Clan Dominance - the Sleepless Ones 2

by Dem Mikhailov

  “Murder! Mu-u-u-u-u-u-rder!”

  “A-a-a-a-a-a-argh!” I cried out, caught unawares, doing a back flip I’d normally have considered beyond my ability, and finding myself three paces away from the grave.

  The specter would not be thus defied. It slipped right after me, grabbed my shoulders with its transparent hands, and shouted into my face once again,

  “I was mu-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-rdered!”

  “A-a-argh!” I cried out again.

  The ghostly old coot sprang up so suddenly my instincts got the better of me. The spectral spittle flying into one’s face was rather ghastly, too, even though, logically, it were completely harmless...

  Achievement unlocked!

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  “Get away from me!” I roared, pushing the ghost that had hovered over me away — or, rather, trying to. As I should have expected, my hands went right through the spirit’s body. However, the ghost obeyed the motion and slid back again in the same liquid motion, once again beginning to howl,

  “I’ve been mu-u-u-u-u-u-u-rdered! There’s a killer on the road...”

  “Shut up!” I hissed, coming to my senses completely, and the ghost shut up, astonished.

  “That’s better,” I nodded in satisfaction. “It won’t do to raise a hue and cry for all the graveyard to hear. The dead need their beauty sleep, too!”

  “Can’t you hear me, mortal?” The nebulous ghost instantly grew enormous, its eyes flashing a menacing red. “I said...”

  “You said you’d been murdered,” I reminded him. “That was precisely why I’d decided to trouble your peaceful sleep, most esteemed Jogley. If you are, indeed, the old fisherman Jogley.”

  “Peaceful?” the ghost yelled again, grabbing its head with its hands and beginning to shake from side to side. “What peace can I find? I was killed! How can I rest in my grave when my killer walks around with impunity? I am overcome with ire and fury! And my son... That simpleton will never see beyond the rim of his teacup...”

  “Sure. No rest for the wicked, I get it. Sorry, but am I right to assume you really are Jogley, the old fisherman?”

  “Sure am! Or, rather, I was him... My memories of that life have become rather vague.”

  “Just how vague?” I asked with some worry. If the old man had forgotten everything, I was screwed.

  “Not vague enough to forget the identity of my killer!” Jogley’s ghost roared furiously, puffing itself up even further and becoming some eighteen feet tall.

  “Sir! Could you please assume your former size? Otherwise, it isn’t your face I’m looking at, but rather... Uh... I’d rather not even mention it.

  The ghost gave a long and despondent sigh, shrinking back to normal size, and suddenly complaining,

  “You’re no fun.”

  “Oh yeah?” That stung a little. “Not if you ask my neighbors... Uh... Dear spirit of old Jogley the fisherman! My name is Rosgard the Truth-Seeker, and I roam the world in search of injustices to redress. That’s about it...”

  By the time my impassioned speech was over, ghostly Jogley was waist-deep in his grave, listening attentively, his bearded chin resting on his hand.

  “The whole world? Really?” he asked incredulously, and I cringed, irritated.

  “Just like that, most esteemed Jogley.”

  “So you’ve been across the ocean, then?” The spirit looked curious. “What’s it like over there? Is it true that they walk on their heads and use pails to catch fish in the sea?”

  “Sir! My original reason to bother your peaceful rest was to solve the mystery of your death so that justice could be done to those guilty. I’m also here to...”

  “Hold on, hold on,” the old man waved his semitransparent hands. “So you’re saying you travel the world, and dress... Who was it, once again? Inn justice?”

  “I redress injustices,” I said gruffly, looking at the old man with some confusion. He must have been a real piece of work when he was still alive... His curiosity was almost palpable — he was prepared to forget about his own violent demise to hear some new gossip now that he’d gotten through the yelling-and-intimidation routine.

  “How do you do that?” Jogley asked impatiently.

  “How do I do what, gramps?” I was beginning to get irate.

  The entire conversation seemed to be going in some weird direction, and it was all my own fault. I should have wrapped my cloak around my shoulders and stood next to the grave, looking aloof, my very sight commanding respect... and there I was doing back flips, for every ghost in the neighborhood to laugh at me. They must have been having the time of their posthumous lives, the lot of them.

