.


    Ailmon cleared his throat to get their attention. ¡°So, if I understood our new possible suspect correctly, there is only him, two empty flats, and the one down here, occupied by a woman possibly named Nebbeth. I vote we just quickly ascertain whether that is true.¡± He nodded towards the stairs.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go knock,¡± Shale said and took the stairs three at a time. A few moments later, Ailmon and Naia heard knocking at one door, then two others after a pause, and Shale came down from upstairs.


    ¡°Nothing to report,¡± she said. ¡°I looked in through the keyholes and all places appear empty. One didn¡¯t even have furniture in it.¡±


    ¡°So, did you two look in through the window to this place?¡± Naia nodded towards Nebbeth¡¯s door on the ground floor.


    Ailmon nodded. ¡°They were blocked by¡­ crates or furniture or some such. We couldn¡¯t look in, but if someone was going to break out and flee that way, it would require a decent amount of rummaging.¡±


    Naia grinned. ¡°Perfect. But now we don¡¯t have a locksmith with us. Do you want to break the door in, or do I have to be unbearably brilliant?¡± She wiggled her fingers in the air, grinning broadly.


    Ailmon went to the door, grabbed the handle, and turned it. The door swung open a crack. ¡°I¡¯m very sorry,¡± he said to Naia. ¡°I¡¯m certain you¡­¡± he faltered and took a step back as the others came closer.


    ¡°Arse on a stick!¡± Shale exclaimed and covered her nose in defence against the sickly, rank, musty smell that sneaked out of the room. ¡°Something is definitely dead in there!¡±


    ¡°Oh, this isn¡¯t good¡­¡± Naia commented, unaffected by the smell. She quickly looked towards the doorway to the street before she went over there and closed it decisively, leaving them in near darkness.


    ¡°Ehm¡­ Perhaps we should keep some light since the windows inside have been¨C¡° Ailmon began but stopped when Naia¡¯s soft voice was heard to whisper, and the darkness was suddenly lit up by a strong golden glow coming from her entire hand.


    ¡°Neat, isn¡¯t it!¡± she said, grinning eerily in the glow.


    ¡°Alright, you¡¯re our torch, good¡­¡± Shale said, muffled. ¡°Just don¡¯t let anyone see you do that. You¡¯ll probably be attacked quicker than you can shout ¡®dwarf¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Ehm, yes? That¡¯s sort of why I closed the door, genius!¡± Naia said and walked to the entrance to the stinky flat, pushing the door fully open. ¡°Besides, I have a caster¡¯s permit, so I¡¯m actually allowed!¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Shale asked. ¡°How come?¡±


    ¡°I work with the courts.¡± Naia shrugged. ¡°When I¡¯m not being bossed unfairly around by you buggers¡­ How did you think me and Ailmon became friends if not through work?¡± She walked inside a few steps, holding her glowing hand aloft. ¡°Oh, dear¡­¡± she commented, taking a few steps inside. Something crunched under her feet.


    ¡°What is that?¡± Ailmon asked, following her inside, with Shale looking over his shoulder.


    The entrance into the flat, which should have been an open room, was a narrow corridor built largely out of what appeared to be trash. There were crates that appeared to be full of utterly random objects of no value, ancient, folded cloth bags, different pieces of clothing in stacks, small pieces of furniture and boxes overflowing with strange, worthless objects that seemed to crowd the group. The smell was excessive, pungent and stale, and it violently assaulted their noses.


    Naia lowered her hand to let the magical light sweep the floor. ¡°Ech! Wish I hadn¡¯t done that!¡± she exclaimed. The floor was absolutely littered with small, dead, almost mummified rodents, their fur flat and lustreless. When Naia moved the light, it seemed almost like a vague, effervescent glow somehow hovered over them, shining in a pale greenish tint.


    ¡°Lovely,¡± Naia said. ¡°The deaders are glowing. That¡¯s so one of the qualities I look for in a dead gerbil.¡±


    ¡°How did they die?¡± Ailmon turned one of the numerous small corpses over with the tip of his shoe. There didn¡¯t appear to be any wounds on the small creature.


    ¡°Don¡¯t know, but we should be really careful in here. I¡¯m getting all sorts of wobbles off of this,¡± Naia said, almost in a subdued tone.


    Shale hunched over a bit and cumbersomely squeezed past the others down the nasty corridor of trash. ¡°I¡¯ll go first,¡± she said into her elbow, drawing the knife strapped to the small of her back. ¡°Naia, stay close and light the way?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do you one better,¡± Naia said, ¡°just to show off, you understand! Not to be actually helpful!¡± She gestured with her shining hand and Shale gave her a puzzled look. ¡°Come on, give me the knife, I¡¯ll shine it up.¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± Shale hesitated a little. ¡°You¡¯ll cast magic on it? I¡¯m rather fond of it.¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t break it!¡± Naia snapped, crossing her arms, which left them in near darkness until she sighed and unfolded her arms again, so her glowing hand was visible. ¡°It¡¯ll just shine, that¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°Will it stop again?¡± Shale asked.


    ¡°Of course it will! If I could cast permanent enchantments at a whim, I¡¯d be a lot richer than I am!¡±


    Shale hesitantly handed her the knife, handle first.


    ¡°No! Hold it normally, or I¡¯ll enchant the hilt and that would be stupid,¡± she said and waited for Shale to do as she was told. When that happened, Naia muttered a few strange words, drew a symbol of some sort in the air, and touched the blade. It promptly glowed in the same golden hue as Naia¡¯s hand. Shale held the knife with a certain trepidation.


    ¡°Well, shoo, you¡¯re not going to keel over. Light the way and stab anything that moves! Orc off!¡± Naia waved Shale on, and with a slightly worried nod, Shale turned to edge down the trash-warren corridor.


    In the beginning, they tried to scoot their feet along the floorboards so as not to step on the rodent corpses, but after a few turns of the maze into the flat, they gave up and just accepted the nasty crunching under their soles. The dead gerbils were so dry, they almost exploded in a cloud of dust whenever stepped on, rather like some kind of poisonous mushroom.


    The first corridor branched off in two narrow directions and, picking one at random, they walked down another aisle of strange, hoarded belongings, stacked almost floor to ceiling and too high to look over to get their bearings. They came to a sort of room created from trash where a small table stood, sagging under the weight of more crates and random objects.


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    ¡°I believe the window would be right around here,¡± Ailmon said, nodding towards the wall, stacked high with mouldy things.


    ¡°Who did this?¡± Shale wondered, moving on with her knife held in front of her as a torch. ¡°It doesn¡¯t make sense. Wallsen is a shithole, but this is extreme.¡±


    ¡°We must assume it was the resident, Nebbeth. Perhaps she has a point with all this. I suppose we will find out if we find her alive,¡± Ailmon commented.


    Naia turned and stared at him with an incredulous expression. ¡°You picked a really weird time to become an optimist! This place is crawling with something nasty! There¡¯s no way she¡¯s still alive! I can basically feel the shick-vibe trying to hump my brain!¡±


    ¡°I¡­ see. Well, proceed with caution, in that case,¡± Ailmon just responded calmly.


    ¡°Rosk!¡± they heard Shale exclaim as she carefully edged her way around a corner, mindful of not causing a cave-in of precariously stacked items. Naia and Ailmon hurried the few steps up to her. At what would be the end of a small living room if it hadn¡¯t been filled with strange, hoarded items, a terrible tableau came into view and the smell of death was nearly overwhelming.


    The end wall was swallowed by a creeping moss-like fungus, gleaming a violent green and purple hue in the golden light from Shale¡¯s knife blade. It grew in thick, splotchy splendour over what seemed to either be a large crate or a small table. Draped across the piece of furniture was a figure that had once been alive. It was hard to tell gender and age, for the figure was swallowed completely by the gleaming mossy fungus, the features of it simultaneously bloated horrifically by the moss and strangely sagging in all the wrong places.


    The dead person must have been quite large, judging from the folds of skin around the corpse. It appeared as if all liquid and fatty tissue had been sucked from the body.


    A whole host of dead gerbils were lying on top of each other everywhere, barely more than teeth jutting from clumps of slightly luminescent mould.


    They all stared at the scene for a while, unmoving.


    ¡°¡­I think this might be Nebbeth,¡± Shale finally said tonelessly.


    ¡°And this might be the origin of the strange stones,¡± Ailmon said quietly. ¡°Look.¡± He pointed, and Shale turned her knife to light where he pointed at the area where the dead person¡¯s hand seemingly slumped through the top of the unknown piece of furniture.


    ¡°Let me just¡­ Light, please.¡± Ailmon looked around to find something, and Naia just looked at him, arm extended. ¡°I need to find something I can use as a glove,¡± he said, tentatively poking some fabric bags in the trash-warren.


    ¡°What! You¡¯re not going to touch it!¡±


    ¡°We have already breathed it in, haven¡¯t we?¡± Ailmon asked calmly as he carefully tried to remove the fabric. ¡°Quite thoroughly, in fact, to a point where we might be heading to where Sargon was. Remember the strange mist that came from Sargon¡¯s corpse? Perhaps this plant is what has infected people.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s clearly alive, it might attack! We should burn the shick out of it and be done with it!¡± Naia exclaimed.


    ¡°If we set fire to anything, most likely the entire neighbourhood will ignite. There is no way we would be able to¡­¡± Shale stopped and looked at Ailmon.


    He stood still, turned to face the mossy pile, staring blankly, his breath heaving in his rigidly held body as though he was severely winded but unable to move.


    ¡°We¡­ should probably get out of here. Right now!¡± Naia said, eyes flickering from the pile of corpse-moss to Ailmon and waving her glowing hand in his face. Nothing happened; he was still frozen in placed and didn¡¯t react.


    ¡°Follow!¡± Shale demanded decisively to Naia and sheathed her glowing knife. Then she bent down, effortlessly hauled Ailmon onto her broad shoulder, and quickly and surely made her way through the trash warren, Naia following closely at her heels. They entered the hallway with the closed door to the outside and Naia quickly said a word of magic, dispelling the glow of her hand, as Shale tore the door open and marched outside in the sunlight.


