Justicar Jhee and the Cursed Abbey

by Trevol Swift

  Serra offered the pipe to Jhee. Jhee refused. The horticulturist’s pungent scent and smell of smudging stick made more sense now. “I didn’t realize Drakists were allowed to partake.”

  “They’re not. I’m Pluralist. One of the few left here. The remnants of my order merged with the Drakists when our monastery was overrun. I hope I didn’t overstep offering you the wine.”

  “Not as such.”

  “Demand has spiked, but I’m eager for more independent research on its healing properties. I admire anyone who would take a pleasure cruise on these waters.” Sister Serra leaned over and whispered to Jhee. “Must make for passionate times with the adrenaline and fear. Your full marriage cohort indicates you to be a woman of appetite. One spouse no doubt deft and experienced; two whom you can groom and teach. Always mind the quiet ones.”

  Jhee waved away more gnats. Sister Serra looked unperturbed.

  “I saw you grow lace root melons. May I make an addition to the list?”

  “Feel free. Unlike my colleague, who is stingy with the fruits of her labor, I prefer to be generous. I consider mine a gift to all those who would ask.”

  “Would you have any of the candies?”

  “Another of our most profitable exports. I can’t get enough of them myself. Here you are. Added to your requisition writ. If you’d like some now, I’ll give you some of mine.”

  Jhee slapped her arm as another bog fly got her. Sister Serra produced a candy dish from under the workbench, and they each had one. “You were right about Sister Elkanah.”

  “She didn’t let you anywhere near her precious relics. Once that humorless shrew makes up her mind, that’s it. You’re better off. Archives, relics are about death. My domain is alive.”

  “I came across something interesting, though. Plans to turn this into a health resort or commercialize the vineyards and orchards.”

  Sister Serra coughed. The pipe slipped from her hands. She reached out but nearly dropped the pipe again. She bounced it a few times before she found a cool place to hold it. Serra placed it on the workbench then blew on her hands. “Unmake me! Justicar, if you would be so kind as to pass back that spike leaf ointment.”

  Jhee handed Sister Serra the tube. The ointment’s scent was sharp and bitter. Pyrmo’s burn cream had a similar smell. “On second thought, I may take some brightshade.”

  “Like I said. A woman of appetite. I’ll give you some from my own private stock. I appreciate your challenging of Elkanah’s perspective. Smaller tin next to the candies there.”

  Sister Serra indicated the tin under the workbench. While Jhee set about locating the tin, she examined container labels. No marked pesticides or substances which might be used to poison someone. “I also learned something of the Mist Abbess.”

  By the time Jhee rose, Sister Serra had brought out a wave skimmer. “I have to get going. The Wave Witch’s up and the weather’s decent enough. We should go skimming sometime. I know all the best spots.”

  “Wave skimming? That would be a hard pass.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  The horticulturist hurried off with her skimmer. Jhee muttered an oath at the closed and locked shed.

  On a Mission

  Jhee sought Pyrmo out next. “Blessed are the First Makers, Abbess.”

  “How goes your investigation, Justicar? You visited quite a number of our facilities.”

  “I wanted to get a proper sense of the abbey’s arrangement. To grasp the design, you must first understand the system. The prioress was most helpful. A shame her duties prevent her from helping me today.”

  “Duties? The prioress asked for the day off today. I assumed to assist you.”

  “Perhaps I misunderstood.”

  “Par for the course nowadays. Unfortunately, she has become increasingly erratic. Pity. When she served under me while I held the position, she was quite reliable. I think she was more affected by Saheli’s death than she cares to admit.”

  “Oh? Were they close?”

  “Hard to say really. Saheli was a very hands-on abbess. She frequently counseled young men personally. She was very friendly, but not without secrets.”

  “Like most. Would it be possible for me to look at the treasury logs or perhaps the inventories and manifests?”

  “Why look at those?”

