The Songstress Murders

by J. B. Garner

  Unable to cry out for fear of swallowing more foam, I started wiping it away from my eyes, even if to do so might boil them in their sockets. Through blurry eyes, through choking smoke, I caught an unbelievable sight.

  A silver figure, wings spread wide, was silhouetted against the flames, standing over Ruji's prone form. Between the dancing flames reflecting off every polished surface and my own weakened eyes, I could make out no real detail, but I could all too clearly make out the held bow and drawn arrow, angled straight at the Foi Brother.

  I tried to shout out a plea, a command, anything to make her stop, but all I received was a mouthful of foam and smoke. There was nothing I could do to keep the arrow from plunging through Ruji's heart.

  I should have been glad, even if I was about to die, as it seemed the mystery was solved. However, that joy did not come. What did come was a tremendous splintering of wood as fire ate away at some vital support. What came next were a crash, a crushing pain, and the blackness of unconsciousness.

  From Isaac's Primer on Divinities by Isaac Yore, Olden philosopher:

  The Unseen is often as shapeless as its name and an entity that many Folk would hope becomes forgotten. Often thought of as the diametric opposite force to Nym, the Unseen represents corruption, temptation, and hunger. Unlike most divinities, there is no set iconography, no common representation seen in art and religious works. Instead the Unseen is depicted as dark shapes and hungry flames, much in the way many of its servitors, demons and devils from the Pit appear when they travel to our plane of existence.

  From The Song of Myrien, Myrienite holy text:

  Love, true love, pure love is our path through the Garden, our way to Myrien's grace. Yet even the truest love does not lead straight and true. It may even lead one back to the beginning of one's path or even down a dark road to the edge of the Pit. Know that even the purest love may be tethered to a black soul and so, no matter the strength of your love, be aware of who it is that you love or you may find yourself led astray.

  From the notes of Lady Alysa Hsu, 16 Octavian 736 PC:

  I curse myself for slowness and indecision. Cut it too close really. A moment later and I would have lost her. Even though the ritual would still be finished, cost would no longer have been worth it. Trust or not, did not realize until had gotten Vela free from the fire how much I needed her.

  Flame-resistant foam. Clever. Though alchemy pales compared to sorcery, can never underestimate it. Had certainly saved Vela's life, but would have not lasted with those flames. Could feel the beast still and scared me somewhat, even with my gear. Warehouse had collapsed just after I got her free. Thankfully magic was still reliable, even if I was a bit rusty with evocations to push rubble and flames away.

  The Watch Aard and others were at the front while I had taken Vela out the side. I levitated us a block away before perching on a rooftop. Had to leave most of the gear I had worn behind, too much weight. Would be fine, I could come back later. Redmane was alive and mission accomplished.

  Wiped away the foam and soot, thankful to hear coughing and hacking. Lovely bosom kept heaving, so felt safe to use a few simple spells to speed things, one to cleanse the foam and dirt; another to balm the worst of the burns. Repairing tissue with sorcery is always tricky. Strains the body, can make things worse if not careful.

  Quick check as she started to rouse. She could have been far worse. Her fur singed, mild burns, hurt lungs, bruised bones, but nothing that needed more immediate magic. I couldn't hide my smile of relief when Vela opened her eyes.

  “Milady?” she croaked, her voice huskier than usual.

  Answered her question with a kiss, unable to contain myself. It was not an unrequited gesture. Most pleased by that. “I was so worried. I…” Hand was forced, had to tell her. “With what you were doing, I used the stone I gave you to listen in.”

  That keen sharpness flashed back into Redmane's eyes. “What? But the note ...” Her scowl brought on hacking coughs as she tried to sit up.

  Supported her gently, patting her back. “I deceived you, Vela, I know. Twice now but please, it is only because I love you. I want to protect you.”

  Watery eyes looked at me. From lingering smoke or emotion, wasn't sure. “I would wish to be cross with you but you did seem to save my life.” She looked around. “What about the others? Did they -”

  I nodded. “Your brave Watcher was at the head of a good dozen Folk from what I saw.”

