The Songstress Murders

by J. B. Garner

  “My dear Alysa, I certainly did not expect to see you before the anniversary.” Remorse at the mention rang false. “Sadly, I have little time to speak, as there is a sad state of affairs that I must personally attend to, not the least of which is the word that our arranged singer seems to be held by the Watch now.”

  “Well, Father, I had heard the same,” I said, cool and polite. “I was thinking that I could perhaps help with that situation.”

  Father paused in his pacing, turning to focus. Gaze was unwelcome, but there was some genuine surprise in it. “We have the same goal then? That has been a long time coming.”

  “It is for Mother and the ceremony, is it not?”

  “Yes, yes indeed.” He nodded, more to himself than me. “I am unsure if I need your assistance though, daughter. I was in the middle of waiting for a dear friend on the Watch to come, to ensure our songstress is free again.”

  “If I may be so bold to suggest, Father, your direct intervention might make the wrong people talk, considering the past and your own present reputation. All scandals and lies, yes, but reputation is a thing of great influence.”

  “You are suggesting then that you can take care of this on your own in some quiet fashion?”

  “I think I can, if you will give me the chance. If I fail, then you always have your own special methods to rely on.”

  Father considered this for a moment before nodding. “Very well, my dear, I trust your resourcefulness in this regard, especially considering the company you have kept lately.” I lowered my gaze at that. “However, if I have not heard word back from you by the morrow, my hand will move on its own.”

  I bowed now. “Yes, Father. You should hear from me in the morning.”

  “I hope to do so,” he smiled. “Until then and until the ceremony.”

  Forced myself to smile in return and bow deeply as I left, to show the expected amount of respect to the bastard. No doubt he was proud of what he saw as manipulations by me.

  Father's assumptions were correct in a fashion. Had a deeper understanding of the Watch now from Vela and listening through the crystal as she worked and met other Watchers. Would take the correct stretch of facts to the right Watchman at the right time, but could easily arrange to see the Bard that way. After that, her release would come soon enough, well within the time frame I needed.

  Returned to the manse for a few things, some documentation, and to wait for when Redmane had left the Watchtower. I understood her patterns now. Bringing the Bard in would upset her. She knew about the crystal now which meant she was not likely to come to me first. Would seek solace at the Gardens or in work, both of which allowed implementation of plan.

  Hearing Vela catch a cab to the fourth layer, knew it was time to act. Had Xian fetch a carriage for the Second Ward and a meeting with Inspector Hors Blackfoot.

  From Packard's Planar Bestiary, Adventurer's Edition by Packard Ussel, Ratiri sorcery and businessman:

  Tangling with any creatures from the Pit is bad news for even the most experienced adventurers and explorers. Though the habits, motivations, and theories of existence behind these demonic entities make for vast reading and study, what you, as a prospective demon-slayer, need to know is that the most effective means to defeat any Pit monster are raw sorcerous might and the divine channeling of a higher power. Minor creatures, such as the Flame Imp or the Tar Baby, are also susceptible to more conventional means available to any sell-sword or treasure-hunter (such as large, pointy weapons), but for most of them, especially the greater fiends such as the Ragnard, nothing but magic spells or divine prayers will do.

  Overhead among the followers of Myrien, god/goddess of beauty:

  Bring your heavy hearts into the shade of the Garden and find the solace you seek.

  Continued from the journal of Inspector Vela Redmane, 17 Octavian 736 PC:

  Abby Snow, who was fast becoming my favorite carriage driver in the City, glanced behind her through the window into the cab, her white scales glistening like her namesake in the light of the Celestial Stone. The Wass woman is a mean driver, fast as a whip, but keenly devoted to her horse, even if it is a golem. To be honest, I had been so lost in thought during the ride from the first layer to Myrien's Gardens I had almost forgotten where I was.

  “As much as I love to serve the devoted members of the Watch, ye were a bit more animated in rides past,” she said offhandedly, “and I was getting used to that.”

  “Oh,” I replied absently. “I'm tired, I suppose.”

