Justicar Jhee and the Cursed Abbey

by Trevol Swift

  Pyrmo grunted. “You may indeed have me stuck at that. These are good supposes but supposes, nonetheless. I suppose you could autopsy her, but I suppose the encrustation process might make that quite difficult.”

  “Your cleverness failed with the quick embalming. You hoped it would hide the evidence of your crimes. Instead, the preservation revealed it.” Jhee set the handkerchief with barnacles on the table beside Pyrmo. “Remember, how I noted the tendency of pests to be repelled by those who partook of brightshade. As you said, the barnacles and coral involved in the preservation process only thrive in a certain environment. Saheli’s tissues proved to be too hostile for them to take hold. Even proved toxic to some.”

  The abbess slurped at her flask. A few rivulets slid down her chin. As she drew her sleeve across her mouth, her hand trembled. She held up her hands out, palms up. “You can’t prove anything with a bunch of dead sea critters.”

  “Ordeal oil has similar effects to seed of enlightenment. If anyone did a toxicology, they might dismiss it for the more benign brightshade. The excited utterances Saheli made before her death. The talking to herself. Your ten-page commentary was nothing but the dying utterances of a madwoman high on a mix of hallucinogens. Your miraculous burns came not from the glorious light of transcendence, but Saheli’s literal fiery speech igniting the chemicals you spilled in your haste.”

  Pyrmo had broken out into a sweat and looked distressed. Proof positive of her guilt. “You are that confident of what poison was used.”

  “You know what I did not find in the crypts with Saheli? The remains of her cat. It is a small matter to find where it’s buried. Under her favorite tree, was it? Another effect of ordeal oil is dilated pupils. An etching I did find caused me to realize her cat may have ingested whatever Saheli had. I may not be able to autopsy the former abbess because of the preservation process, but I can necropsy her cat. Pyrmo you are confined to quarters for the attempted murder of an Imperial Official and the death of Abbess Saheli.”

  Pyrmo grimaced.

  Jhee stroked her muzzle and conferred with Raigen quietly. “She made no mention of Ms. Hethyr. Help me search this room. There must be a clue here somewhere.”

  The Uncomfortable Room

  Ms. Anshula’s head tracked Mr. Zane as he wandered to the fireplace where Kanto’s robes hung. Mr. Zane raised the hem of one and let it fall. He addressed Kanto, “Beautiful work. Yours?”

  Shep compared the performer to his co-spouse. Handsome. Sleek, athletic builds. Pampered and flawlessly groomed. Traits they shared with Akesheem from what he remembered.

  Kanto looked up from his sketch pad. “The design and construction are mine. The embroidery. Star Mirror did that.”

  “The cuffs are perfectly shaped. I’ve tried starch and interfacing. What’s your secret?”

  “Wire.”

  “Wire? Yes, obvious and ingenious. The Justicar’s feast robes caught the eye. Your work too?” Kanto nodded. “Bold designs for a bold denbe. Doesn’t it worry you what she gets up to out there at night? It would worry me.”

  “Denbe can take care of herself. What do you know of what she gets up to at night?”

  “Nothing except your wife found herself in my room so many times, I may ask to be put on the marriage charter.”

  “When was this?”

  “Yesterday. She didn’t tell you?” Kanto glared at Mr. Zane then at a handkerchief on the bedside table. “She was the perfect gentlewoman and took no liberties. Neither did I. The blow to the head she took that landed her in my room could have killed her.”

  The two men sized each other up. Eye contact passed between Ms. Anshula and Mirrei showed they shared the same opinion on the posturing.

  “I could not abide a woman who kept my beauty hidden away for her eyes alone or would not let me use my own name around strangers.”

  “So, you claim Mr. Zane is your birth name?”

  “Such nice clothes. And your denme here doesn’t look like he has missed too many meals. You don’t get a husky figure like his eating kelp and plankton. It requires lots of calories and protein. Your whole household seems well provided for.”

  Shep tucked a little coverlet over Mirrei who had retired to the bed with Kanto beside her on a stool. She looked paler than before but made no complaint.