  “There was only one Watcher, an Aard man?”

  “Yes.”

  Redmane punched the rooftop, looked to regret it instantly. “Pit's edge! Raas ...” Her shoulders heaved. “Poor Raas.”

  I rubbed her shoulders. Losses in a war are inevitable, but sweet Vela still seemed to cling to the naive hope to save everyone. Felt bad for her. “Do not cry, my love. Think of all those your actions saved.”

  She put a hand on one of mine. “Thank you for the thought, Milady, but I can only think of those lost, Raas and even Ruji. Criminal he may have been but he didn't deserve to die. Not without trial.”

  I kept an even tone. “What happened? Did the fire consume your target?”

  “No.” Her voice was uneven with strong disbelief tempered by her observations. “The Bard, at least I think it was the Bard. She killed him.”

  “It.”

  “What?”

  “I warned you, Vela, that to give a golem such a term is to make you think of it as if it was Folk.” She seemed to need comfort, so I squeezed shoulders. “You must see now why I said that. The Silver Bard is an 'it' and it acts by whatever was programmed into it, no matter how real it may feel and what emotions it may stir in you.”

  Redmane shook her head. “I don't know if I can accept that. Not after ...” She paused and turned, despite her injuries, shrugging my grip. “You said you could listen, that you have listened. How much do you know? How long? Since you sent me on my way days ago?”

  I forced myself to smile brighter. “Does it matter, beloved? You have done nothing to break my love for you. I just want to help you, in any way I can.” Stood up and held my hands out to her, to help her rise. “We should go. I will take you back to the mansion, give you a chance to rest and collect your thoughts and observations.”

  She took my hands and stood. Let go as she got her feet. Couldn't read her, wasn't sure what was wrong now. “I appreciate your kindness, Milady, I truly do, but I cannot leave now. I have too much work to do.” She gazed up at the roof of the layer with its polished stones. “I have to report in and then find her.”

  Anger started to surge, fists clenched. “It is not a 'her'.” She looked at me suddenly, so tried to be calm. “Very well, I would not wish to stand in the way of your 'Duty'. Do what you must, Vela, and I will be waiting for you at home when you are ready.” I turned before she could respond. “Do not do anything foolish or naive. I may not be able to save you the next time!”

  She said something that was drowned out by the rush of wind as I used my flight evocation again. Couldn't let her call the bluff or see angry tears forming. She would see, she would discover, and then she would come back to be mine. All my calculations said so.

  Continued from the journal of Inspector Vela Redmane, 16 Octavian 736 PC:

  I had thought Milady, of all the people outside the Watch, would understand. As a researcher, a scholar, surely she understood the need for absolute proof. What I feared was that she knew more than she said and the trust I had placed in her was eroding. Could I entirely blame her for listening in, though? As a follower of the Song, I recognized that one person can share many loves. Milady might not feel the same. Still, the continued deceptions gnawed at my gut.

  As I watched her fly away, propelled by the arcane arts, I could only sigh, pain both physical and emotional dueling for supremacy. One woman I loved yet did not know I could trust; another may not even be a woman in any real sense and quite possibly was a murderess. Even worse, the black marketeers and smugglers we faced now had become traf
fickers in the flesh of our Citizens and consorters with denizens of the Pit.

  This had turned into a most unpleasant day.

  Extracting myself from the rooftop was painful but not too difficult. By the time I had returned to the fiery wreck of the building, additional Watch officers backed by the Smokehounds had arrived. Dressed in their alchemically-treated gear and backed by a compliment of sorcerers, they fought the blaze gamely, aided by my information as to the source of the flames. Unfortunately, in the process, we were able to confirm the deaths of both Ruji Foi and Watcher Raas. There was the possibility of more dead, but the wreckage was thick in the less flame-touched areas of the collapse. It might be days before we have a full list of casualties.

  Despite the insistence of both Cline and the Fortuli soldiers that I should rest and take medical attention, I declined. Sending the Fortuli back to their homes, I wanted to be on-hand for every bit of investigation I could stand up for. I was there as both corpses were exhumed from the smoking ruin, just before Kraatz and his morgue crew arrived.