  “Simply being thorough. A routine question came up, and I want to verify it.”

  “Those records are confidential. I might be able to answer any general questions.”

  “The mortician said you sell off anything valuable the clergy possess when they die.”

  “Generally, yes. The Professed bequeath their belongings to the abbey. The situation is more complicated for the Prospectives. We generally give the family an opportunity to claim them. Although, with the large number of refugees fleeing most have no family to contact. Often their only belongings are sentimental.”

  “Anything that’s not gets logged into the treasury, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “You said Saheli’s belongings were interred with her or donated to the archives. What about the Prospectives who died? Were their valuables logged into the treasury?”

  “The Prospectives? Valuables? Most are fisherfolk or shepherds. They had nothing more than a few trinkets. While every bit does help, their possessions were meager.”

  “No large amounts of currency?”

  “Currency? No. Why would Prospectives have that here?”

  “Why, indeed? Another curiosity came up during my investigation. I heard a strange term, the Mist Abbess. Does that name mean anything to you?”

  “A story to frighten young novices. There’s a possibility I hesitate to entertain. The rumors of the Mist Abbess’s return didn’t happen until Saheli’s appointment.”

  “Thank you, Abbess. With your permission, I’d like to continue my investigations.”

  “Of course.”

  The prioress had lied to Jhee about her activities. She never logged the large sum of cash the mortician found into the treasury. She also kept the tallies from bed check. The prioress’s talk of ghosts could have been meant to scare Jhee away. Could she and Raigen have conspired in sending Jhee on a wisp chase? Jhee would keep an eye on her.

  Ask the Servants

  “Ask the servants did you say, Bax? Lead the way.”

  “They won’t talk to you like that.”

  With Kanto’s help, Jhee had found her more unadorned day robes. She weighed the ability of her official robes’ authority and dignity to loosen tongues against blending in. For now, she removed the sashes and any insignia of rank. She left her head wrap in place.

  “It’ll do.”

  After a few discrete inquiries, Jhee located the prioress by the storehouse. The prioress visited various provisioners and clothiers at the abbey and eventually the docks.

  “I miss good old, grain bread. More and more it’s that rice powder nonsense,” said one fishmonger.

  “Tried sopping up stew with it? Falls apart. Turns the whole bowl into mushy garbage,” said another.

  “Don’t let it sit too long or dry out. It gets sticky. Like cement. Took two days to clean the bowl my youngest hid cause she didn’t want to eat it.”

  “The trick is not to substitute direct,” Jhee said. “Rice flour needs more yeast and starch. Coconut flour is very absorbent. Use less or put in more liquid.” The fisherfolk glanced at her dubiously. “The First Mister likes to cook.”

  They nodded sagely. That rightly made more sense to them than a Justicar who might know how to cook.

  “Bax, show me where the leaf mongers partake if you would.” Bax led her through the hallways down to the cooking chambers to a rear enclosure sheltered from the elements. “I’m going to investigate the prioress. You keep following Raigen.”

  An overhang ensured privacy from the clergy’s prying eyes. It also made an excellent vantage from which to mind the receiving area and await her quarry. A muddy well-worn path led the way with an occasional
stubbed out butt. A few lay brothers and sisters toked on smoke root. When she entered, the nearest one dropped his and tried to stamp it out.

  Jhee held up a placating hand. “I wondered if you might have an extra.”

  The staff paused dumbfounded. Then one stepped forward and handed Jhee an unlit, freshly trimmed root.

  “Thank you.” Jhee put the root between her teeth and used the young man’s striker to light it. She dragged deep and tried not to cough. “My cohort doesn’t like me to partake, especially on the yacht.”

  “One of the co-fathers was a stickler,” another staff member said. “Drove our mother and the other father to toke in secret. When they had to get rid of theirs quickly, left a lot of half-smoked ones for me to clean up. Which I did.”

  The woman took a deep draw and raised her eyebrows.