  “Sprite, I thought I asked you to keep Tunes here out of trouble.”

  Kanto grabbed Shep’s forearm and held his gaze. Shep patted the younger man’s hand for comfort, before returning to their guests who occupied the salon chair together. Shep went to the table and reset the tile board.

  “May I interest either of you in a game of tiles?” Shep asked.

  Mr. Zane rose. The animal handler held his arm. He sat back down. “Mr. Zane, perhaps you’d be more comfortable on the chair with me.”

  “Madam Anshula?”

  “We’re fine as we are.”

  Shep sighed. He prepared a cold compress and took it over the Kanto and Mirrei. As Kanto arranged it on her fevered brow, she assured them she was comfortable. The animal handler took a keen interest in Shep’s every move. He approached her. She tensed and formed a rudimentary base for a cypher.

  “You don’t have to worry. I am a danger to no one here.”

  Ms. Anshula’s expression remained hard.

  “If it concerns you so much, play tiles with me. I find it calming and meditative.”

  Shep returned to the tea table. He placed his first tile then gestured at the empty seat opposite him. Ms. Anshula joined him. Mr. Zane stretched out on the salon chair with great ceremony. Kanto spared a last glance at Mr. Zane before jamming his conch’s earpiece in his ear and snapping open his sketchbook.

  Ms. Anshula cast a speculative eye Shep and matched his opener.

  “I know what you are. I worked with many on our home isle.” Ms. Anshula jerked her chin at Dari. “Therapeutic companion?”

  “You could say so. Is that how you came into possession of your rapport with Itzil?”

  “My village had veterans, even those who went through the process you did. They made frequent use of my skills to reintegrate. Their hands did not shake like yours. I heard about breakfast.”

  “Their eyes likely have not seen what mine have seen. The trigger is unfamiliar blood. Strange environment. I know your scents now. You are also a command female. . . and an animal handler. If something were to happen, my instinct would be to obey rather than attack you.”

  She played as terse and reluctant as she spoke. “All the same. The justicar did not want to leave you alone with them.”

  “You are so sure it’s me which worried her? Should you encounter Ms. Hethyr or the one who took your brother what would be your response?”

  “No less than they deserved.”

  Yet, he was the one confined to quarters. “Consumed. That’s the match.”

  “What?”

  Ms. Anshula grimaced at the board. All her tiles had been captured or turned.

  “No, that’s not right,” Kanto said.

  Shep thought he meant how he had beat Ms. Anshula. When he faced Kanto, though, the younger man had his head buried in his sketchbook and an earpiece in his ear, brow furrowed. A slow smile appeared on his face. He nodded more and more then snapped his fingers. “Denbe’s going to love this.”

  At last, Kanto pulled out his earpiece. He met Shep’s gaze with a smug smile. Shep turned back to the tile board where Ms. Anshula still puzzled over her loss. Mr. Zane draped on her arm, stroking her hair.

  “Denme, double-check this for me. So, I know I’m not imagining it before I show denbe.”

  Kanto thrust his sketchbook at him. Shep reached out. He did not know what meaningful input he could provide on a new clothing design or musical composition, but if it kept the peace, he was all for it.

  A knock came at the door. Shep inhaled deeply. No alarming scents. He stood, but Ms. Anshula motioned for quiet. She positioned herself behind the door. He wanted to tell her there was no need. Yet, the d
oings at this abbey of late justified her caution. You might not be able to tell friend from foe.

  Shep opened the door. Raigen and Bax bustled in with an unconscious Akesheem.

  “Please, he is not well,” Raigen said.

  Shep checked the hallway. No sign of Jhee. A mere glance and Bax scampered out before he closed the door. He’d have his words with Jhee and Bax later. He directed them to the salon chair. “Here.”

  Mr. Zane vacated the spot as they laid Akesheem down gently. His sister gasped. “His limbs.”

  Shep’s attention went to the young man’s missing arm. Shep’s hand twitched.

  “A glamor,” Raigen said. She poked the area. Her finger indented in the air.

