Justicar Jhee and the Cursed Abbey

by Trevol Swift

  “It might take some more time. Elkanah has proved obstinate. You must have really barnacled her keel.”

  “Thank you, Lady Bathsheba, for hosting us,” Mirrei said. “Might I ask from what home isle do you hail?”

  “I am from Wilobeia.”

  “Of course! home isle of to this magnificent tea. And if I remember my biology and geography correctly: Cheiropthys, the batfish or batwing maye, and Maate-Kheru Wilobeian, violet harvest nut, one of various plants called seed of enlightenment. Isn’t everything on Wilobeia poisonous? My biology tutor joked it was like everything on the isle was trying to kill everything else.”

  “A studious one. I see why you and your denbe are so well-suited. How are your cyphering studies? Are you familiar with the basics of gyration?”

  Mirrei grinned. “Complete with veiled hoods and protective circles for the menfolk. Talk about your ancient knowledge.”

  Jhee swallowed her bite of yam and wiped her mouth. “It’s the tradition. I’d do you a disservice if I didn’t instruct you in the proper forms and etiquette. Though, I try to adhere to more modern Mechanist methods.”

  “Ancients sometimes have knowledge we don’t. We weren’t here first. There are beings older than us. Forces beyond our comprehension. Not just in this abbey, but in the cosmos; beings older than when we emerged and slapped the title of Maker on everything. Remember it wasn’t us who aligned the worlds and the moons.”

  “You speak of the First Ones, the Prototypes. A closer stream of distant knowledge intrigues me more. I heard a strange term, Mist Abbess. Does that mean anything to you?”

  “A mythical figure who once ruled the island. I hear tale of a resurgence in her blood cult. They seek to revive the practices of the old days and bring back the sacrifices and orgies. There are tales of strange figures walking the halls at all hours of day or night. Perhaps these are the ghosts that you claimed to have seen. Nothing supernatural. Simply all too mortal beings bent on resurrecting their heretical deities. Rumors abound of strange lights and figures seen about the abbey and on the island. Hints of cultish, pagan rites being performed in the now.”

  “Surely you do not believe in the Last Hunt, Lady Bathsheba?”

  “I believe they believe it. Which is more than enough.”

  “For someone who doesn’t believe, this appears to unsettle you.”

  “I don’t know about the deacons’ malign forces or restless spirits, but I do know something’s amiss here with respect to casting. You’ve been practicing here. Have you noticed the difference to the prime forces?”

  “My cyphering did feel off.”

  “The abbey’s restrictions on arcana have deep roots.”

  “How so?”

  “The coral edifice showcases examples of the earliest preserving arcana used to speed the mineralization process and fetter the dead. The reliquary, much like shrines, serves to accumulate ancestral power. This abbey is a giant spirit battery, Justicar. Perhaps the lights seen on the marsh was just illicit revelers and pranksters. Or perhaps it’s from some far deeper and darker powers from which this isle draws its healing energy. The ichor of a power which sleeps beneath the isle.”

  Jhee took the initiative to lighten the mood and steer the conversation toward less existential topics.

  “Husbands, if you would delight us again with your skills.”

  “It is my honor, denbe,” Kanto said. “Any particular piece?”

  “Do you perchance know The Strawberry Letters?” Lady Bathsheba asked.

  Kanto tuned his lute. Shep took up a position beside the chair.

  “Would you happen to have any maps of the island?” Jhee asked.

  “I have. Over here.”

  “I’d be delighted to see them, Lady Bathsheba.”

  Lady Bathsheba walked Jhee to a corner of her chambers. She opened a giant sharkskin bound atlas and leafed through it. “Do you still have the map I gave you? I have a few landmarks you might find interesting.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Here, have a close look at this one.” Jhee leaned toward the bound volume. The vizier marked the map with several court symbols. At Jhee’s puzzled look, the lady whispered, “We’re not alone. I suspect I’m being watched. I’ve heard odd sounds while supposedly alone. You must forgive my behavior in our previous meeting, Justicar. I didn’t know who might be listening or if you could be trusted. I thought it better for eavesdroppers to think us at odds.”