  Jhee nodded. “My grandam used to say smoke root kept evil spirits at bay.”

  “If only. It was spirits what got those boys. Maybe even the abbess,” the second staffer said.

  “Just the other day we had two Prospectives lured to their deaths,” a third staffer said. “One got lured into the locked spire where he fell to his death. The door had been locked for some time, and there was still thick dust upon the ground. Now, how could that have happened save ghosts what led him there I tell you?”

  “It weren’t ghosts. It were the sea wisps. They led those poor men to their deaths. These young men about have them in a sore frenzy I bet you. They will take them under the sea to be their sea kings and spawn the next first fathers I tell you. Sea wisps beckon us back to the sea where we belong,” the first staffer said.

  “You don’t really believe we were descended from mayes do you?”

  “I believe what grandbabere and grandmamere told me. She said we were born in the sea and it ain’t natural for us to be upon the land. That’s what wrong with the barbarians. They don’t spend enough time in the waves, and it has caused them to become uncivilized, especially the sky singers.”

  “The sky singers. You don’t believe those old legends, do you?” the second staffer asked.

  “I know we have the sky singers, the ground pounders, and them mixed fire children barbarians. That’s what all I know.”

  “While I was out on the bluffs, I saw a pterosaur-like creature. One of the Unmaker’s minions. I swear,” yet another staffer said.

  “No, it had to be Cheiropthys or the Wave Witch. Only she had the power to summon winged creatures.”

  The first staffer leaned in. “They say the blood cults are back and it’s the Mist Abbess what leads them.”

  “Feh,” the second staffer said, “best not to tarry with the Unknown Maker or worse the Unmakers.”

  “Sea wisps lured that boy to his death,” said the first staffer.

  “No,” the second staffer said, “it was ghosts. They must have chased him up to the tower. How else could he have gotten in?”

  “And caved in the cellar on that other one,” agreed the third staffer.

  “Did you hear one wasted away of fright?”

  Jhee took a drag from her smoke root. “Ghosts. I think I may have seen some myself when I first arrived here. In the Zodiac Courtyard.”

  The second staffer nodded sagely. “Their favorite spot. They say that’s where the Mist Abbess liked to perform her blasphemous rituals. That’s where one Prospective died. Ill omen. It’s the curse.”

  “The curse?” Jhee asked.

  “The curse of the Unfettered Dead. I swear I can hear them whispering through the walls,” the second staffer said. “Ghosts of those who died here don’t like all these new, crude men.”

  “Reminds them of what they once were before they were cut down by the barbarians. Makers make the shield,” said the third staffer.

  “Makers make the shield,” Jhee and the others repeated.

  Had she seen an echo of some long-ago blood cult dismemberment ritual? The system remembers, and those who tinkered with the forbidden were most apt to leave traces not easily forgotten.

  “This place sounds more frightening every day,” Jhee said. “The abbess’s death. These three unfortunates. You said sea wisps misled the one who drowned?”

  The first staffer replied, “Wisp lights on the heath and the bluffs. Wisp lights have been seen for quite some time here. Boats used to be driven to their ruin on the breakers.” Jhee closed her eyes tightly and shivered. “They say it was the ghosts of those massacred here in the past.”

  “The wisp lights led many a poor body to their death here. The young spouses and children who never got a chance to grow and play, now grow and play with the living to their detriment,” said the last staffer.

  “I’ve seen their lights out on the fields and bluffs myself. Especially the wood,” the first staffer said.

  The second staffer glanced back at the abbey. “The storm light’s meant to drown out the false light of the dead.”

  The third staffer stamped out a root. “Best to ask the bilge workers near the harbor entrance. They found his body caught in some lobster traps.”

  The lights Jhee had seen from the first spire came to mind. “Did you know anything about him? Was he particularly careless?”

  “Not more than most young men. He liked the bluffs though. He volunteered for any errands that took him out there.”

