The Songstress Murders

by J. B. Garner

  “The Lady's knowledge is vast, but her wisdom is past.” Tried to ignore it and get back to work. “You thought your heart split, but its fires are relit. For all you wish to cut away, the heart regrew before today. And so, follow the path, you do not alone a heart hath.”

  Reaching for the flask of solution, I poured an extra dose. Though theoretically the golem was incorrect, there was always a possibility of an alteration of outcome. The golem could not heal what it did not have, but was my rush of emotion due to a mended heart, inflamed by Redmane's unexpected appearance?

  “Be quiet, golem, before I lay another geasa.” I swallowed back the bitter fluid. “It was the foolish notions I encased in your golem heart that blinded me to what Father was doing, the black rituals he committed in the night that I wrote off as evening prayer behind closed doors. I was trusting and foolish. I simply wanted our family to be together.

  “Instead, Mother and so many others died. I will be no great bard, but I will find the justice denied me and Mother all these years. The souls of the Foi, already promised to the Ragnard, will be its undoing and, with the beast laid low, Father will have no way to escape. I built this suit of silver to inspire with its beauty, but it has served as an instrument of judgment just as well.”

  The golem ceased its stirring with a final refrain. “So I say to you, my Lady, that on this eve of judgment's day, a funeral dirge I will ready, for on our pyres will we lay.”

  Fitted the new hip plate into place and tested the animation of the armor. All functional. All was ready. Would show the golem how wrong it was, would show Vela that she should have trusted me.

  I resolved not to hold it against her. She had no way to understand, even if the Myrienites had told her everything they knew. My sorcery had stopped bodily consumption from the hungry flames, but could not stop the pain. Hours seemed like days, days like years. Ragnard's fires burn through the 'positive' emotions, leaving the only sensible recourse to remove them. Nothing else could have saved me from insanity.

  Tomorrow, Father and I will do our dance. He needs to sacrifice to the Ragnard, to complete his deal. I need him to call the beast so I can deal with it, then him. Even if the Watch could find evidence against the bastard, system was too slow, too corrupt. He would wiggle free with golden promises. No, the only justice remaining was at the tip of an arrow.

  Vela would understand, would have her eyes opened. Then we would be happy.

  Overheard proverb among Citizens of the Second Ward:

  You can trust a Watcher, but you can trust him more if you have a purse of crowns.

  From The Articles of the Watch, 87th edition, issued to all Watchers:

  It is not the job of the Watch to measure the worth of one law over another. We do not weigh one crime over another as being more according of our attention than another. Instead, it is our Duty to stand against all crime and to uphold all laws equally. Do this, stay true to the Articles, and your Duty will be rewarded.

  From the journal of Inspector Vela Redmane, 20 Octavian 736 PC:

  I leaned against the window sill and gazed out over the street in front of the Mermaid's Scale. The shattered window pane, the origin of Qi Foi's demise, had yet to be replaced, though the rest of the private room had been restored to pristine condition. Never accuse Scoven of not making the most of his assets.

  It was easy for me to get lost in the moment, to place the destiny of the City on the events of tomorrow. The real truth was that, regardless of what I did, what Milady did, who survived and who died, this City would barely acknowledge it. There would be a few articles in the Herald and likely a funeral or two, but the City would carry on. The Ragnard and its earthly summoner would be smashed flat by the might of that City and all our struggles in the meantime would be simple footnotes on a broadsheet.

  I sipped at the nutty ale and savored the taste. The other truth of the situation was that, as unimportant as tomorrow would be to the City, it was of absolute importance to me. The Moral Compass twinged and spun, as if trying to decide between the selfishness of my desires or the underlying righteousness behind them. In the past days, I had found my entire world invested into one case and the lives of two women. The City might carry on, but a failure tomorrow would amount to an elaborate suicide on my part.

  “Right, lassie,” Soren called from the other side of the door, “I've got yer meal here and yer guests. Ye mind openin' up the door there so we can get this under way?”