    Naia slammed the door behind them and leaned her back against it, holding it closed and looking at Shale with big eyes. ¡°What the Hells just happened? Is he alright?¡± she asked. ¡°Did you really run? From what?¡±


    Shale put Ailmon down and held him on his feet. He was pale and his breathing was fast and superficial. His bald head was sweaty and there were tears streaming down his face.


    Ailmon closed his eyes and leaned against Shale, letting her support him as he seemed to calm down a bit.


    ¡°Hey.¡± Naia went over to him, waving a hand in front of his face, but Shale batted it away.


    ¡°Let¡¯s give him a moment,¡± Shale said. ¡°He¡¯s alive.¡±


    ¡°Oh, dear¡­¡± Ailmon said weakly, wiping his face with his sleeve, still clinging to Shale¡¯s shoulder with one hand and swaying a bit on his feet. Slowly, he seemed to gain some control of himself and he let go of the half-orc, finding his footing on his own. Awkwardly, he straightened his tunic before looking up. ¡°I do apologise¡­¡± he said slowly and averted his gaze. ¡°How very embarrassing.¡±


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± Shale asked.


    ¡°Yes. Well, I suppose¡­¡± He nodded slowly, looking at his shoes as if unsure about where to place his gaze. He cleared his throat. ¡°That was quite a surprise.¡±


    ¡°What! What was!¡± Naia exclaimed urgently.


    ¡°The¡­¡± He shook his head.


    ¡°What!¡± Naia repeated.


    ¡°Well, the¡­ The person, for want of a more precise term¡­ Saibee¡­¡± He gestured at the house they had just come from. ¡°Saibee, that¡¯s its name, I believe. The only thing it was certain of.¡±


    ¡°Did you just seriously brain-speak with a meat-eating killer fungus?¡± Naia asked, eyebrow raised.


    Ailmon looked blankly at her for a moment, then he frowned. ¡°I suppose I did, yes.¡±


    ¡°The meat-eating fungus which I have been warning everyone about since we found the first shick and got barfed on?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Ailmon said and held out his hands in a calming gesture. ¡°I believe the matter is more complex than we thought, so please, don¡¯t do anything rash.¡±


    ¡°Alright¡­¡± Shale said. ¡°But you do know you sound a little like Naia now, right? All of this is awfully vague.¡±


    He nodded, looking at her with slightly furrowed brows. ¡°I can see that, I suppose. But allow me to explain. Please. I really don¡¯t think it wants to hurt anyone.¡± He cast a worried glance around them, down the street. They appeared to be alone, but there was obviously the chance someone was keeping an eye on their antics from one of the other flats along the street. ¡°Can we just go back inside, and I will explain what happened?¡±


    Naia narrowed her eyes. ¡°Why are you suddenly keen on going back? How about we go back to the Shindig, just for funsies? What do you say to that?¡± She stared challenging at him.


    ¡°Eh, well, I¡¯m not certain that¡¯s our best course of action,¡± Ailmon said carefully.


    Naia still stared at him with narrowed eyes and crossed arms.


    ¡°We could just stay here and make sure nobody else goes in there?¡± Shale suggested.


    ¡°If Ailmon has gone funny in the head, Aran should be there to help make the decision. I vote we go back and meet him,¡± Naia stated, not moving from her position at the door.


    Shale looked at Ailmon. ¡°Will that work? You were pretty shaken. Are you sure you are alright?¡±


    Ailmon sighed. ¡°Please, let¡¯s talk this over rationally. I did have¡­ a conversation, of sorts. Or rather, I was shouted at, I think. And I think I will definitely have to go back. This thing, whatever it is¡­ It¡¯s scared, alone and dying. It¡­¡±


    ¡°It what? Can it still reach you out here?¡± Naia asked. ¡°I bet it can! You can be ultra-shicked right now and we won¡¯t stand a chance!¡±


    Shale nodded slowly. ¡°We don¡¯t really know what this is. You will have to explain what happened,¡± she said to Ailmon.


    ¡°It¡­ sort of reached out for me. You remember,¡± he said, gesturing at Shale, ¡°we both caught glimpses of it through the spores or whatever it was that were stuck in the corpse. I think it communicates in emotions, of sorts. It was frightened, but when I responded, I felt¨C¡° He stopped himself abruptly and then gestured helplessly. ¡°I felt its hope and gratitude at not being alone.¡± He closed his eyes, a look of calm concentration on his face for a moment before he looked at Naia. ¡°And yes, I can still feel it.¡±


    ¡°Seriously! And you¡¯re not worried about this!¡± she almost exploded. ¡°We should get as far away from here as we possibly can! It murdered several people!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not so sure about that,¡± Ailmon said. ¡°They were killed with blades. It wasn¡¯t the plant¡¯s doing. But it was involved somehow. And now we have the chance to ask it.¡±


    ¡°Do you think it¡¯s possible to ask it questions?¡± Shale asked.


    Ailmon nodded slowly, brow furrowed. ¡°We should at least try.¡±


    ¡°And by ¡®we¡¯ you mean you, and when it goes horribly wrong, we-¡± Naia gestured angrily between herself and Shale. ¡°-are the ones who have to clean up the mess.¡±


    Ailmon gave her a little smile. ¡°Well, that is true. But if you recall, you were right. You did put your money on a plant monster after we talked to Master Dibble. Aren¡¯t you at least curious to meet a completely foreign being?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you go thinking you can charm your way out of this by petting my self-esteem!¡± Naia exclaimed.


    Shale took a deep breath. ¡°I say we give it a try. Ailmon is willing to try to talk to it, and we don¡¯t have other suspects at the moment. It¡¯s a good place to start.¡±


    Naia gestured, clearly exasperated. ¡°I¡¯m the voice of reason, here. Do you see how critical that is?¡±


    Shale grinned, showing her sharp teeth. ¡°We will have a great story to tell,¡± she said.


    ¡°If we live¡­¡± Naia interjected crossly.


    ¡°But Ailmon,¡± Shale continued smoothly, ¡°you will let us know if you start to feel different, won¡¯t you?¡±


    He just nodded in confirmation and turned to go inside on shaky legs.

 The Herradine

    It took Aran a while to find the Herradine, but he finally succeeded, finding the ship docked at the south-eastern Pier Ward, close to the large merchant warehouses along the harbour and the shipyard at Ninian Toll.


    She was a large, well-kept cargo vessel suitable for about a crew of twenty-five, if Aran¡¯s limited nautical knowledge was worth anything. She had two sturdy masts and purple and red sails being repaired by the few sailors who were on duty.


    Aran spent a while observing the vessel from a narrow alley between two warehouses where cheap beer was sold from a small stall. He sipped his drink calmly, keeping an eye on the ship. Some twenty minutes later, Nataniel came into view from below deck. He talked to one of the sailors on deck for a little while and then left, not looking over his shoulder.


    Aran glanced after Nataniel as he walked up a street that led north to Kaala Wharf. He would be incredibly surprised if the sailor were to blame for anything related to the murders, and in his mind, he had written him off as a suspect of anything. The man didn¡¯t have a sneaky bone in his body. Sour, unapproachable, absolutely. But not murderously so.


    It might pay off to just talk to some of his colleagues, however. If nothing else, then to pry about what happened to the patient named Eli, so he could close that avenue of inquiry and go back to the others with a full report. Shrugging, he approached the docked vessel and was stopped on the pier by one of the sailors, a large fellow with a scar down his cheek that made him seem like he was grinning.


    ¡°What d¡¯ya want?¡± he asked, not as hostilely as his fearsome visage would suggest.


    ¡°I was wondering if I could talk to the captain or whoever is in charge,¡± Aran said. ¡°I have been asked to look in on a man named Eli at the hospital and I need information.¡±


    ¡°Oi, he wants the captain,¡± the sailor said, punching one of the others on duty.


    The man hurried below deck and came back a moment later accompanied by a woman of the small tribes. She was tall for her kind, roughly the height of a ten-year-old human, though considerably more muscled. She had bright green eyes and short red hair. There were quite a few scars on her weathered face and on her hands. She was dressed in practical, good quality trousers and a tunic with a finely tailored leather vest. Aran noticed two jewelled daggers in her belt and one in her boot.


    ¡°I¡¯m Ara Golden, captain of the Herradine,¡± she said with a stern no-nonsense authority that made her seem much taller than she was. ¡°You wanted to know about my quartermaster. Why?¡±


    Aran weighed his chances. He could easily lie his way in and out of this, but he had a feeling Ara Golden would be asking him a lot of direct questions. ¡°I would appreciate speaking with you in private, if you don¡¯t mind?¡±


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    She looked up at him for a moment, clearly evaluating him. Then she nodded. ¡°Come with me,¡± she just said and turned to go. Aran dutifully followed her.


    ¡°I know your type. You stink of freelancer,¡± she said, turning to face him and crossing her arms when they were out of earshot in a small but well-appointed office. ¡°So what is going on?¡±


    ¡°Some murders have happened, and Eli, possibly Nataniel Bargess as well, have come up in the investigation. I¡¯m not trying to cast any blame; I just want more information.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s gone and died, and how are Callantes and Bargess involved?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Beggars and prostitutes, and they aren¡¯t directly involved, except¡­¡± Except Naia had weird feelings about Nataniel. Aran almost shook his head. ¡°I just want to make certain I can cross them both off my list.¡±


    ¡°You lied your way onto my ship, so I ask you again: how are they involved?¡± the small woman stared pointedly at him.


    ¡°One of my colleagues is ¡­sensitive. She believed Bargess, who lives in the house where one of the murders was committed, is central to the investigation. I disagree.¡± Aran shrugged. ¡°But I still followed him and learned of ¡­Callantes? Eli. I met him at the hospital, and I thought I¡¯d round off my snooping here.¡±


    ¡°At least you are honest now. So, are either of them in trouble? I will fight for my people, as they would for me.¡± The small but imposing woman looked sternly at him, brows furrowed.


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe Nataniel had anything to do with the murder. I had a feeling that Eli was hiding something, though. I think he might be more aware than he lets on. Why that is, though, I have no idea. But maybe you do?¡±


    ¡°What exactly are you accusing a very, very ill man of doing?¡± Captain Golden asked sharply.


    ¡°Ill, how? How did he end up at the hospital?¡±


    ¡°Answer my question! And not with another question this time. What are you accusing my quartermaster of?¡± Captain Golden demanded calmly.