  “The lady is most wise,” Jhee said. She glanced around now, suddenly paranoid rather than annoyed. At Jhee’s nod, Shep whispered in Kanto’s ear then performed a simpler, but louder battle stomp as accompaniment.

  “The atmosphere here changed once Saheli was appointed. We had all expected it to be Pyrmo. I don’t think the high clergy accepted the Chief Abbess chose an outsider. Beyond fell rumors of orgies and malign forces, the name you mentioned, the Mist Abbess, resurfaced shortly thereafter.”

  Jhee pursed her lips.

  “I discovered these after we last met poking around the archives.”

  Jhee looked closely and found a proposal and blueprints for commercializing the orchards and vineyards, submitted by Sister Serra.

  “Who else knows about these?”

  “If I found these in the archives, it would be the easiest task in the world for Elkanah to as well.” Lady Bathsheba quickly rolled up the map and snatched up the glow orb. “No. I’ve said too much.”

  Jhee gently touched her arm. “No. Please, continue.”

  “There’s a possibility I hesitate to entertain. I’m not so sure my accident was an accident.”

  “Forgive my impertinence, Lady Bathsheba, but I must ask. Where were you during the other deaths?”

  “Of course. I would expect no less. I was here in my chambers.”

  Jhee frowned and said, “All three?”

  “Not a very good alibi. I know. Wait, when Prospective Leigh drowned, I had jammed a toe and was being treated at the infirmary. The physician or her assistant should be able to verify I stayed there until morning.”

  “I will check this out and get back to you.”

  “Please, do. The sooner you rule me out, the sooner you can focus on who might have committed these horrible crimes.”

  Mirrei’s eyelids fluttered. She slumped in her chair. Jhee immediately rushed over. “Are you unwell?”

  “Just somewhat achy and lightheaded. I must have eaten something that didn’t agree with me.”

  “Perhaps we should retire for the evening?”

  “Will you be able to manage by yourselves, or should we seek out assistance?” Lady Bathsheba asked.

  “I can make it,” Mirrei said. “No need to fuss.”

  Before they left, Lady Bathsheba pressed several signets into her hand.

  “Justicar, you might need these. If you are serious about education. For as long as you are here, feel free to visit and talk as you desire. I enjoy the reminders you give me of court. Such a joy to have those closer to my station to converse with and possibly a kindred spirit. Now, you must go quickly and return to your husbands and wife and hug them and cherish them. For dark days may be upon us again.”

  9 The Clergy

  The Infirmary

  As their cohort journeyed back to their room, Jhee kept a slow pace. Kanto and Mirrei had their arms linked with hers. Shep lagged. Jhee mused on the details of the case in between checking on Mirrei. Kanto was all grins and had a bounce to his step.

  “No need to keep such a slow pace for me,” Mirrei said. “I’m feeling better already.”

  “No rush after such an exquisite meal,” Jhee said.

  “Too exquisite.”

  Kanto eyed Mirrei. “A shame we had to cut the evening short.”

  “I, for one, had had enough. Not the least because of all those ghastly relics and artwork on the walls.”

  “Reminders of a more savage time,” Shep said.

  “Now you sound like the lady,” Jhee said.

  “
I have a small confession to make, denbe. I thought you could use a reason to leave.”

  “I knew it,” Kanto said. “You little liar.”

  “It wasn’t quite a lie. Her outdated views and elitism had begun to make me ill. You wouldn’t believe the things she said while you and Shep performed. I wasn’t sure if I could stomach another moment of flattering her.”

  “Clever girl. I had grown rather tired with the evening myself.”

  Mirrei feigned shock. “No? Your eyes kept going that shade they do before you lose your temper.”

  Kanto snuggled closer to Jhee who patted his hand. “Lady Bathsheba thoroughly and entirely creeped me out with all her talk of ghosts and evil forces at the end though,” he said.

  Mirrei coughed. Jhee squeezed her arm in response. “She creeped me out with all her leering.”

  “Perhaps it was best we left before you descended into a self-righteous lecture, denye. I think we made a good impression anyway. Signet codes of introduction.”

  “Thanks to you, husband,” Jhee said. A blush pinked his eyes. They exchanged smiles before he faced away. Jhee quickened their pace.