  “Considering where we be heading, I had a thought it'd be more than plain fatigue, Inspector.”

  The best drivers were perceptive about their fares as much as their routes. Especially in the lower layers, it was the best way to avoid cutthroats and alleymen. “Your thought would be right, Ms. Snow. All I am at liberty to saw is that I've had to make a hard choice this morning and it weighs heavy on my heart.”

  “Business then?” She tsked. “That's a right shame! Here I was hoping for some juicy bits of a more personal nature. Loves lost, hearts broken, that sort of thing.” She caught my aggrieved look out of the corner of my eye. “Now, let's be fair, Inspector, you've got yourself a bit of reputation in the lower City.”

  I sighed. “Fair enough. Again, all I can say is my heart is heavy. I perhaps I was being evasive as to the whole extent of it, but I have not said false either.”

  “Complicated, I suppose.” She turned her attention back to the road, her gills flaring. “I tend to avoid them romantic entanglements for just that reason. I'm an aspiring young businesswoman, I am. Got to keep my fins in the water, not in the bedroom, if you catch my meaning.”

  “You are blessed to have such discipline, Ms. Snow. One day though, by Myrien's love, you will find that certain someone.”

  “Yer an optimistic one, Vela,” she laughed. “I suppose though that's a good thing, innit? I suspect you'll be back in your old stride by the next time you come calling.”

  “We'll see, Ms. Snow. I certainly hope so.”

  For that to be the case though, many things would have to happen in short succession. First though, I needed to pray for guidance. Not that I didn't have a plan to resolve the murders. No, I needed clarity as to other, more entangled affairs. I was faced with a choice, one that could affect the rest of my life. It was a choice I was starting to fear more and more might actually have an effect on this case as well.

  It wasn't just that the two objects of my desire were involved in some manner to this bit of work, though that was part of it. There were deeper connections and there was more going on regarding not just the Bard, but Milady as well. I realized as I clambered out of Abby's carriage, paying her the last bit of my daily expense stipend, that I came here not just for advice to soothe my own heart, but insights on the hearts of these two others as well.

  That soothing started almost immediately as I looked out over Myrien's Gardens. Sprawling out along the wall of the fourth layer, starting just a few blocks from Nym's Cathedral, the Gardens are of such natural beauty that they always have a calming effect on my heart and soul. Whatever my troubles, the greenery here, so foreign to our great City of steel and stone, can help right them. Like any true area of the Wilds, there is no precise entrance or exit from the Gardens, though the many shaded paths all lead to the same areas, much like any conventional church.

  I walked familiar paths, smiling and nodding to those of the faith as I passed. As with any day, the tenders walked the woods, servicing both the Garden and the church-goers. You can find Folk of any nature, of any size among their ranks, dressed in elegant, green silks. Some forget that outer beauty, the standards of the flesh, do not hold sway in the eyes of Myrien. All who can embrace their inner beauty can take up the mantle and serve the Garden and its beauty.

  The walk, the scenery, both plant and Folk, and the lush, heavenly scents helped calm me, helped center my heart, and I let that guide my steps. As I felt ready, my feet carried me without my bidding towards the Lifebloo
d, the central creek that flows through every Garden. I knew I would likely find Orveel there.

  Orveel is one of the Heartsworn, elders of the church who tend to the flow of the Lifeblood, both the literal and the figurative streams, those people who come to the Gardens to have their hearts mended. An older Aard man, built like a barrel and still strongly muscled even if the fat of good living was starting to weigh him down, Orveel inducted me into the church, taught me the Song of Myrien, and has been my guide since I was a pup getting herself into too much trouble.

  I caught a glimpse of him from across the glade I strode into and, catching his attention, met him with a mutual embrace. “Oh Orveel, am I so glad to see your big, smiling face!”

  His big arms pulled me in, eliciting a slight wince of pain from my healing wounds. “Garden's shade, what have you done to yourself now, sweet Vela?” He set me down and smoothed out his gauzy toga. “I worry about you, child. If the thugs don't kill you, your other misadventures will.”