    ¡°Right now, nothing. I doubt if he has anything to do with the murders. But if he does, then I¡¯m accusing him of murder. As I said, I¡¯m here to know enough so I can rule him out. Just tell me how ill he is, and I can ignore him going forward.¡± Aran held up his hands in a calming gesture and refused to buckle under the harsh stare of the captain of the Herradine. Her hands were resting on her hips, arms out to the sides to make her seem bigger, and close enough to her weapons to make him want to calm her down.


    ¡°Fine, I will tell you about Eli Callantes if you tell me who your employer is!¡±


    ¡°The Freelancers¡¯ Guild is,¡± Aran answered promptly. ¡°Those who have died have been affiliated with them.¡±


    ¡°Why in Tigla¡¯s name would a sailor who is only here for a few months a year have an interest in guild politics? How do you suppose my quartermaster has any kind of stake in a local phenomenon he cannot possibly be involved in?¡±


    ¡°I am here to have it confirmed that he doesn¡¯t have a reason to have killed anyone.¡±


    She snorted and began pacing back and forth. ¡°He fell ill on our voyage back from the Far Isles. We were caught in a storm that never ceased and supplies dwindled. We managed to find fresh water and some edibles on a tiny island as the storm let up and we laid a course back to Sonderport. On our way back, Callantes fell ill. He was really, seriously ill. Screaming in pain, babbling like a madman, and there was nothing anyone could do save knock him out to spare him the agony!¡± Captain Golden marched up and poked Aran hard in the chest, staring up at him with angry eyes. ¡°He was as sick as it is possible to be, and nobody could find the cause. Not then, not at the hospital. He can¡¯t even speak to me, as if I¡¯m not even there. One of my most trusted officers who¡¯s saved my life in battle. He would return to his station if he could. And that¡¯s the end of it!¡± she barked. Then she made a dismissive gesture toward the pier. ¡°Now get yourself off my ship!¡±

 Saibee

    Shale and Naia walked back into the death-flat with a certain amount of trepidation, Shale lighting the way with her knife. Ailmon strode in there with calm confidence, almost as if distracted in his mind. Even Naia seemed subdued by her suspicions. When they came to the horrible tableau, Ailmon calmly reached out with one hand, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow, and moved the strange piece of furniture, which turned out to be a transport crate. The corpse that had been draped over it was almost disintegrated in a puff of nasty dust as soon as it was disturbed, but he paid it no mind, just shoved the crate aside and crouched on the floor where it had been. Below it was a small hole in the floorboards.


    Shale, covering her nose and mouth, stepped closer to look over Ailmon¡¯s shoulder. Below the floorboards was a small room or tunnel under the house. From what they could see up here through the small hole, which looked like it was dug by tiny scratching, claws, the narrow space beneath was shining in a strong, vibrant purple and green. The light came from several of the round stones they were so familiar with, growing out of the bed of moss that covered the walls down there as it had covered the corpse and crate.


    ¡°Are we really going to make friends with this thing?¡± Naia asked, craning her neck to look past the other two.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to try to communicate with it. It¡¯s an interrogation of a suspect. Think of it that way,¡± Ailmon just said, distracted. Then he sat down, cross-legged, in the spot where the crate had been so he could see the seedpods of the fungus through the hole in the floor.


    The eerie light from below cast strange shadows on him and made him seem like a bizarre silhouette. Shale backed up against one of the trash-walls, looking sideways at Naia. ¡°Maybe I should try to clear a path towards one of the windows¡­¡± she mused.


    ¡°Oh, Hells no! You aren¡¯t leaving me with fungus-ghoul Ailmon!¡± Naia stated categorically and crossed her arms. ¡°This was your idea, so suck up the stink!¡±


    A little while passed and they just looked at Ailmon. Occasionally, he would nod or tilt his head as if thinking of a response. There was clearly some form of conversation happening, but it was soundless.


    ¡°I have an undead person in my house,¡± Naia said after a while.


    ¡°Eh¡­ What?¡± Shale looked sideways at her, puzzled.


    ¡°Yeah. I named her Mitzi. I made her. She keeps the place clean, protects against intruders... I love that woman to bits. Great cook. If you are not too squeamish. I usually protect myself against poisons and diseases before I eat, but really, that¡¯s a good habit, when you think about it.¡±


    Shale closed her eyes briefly. ¡°You have an undead¡­ What? What does that mean?¡±


    ¡°A corpse. Animated and with loads of personality. I taught Mitzi a wide range of rude hand gestures. It¡¯s great.¡±


    ¡°Alright¡­¡± Shale looked at her doubtfully.


    ¡°My point is, my home life has a much-loved shambling corpse in it, and I find this-¡± She gestured at Ailmon. ¡°-incredibly unsettling! I just thought I should be communicative and all that. Put things in perspective in clear terms.¡± Naia nodded to herself, gaze still fixed on Ailmon.


    ¡°Sure¡­¡± Shale nodded slowly. ¡°I hear what you are saying.¡±


    Naia sighed theatrically and poked at the moss-covered crate with the tip of her shoe, scraping it off in puffy, luminous clumps while watching Ailmon intently for a reaction. He still sat quietly and didn¡¯t react. Speaking a few words of magic, Naia enchanted her hand again and kicked the crate. Ailmon still didn¡¯t react, and she sighed.


    Shale tilted her head, looking down at the crate that had scooted away, leaving a trail of almost-clean on the floor. ¡°Huh¡­¡± she said, and Naia held her hand out to look at the crate. A mark was stamped into the wood, and Naia scraped more of the moss off, her attention divided between the task and keeping an eye on Ailmon. It took her a while to scrape a section clear.


    ¡°Herradine,¡± she said, when the text came into view.


    ¡°That was the ship that guy you spoke to said he sailed with¡­¡± Shale said.


    ¡°Hey! Ailmon!¡± Naia exclaimed loudly. ¡°Hey!¡±


    Slowly, as if from a daze, Ailmon moved his head and turned towards them, blinking slowly. ¡°Eh, yes?¡±


    ¡°How¡¯s it going?¡± Naia demanded.


    ¡°I¡¯m having some trouble¡­¡± He wrinkled his brows. ¡°How do you feel death?¡±


    ¡°Ehm¡­¡± Shale just said and shared a sideways glance with Naia.


    ¡°I mean¡­ everything here¡­ Saibee communicates in feelings. Emotions. I¡­¡± He faltered.


    ¡°I don¡¯t get it. And please don¡¯t tell me the fungus has a name¡­¡± Naia said tiredly.


    ¡°She does. It¡¯s the only thing she can say in words. The rest is emotions and I¡¯m trying¨C¡°


    ¡°Now it¡¯s a she? Have you gone insane!¡±


    Ailmon looked away with a puzzled expression. ¡°I don¡¯t think so¡­¡± he finally said. ¡°But I¡¯m trying to explain death to her, and I don¡¯t know how.¡±


    ¡°She doesn¡¯t know what death is?¡± Shale asked.


    ¡°Don¡¯t scrotting encourage him!¡± Naia exclaimed loudly.


    ¡°No, she doesn¡¯t,¡± Ailmon just said, ignoring Naia. ¡°She has been trying to join our¡­ collective. Our family. She believed all of us were part of one unit, so to speak. Her own colony consists of individual plants, but they are all linked into one person, for lack of a better term. So, although individual parts of the plant may wither, the whole is still there, and has been for centuries, as far as I can gather. It¡¯s all she ever knew.¡±


    ¡°Let me guess¡­ She came here on a ship?¡± Shale asked.


    ¡°Well,¡± Ailmon said and then faltered. ¡°I surmise as much. When I had the vision yesterday, it was a powerful emotion of being removed and leaving my family behind, my colony. Everything I ever knew. I suppose it makes sense if she was taken from her home somewhere secluded and brought onto a ship.¡±


    ¡°The Herradine, to be precise,¡± Shale said and nodded towards the crate.


    ¡°Ah¡­ well, that makes sense, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°Loss,¡± Shale said.


    ¡°Pardon?¡±


    ¡°For explaining death,¡± Shale added. ¡°If she¡¯s lost her family, tell her it¡¯s the same for us to lose someone to death.¡±


    ¡°Ah. That might work. Let me just¡­ try¡­¡± Ailmon¡¯s concentration was quickly swallowed by the silent, strange communication. Naia stared accusingly at Shale, arms crossed so the glow from her hand was almost obscured, except for her middle finger which rested on her arm. Shale just shrugged. ¡°We committed to this strangeness. We might as well jump as crawl to it.¡±


    ¡°Is that an orcish proverb?¡± Naia asked grumpily.


    ¡°Nah¡­ but it could have been.¡±


    o-0-o


    When Aran came back to the Shindig after a late afternoon stroll back, quietly impressed at having experienced being thrown off a ship, albeit a docked one, the first thing that met his gaze was Naia. She was standing against the doorframe of the Shindig, large tankard in hand, gesturing angrily at a tall woman with short, white hair and rows of tiny horns jutting in two lines down her scalp.


    ¡°And then she said, ¡®why don¡¯t you go back and wait for Aran¡¯, like I¡¯m some sort of child and I was in the way. Aaargh!¡± Naia screamed in frustration. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you what I¡¯ll do! I¡¯ll have Mitzi cook up a storm and give them all a nice dinner, that¡¯s what I¡¯ll do! I should so not have told her I had Mitzi. But hey, maybe, probably, she didn¡¯t even believe me. Because when I say, ¡®oh, lookie, something dangerous¡¯, they think¨C¡± Naia paused when she cast a random glance down the street and spotted Aran. ¡°Well, here¡¯s my pickup of sadness and disbelief. He won¡¯t trust me either. That¡¯s sort of his speciality.¡± She firmly handed her mug to the woman next to her, so she had her arms free to cross them.


    ¡°Lady, you need help!¡± the woman just stated and walked into the bar as Aran got close.


    ¡°Who was that?¡± he asked.


    Naia shrugged. ¡°No idea.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ I take it something has happened?¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you a genius!¡± she snapped. ¡°Well, come on, let¡¯s go back to the fungus-lovers society!¡± She started down the road.


    ¡°Explain what happened?¡± Aran suggested, following her.