  At the room, Jhee plopped in the chair. She fingered the access writ Lady Bathsheba had slipped in with the list of education contacts. If indeed Lady Bathsheba aimed to come off as a sexist snob and give the impression they were at odds, she had more than succeeded. She regretted her earlier ungracious thoughts which had accused Lady Bathsheba of snobbery. Reconsidering the meeting, Jhee may have taken the lady’s words and actions the wrong way due to her beleaguered state of mind.

  “You’re the one looking wave-worn, now, denbe.”

  “I’ve been climbing stairs and visiting musty and moldy spires all day. While you may not have a headache, I do.”

  “I’d refresh your poultice, but our herbal stores are low.”

  Jhee changed from her robes into simple evening attire yet left the wrap in place as the poultice did help. She ran a thumb over the textured access writ. “Give me a list. I’ve meant to visit the infirmary anyway. I’ll see if they have some remedy for my sinuses as well.”

  In the hall, Jhee hesitated. She weighed the writ in her hand against Mirrei’s list. Lady Bathsheba had drawn her attention to the storehouse at least twice. She consulted the map. The storehouse and the infirmary were on different axes of the abbey. One Prospective had died of sickness. They must have been tended by the abbey physician. The infirmary may also be where Saheli got her meditation aids. Jhee headed there.

  A young, male Prospective sat the reception desk drawing anatomical drawings or nudes. No one else occupied the infirmary. He scrambled to his feet, shoved the parchments aside, and bowed, a protocol neither Jhee’s office nor social status required. Nudes, then. She caught the whiff of robust, woodsy cologne. “Justicar, what ever is the matter? You have not taken ill, have you?”

  “Not as such. I’ve been in and out of dreadful weather. Along the way, I developed a terrible headache. I also hoped to procure medicinal supplies. Is the physician in?”

  The young man’s eyes flared wide. “You actually want to see the physician? Perhaps, the Justicar, would rather see if it goes away on its own?”

  “I’d like to see the physician this instant. Will that be a problem?”

  “No. Not at all.”

  “What do you do here?”

  He glanced at the pile where his parchments nestled. “I’m the infirmarian. I see to the non-medical needs of those confined to the infirmary.”

  A crash sounded from behind the physician’s door then something thudded to the ground. The Prospective knocked. The door flew open. He jumped back as a short, graying woman barely taller than a shark dog stumbled out. “How many times have I told you not to move my equipment? And what’s all this whispering out here? You best not have your friends here shirking their duties.”

  The infirmarian glanced at Jhee.

  “Oh, a patient.” The physician spat in her hands and slicked back her hair. She straightened out her robes before rushing to greet Jhee. A wave of the most horrendous body odor came with her. Jhee preempted her forearm clasp by initiating a bowed greeting. “He’s as lazy as the refugees. I’m not like these other Sisters. I expect my assistants to work. These young men coming through today are nothing like they were in my day. You must be the famous Justicar? I’m Sister Zalver.”

  “I’d hardly say famous,” Jhee said.

  “Only to those such as myself, I suppose. I subscribe to the judicial law wire, followed the write-ups you did for Jeja of Marpele in Frontiers in Arcane Forensics, and read every ‘Dispatches from Arrow Point’ story twice. I absolutely loved your ingenuity in The Twelve Murders in The Manor. What brings you to seek my humble assistance?”

  “That wasn’t—. Nevermind.” What was she going to say? That wasn’t me; it was my literary counterpart. Her fictional account had supplanted the truth in the popular imagination. Much as Jeja had wanted it to. “I wanted to pick up some supplies and perhaps get something for a headache.”

  “Come have a seat here.” Sister Zalver urged her to an exam table. Jhee sighed with relief when the woman put on gloves before timing her pulse. She had Jhee’s eyes forced open before she knew it. “Eye color bright and shiny. Good. Here, drink this draught.”

  “What is it?”

  “Tranquility Gold mixed with ippi extract. Opens the blood vessels, gets the circulation going. Do be warned. It does have a purgative effect.”

  Indeed, ippi extract did. Drunken vomiting while light-headed was one way to alleviate a sinus headache, but not how Jhee wanted to conclude this evening. Sister Zalver was either a squib or charlatan. Jhee checked for the neutralizer inside her sleeve in case the physician poisoned her accidentally.