  Shep said a chant and marshaled himself to stillness. Had Mirrei not been in such a severe way, this glamor would have been of great interest to her. A quick examination showed the signs of dehydration, but no other illness or injury. Those glamored limbs though needed dealing with. “Raigen, have you any skill in elements or cyphering?”

  “Some.”

  “I’m not sure if this is cyphering or a drawing trick with air. Work with Ms. Anshula to figure out how to undo it. I want to make sure he has no hidden wounds. The limb being invisible will make it difficult to decypher the sequences used to create such an illusion.”

  Shep provided the young man with a little reheated broth.

  “Here give him some.” Raigen handed Shep the flask. “You might want more yourself.”

  The wonderful peach bouquet met with his approval. He took a sip and found himself doubly stunned again. He administered some to Akesheem and more to Mirrei for good measure. They both quieted.

  A Glamor

  When Bax, Jhee, and Raigen’s search turned up nothing of note, they left the abbess’s chamber via the main door.

  “What now, Justicar?” Raigen said.

  “Mr. Pol. Bax, take her master keys. Secure this and the servant’s door, so she doesn’t leave until we return.”

  They searched Mr. Pol’s room. They still turned up nothing.

  “I must think. This all began when I saw the figure with a mask struggling with a naked, one-armed man. It did not match any of the ones we recovered from the horticulturist. It did not match the one in the image of my attacker.”

  One of them did, however, match the Medical Protectorate masks from the Halls of Torture and Drenching. Like that one-armed body on the table in the hall.

  Jhee thought about the hall and the moaning of the wind and further to her encounter in the crypts with the breath of the isle. She shuddered. When had she decided to name what she encountered? A name tamed it, made it more tangible. Tangibility might also give it more power. The moaning winds became a more pleasant thought in contrast. The moans of the wind? The moans of the trenched. “What a fool I’ve been? We need to go back to the Corrections’ Hall.”

  Jhee brought up the rear as they rushed back to the Corrections’ Hall. Strapped to the table in the dismemberment scene which had so horrified them earlier they barely glanced, they found Mr. Akesheem.

  Raigen gasped. “That fiend Ms. Hethyr has chopped off his arm and foot.”

  “Get him down quickly.” The stumps appeared clean, with no outward sign of infection. Jhee geared up for a formulation which blended cyphering and fire drawing. “I can cauterize the wounds to forestall infection or sepsis. We’re unlikely to find anyone capable of limb regeneration this far from the capital.”

  Jhee laid her hands on the arm stump. Where she expected empty air, she contacted solid, soft flesh. She probed further until she felt the full outline of Mr. Akesheem’s arm. She checked the space where his foot would be.

  “How bad are his wounds?”

  “His limbs are there. It’s a glamor.”

  “Praise the Makers.”

  “Praise, indeed. Let’s get him down.” Jhee tried her conch. Low on power and barely any signal. “I’m unable to contact the Central Authority. With the abbess relieved of duty, who assumes control over the abbey?”

  “I’m unsure. I’d suppose one of the senior clerics.”

  “Who are all under confinement. Save the physician.”

  “We have to take Akesheem to the infirmary anyway.”

  “She’s as likely to kill him as cure him. Take him to my rooms. With Sister Serra unavailable, Shep and Mirrei might be the best healers at our disposal. I’ll go seek Lady Bathsheba and the physician at the infirmary. One of them is liable to know how to bring up the antenna. We must inform the local peacekeeping authorities and the chief abbess at once.”

  23 Unbroken Chain

  Succession

  Lady Bathsheba welcomed Jhee to the infirmary quiet room. Jhee’s mind reeled from all the death and revelations. She only hoped her desk position at the capital entailed less such frightful chores.

  “You look as if you should be the one abed, Justicar. Would you care for some kolal? It’ll calm your nerves.”

  “No, thank you, Lady Bathsheba. I must inform you I’ve confined Pyrmo to quarters. It seems as though she murdered Saheli. I’m still unsure of her connection to the dead Prospectives, though.”

  Lady Bathsheba shook her head. “My word, that is dreadful. Truly. We were shocked when the Chief Abbess named Saheli, an outsider. However, it seems as though she was most wise. She might have known about Pyrmo’s problem, or the firestorm if she had appointed either deacon. How may I be of help?”