    ¡°Saibee happened.¡±


    ¡°Is that a euphemism for something?¡±


    Naia gave a small sound, a mix between a growl and a huff. ¡°Inside of the apartment on the ground floor that made all my ¡®bad stuff is happening¡¯-alarms go off, we found a fungus¡­ mushroom¡­ mould. I don¡¯t even know what the difference is! It had already killed a million gerbils and a person, who was draped all over, being sucked dry by the fungus. So, of course, Ailmon decided to talk to it!¡±


    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    ¡°Talk to¡­ the fungus?¡±


    ¡°Yes, apparently it speaks in emotions and it poked at his brain pretty hard. I tell you, that man has to have a lot of feelings hidden, because he got all soggy and whiny. I thought I could at least rely on him being the boring one with no sense of fun or optimism, but nooo!¡±


    ¡°Hang on, he spoke to a fungus?¡± Aran asked again, trying to catch up.


    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s a ¡­brain talkie fungus thing. I told you there were brainworms in town, only I¡¯m not the one who has them, apparently!¡±


    Aran stopped and briefly put a hand on her arm to make her halt, too. ¡°I don¡¯t think I understand this. And what are you angry about?¡± he asked, knowing he was walking on thin ice and she might explode.


    ¡°I¡¯m angry, Aran, because I¡¯m scared of that thing. It invades minds. Oh, and bodies. That corpse-guy didn¡¯t vomit spores on us out of nowhere. There¡¯s no telling what it¡¯s doing to Ailmon¡¯s brain right now, and he invited it in without a second thought. I¡¯m angry because you don¡¯t take my warnings seriously!¡±


    He looked at her for a moment. She was unusually solemn. He nodded. ¡°I¡¯m not particularly thrilled about this either. How did they get into contact with the¡­ thing? And what was it saying?¡±


    ¡°Ech¡­¡± Naia sighed in exasperation. ¡°At least you¡¯re listening. It invaded Ailmon¡¯s brain and tried to talk to him, and he talked back, and then Shale said it was like interrogating a suspect, but Ailmon had to figure out how to explain all kinds of things to it, like it was a small child, and definitely on the stupid end. So he¡¯s right now sitting in the death flat, chit-chatting with a murderously dim killer mushroom. I left when it tried to convince him it just wants to go home!¡±


    They began walking again.


    ¡°Where did it come from?¡± Aran asked.


    Naia waved a hand vaguely. ¡°Some colony on an island, provided it¡¯s telling the truth.¡±


    ¡°And it arrived here how?¡±


    ¡°A ship, Aran. A ship, like everything else in the slagging Life Sea that needs to go elsewhere. Sheesh!¡±


    ¡°Fine! Relax. It¡¯s not me pissing you off,¡± he snapped back. ¡°So, did it kill people? Is the fungus the murderer? How did it wield a knife?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Naia just said, calmer this time. ¡°I don¡¯t understand anything of what¡¯s happening. Let¡¯s just go back there so you can see the madness for yourself. And smell it.¡±


    o-0-o


    Shale and Ailmon were standing outside the house when Aran and Naia arrived. Both leaned against the wall in the last rays of the setting sun that cast a golden glow over the timber-frame house, making it look almost not as rundown as it actually was. They were both pale and tired-looking, staring ahead of themselves blankly, Shale¡¯s skin a paler shade of green.


    Ailmon finally looked up as they approached. He nodded to them but said nothing.


    ¡°So¡­ mushroom?¡± Aran began.


    Shale rubbed her forehead in an exhausted gesture. ¡°Yeah¡­ Mushroom¡­¡±


    ¡°What did you find out?¡± Ailmon asked, visibly pulling himself together.


    ¡°Oh, no! Not here. Not a chance. We¡¯re getting outside of range of the charming death-fungus before we discuss anything!¡± Naia stated categorically. She turned and took a few steps down the dirty street before realising the others weren¡¯t moving. ¡°Come on, people! Hustle it! There¡¯s a bar a bit away from here and we are going there so you can explain yourselves!¡±


    Aran looked from Naia, stomping down the street, to Ailmon and Shale. Ailmon just stood still for a moment and the two shared a look between them as if some form of communication were happening that Aran couldn¡¯t grasp. Then Shale nodded and followed down the street, and Ailmon did the same, a pained look in his eyes for a moment before he made sure to keep his gaze averted.


    They walked in silence, which seemed oddly oppressive and troubled to Aran, and finally reached a dingy bar a few streets away. Naia was holding the door open, but stood in the doorway like an eldritch sentinel. ¡°Are you out of reach?¡± she demanded.


    ¡°Yes, Naia. We are out of reach. She¡¯s alone again,¡± Shale said.


    Naia narrowed her eyes and then stepped aside, letting all three of them enter. They took seats in the small common room, ignoring gazes from the few rather sloshed regulars.


    Aran ordered a round for them and then looked at Shale and Ailmon.


    ¡°So¡­ Saibee did kill one person. The owner of the flat. Nebbeth. But she didn¡¯t know. She didn¡¯t understand death,¡± Ailmon said.


    Naia just sat with her arms crossed, radiating displeasure.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Ailmon added, ¡°and she killed a few hundred gerbils when she was just learning how to navigate and spread.¡±


    ¡°And Saibee is¡­¡± Aran asked.


    ¡°She¡¯s a living entity. A plant, I suppose, but endowed with¡­ I don¡¯t even know how to term it,¡± Ailmon said quietly.


    ¡°Clunged up brainpowers!¡± Naia supplied.


    Ailmon looked at her calmly. ¡°Well, she communicates in emotions. With ehm¡­ yes, brainpowers. All parts of her contain a measure of her personality. The bloompods we have been finding¨C¡°


    ¡°The shicks!¡± Naia interjected.


    ¡°¡­Yes. They are her seeds.¡±


    ¡°As far as we could gather, she was taken from her home and has been trying desperately to communicate ever since,¡± Shale explained. ¡°She thought the reason she wasn¡¯t successful in communication was that she wasn¡¯t part of the collective here, so she has been trying to join us. She just didn¡¯t know how to do that. She¡­¡± Shale faltered, gesturing vaguely with her hand.


    ¡°How did a plant distribute these bloompods, then?¡± Aran asked, trying hard to make his tone as neutral as possible.


    ¡°She arrived here in the crate. By then, she was reduced to just one bloompod. I suppose the old woman took the crate into her home, and Saibee managed to contact a few of the gerbils in the flat to have them scratch a hole in the crate and floor, so she could root herself in the ground below the house.¡± Ailmon tentatively took a sip of his drink. His eye twitched at the taste and he let the rest sit.


    ¡°Alright? What then?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­¡± Shale downed her drink, unflinching, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. ¡°The gerbils died, but she got stronger as she found sustenance and she began growing the bloompods to distribute, so she could join our collective. She eventually reached the old woman and had her go around and distribute the pods to those she felt she could reach the easiest. That was the vision, or rather, memory, which I experienced when we breathed in ¡­Sargon. She seems to be able to steer people around, but there¡¯s a bit of time before it takes hold.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s why several of the victims have been ill before they died?¡± Aran asked as information slowly began to click together in his mind.


    Ailmon nodded quietly. ¡°I surmise as much. It was a snippet of Saibee¡¯s consciousness that was battling theirs for control. Do you remember that Ginnifer reportedly said something about, ¡®She¡¯s crawling with gerbils¡¯ before her untimely end? I believe she must have gotten the same manner of impressions from the bloompod as we did from the spores in Sargon¡¯s system. Only the onslaught was too much for her and drove her to suicide.¡±


    Aran looked at them for a while, not sure what to make of this. Then he shook his head. ¡°So, I¡¯m assuming there¡¯s still no handy explanation of how the other victims ended up violently murdered?¡± He looked sideways at Naia, surprised she hadn¡¯t kept the commentary up. She just scowled at him warningly.


    ¡°She, Saibee, didn¡¯t understand what was happening,¡± Shale began. ¡°She¡¯d make contact and try to integrate herself into a host¨C¡°


    ¡°Victim!¡± Naia interjected.


    ¡°¡­Victim,¡± Shale agreed. ¡°And then it would disappear from her consciousness. She was desperate when we found her. There were no more gerbils near enough for her to reach, and Nebbeth and all her other ¡­victims were dead. She had no means of communicating and couldn¡¯t reach Nataniel because he apparently has some sort of natural mental resistance to her.¡±


    ¡°So someone out there knows who has been infected. And he is going around killing those that Saibee reached out to,¡± Ailmon said, as if wrapping the discussion up.


    ¡°She drives people mad, huh¡­¡± Aran mused.


    ¡°I suppose that Ginnifer is proof of that,¡± Ailmon agreed quietly.


    ¡°Why not you two?¡±


    Shale and Ailmon shared a sideways glance.


    ¡°Because I let her speak, I suppose,¡± Ailmon finally said and shook his head. ¡°She speaks in emotions. It¡¯s quite confusing at first, but I felt¡­ Nobody deserves to be that lonely and desperate. She¡¯s a sentient being who was taken from her family against her will and deposited in a strange and frightening new place all on her own, with rules she didn¡¯t have a chance to understand and without knowing the language. She didn¡¯t even understand what it meant to be able to move. I suppose I¡­ empathise. Starting over on your own, of your own free will, is at best a daunting task. Having it forced upon you is horrendous.¡±


    ¡°But not an excuse for murdering people!¡± Naia stated categorically.


    ¡°I agree,¡± Ailmon said smoothly. ¡°Not an excuse. But an explanation that deserves to be taken into consideration.¡±


    ¡°She arrived on the Herradine, right?¡± Aran asked before the exchange got out of hand and cashed in a furious glare from Naia.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Shale confirmed. ¡°The name was stamped on the crate in Nebbeth¡¯s flat. Nataniel Bargess from upstairs must have brought it with him.¡±


    ¡°So if someone on the Herradine was suddenly driven mad, it was most likely this ¡­Saibee¡¯s fault, right?¡±


    ¡°Bargess seemed quite normal. And Saibee let us know she couldn¡¯t reach him,¡± Ailmon said.