  Between the lack of concrete evidence and Lord Aiden Hsu's ill-gotten gold, I had only one course of action. I slugged back the rest of my tankard and unlocked the door. Swinging it wide, my one hope was that the people waiting on me would see the importance of tomorrow the way I did, not the way the City would.

  They were a motley crew, by any reckoning. Christabelle was pointedly ignoring the advances of poor, sweet, delusional Packie. Scoven himself was balancing a tray of food and drink in one hand, with a bundle of maps and scrolls tucked under the other arm, while Kraatz nervously peered around, no doubt hoping no other Watchers had seen him come here. Abby had already managed to steal a tankard from Soren and had taken to the drink before our little meeting had started. ZeeZeeArr towered over the lot of them, bearing a hexagonal case of his/her own, hopefully an answer to my query to the Fortuli Queen.

  “Come on in and thank you everyone, for coming on such short notice.” I stepped aside to let them all in. Motley they might be, but here in the City, you never turned away a friend based on who or what they were. As they flooded in, filling up the private room, I closed the door and locked it once more.

  Considering the depth and nature of what was discussed and the possibility this could still end in tragedy, it would be remiss of me to detail what transpired. After all, if elements of what we discussed could be interpreted as being against the laws of the City, I would be a poor friend to have provided evidence of such possible crimes.

  Was it hypocritical of me to do this, to possibly break the very laws I was holding Milady to? I may, in main, believe in the Articles of the Watch, but I disagreed on one vital point. There was a hierarchy of sins, an order of importance when it came to the law, and I was more than willing to break a few minor ones to save lives, even if one of them was Lord Aiden Hsu's.

  From the notes of Lady Alysa Hsu, 21 Octavian 726 PC:

  These may be the last notes I put down. After a triple dose of calming elixir, I am able to put down these final preparations with a steady hand. The confrontation itself will require supreme focus. Errant emotional spikes would be lethal.

  The golem is of sufficient strength now and quieted its protestations of the previous evening. Its programming, connected so closely to the Nymian and Myrienite churches, was no doubt preparing it for confronting the Ragnard. Its songs and rituals would distract and weaken the Pit beast, allowing time to activate the sympathetic connection through the souls in the gems.

  Carefully added matched teleportation runes with fur paints in the proper locations. Took special care to ensure each rune would be covered by formal dress, before inscribing the runes' mates on my golem armor with a diamond-tipped engraving tool. Everything was now ready.

  Leaving the armor on the worktable, proceeded to dress and make myself up. Father must be lulled into false sense of security. Every expectation of his must be met. He would have his meek and docile daughter just long enough for me to close the trap.

  One more dose of the elixir before we leave and that is all I can do to ensure victory. These notes will be sealed here in my sanctum and, if I fail, the arcane locks will open in a day's time. Vela, if you find these notes, know that I do love you and I am sorry for the distress I have no doubt caused you. If I do die, then perhaps we will meet again in whatever afterlife claims us.

  From a Watch missive from Inspector Hors Blackfoot to Junior Inspector Vela Redmane:

  As per your Intelligence Request on a Person of Interest Form, I can confirm that an additional group of guards from the Sell-sword'
s Collective have been hired to patrol the Hsu estate grounds. While we have no direct information as to their movements, considering they are due to start on 21 Octavian, the Watch detail keeping watch on Lord Aiden's activities will be off-site from seven bells in the morning to twelve bells. Please note that I have no requirement to ask why you desired this specific information and I request that you do not, in the future, inform me of such. Your forms are in order and my Duty is fulfilled.

  From the journal of Inspector Vela Redmane, 21 Octavian 736 PC:

  The day I knew, but the exact time of this ritual had remained clouded. Hors' unexpected reply to my request had a clue, as well as what research I had done on the original incident, but that window was too large. Even moments off the right time could mean failure. Still, I had expected this, a problem easily rectified with one of the oldest of a detective's tools, the stake-out.

  Abby glanced down into the carriage. “Do you think this lass of yours will notice us?”