  Jhee faced away to avoid her fetid breath and spit out the draught. “I don’t recall seeing you at the feast.”

  “Slept through it. I’ve dealt with enough real barbarity to not want to watch fools play at it. No time for that nonsense.”

  “Since I’ve arrived, I’ve heard too many disturbing tales of the abbey’s history. From massacres to the Mist Abbess. Have you heard of her?”

  “More nonsense.”

  “I also thought I might ask you about the Prospective who died.”

  “Which one? Ha.” She slapped Jhee hard on the back.

  “Prospective Yaou. The one you treated.”

  “Oh, yes. He volunteered here from time to time. Sister Elkanah brought him in unconscious.”

  “Was his illness sudden?”

  “Sudden upon learning the magnitude of his work. The number of men who come in here and then make miraculous recoveries. They fake illnesses to bypass their studies and chores. Well, I set them straight. Some even left the abbey never to come back.”

  “Yet this one died.”

  “True. Sad case. The young man’s weak character and fragile nature caused him to nearly wither away.”

  “Do you know from what?”

  “No doubt some mystery ailment brought by the refugees. Saheli allowed too many to take holy orders. I’ve treated quite a few. Mostly for mild cases of Fresh Lung. Though I did see a rise in the cases of coruscate syndrome and sprained middle toes. A simple draught of one of my Tranquility Gold remedies and they’re fine to go about their duties.”

  “Coruscate syndrome? That’s quite rare, isn’t it?”

  “Which is why I questioned if they were sick at all. Squalid camps are a spawning bed for disease and sedition, though. Yaou’s case was different. I suspected Fresh Lung at first. Very similar to chronic wasting sickness.”

  Chronic wasting sickness the favorite diagnosis of many family physicians in the Far Reaches. Often it meant they had no idea why someone was deathly ill. In more extreme cases, it said they were too lazy to find out or paid not to disclose the true one.

  “He was a refugee?”

  “One of the good ones. Hard-working. Conscientious. Not like a lot of these other lazy Prospectives, I co
uld name who seek accolades without putting in the work.” The physician raised her voice at the last. “Sister Serra, the vizier, even the prioress, and Sister Elkanah consulted, yet still couldn’t diagnose him. Rather than admit the work too stressful and his constitution too frail, he worked himself to death. Most tragic. Gave up the will to live poor thing. But that is the nature of the male disposition.”

  “You said you treated Saheli. What can you tell me of her health?”

  “Healthy as a sea ox. I was monitoring her for acid reflux and a mild case of Brine Lung, which I treated with barley and morning seed.”

  Brine Lung was the complement to Fresh Lung, which afflicts those from inland or higher elevations when they move to the Outer Reaches.

  “As for supplies, nothing doing. Our stores are low too. Someone’s been stealing them.” The doctor pitched her voice at the infirmarian. Zalver leaned forward. Face and breath mere inches from Jhee’s nose. Jhee’s eyes watered, and she held her breath. “Can’t be too careful. Spies. Everywhere.”

  The infirmarian peered around the corner his face full of empathy and concern. Zalver wandered away. Jhee hied to the waiting room. The infirmarian inched a cologne bottle and manta silk handkerchief he had taken from a drawer towards her.

  “I’m sorry, Justicar. I tried to warn you.” The infirmarian lowered his voice. “Most know to seek others if really sick. For supplies, it’s best to ask Sister Serra.”

  “Serra?” Zalver yelled and trundled into the room. “Speaking of lazy. That dirty, smelly hedie. All she does is tempt and indulge. You watch that one. Medicine isn’t the only thing she grows in that hothouse of hers.”

  “Did I hear my name?” Sister Serra strode in with one arm balancing a cask on her shoulder while wheeling another after her. “Which is it today? Am I stealing your drugs or growing my own?”

  “Both. A bit late for a delivery.”

  “I wanted to get an early start on tomorrow. I thought you’d appreciate an early resupply.”

  “That I would.” Sister Zalver licked her lips and rubbed her hands over the spirits the horticulturist had delivered. She grunted. Zalver wheeled out the casks. “These feel light. Stealing this like you’ve been stealing my medicines, you drugged-out hedie.”