    ¡°Not Bargess. A man named Eli. The quartermaster of the Herradine. He¡¯s at Margan Elfslayer¡¯s. He mysteriously went mad on the way back from the last journey. I had a feeling¡­¡± Aran shook his head. ¡°Gods! I was in the room with him. He doesn¡¯t want his door closed at night because he needs to sneak out. He¡¯s in good shape, used to climbing the rigging, used to hard physical labour aboard. He can haul himself up to Corwin¡¯s window. He can climb down from Shandra¡¯s. He¡¯s had contact with the fungus, so maybe he can somehow, I don¡¯t know, sense it? Maybe he can feel his victims?¡± Aran fell silent and looked around.


    All three were staring at him.


    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll bite,¡± Naia finally said. ¡°Did you just solve this?¡±


    ¡°Well, no. We have to confirm it and apprehend him first. Or rather, the other way around. But it makes sense.¡± Aran grinned.


    ¡°How do you know about this Eli fellow?¡± Shale asked.


    ¡°Bargess visited him. They are friends, as far as I could tell. I had a feeling Eli wasn¡¯t as blank as he wanted to pretend. So¡­¡± Aran looked at the others. ¡°What do we do now? Should we go and talk to him or keep an eye on the hospital and try to catch him in the act?¡±


    ¡°Of murdering someone?¡± Shale asked. ¡°Sounds a bit irresponsible. Even for us.¡±


    ¡°Unlike throwing yourself headfirst into an emotional conversation with a death fungus?¡± Naia asked casually and leaned in over the table. ¡°We are definitely going to catch him in the act. Way much more fun!¡±


    ¡°So if we had said, ¡®We¡¯re going to talk to it for funsies¡¯, you would have not been sour like a child who couldn¡¯t have a sweet?¡± Shale asked pointedly.


    ¡°You are supposed to be the responsible ones! Ailmon first and foremost!¡± Naia snapped. ¡°You betrayed me! If you can do idiot things like that, I can¡¯t trust you¡¯ll stop me from doing something equally stupid!¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s where the bugbear is buried, huh? Don¡¯t worry, I will stop you!¡± Shale said with certainty, brow furrowed.


    ¡°Really, so you¡¯re done protecting a murder plant?¡± Naia snapped.


    ¡°She didn¡¯t know she was harming anyone!¡± Shale barked back.


    ¡°How did the fungus even become a she?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s a she because she spawns seeds. I¡¯m not arguing with you about that!¡±


    ¡°Men spawn¨C¡°


    ¡°Ladies, please.¡± Ailmon put a hand flat on the table in front of both of them. ¡°The fault is mine. Will you hear me out, Naia?¡±


    Naia leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. ¡°Fine!¡± she finally said. ¡°But make it good.¡±


    ¡°It was reckless. I agree.¡± Ailmon nodded.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Naia said, less angrily.


    ¡°But when I felt her, the emotions mirrored something within me. I¡¯ve been where she is, and finding my way was¡­-¡± He looked down on his hands on the table. ¡°-difficult. And lonely. So I ran a calculated risk in speaking with her. If I hadn¡¯t, I would have felt like I was giving credit to some of those who made my life miserable all those years ago.¡±


    Naia stared at him, brow furrowed. ¡°You were, what? Kidnapped?¡±


    Ailmon gave only a blink in possible confirmation and then said, ¡°Like with Farrow, I need you to trust me.¡±


    ¡°Gods damn you¡­¡± Naia said quietly.


    Aran shared a quick look with Shale, who shrugged. ¡°Who¡¯s Farrow?¡± he asked.


    ¡°No one¡¯s problem anymore!¡± Naia snapped.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Ailmon said, evidently taking the outburst as acquiescence.


    ¡°Extortion¡­¡± Naia grumbled. ¡°But then I vote we send Ailmon and Shale in, stinking of death fungus. As bait. That makes it not as irresponsible,¡± she added smugly. ¡°This Eli-guy will go for them if he can actually feel it.¡± She looked at Shale, eyebrows raised in challenge.


    Shale scowled. ¡°Fine! But just me. Not Ailmon.¡±


    ¡°Actually, it should just be Ailmon!¡± Naia stated.


    ¡°Because¡­¡± Aran pushed his cup away and leaned forward in his chair, looking at Naia. ¡°Because the other victims have clearly been civilians who wouldn¡¯t put up a fight. If we present him with a target that will obviously fight back, he might not take the bait. Right?¡± He looked at her, curious.


    ¡°Thank you!¡± Naia said. ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re not stupid.¡±


    ¡°You actually thought this through?¡± Shale asked sceptically.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Naia said casually. ¡°I¡¯m irresponsible. Not dumb.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s one interpretation¡­¡± Shale muttered under her breath.

 A nightly excursion

    There was a special sort of anticipation to waiting for someone without their knowledge. An excitement, almost childish, of knowing something the other didn¡¯t. Aran briefly wondered if that was what the murderer felt too, waiting for the next victim. But then he saw the man who furtively slipped out of the door on the city-wall-side of the hospital near the potter¡¯s workshop. In the darkness, he was hardly more than a shadow, sneaking crouched below the windows at the back of the building.


    At the corner of the large stone building, he paused and cast a glance around it carefully. A ray of moonlight illuminated Eli¡¯s face, visible to Aran who stood in the deep shadows of the wall. Eli¡¯s face was sad, haggard, worried. This wasn¡¯t something he did for pleasure, Aran guessed. He had seen enough people with ferocious and violent desires in his line of work to recognise that there was no gleeful anticipation present.


    Treading softly, Eli made his way towards the wall, prompting Aran to silently withdraw. The man obviously didn¡¯t sense him, because he crouched down and moved a pile of rubble and withdrew a long cloak, a scarf, and a weapon belt. He quietly armed himself, put the scarf on to hide most of his face, and shrouded himself in the cloak, hood drawn up.


    Then he silently crept towards the imposing wrought iron fence around the hospital grounds and, after checking that nobody was watching him from the street, hauled himself over it and jumped down on the other side.


    The night was quiet on the street running along the hospital and Eli began to make his way towards the larger road stretching past the entrance. He walked with his head lowered and at a steady pace.


    As he followed from the shadows, Aran felt more than saw how the quartermaster was searching as he walked, seemingly at random. A slight hesitation for a split second at an intersection, a slight movement of his head as if he were listening for some unknown sound.


    Eli walked, seemingly confidently, for a while in the wrong direction from where Ailmon was. Aran trusted that Shale would fix the situation and kept tailing the quartermaster through the late-night streets. The thugs and prostitutes were still up and about, and the taverns were full of very drunk people, but through it all, Eli walked, pushing people aside calmly when they were in his way and not looking back when he was shouted at or challenged.


    Aran had a feeling there was a system to Eli¡¯s wanderings. First, he set off to the area around the Mush-Room, a fight bar in the north-eastern part of Wallsen not that far from Corwin¡¯s place. From there, he seemed to walk in concentric circles, as far as the area allowed, in his steady, seemingly oblivious way.


    Aran felt certain the man hadn¡¯t considered that he could be followed, because at no point did he seem to guard against it. Eli made his way into a warren of rickety dark tenements near the eastern city wall and Aran sighed quietly in relief when he caught a glance of Shale, gesturing to him in an alleyway opposite. For a second, he had believed it was a mugger. So the group had finally caught up. Up ahead in the grubby street, only sporadically lit by lamps shining through windows and occasionally through walls, he saw Eli stop suddenly.


    Carefully, Aran sneaked closer and saw how the man made a small, pained whir with his head and lifted his hand to rub his temple. It must have been the same sight as Minna would have seen that night at the Spire.


    Then he veered off down a narrow alley, slowly, as if he were in pain. Aran knew this was likely the place that Shale had chosen. A narrow alley where they could close off both exits and trap him. From down the dark street he had come from, Aran saw a small form approach and Naia joined him at the dark mouth of the alleyway. She grinned in the dark.


    Cautiously, they peered down the alley. Eli was slowly approaching a sunken form that looked like a bundle of rags, huddled up against the wall and only visible as a shadow in the dark. Eli inched closer, supporting himself with a hand on the wall and walking hunched as if in agony. He grasped for the knife in his belt. Before he could draw the weapon, Aran saw Shale step into the alley to close it off. ¡°Oy!¡± she snapped.


    Beside him in the dark, Naia giggled and stepped forward at the same time, whispering a word that lit up her hand in a golden shimmer.


    Eli flinched, but it seemed to Aran to be from pain, not fear or the sudden light. He drew the knife and held it out. It would only be seconds before he turned and pounced, Aran felt, as he saw Ailmon start to get up from under a mess of blankets he had huddled up in. Ailmon held a stealth-lantern and now opened the cover to allow the light to spill forth. The tall, lanky bureaucrat was slow and calm in his movements as he rose. The sudden spike of anger Aran felt at the utter irresponsibility of placing Ailmon there spurred him onward.


    ¡°Eli! Hey!¡± he said loudly, stepping forward, hands raised. ¡°Eli. Do you remember me?¡±


    The man whirled towards him, eyes wide as he studied Aran and Naia.


    ¡°I was in you room today,¡± Aran continued. ¡°Please, can we talk? I assume you are in pain, but things aren¡¯t as they seem. We can find a peaceful solution to this. That¡¯s what you want, right?¡±


    ¡°Not as they seem,¡± Eli repeated blankly and then whirled back to point the knife at Ailmon, who wasn¡¯t fast enough to get behind Shale. ¡°Don¡¯t move, Enemy,¡± he said softly.


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°She never meant to hurt anyone. She didn¡¯t know she was hurting anyone,¡± Ailmon said, holding up his hands. ¡°She was trying to communicate. She thought she was doing the right thi¨C¡°


    ¡°Quiet!¡± Eli snapped. ¡°You screech of it! It drowns my¡­¡± His shoulders tensed, and in the flickering light from the lantern and the golden glare from Naia¡¯s magic, Aran saw Eli''s hand tighten on the knife hilt.


    Ailmon just nodded calmly. ¡°Her name is Saibee, and she is full of remorse. She never meant to harm you,¡± he said, not drawing back.


    ¡°Then why does it hurt to be near you?¡± Eli snapped, clearly not impressed. ¡°Why does it hurt? Why are they sick and mad and dying? And screaming inside?¡±


    The quartermaster halfway turned towards the bureaucrat and Aran tensed, ready to pounce on the man, when Naia softly put her non-glowing hand on his arm. Their eyes met for a second and she shook her head almost imperceptibly. Then she looked towards Eli further down the alley and mumbled a few soft words, weaving a symbol in the air that culminated in a forceful movement, almost as if she drew something out of him and clutched it in her hands.