  I blew out a stream of smoke as I kept watch on Milady's front gate via Magnifying Monocle. “Milady is too focused on this ritual. That and her extensive self-confidence blind her to the possibility of outside interference.”

  “I hope you're right. I'd prefer to live long enough to make me crowns from this.” She shifted anxiously on the buckboard. “Not that I don't mind a wee bit of danger now and again, but ...”

  “Don't fear, Ms. Snow. I promise the only one to be in any danger today will be me.” It was a promise I was adamant that I was going to keep. Once Abby had finished with tailing Milady, her job was over and I made sure she had already been given her payment for the ride and the extra crown to drive down to the bottom layer before the fireworks started.

  Our wait was not long. Just before eight bells, the gates were opened by Xian and Milady's carriage rolled out of the gate. It was no surprise that there was a golem servant driving the horses, just as I caught the flash of silver through the silk curtains over the windows. I tapped the wall of our own carriage, but that was unnecessary, as the sharp-eyed Ms. Snow had already pulled us out into the morning traffic.

  Confident in her abilities, I made a final inventory. My Moral Compass hung weighty around my neck, while Cline's heavy crossbow sat at the ready beside me in the carriage. Flipping open the top of his bolt case, I made a quick count of the eight Nym-blessed bolts, each now tipped with solid silver-steel thanks to Packie's transmutational talents, along with one last grapple-hook-headed bolt. I was dubious if they would cause the Ragnard any real harm, but it was the best bet I could come up with to keep the monster's attention.

  I eschewed my truncheon as dead-weight, but my own hand crossbow hung at my side. I kept it mainly as a tool, with alchemical flares loaded on the few shorter bolts. It was the best way to call in the cavalry if I needed it. I checked to make sure the flasks of flame-quenching foam and metal-eating acid were intact. It had taken long hours in the Watch labs over the past two nights to get the formula for both just right. Lastly, there was the hexagonal case and its contents that Zee had entrusted to me the day before.

  “They're in, Vela.” Abby kept the carriage rolling down the avenue outside the walled compound that was Aiden Hsu's mansion.

  I could see what Hors had meant about extra guards. Lord Hsu didn't seem to care for subtlety at this point; hiring a pack of the ugliest bruisers I had ever seen swinging a blade. The wall itself was more of a privacy barrier than an impenetrable barrier. Once the sell-swords were out of the way, I would have no problem getting over it with the grapple-bolt. From there, I would simply have to wing it.

  As for those thugs, I waited until we stopped to open up the case. Inside were two hollow rods of some strange metal-alloy, one that I didn't recognize despite my alchemical training. I would definitely have to spend time with the Fortuli after this, assuming I survived. Stepping out of the carriage, I made sure to properly imitate the process Zee had shown me.

  “Vela Understander,” s/he had said, “we are one again and so the Queen pledges this one and soldiers to make your justice happen.” If nothing else came of this day, I could at least know that the Fortuli would live now. With a faint smile, I struck the two rods together twice, each strike sending out a strangely low tone, before running one across the other slowly. The vibrations seemed to ripple through the rods, redoubled as they slid down each other.

  The deep vibrations ran through my body and through the air, matched by a pervasive buzz just barely perceptible over the nearby street traffic. The Hive was coming and I had to get Abby on her way.

  I placed the rods back in their case and grabbed Cline's crossbow. “Ms. Snow, if I do not have the honor of riding with you again, know that I appreciate your efforts this day.”

  “Now don't bloody talk like that,” Abby called down as I closed the carriage door. “I can't afford to be losin' me best customer this past week, can I?”

  I grinned despite myself. Slinging the heavy weapon across my shoulder, I tipped my hat. “Right, I'll see you at the Scale for a victory party.”

  Her bulbous eyes turned skyward. “Aye aye, Inspector.” She turned to the road. “I'm off. Not that I hate Hive Folk, but they do give me the itchy scales.” With a snap of the reins, her golem horse lurched forward and she was off.