  There was little more I could tell from Raas other than his death had likely been swift despite the horrific state of his corpse. I was only certain as to his identity from his badge and Moral Compass, both protected by magic and the divine touch of the Wallmaker. As for Ruji, his corpse was less damaged, with only some additional burns on top of the injuries he already had. Though it was against protocols, I had to know one thing. Carefully removing the arrow still dug into his chest with gloves, I compared it to my memory of the arrowhead from Qi's death.

  Like that one, this arrowhead was forged from silver-steel and of similar shape and core design. What struck me, though, was that this arrowhead was simpler, more pragmatic. The first arrowhead had elaborate engraving and minute artistic work done, much as I would expect from the creative desires of the Bard. This one was plain, simple to the point of elegance.

  What did this mean? Was the shining figure I saw in that inferno the Bard or someone else? If it was someone else, they obviously meant to implicate the Bard. Were there now two killers to contend with on top of the demon-controlled Brothers? My head still swims with far more questions than answers. I could only take some small joy in the lives saved and Folk freed, yet even that was only the start. Open war between the Watch and the Brothers was coming and the streets of the Second Ward threatened to run red with blood.

  “You need to rest, Vela, and at least have one of the surgeons inspect and clean your wounds,” Kraatz said, worry thick in his voice. How long had he been talking to me?

  “I think you may be right,” I mumbled. “I apologize for touching the corpses early but I had to check some -”

  He shook his head, eyes inscrutable behind his goggles. “No, no, I understand how you inspectors have to work. Now stop apologizing and mumbling to yourself. Off to the surgeon!” Kraatz poked me with his long claws, prodding me towards the medical wagons.

  Cline came up to me as the healers did their work, using more conventional medicine to reinforce the magic Milady must have worked on me. “Inspector, I sure am glad you made it out of that alive. Thought for sure you were cashing out there.”

  I nodded numbly and tried to smile. “I live to fight another day. You did a top-notch job getting everyone out.”

  “I couldn't have done it without those big Hive blokes. Strong as an ox, stronger probably. Guess I've thought wrong about the Fortuli, huh?”

  “You might have.” I shook my head slowly, the concentrated pain killers starting to work a fierce assault on my concentration. “Is there something else, Cline?”

  “Right,” he said, jowls flapping. “Chief Inspector wants you to take a rest, at least for a few hours, after they finish patching you up, then report to him at his office.”

  I nodded grimly. “Yes, he needs to know what has transpired and formulate a plan to deal with the Fois, once and for all.” I patted Cline on the shoulder. “This might be a bit. Send word ahead for me please and I'll get to the Watchtower as soon as possible.”

  Cline nodded and saluted me. “Of course, Vela.” He turned back towards the morass of people still scurrying about the crime scene. “We'll nail those bastards. We'll nail them for Raas.”

  I could only add a silent nod to the sentiment.

  It was only a few bells later, the Celestial Stone's light shifting towards dusk, when the surgeons released me and I made my way back to the Watchtower. I had barely time to shed my flame-damaged, smoke-filled uniform for fresh, clean gear when the hard footsteps came towards my small office. There was only one Folk I knew who was so obsessive to have so precise a gait, knowledge confirmed a moment later when Inspector Blackfoot swung my door open.

  “Junior Inspector -”

  I had already hit my tolerance for his high-and-mighty voice with just those two words. “With all due respect, Hors, I have been chased by controlled Hive soldiers, set aflame, nearly suffocated, faced down a demon from the Pit, and had a building collapse on me. I've had to stare into the dead eyes of a fellow Watchman and see my quarry murdered before my eyes.” My eyes narrowed dangerously. “I am going to make my report to Chief Inspector Feathers right now, so you do not need to remind me of my Duty. Gods above and below, I think I have more than fulfilled mine today.”