    ¡°Eli?¡± Naia asked softly and the man spun around towards her, staring at her with wild eyes. The hand holding the knife fell to his side and Ailmon quickly backed down the alley as Shale approached, hauling him behind her.


    Naia gently pushed Aran aside and walked up to Eli, staring calmly up at him. She reached her glowing hand up and pulled the scarf obscuring his face away.


    ¡°You and me, we¡¯re in the same boat here. I don¡¯t trust the mushroom either,¡± she said, much more gently and sincerely than Aran had ever heard her sound.


    ¡°Naia¡­¡± Aran said in warning, but she just waved him off without turning to look at him.


    ¡°Mushroom?¡± Eli asked, sounding unsure but never taking his eyes off her.


    ¡°Yeah, so it turns out the thing that does all the invading is a mushroom you picked up on your ship. Sound familiar?¡±


    Eli nodded slowly. ¡°We took in some provisions¡­ we were starving. We were going to die.¡±


    ¡°Well, the mushrooms were linked together in a weird sort of mindscape. The one that made it here escaped from the ship and set up in an apartment in Wallsen. Like almost all other refuse in this city,¡± Naia said conversationally.


    ¡°You know it¡¯s a threat, right? You understand that?¡± Eli asked, pleading in his voice.


    ¡°I know. It was a threat,¡± Naia put a hand on his arm, and Eli froze in place. ¡°I don¡¯t like it either. Do you trust me?¡± she finally asked.


    ¡°I¡­¡±


    Aran saw how the man seemed to fight a battle within himself, a myriad emotions flitting across his face.


    ¡°I trust you¡­¡± Eli said, but his face twisted into a strange grimace of disgust as if he was in conflict with his words.


    ¡°I know, I know. It¡¯s hard to admit you might have been wrong. Same for me. But the same way you trust me, I trust my friend there.¡± She pointed at Ailmon, who had retreated to stand just behind Shale, still holding the lantern. ¡°And he trusts the godsdamned mushroom. So please, let¡¯s go someplace less crappy and talk about how to solve this?¡±


    ¡°You¡­¡±


    Aran caught Shale¡¯s eyes for a second and knew she felt the change in Eli too. Something had just snapped, and though he hid it well, his hand tightened almost imperceptibly on the knife and his stance edged a tiny bit sidewards in preparation for something.


    Naia didn¡¯t seem aware of it. She still had a hand on his arm. ¡°I promise, we can help you. We just want to understand what¡¯s going on and help stop the murders,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯re in pain. We can help you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m in pain,¡± Eli confirmed. Then he grabbed Naia''s arm lightning fast and twisted her violently around, sending her lithe frame crashing into the wall.


    Aran was already running towards the quartermaster as Shale parried a blow to her chest, punching back at him. But Eli ducked under her arm, spun to the side, grabbed hold of Ailmon''s shirt, and let momentum carry him to a sliding halt that dragged the bureaucrat off his feet so they both landed on the alley ground, Ailmon''s back towards the quartermaster¡¯s chest.


    Aran jumped over Naia''s prone form and reached the three at the end of the alley as Eli raised the knife. Ailmon raised a hand from where he had tumbled onto the ground and Shale quickly threw herself forward with an animal growl.


    ¡°It screams!¡±


    Aran heard Eli howl and reached the pile of struggle just as Shale had parried the knife by throwing herself between it and Ailmon, and Eli was pinned beneath both of them. Aran¡¯s boot connected with the side of the quartermaster¡¯s head.


    Eli immediately slumped onto the dirty ground. Shale ripped the knife out of his hand with a snarl and held it poised and ready over the prone man¡¯s face.


    Panting silence followed.


    ¡°That could have gone better¡­¡± Ailmon said calmly and slowly rolled away, Shale making room for him.


    Aran looked at them, glowering, too furious to say anything now that it seemed they were both alive and the threat eliminated. He quickly stomped down the alley where Naia was getting to her feet. He reached out to haul her up, but when his hand touched her arm, she flinched away from him and supported herself on the wall.


    ¡°Sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to scare you,¡± he said.


    Naia kept her eyes tightly closed for a moment as her still glowing hand went to her eyebrow and forehead where she had hit the wall. A dark bruise was forming, and the pale skin was torn and bloody.


    Aran wasn¡¯t sure what to do for a stupid moment, then Naia opened her eyes and looked at him, wincing at the light from her hand. ¡°Did you kill him? Crap! I was hoping I was going to like him.¡± She pushed herself away from the wall and swallowed, growing paler.


    ¡°What do we do with him?¡± Shale called. She was tying Eli with sturdy ropes while Ailmon leaned against the wall nearby, lighting the scene with his lantern.


    Naia was still swaying a little and Aran drew a folded scarf from one of his inner pockets, handing it to her.


    ¡°Here¡­ for the blood,¡± he explained, feeling suddenly too self-conscious.


    ¡°Oh,¡± she took the fabric gingerly. ¡°I¡­ thank you. That¡¯s really nice of you.¡± She gave him a small, surprised smile and then hurried down the alley, glowing hand supporting her on the wall. ¡°Shale, is he bleeding? I need a sample,¡± she said, holding the scarf out.


    Left in the darkness, Aran just shook his head. How were they even alive still? This was the most haphazard, argumentative, and disorganised gaggle of people he had ever worked with, dead-set on misunderstanding everything he said. Naia was clearly perking up, because a discussion of how and whether to extract blood from a knocked-out man that wasn¡¯t bleeding ensued.


    In the darkness of the alleyway, Aran shook his head.

 Fungicide

    Dragging Eli Callantes across the floor while vigilantly staring at the corpse, who in turn kept staring at the prisoner, was frankly terrifying. The animated, dry corpse kept staggering after the comatose man until Aran hauled him up on a chair. Mitzi immediately lost interest, walked back to her corner, and stared blankly into space.


    Aran wondered if it was because Naia had asked her to keep an eye on the prisoner on the floor, and since the prisoner was now on a chair¡­


    ¡°Mitzi?¡± Aran asked gingerly, dreading any kind of response.


    The dead woman turned her emaciated face towards him with a soft creaking sound in the dead silence.


    ¡°If this man tries to flee or attack me, please do your best to stop him?¡±


    Mitzi¡¯s empty, desiccated eyes just kept staring at him.


    ¡°Ehm, do you understand me, Mitzi?¡± Aran ventured.


    The middle finger salute followed.


    ¡°¡­Thank you,¡± he said, unsure how to end a conversation with a dead person and wishing there had been time for these details before the three others left, guided out by Naia who insisted they go have a drink so they could at least be tipsy if they were going to argue.


    He leaned in over the bound man, steadying him as he slowly came to. On the side where Aran had kicked him, the white of the eye was blood red. It hurt to look at.


    Eli didn¡¯t flinch upon waking. Somehow, he managed to simply look up at Aran in a manner that seemed exhausted and unimpressed in equal measure.


    ¡°Now, just so we are clear on the rules, the corpse in the corner will attack you if you try to free yourself, attack me, or flee.¡± Aran nodded to Mitzi and was content to finally see a reaction when Eli slowly turned his unfocused gaze to look at the dead woman. He was evidently as happy about her presence as Aran was because he visibly suppressed a shudder, his eyes widened, and he clearly struggled to return fully to consciousness.


    ¡°This is a healing tincture.¡± Aran held up the little clay bottle Naia had donated. ¡°I had to kick your head, so I assume you need it.¡± He uncorked it. It had a vague smell of cheese. He held it to Eli''s lips, and he didn¡¯t struggle but gulped it down, grimacing in disgust.


    He kept himself remarkably together in comparison to Naia''s theatrics, though, and finally asked, ¡°What do you want?¡±


    Aran sat down and leaned back in his chair. ¡°Honestly, I just want to know what¡¯s going on. You somehow sense the people who are¡­ who have the fungus?¡±


    ¡°What will you do to it?¡± Eli asked, ignoring the question. The bruise was slowly retreating, and his eye was clearing up as the expensive magic began to do its work.


    ¡°Please answer the question. I¡¯d hate to have to kick your face again.¡±


    ¡°The girl in the alley said the Enemy was a mushroom. What will you do with it?¡± Eli demanded.


    ¡°When I was rather young, I spent a lot of time torturing people for information. Sometimes to set an example to smaller gangs as well; those got downright grisly. I got really good at it. We can go that route if you prefer that I help you keep to the subject.¡±


    The quartermaster just gave him a blank look. ¡°I¡¯ve been in agony ever since it attacked us at the island. I¡¯m barely keeping my mind together with the screaming and howling slicing my thoughts. I don¡¯t have any hope anyway, I''m fading. I just have to end it or save its victims at the very least. Nothing else left.¡±


    ¡°So back to my original question; you select your victims because you sense the fungus on them, right?¡± Aran asked, slowly drumming his fingers on the table. People who were told that torture was an option usually didn¡¯t react with tired indifference.


    Eli just nodded. ¡°I walk until I feel the pain, then I walk some more until I find the Enemy¡¯s victim. That¡¯s all. I thought it would lead me to the Enemy, but not yet. You know where it is?¡±


    Aran nodded. ¡°Yeah. I know.¡±


    A fire seemed to suddenly spark deep with the quartermaster¡¯s eyes, and he sat up a little straighter. ¡°Go there. Burn it. End it. Please. You will be saving innocent lives.¡±


    ¡°Well, I mean, sure, from you. You¡¯re the man with the knife. As far as I know, you are the one killing people.¡±


    ¡°Gods¡­¡± Eli leaned his head back and closed his eyes. ¡°It worms its way into your thoughts. It steals them and wreaks havoc with everything you think you are. And every one of those I killed were screaming in their minds to be freed from the agony and the terror of the invasion of their inner self.¡± He looked at Aran, his green gaze sharp. ¡°I wish there was some other way to free them, but until you destroy the Enemy, it will keep attacking people.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure about that?¡±


    Eli nodded quietly. ¡°I had a good life. I would not have given out red mercy to the victims if I wasn¡¯t sure of the threat. It attacked me first. I know what it does. I know the agony. Please, go and kill it.¡±


    ¡°Look, I want this resolved. I''m being paid to. But my friend tells me the mushroom didn¡¯t understand that it was hurting people. That it was scared at being stolen from its home. It was trying to create a new colony because it was alone.¡±


    ¡°Your friend who was a screaming mess of the Enemy¡¯s howls? I¡¯m sorry, but he is lost. The Enemy has found a new way to cheat and hide and murder. I''m sorry,¡± he repeated, sounding genuinely sad. ¡°Your friend is lost.¡±


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    ¡°How can you be sure?¡± Aran asked, feeling a small seed of doubt in his mind until he remembered that Ailmon had quoted sanitation laws at them only twenty minutes ago. Aran couldn¡¯t imagine a situation where someone would imitate that kind of behaviour, not even a mind-eating mushroom.