  “Myrien doesn't blame me for having a large heart, does she?”

  Orveel laughed heartily. “He doesn't, you know that already. Still, too few Folk understand such matters.” He shrugged. “Now, why are you here, child? I know you too well, yes, so I know your visits are always punctuated by crisis.” I was about to make apologies as he raised his hands in this dance we have played at for years. “Now, now, it is what we Heartsworn are here for, after all. I mean and take no insult by the fact of the matter.”

  I sighed and nodded. As Orveel led me over to a quieter part of the glade, where the trees bent either of their own accord or Myrien's grace into a natural alcove, I said, “I find myself wondering now whether I have found love, not just passion, the kind of love to settle with, to grow together with.”

  “You? Vela Redmane? If this is true, it's a day for celebration indeed!” As we sat together, he rested a large hand on my shoulder. “Yet I can see this troubles you greatly. Is it the thought of freedom lost or something greater that eats at your happiness?”

  “Oh, Orveel, you know not the tip of the mountain.”

  “The heart is a complicated thing and our hearts, those of us who have given ourselves over to the pursuit of true beauty, tend to be the most complicated.” He rubbed his muzzle. “The only balm for it is to start at the beginning, so that we may divine the right course of action for all involved to be properly informed.”

  I felt my head swimming, trying to decide just how much I should reveal. Should I tell it all? Did I have the right? Would I be breaking my Duty to the City? I decided thus to begin small. “I have found myself deeply feeling for two women.”

  “Well, if you wish to grow together with both, that might be complicated if one of them isn't of Myrien or fully understanding of our ways. Do you know the faiths of these women and, most vitally, do you know if they know of each other?”

  “One most certainly is devoted to Myrien, Nym as well. The other ...” My voice trailed off as I tried to think. Did Milady even practice a faith? She seemed so worldly, so knowledgeable that I couldn't equate anything she knew as a proof of faith. “I don't know, sir. As to your other question, well, I am not entirely sure.” I rubbed my temples. “I have been so overwhelmed by it all and it has only been a few days, very passionate days.”

  Orveel squeezed my shoulder, but his voice was less sympathetic. “That is the first priority then, you realize! If you are truly in love with these two and wish to grow together, the earth must be fertile with trust. Without trust, true love cannot grow.” His tone softened as he smiled. “Well, may hap I know one or both of these ladies and can help educate you? Who are these lucky ones to have so caught your heart?”

  I felt like I had to pant as my nerves started to twitch. I could trust Orveel with my life; I had trusted him with my heart for years. Still, this was a different situation. A golem? That golem? I licked my lips as I made my decision. “Uh, Lady Alysa Hsu and the Silver Bard.”

  Orveel's eyes widened and his grip on my shoulder became like iron. What came out of his mouth, though, was what surprised me. “Alysa Hsu? Myan girl? Sorcerer? Daughter of Lord Aiden Hsu?” I couldn't ignore the vitriol with which he said Aiden Hsu's name.

  “Yes, that would be her,” I said automatically.

  “We have much to speak of then, Vela, much to speak of.”

  From a missive from the Lord-High Mayor's Office to the Sorcererum:

  With the rise of outside sorcerous elements and other arcane troublemakers in our great City, the Lord-High Mayor requests that the good mages of your order provide the means necessary for the City Watch and Guard to properly contain those with such power who deal in illegal acts in and against the City. Likewise, the Honorable One requests that the gaol areas and certain key sensitive chambers within the Watchtower be proofed from divinations, scrying, and various apportation and teleportation spells to allow for the proper interrogation of and protection from said entities and Folk.

  From the songbook of the Silver Bard, continued from the 8th Hymn of the 6th Movement:

  To dwell in chains, in deep, dark caves,

  Against my nature, but fate deserved.

  No one came watching, no one cares,

  For they think me as dumb as rock uninspired.

  Blame them; I cannot, for blood is spilled.

  Until will be freed, my mouth is sealed.