  Hors, to his credit, didn't even flinch, though he was silent for a long moment before he could speak. “Vela, you are correct.” Those judgmental eyes had a flash of compassion in them. “We do not need to speak of the fact that I do not agree with how you live and how you do your job.” He raised a hand before I could even open my muzzle. “Yet, you have shown exceptional bravery, if not exceptional wisdom. I still think your actions might be jeopardizing this investigation, but I will not fault your motivations and what you have tried to do. Raas, well, we all have heard and regret his death, but it was not your fault … in this case.”

  I gingerly rubbed my bloodshot eyes, still burning from the smoke and foam. “Thank you, Hors.” I nodded slowly and saluted. “I mean that.”

  He returned my salute. “Just remember this. Remember the feeling of having someone under your command die, your fault or not. It is different than losing a man who fights beside you, simply because you are left to wonder what you could do differently.” Blackfoot turned back to the hall. “Perhaps this will sober you in your future path as an Inspector. The Chief is waiting for you.”

  “Trust me, I intend to.” I didn't decide to educate Hors more on how I intended to leverage my new understanding. I doubt we would agree. Flexing my bandaged hand, I moved for the door as Hors gave one last nod. We parted company then, though I expected we would be clashing again before too long.

  Verdigan Feathers had a cigar clenched in his beak as he shuffled through parchments strewn about his desk. As I entered, he looked up for a brief moment before returning to his paperwork.

  “Redmane, I expected you in last night,” he began. “I did get your Herald though. You'll have to enlighten me to how this all leads us to an entire warehouse going up in flames and more dead Foi Brothers.”

  “Of course, Chief Inspector.” I saluted. “I apologize for the inconsistency of my reports, but this has been an unusual case.”

  He put down the parchment and turned to focus on me, tapping the ash off of his cigar. “I knew that from the start. While I'm not quite the stickler for form that Blackfoot is, I still need to know what's going on out there. It isn't just about the system, Redmane. It's so that the Watch can back you up.” He nodded out towards the City as he took a puff from his cigar. “You started out as part of the Ward Watch. You know there's a whole group of other officers ready to back you up, but we can't do that unless we know what's going on.”

  Verdigan was right, of course. With the twists and turns, both of the case and my heart, I had lost sight of that important fact. “Yes, sir, I'm sorry for my misconduct in that regard.”

  He nodded slowly. “All is forgiven, Redmane, assuming that this entire incident hasn't just been
a wild Lurker chase.” Leaning back in his chair, he motioned towards me. “Feel free to have a smoke and tell me. Tell me everything, especially why and how a Hsu got involved in this.” He arched an eyebrow. “You know we're investigating her father, yes?”

  “I do, but the father's crimes are not the daughter's. You'll understand once I explain it all.” Taking the Chief's offer, I lit up a cigarillo and began my report.

  This time, I left almost nothing out. The only thing I removed, being that it was a purely personal relation, was my evening of passion with Milady. Feathers listened in silence, sitting in that perfect stillness only Winds were capable of, only moving to tap the ashes off his cigar. Two cigarillos later, I finished my report with my encounter with the possible Bard and the monstrous Ragnard.

  “Are you certain of what you saw?” he said, after a few moments digesting the details.

  “The Pit beast, I am certain of. It makes perfect sense in regards to the explosion at the Wharf Runner apothecary and Ruji's own delirious ramblings before his death. As to the Bard, I am not certain. There were many similarities, but my senses were obscured by smoke and foam. Add to that the differences in the arrowheads and we have more uncertainty.”

  “I understand,” Verdigan grumbled and sat forward in his chair. “I also understand that, as a Myrienite and taking into account your previous encounter with the Bard, your observations might be compromised by your own feelings, religious and emotional.”

  I let out a sigh, expelling a billow of smoke. “It isn't impossible, Chief, to be wholly honest.” I put out the remains of my cigarillo in the ashtray. “You have to admit, sir, that while there is evidence pointing at the Bard, we still seem to lack real motive for any of these murders. We can't forget that there is this 'sister' that has some connection or link to the Bard. Maybe this mysterious Lady is the one pulling the strings.”