  Another staffer grinned. “Was it the errand location or the errand dispatcher?”

  Jhee cocked an eyebrow. “You suspected him of an affair with the staff?”

  The first staffer shrugged and gave a little glance up to the main abbey.

  “Fraternization?” Jhee asked.

  “Far be it from me to speak ill of the clergy, Justicar. But the horticulturist sure did need a lot of things from the seaport.”

  “Both deacons did,” said the third staffer.

  “More like the one wanted to know what the other was about. The Prospect who got sick worked at the archives off and on. Sometimes the agri-pods, too.”

  All staffers murmured agreement.

  “What about the one crushed?” Jhee asked.

  “He bounced around here and there. Restless sort. Not sure if this life was a good fit for him. But who am I to question the Makers’ plan?”

  At last, the prioress appeared. Jhee snuffed out her half-finished root. “I have to get back before I’m missed. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen.”

  The second staffer waved a smudging stick over her. “It’ll cover the smell, Justicar. To protect you from the wrath of witches, wisps, and disapproving spouses.”

  Jhee gave a polite bow.

  Blight and Bilge

  The simmering sensation behind Jhee’s eyes grew to boiling as she shadowed the prioress the rest of the day. The prioress paid the merchants and fishmongers with shell currency, no doubt the money stolen from the unfortunate, wretched Prospective’s corpse. She did her best not to let outrage overtake her and confront the woman.

  Finally, the prioress returned to the abbey. Enough time remained before dinner to undertake a visit to the bilges. The weather lightened to trickles, and the clergy went out to the fields to harvest what they could. Jhee conducted a personal walking tour of the island. Trailing the prioress had not presented the opportunity to appreciate its features. She strolled through the fields of grain. In the images she had seen, they were two or three times this height. For every cleric working, she saw one or two refugees. Some clergy even milled about and watched as the refugees worked.

  She passed by the threshing shed and granary. What should have been floor to ceiling stacks of drying straw were barely half that. Refugees and clergy shoveled green, blighted plants into an incinerator. She picked up one of the stalks, some of them contained purple club-shaped growths: blightseed.

  Some folk fished, lobster trapped, and hauled in the kreel nets. Others worked on a new drainage system for the bog trying to reclaim wetlands for expansion and to host more people.

  The First Makers’ Design guided Jhee’s path to the bilg
es. The horrid, sweetly rank scent made the air a miasma. She covered her face, so she did not gag. She wished she had brought a smudging stick with her. She found the bilge workers on a break. She offered one her half-used root. She leaned forward and sniffed it deeply but waved it away. “No sparks or open flames while down here, Justicar.”

  “Of course. Later then?”

  “Much appreciated, ma’am, but the smell gets in everything after long. What brings you down here, Justicar?”

  Jhee put away the root as smoothly as she offered it. “Ghost stories. You know about the Prospective who drowned?”

  “The morning crew found ‘em. Glad it weren’t mine. At least they found all of ‘em. Sometimes you only find part. Finger. Toe. Dentures. You see a lot when you muck out the storm drains and inspect bilges.”

  “The staff thinks ghosts or sea wisps drove the young man off the bluffs or made him jump from the tower.”

  “Not sure how much ghosts had to do with it. Begging the Justicar’s pardon. They found him beyond the breakers caught in some lobster traps wedged between rocks. He couldn’t get that far out from even the storm light tower.”

  Jhee cringed, rocks, breakers. “The current, perhaps?”

  “It’s counter current. Only a few places he could have fallen to catch the right waters. The sloped vineyard, the bridge access way, or the lee of the isle. Most those is jagged rocks. Nothing can walk there but sheep and the surest of goats. He would of have to have been a ghost or wisp himself to survive walking about there.”

  “He didn’t survive, did he?”

  “No, ma’am, suppose not. Blessed be the Makers.” The bilge worker locked her hands together.

  Jhee did likewise. “Blessed be the First Makers.”