  “We need to raise the antenna, so we can inform the authorities. I’m also unsure of the chain of command. I will likely need you to take charge of the abbey until some sort of replacement can be found or I sort out culpability amongst the senior clergy.”

  “Of course, I will do what I must. This is terrible business, really. I left court to be rid of such concerns, but duty is duty. How could these scandalous happenings have occurred right under my very nose? Had I paid more attention.... Instead, I chose to absent myself from the day to day affairs of the abbey. I believe some part of me suspected which is why I pressed you so on those three men’s deaths.”

  “Please, Lady Bathsheba, there will be a time for blame, but it is not now.”

  “Yes. Yes. The matter of the missing young man.”

  “Missing? No, we found him. It will mean much if a former vizier, such as yourself, is there while Mr. Akesheem gives his recorded testimony. You may well have questions for him yourself.”

  “Indeed, I might. I have no doubt you will do a more than adequate job. However, I must see to the unexpected duties which have fallen upon my shoulders. Firstly, a headcount to ensure no others are missing.”

  “My thoughts precisely.”

  “With most of the senior clergy confined, I must wear many tabards from here out. So much to be done. So much to be done.”

  “It may seem a trifle, Lady Bathsheba, but the map you gave me proved most helpful.”

  “Sometimes it is the trifles which mean the most.”

  “Words to contemplate indeed. May I have your permission to grab some provisions from the infirmary’s stores?”

  “Yes. Yes. Of course. Whatever you need.” Lady Bathsheba produced a set of keys from her robes and unlocked the cabinets for Jhee.

  “Thank you.”

  “Now, you rest here and finish your kolal.”

  “I must return to my room.”

  “Stay here for a few minutes and catch your breath. You’ve had a hectic and punishing few days. Give your head time to clear before you return to your cohort. They’ll need you at your strongest.”

  Jhee thought of Shep’s disapproval, Mirrei’s quiet admonishment, and one of Kanto’s disdainful huffs awaiting her. “I suppose you’re right.”

  After a few minutes of rest, Jhee rose. The prioress beckoned for Jhee to join her in the hallway. “I had another idea of how you can get a message out.”

  “Excellent. How?”

  The prioress pointed to a view-screen half-hidden by an ornate drapery. “The old theological addr
ess system.”

  “Is that a viewer? Where is it getting its signal?”

  “The short-range, inter-isle communication network. A holdover from the Imperial literacy campaign. It uses a series of relays. Easily accessible in remote regions. We use it as a theological address system, now. I understand you believe us to be technology resisters, but we have it for the occasions when the Chief Abbess makes a convocation or edict meant to be implemented at once across the various cloisters and monasteries or for group prayer. There are a few circumstances where we need one. They’re only tuned to one channel: the private frequency of the Drakist Hierarch.”

  “You work on that while we see Mr. Akesheem to wellness.”

  The Testimony

  Jhee returned to her room. “Lady Bathsheba has assumed control of the abbey for now.”

  With all these people in it, it rather resembled the docks upon arrival of the noonday ferry. Mr. Akesheem laid fitfully on the salon chair. Meanwhile, Mirrei rested equally as fitful on the bed. Jhee considered them and where her higher duty lay. Shep and Kanto tended both.

  “Welcome back, Justicar,” Raigen said.

  “Did you decypher the glamor on Mr. Akesheem’s limbs?”

  “The invisibility made it nearly impossible to back form; your man Dawn Wolf was most helpful. He’s also awake, now.”

  “Is Mr. Akesheem able to give testimony?”

  Raigen and Ms. Anshula were aghast. “He is in no condition.”

  “An account of his ordeal, as horrible as it was, while it is still fresh in his thoughts is paramount.” Jhee turned to Shep, who stood beside the man ministering to him as he did to everyone. He frowned then nodded. “Ms. Anshula, as his dame in absentia, may I have your permission to inspire him?”

  “Inspiration? What is that?”

  “An interrogation method. It is a little invasive, but it will not harm him. You may observe if you wish.”