    ¡°Because all it does is attack. All the people I have killed, all of them were dying and desperate inside their own minds.¡±


    ¡°How many did you kill?¡±


    Eli closed his eyes then looked away. ¡°Nine people so far. I am right. The Enemy is the murderer, while I am merely the killer. I was giving them peace.¡±


    ¡°Nine people? We only found four. Did you somehow kill a prostitute named Ginnifer?¡± Aran asked conversationally. ¡°Make it look like a suicide?¡±


    The quartermaster looked at him, brows furrowed, then shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I missed her. If I had gotten to her sooner, I could have ended her quickly and painlessly. Not left her to have to end herself. I''m sorry.¡±


    The conversation was clearly not sane, Aran thought to himself. But obviously, it was also completely linear to Eli. And it was a fact that Ailmon said the fungus could talk in his mind. Shale claimed the same, and Naia was reluctant to go near the shicks. He remembered she had said they wanted something.


    They sat staring at each other for a little while.


    Aran opened his mouth to speak, but Eli beat him to it. ¡°I have to wonder about the trustworthiness of someone who decorates his house with a human corpse,¡± Eli said sharply.


    A laugh escaped Aran''s lips before he could stop it. ¡°I¡¯d tend to agree with you there. I''m just holding it for a friend?¡±


    Again silence fell.


    ¡°You know I''m right,¡± the quartermaster then said, voice calm and toneless. He sighed. ¡°You have to take responsibility.¡±


    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s say I actually do know you are right. Let¡¯s also say that removing the fungus is an option. If that were to happen, to the best of your knowledge, would the attacks stop? How many do you think are infected?¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± He faltered, unsure. ¡°I killed all I found. I don¡¯t know. But you have to take responsibility.¡±


    ¡°Good, then taking the fungus to a location where it cannot reach anyone else will solve the problem, right?¡±


    ¡°Gods damn you! Just go kill it! It has murdered people. At least ten, if we count your prostitute. Kill it!¡± Eli suddenly barked, furious.


    ¡°So I should murder you as well? You killed them too,¡± Aran responded.


    ¡°Yes. It doesn¡¯t matter what happens to me! But I have to see this through. I have to know the Enemy is dead.¡± He leaned back, suddenly exhausted. ¡°I know I have to face justice. I know. I didn¡¯t expect to wake up and have this conversation, I thought you would just kill me and the only regret I had was not having saved the city from the Enemy. Imagine what it will do if all its disciples are free to roam. One becomes hundreds becomes thousands. In a matter of days, perhaps a week, you won''t know if the one you speak to is themselves or the Enemy. If it¡¯s doing it because it¡¯s alone doesn¡¯t matter. It¡¯s murdering people and it has to stop.¡±


    Eli had leaned forward imploringly as he spoke, and Aran saw Mitzi in the corner gently turn her head to follow his movement. It was eerie, and so was the impassioned speech in favour of killing a killer.


    ¡°So if I vow to take care of the mushroom and get it far away from the city to a place where it cannot reach anyone, you will turn yourself over to the Freelancers¡¯ Guild?¡± Aran asked.


    Eli looked at him, the exhaustion hiding just under the surface as if the strain of the conversation was ready to break him apart. ¡°It should be killed. Didn¡¯t you listen? You can''t bring it anywhere. It will just attack,¡± he said.


    ¡°Yet, as I understand it from speaking with your captain, you were the only one it latched on to in the crew. If it attacks indiscriminately, why were you the only one afflicted?¡±


    Eli''s gaze grew blank, and he stared into space, much like Mitzi. After a long pause, he finally blinked. ¡°It¡¯s only some people it can attack, perhaps? I don¡¯t know. I only know the agony I felt. And the agony of its victims.¡±


    In the end, Aran''s only choice was to let Ailmon do what he wanted to do or risk their group falling apart. As strange and chaotic and incomprehensible and insane as he thought the others to be, they were also¡­ important. To his work. He would never have gotten this far this quickly, if he was honest with himself. More jobs meant more money. So he would invest in the mad mushroom scheme and try to convince Naia to accept it, any way he could.


    ¡°Listen to me. I''m backed into a corner, and I have to let it live. But I swear to you, I will remove the fungus and make sure no sentient being gets near it ever again. While I do that, you will be turned over to the Guild. What they will do with you, I don¡¯t know. But if you want to live, perhaps you can make yourself useful by dredging up any remaining victims after I remove the fungus.¡±


    Eli sneered, suddenly sharp, his eyes lively. ¡°You haven¡¯t done anything but tell me you¡¯re a torturer. Why should I believe a dishonourable man will be true to his word?¡±


    ¡°You know, that¡¯s honestly a good question. I guess you will just have to believe me. I¡¯ve killed a lot of people. I broke the most important friendship I had and fled to the other end of the world instead of dealing with it. I''ve stolen and killed and tortured and threatened to protect myself and make sure I didn¡¯t go to bed hungry. And I want to give a murderous mushroom the benefit of the doubt against my better judgement because two of my friends swear it deserves it.¡± Aran shrugged, slightly surprised at himself for putting it in so simple terms. He didn¡¯t actually know that Ailmon and Shale were his friends.


    ¡°The girl from the alley didn¡¯t think so,¡± the quartermaster said quietly. ¡°You should listen to her.¡±


    ¡°The girl from the alley is an enigma that shouldn¡¯t be solved. But she¡¯s the reason I dare believe the others. If it turns out they were wrong and the fungus attacks, she will deal glorious violence to everyone involved so she can tell me she told me so.¡±


    o-0-o


    ¡°If Aran says Mitzi is watching him, then Mitzi is watching him.¡± Naia shrugged and nodded graciously at Aran. ¡°Mitzi¡¯s the best. Besides, how is that guy going to kill a dead person?¡±


    Shale sighed. ¡°Fine.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re just sour because he doesn¡¯t like the Shick-mother,¡± Naia stated, sounding almost happy.


    ¡°So,¡± Ailmon interrupted, ¡°did you reach a conclusion?¡±


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t believe I''m telling the truth,¡± Aran said. ¡°He doesn¡¯t really believe I can remove the fungus or that it has agreed not to kill anyone. He said that I would have killed it already or taken it away if I was truthful.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re one of three reasons I haven¡¯t!¡± Naia said. ¡°So we should just go. Get it over with.¡±


    ¡°He also seemed to think the guild would try to use her as a weapon and we should just turn him over and then kill the fungus,¡± Aran continued.


    ¡°Her? You are in on this too? Holy freaking crud-monkeys! I thought you had a functional brain!¡±


    ¡°Naia, we¨C¡°


    ¡°I agree with the murderer,¡± Shale said quietly. ¡°We should actually just take her home.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not the job,¡± Ailmon stated calmly. ¡°We will explain it to them and take her home afterwards. We agreed to do the job for them. We were hired to find the murderer. They are both guilty. We will have to rely on Sef being a man who can understand what is going on.¡±


    ¡°Understanding and giving out mercy are two very different things,¡± Shale commented.


    Naia crossed her arms. ¡°Mercy? Then I want that Eli fellow to live. If the mushroom lives, so does he.¡± She got to her feet.


    ¡°Where are you going?¡± Aran asked.


    ¡°We are all going to go talk to him. This is stupid. If he tries anything, we will act on it, but if we are trying to save the mushroom, we are trying to save him too.¡±  She turned to leave, and when the others remained seated, she sighed, exasperated. ¡°I can also just go get him, you know. Come on.¡±


    All three got to their feet and followed her.

 Home

    Aran took a deep breath and almost smiled. The warm breeze in the southern seas calmly drove the ship forward under an overcast afternoon sky.


    Naia had been going increasingly crazy as the three weeks progressed and he was fairly certain she¡¯d try to drown herself, or someone else, before their journey home began. As such, Aran did his best to keep her occupied and out of harm¡¯s way. Shale and Ailmon both stood at the railing next to him, staring at the horizon.


    Suddenly, they both gave a little laugh and looked at each other, at the same time as Naia screamed, ¡°Land! Godsdamned land! Ugly little splat of something happening! Right on the horizon!¡±


    Her voice got closer as she climbed down from the rigging, and as always, whenever she moved about on the ship in her shorts and bare feet, every male sailor, and a couple of the female ones too, stopped in their tracks to stare at her long legs.


    ¡°We are here!¡± Naia exclaimed and pushed herself in at the railing between Shale and Aran.


    ¡°We know,¡± Ailmon said quietly with a little smile hiding in the corner of his mouth.


    ¡°Saibee just felt her family,¡± Shale said, her voice shaky with emotion.


    All four stood for a moment as the ship approached the island. Only the sound of the creaking of timber and rigging and the voices of the sailors sounded. Then Shale put a strong arm around Naia''s shoulders.


    ¡°The orc is groping me,¡± Naia said, not moving.


    Aran laughed.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about being so hard on you and not giving credit to your feelings about the shicks,¡± Shale said, still not letting Naia go.


    ¡°Ehm¡­¡± Naia gave Aran a sideways glance. Not quite a plea for help, but close.


    He looked bemused at the tall, broad-shouldered, half-orc woman with the dark mane of tiny braids. She was hard to read normally, but this seemed like sincere ¡­something. Well, she was still hard to read. A tiny voice at the back of Aran''s mind warned him that it might be right now that the fungus revealed its play, and his hand casually came to rest on the dagger in his belt.