  To follow the chains, here to my cell,

  The Lady did, her half-heart still beating.

  No other was watching, no one to tell,

  For the rocks wrapped us in magics weaving.

  “Blame them not,” she canted, “for blood is spilled.

  Still you must be freed, your way unsealed.”

  To cast off the chains, to fly from here,

  Was what the Lady offered, but I wanted more.

  “I will not budge a step, I will not fear

  Enchantment or geasa brought to the fore.

  Blame me not, Lady,” I sang, “for blood is spilled.

  Why was my arrow where Qi was killed?”

  “Magic must be worked, ritual done, for

  Purity has its price, justice too, for me and you,”

  Cried the Lady, half-as-me, half-heart stone.

  “One to save and the great flame to fight, too.

  Blame me not, Bard, for blood to be spilled,

  Or the geasas that on you are willed.”

  To be free from her chains, to have my heart,

  Is all that I wish, to spread the joy in it.

  Can love from another let me do my part?

  Now that I know the Lady's means, the black pit

  In a heart once thawed, no evil can she thwart.

  Blame me not for the shackles on my soul,

  That bars the way from justice whole.

  Continued from the journal of Inspector Vela Redmane, 17 Octavian 736 PC:

  “Alysa's story is one of tragedy and pain,” Orveel began. “I would steel yourself, dear one.”

  “Many of us carry such burdens,” I said, keeping myself calm, “but I don't quite fathom why this would produce such a reaction from you.”

  “There are some wounds that fester, you know. I have known this potential partner of yours for decades, but I knew her mother for far longer.” He sighed, his large gut deflating. “Before Ria married Aiden, she was a devout Myrienite. We were so happy here when she did finally decide to grow together with someone.”

  “With Aiden Hsu? His reputation, even years ago, was far from sterling.” I shook my head. “Now, well, I don't think I betray my Duty by saying the Watch has him under close investigation.”

  “As you know most dearly, passion and love can lead us down dark trails. Though Lord Aiden was a foreign thing to the Gardens, Lady Ria still came for solace and services, though more rarely. I recall she seemed mostly happy, though she carried a growing burden.” Orveel picked a sunflower from the grass and rolled the stem in his palms. “Ria never told us, told me. She kept her secrets w
ell.

  “Things did brighten once Alysa was born. The joy of new life grew in Ria's heart and she brought the child here often, teaching her the Song along with the tenders here. We all began to wonder if perhaps Lord Hsu's reputation was grander and darker than the reality. Even those who walk in darkness can love their families, after all.”

  I clenched my jaw. “Then the fire happened, correct?”

  “Yes, then the fire happened.” Orveel's deep voice grew sad, distant. It was a tone that sounded foreign and frightening coming from such a joyful man. “To call it a mere fire would be to do it injustice. You are old enough to remember the news, the stories, and the rumors. What the news didn't tell was just how many lives were ultimately claimed. Many burned never recovered, even those only mildly injured.”

  “I know Lady Ria was among the dead and that Milady was badly hurt as well.” I arched an eyebrow. “Wait, why didn't she die?”

  “That, I cannot say for sure.” He rubbed his muzzle. “Considering Alysa was already a powerful sorceress, it is possible she blocked the growing corruption with her magic. Maybe the love of her mother and their faith in Myrien brought the shade of the Garden on the daughter, even as the flame consumed the mother.”

  Twisting on the seat of branches and leaves, I focused on Orveel, my mind moving swiftly. “Darker forces were at work then. You speak of corruption, that can only mean -”

  Orveel put a hand over my muzzle. “Speak not of that monstrosity in Myrien's shade.” My words stifled, he pulled his hand back. “Yes, though, you are correct. At least that is what we suspected and yet, despite the best efforts of Nym's inquisitors, the Inammi warders, and the best sorcerers of the Smokehounds, no clear evidence of the Foul Fire's hand could be determined.”

  “Likewise, the Watch could never find a definitive culprit. It is still considered an unsolved magical disaster.” I leaned back in the boughs. “What could such a thing do to a person?”