  I turned towards the compound as the first Hive soldiers descended from the clouds into plain view. Not that many would see them. After all, no Folk other than some of the Hive could fly and the Gryphon Riders ranged outward to defend the City, not the airspace right overhead. I had only hoped I communicated the difference between fighting to distract versus fighting to kill clearly. The Hive's group mind made concepts like that hard to get across. After all, what was one worker or soldier to the mass? A painful cut, perhaps, but a minor wound that would heal with another larva.

  Once Abby was well on her way, once I heard the first sounds of struggle from the walls of the mansion, I sprinted across the avenue. There would be little time to get over that wall before a more general alarm was raised. My overarching hope was that Milady's father was as overconfident as Milady, enough to ignore the clash long enough for me to find them. Scoven's maps of the compound, the source of which I will remain blissfully ignorant of, at least gave me an idea of where to start.

  A quick glance at the top of the wall showed no guards that were paying me any mind. Instead, the two on this far expanse were struggling fruitlessly with Hive soldiers. The strength of a fully-grown soldier was terrifying in comparison to other Folk and their tough shells were as good as most light armor, so it was turning into a rather one-sided confrontation. It was all according to plan, a fact that, loading the grapple bolt and cranking Cline's bow, made me wonder just when Zain could flip over the Jester.

  The way clear and my aim true, I launched the bolt with its attached silk rope up and over the wall. I gave the line a hard tug until it stopped abruptly, then one harder tug to be sure the hook was seated. Satisfied, I slung Cline's crossbow and, bracing against the wall with my feet, easily climbed up and over.

  My entrance remained uncontested as I found myself at the edge of noble opulence. Lord Hsu certainly did not want for money and a considerable amount of that wealth was invested in the elegantly designed, tastefully decorated grounds. Shaking my head from the raw beauty spread out before me, I took my bearings and began to jog towards the Hsu clan's private boneyard.

  From the written statement of Lady Alysa Hsu, dated 25 Octavian 736 PC, authenticated by Chief Inspector Verdigan Feathers, Second Ward Watch:

  I will not try to hide the truth or occlude the facts. With all that I lost, with all that happened, I no longer have the desire to lie.

  Epicenter of Father's ceremony was at Mother's grave. Not surprising. Equally unsurprising was the fact Father, in his arrogance, did not question what was in the coffer I brought. A gift for after the ceremony was all he knew.

  The only thing of any solace was that Father had not skimped on Mother's grave marker. Maintaining appe
arances had been a powerful motivation. We made pleasantries for a few minutes before he proclaimed it was time to begin.

  “Most beautiful Bard, would you please begin your hymns? We would wish to honor those who have died here in such horrible tragedy.” Bastard made nary a flinch.

  The golem looked between us, drew its lyre. “If you wish to hear the song of Nym, the beauty of Myrien made sound; I shall do your wish, play your hymn, and let forth the music proud.” It took up a position past the grave marker. Despite our rift, at least we were united against the monster to come.

  Bard launched into its song. I would have been moved if not for the calming elixir. It kept me cold, rational. Father did not have my edge and, black heart aside, fell into golem's spell.

  Considering the beast could be watching, I moved quickly. Grabbed up coffer, dispelled arcane lock, and grabbed up the rubies. The geometric configuration had to be precise. I ran as fast as the pain from my golem legs would let me, setting rubies along a circle at the right points.

  Motion snapped Father's fascination. His eyes widened as he shouted, “Foolish girl, I knew you would betray me, though I suppose I can't blame you.” He drew a serrated knife. I recognized it as Unseen ritual weapon. “I certainly wouldn't want to die if I were you.”

  Again, the golem might have overstepped its bounds before, but its programming to protect life didn't falter. Before Father could get to me, its song increased in tempo and soared into Myrienite songs. Arrows from her quiver responded to the song's magic, flying into a circle around Father like a swarm of silver-steel hornets. I even thought I heard buzzing.

  “It is over, Father,” I said when last stone was placed. “Now bring your pet and let us write the final part of this family's story.” Whispering a final phrase of the teleportation spell, each rune on my fur glowed in sequence, bringing a piece of armor into place with pops of displaced air.