    ¡°She¡¯ll be home soon,¡± Shale said and gave Naia a squeeze before letting her go. ¡°I promise you, she¡¯s happy and she won''t hurt anyone. She¡¯ll tell her family too, so they understand.¡±


    Ailmon pointed to the small green island in the distance that looked like a small patch of swamp-moss hovering on the calm grey sea. ¡°She was so far from home. I will go and get her crate. We should prepare to disembark.¡± He took a few steps towards the hatch below deck and then stopped. ¡°Are you coming with us?¡±


    Aran and Naia shared a glance and then Naia grinned. ¡°Why not. I really want to see the shick-mother planted somewhere where I never have to feel her again.¡±


    ¡°Her¡­¡± Aran whispered.


    ¡°Fine! After three hideous, gong-farming weeks of tedium with crazy, fungus-loving people, yes, I have fallen and referred to the splat of mould as a woman. Are you happy?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I am,¡± Shale said and barked a laugh. ¡°She¡¯s so full of joy right now; I¡¯ve never felt anything like it. I''m just sad you aren¡¯t feeling it.¡±


    Ailmon disappeared below deck. Shale padded Aran''s shoulder and followed him.


    o-0-o


    The air itself hummed and Aran physically felt the vibration in his teeth and bones. He had a feeling as if the ground should be shaking under him, but it didn¡¯t. All was silent, except for the air being alive with energy. He felt it lift his hair and course through him as the evening sky darkened and the blue twilight hung heavy around them.


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    Ailmon and Shale had led them into the low-hanging trees covering the small island, and there under their feet and up the tree trunks, they saw the fungus. It stretched all over the underbrush between the tangled roots of the trees and wove up the gnarled and winding trunks. The moss was a deep green with a purple shine to the flat seeds that grew from it everywhere. Jutting through the moss were pale golden mushroom caps.


    Here under the trees¡¯ canopies and with the darkness of the twilight, it felt dizzyingly like seeing lightning somewhere in your peripheral vision, only in this case, the lightning was golden and green and seemed to warble oddly and vanish when you looked at it.


    Shale stood back and let Ailmon carry the fungus, which had now grown to fill an entire crate during their voyage here with the coordinates they got from Eli Callantes. Ailmon very carefully tiptoed into the moss, vigilant on where to place his feet and considerably more agile than the tall, thin, gangly bureaucrat should have been. When he reached a spot a little way inside, he carefully set the fungus down and made space for her before leaving as carefully as he had approached. He was solemn, but a small glimmer of unusual happiness hid in his gaze.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get back to the ship,¡± he said in a hushed voice. ¡°In case you aren¡¯t feeling it, Saibee is grateful to you both for bringing her home. Both she and the other part of her is joyful at the reunion.¡±


    They slowly walked back to the beach, careful not to step on too much of the moss, and when they arrived back on the ship, a blue darkness enveloped them as the inky ocean lapped at the ship¡¯s sides. In the darkness, the eerie beauty of the fungus was visible as it lit up the space between the trees in purplish green luminesce, swaying back and forth and interspersed with golden flecks of light drifting gently in the darkness.


    All four stood by the railing again, watching the lights in the gathering gloom as the sailors around them prepared to leave, most of them sending the island nervous looks.


    ¡°Thank you for coming along,¡± Ailmon said to all of them. ¡°I¡¯m glad I don¡¯t have to be alone when we say goodbye to her.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome. Me too,¡± Naia said. ¡°Now can we please stop talking about our feelings? It makes my ears pop.¡±


    ¡°I think we should hold hands and talk about our feelings,¡± Aran said.


    Naia instantly grabbed his hand and moved closer to him, making him freeze in place.


    ¡°Are you sure about that?¡± she asked.


    Panicked, Aran looked at Shale, who just nodded calmly. ¡°You literally asked for that¡­¡± she stated.


    Aran disengaged from Naia, who laughed when he withdrew. ¡°So,¡± he said hurriedly. ¡°We¡¯ll be out of reach of her in a little while. What do you suppose happened to Eli Callantes?¡±


    ¡°Ooh. Definitely killed himself!¡± Naia voted, leaning her back on the railing.


    ¡°Hopefully, the Guild was merciful,¡± Shale said with two wrinkle-lines forming between her brows. ¡°Although he was our opponent, I feel like¡­ I think he did it for good reasons. Wrong. But good.¡±


    ¡°We promised to bring the perpetrator to justice. I chose to give Saibee mercy because she didn¡¯t know she was breaking a law. I hope I will never have to cross the line like that again,¡± Ailmon said, as if he was puzzling it out while he spoke. ¡°In letting her go, I broke the law too.¡±


    ¡°What law?¡± Shale asked.


    ¡°A lack of knowledge of the right and proper body of laws of the city of Sonderport excuses no behaviour, deed, or action that exceeds or violates it,¡± Naia intoned.


    They all looked at her with various degrees of surprise.


    ¡°It¡¯s the first paragraph of the Great Prow. It¡¯s written above the entrance to the courthouse down by The Niner.¡±


    ¡°¡­And you¡¯ve been there often enough to have read and memorised them?¡± Aran asked.


    ¡°Duhh,¡± Naia said.


    Nothing else seemed forthcoming.


    ¡°Is that a yes?¡± Shale asked.


    ¡°Of course. Why do you think Ailmon and I are friends? I work for the courts!¡± Naia stated, clearly surprised at their ignorance.


    ¡°You¡¯re a bureaucrat?¡± Aran asked, incredulous.


    ¡°No, I''m a consultant in matters of death. I have a caster¡¯s permit. Why else would I have that?¡± she answered, clearly not impressed with his intelligence. ¡°Anyway. I''m putting twenty gost on Callantes being dead by his own hand before the Guild got around to it. What do you say? Any takers?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s quite a grisly sport you¡¯re suggesting,¡± Ailmon commented calmly.


    ¡°Yep!¡±


    ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll play,¡± Aran said. ¡°I don¡¯t think he will kill himself. He actually said he understood that he would pay, and he didn¡¯t seem the type to give in to despair. I think he will give himself over to the Guild and be happy when they execute him. I¡¯m putting twenty gost on that.¡±


    ¡°Nice!¡± Naia stated. ¡°Shale?¡±


    Shale shrugged. ¡°Alright, I guess¡­ he gets away? Twenty gost on that seems fair. He probably needs to hunt some people down he didn¡¯t get to or something.¡±


    ¡°How? How would he do that?¡± Naia asked.


    ¡°We turned him over to the Guild,¡± Aran added.


    ¡°Sure¡­¡± Shale said. ¡°Twenty gost on him getting away somehow anyway.¡±


    All three turned to look at Ailmon, who had a faraway look in his face. He snapped to attention when he realised they were staring. ¡°Oh, I refuse to gamble on a living being¡¯s life. The law is the law and the only reason I complied with the Guild was that we had undertaken the task of bringing justice to the victims. Frankly, I should have thought that through much better and I will in the future.¡±


    ¡°What? You won''t bet? Spoilsport!¡± Naia exclaimed.


    ¡°I will hope he finds some way to atone and find meaning with what he felt he had to do. That¡¯s all.¡± Ailmon brushed a non-existent speck of dust off his still immaculately nondescript grey tunic. He looked at the others. ¡°That¡¯s all I have to add.¡±

 Some endings are beginnings

    ¡°The Guild hardly deals in mercy. It¡¯s never been something we do very convincingly.¡± The man who had introduced himself as Sef leaned back in his chair in a well-appointed office in the No Qualifications Needed Guild.


    At least that¡¯s where the murderer assumed he still was. He had been left there by the Freelancers who had found him. He should perhaps have given them more resistance, but he was exhausted and sickened by his own actions. The murderer looked at the man across from him and was surprised he was still drawing breath. It didn¡¯t make sense. He was still shackled and bound to the chair. ¡°What do you want?¡± Eli asked.


    The man grinned and leaned on the desk towards him. The mirth in his eyes seemed genuine and not cruel, and it confused Eli. He had been kept in a tiny basement cell with no light, and the sun streaming through the windows now still hurt his eyes. He didn¡¯t know how long he had been there. A week, perhaps? Maybe only a few days? It had been dark. He¡¯d slept. Listened to the background of painful screams and wails in his thoughts and let time pass.


    ¡°You have many years¡¯ experience in logistics and leadership under harsh circumstances. That¡¯s good,¡± the man said. ¡°If you make your way through our tests, we might have a very specific use for you. You don¡¯t mind, do you?¡± he asked conversationally. ¡°After all, It¡¯s better than dying, right?¡±


    Eli was not sure about that. ¡°I don¡¯t know that it is. I have never been dead,¡± he responded in an empty voice. Life meant knowing either that he had failed, and the screaming plague still spread, or to know that he succeeded and was now a useless man with innocent blood on his hands. His victims had been innocent, however much the bloodshed might have been of necessity. Neither option thrilled him. The Guild¡¯s judgement would be preferable.


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Sef gave him a bright smile. ¡°Don¡¯t fret,¡± he said and got to his feet. As he went to the door, he continued, ¡°We all die sooner or later. You¡¯ll get to experience it soon enough. Until then,¡± he said and opened the door, gesturing for a group of three people to enter, ¡°maybe you can concentrate on surviving. As I understand it, you have a rare ability to detect a specific magical frequency, and as it happens, the Guild needs someone to locate a certain powerful psionic. An undead, powerful psionic that cannot be scryed upon or tracked by conventional magic, to be exact,¡± he added, giving the three women room to approach.


    They were quite severe looking, all of them. One was young, probably no more than sixteen though she carried herself with a natural authority. She had thick copper hair in a braid over her shoulder. The other two were middle-aged with grey strands in their dark hair. They looked like sisters, same build and height. All three dressed in dark clothes, leather armour and indifferent attitudes.


    The redhead nodded at the owner of the office who was looking at her inquisitively. ¡°Thank you, Sef,¡± she said. ¡°We will test him. I¡¯m grateful for your help. Whether he will be of use to me or not, Tribe now owes the Freelancers¡¯ Guild a favour.¡± She bowed her head regally.


    Sef smiled and returned the gesture. ¡°It was our pleasure, Queen Cypokrifee. I hope you can use him. We are as invested as you and the Administrator are in apprehending the monster.¡±


    Sef left and Queen Cypokrifee nodded to the sisters. ¡°Test him quickly,¡± she said. ¡°We don¡¯t have much time before the flayer strikes again.¡±