  “How did you say you were, uh... Addressing...”

  “Redressing, gramps! Well, I take money from the poor and give it to the rich, protect the strong from the weak...”

  “Anything else?”

  “I also... uh... comfort poor orphans, helping them in any way I can... Giving them money, and so on...”

  “Anything other than that?”

  “Well, I also destroy all sorts of monsters that bother peaceful folk.”

  “Is that all you do?”

  “Gramps!”

  “Did you say... you gave money away? Just like that? Really?”

  “Well... Yeah, I do...”

  “And you demand no reward for what you do?”

  “N... no, I don’t,” I drawled out cautiously.

  “What an idiot,” the fisherman’s ghost sighed, scratching his beard. “An absolute doofus. And you don’t seem quite right up there... Say, son, did they drop you on any hard surfaces as a baby?”

  “Now, look here, gramps!” I was beginning to get royally pissed off. “Did you crawl out of your grave just to pick on me?!”

  “Well, I got out expecting someone serious!” The obstinate old man wouldn’t be gainsaid, standing there with his ghostly arms akimbo with a challenging look on his face. “I’d intended to talk business!”

  The old blighter was definitely spoiling for a fight.

  “You mean I’m not serious?” I was beginning to lose what had remained of my temper by then.

  “Of course you aren’t! What good are you when you don’t even request a reward? You won’t put any elbow grease into it! You’ll just go through the motions!”

  “Who said I wouldn’t demand a reward? I sure will!”

  “Now, that’s more like it!” The ghost looked happy. “This is closer to a serious conversation. Who do you think I am, feeding me all that horse? So, what is it you want? Not that I have anything, mind you. I’m a ghost without a body. Well, you could take the flowers from my grave, I guess...”

  “So why were you mentioning a reward in the first place?” I exhaled and inhaled deeply, trying to get into a meditative state, then did it again. “All right,” I exhaled wearily. “Let’s begin at the beginning, dearest Jogley. The esteemed trader Stevan asked me to find out the real reason for your sudden demise, which is the only reason I dared to trouble your sleep in the great beyond.”

  “Okay, so you can lay it on. That’s good enough,” the old man rumbled approvingly, sitting down with his back reclining against the headstone. “Keep going.”

  “So, that’s why I troubled you,” I repeated. “I’d need to find out the name of the killer, even though it’s already been revealed to me. But I would like to find out more about the circumstances...”

  “So you know, don’t you?” The spirit got closer. “Right, then, smarty-pants, who’d done me in? Tell me!”

  I made a theatrical pause, then puffed out my chest and said,

  “Alishana, your daughter-in-law.”

  “So you are an idiot, after all...” Jogley said in disappointment. “A to
tal idiot.”

  “I don’t get it,” I mumbled, feeling embarrassed.

  “What is there not to get?! It wasn’t her!” The ghost gritted its luminescent teeth, and suddenly disappeared from the grave.

  Before I could bat an eyelid, the old man’s bearded face was snarling right in front of me, shouting furiously,

  “And if you accuse Alishana falsely, I’ll get you even from my grave! I’ll bury you so deep they’ll never find you! Got it?!”

  “Sure,” I nodded in shock, jerking back against my will. “I mean, I don’t understand anything... And why don’t you stop spitting already, gramps?!”

  “I knew it! They’d accuse my daughter-in-law,” Jogley exhaled sadly, his agitation suddenly over. “It wasn’t her, and that’s that. What was your name again? Rosgard? Well, Rosgard, I have a request for you. I don’t have much in the way of reward, but if you do it for me, I’ll be eternally grateful.”

  “Sure, no problem,” I replied cautiously. “Shoot.”

  “Everyone in our village kept giving my son’s wife dirty looks, and now they’ll make her life a living hell. Don’t let it happen. Name the real killer, I beg of you, in the name of all the gods.”

  “Hold on, sir,” I placed the palms of my hands in front of me. “You don’t even have to ask me. That’s why I’m here — I want to see justice done. It wasn’t my fault that I’d initially suspected your daughter-in-law — they’ve been telling me you could barely live together, and kept yelling at each other every day.”

  “Duh! Our Alishana is a daughter-in-law anyone could dream of! That silly lummox of mine sure got lucky — he’d somehow managed to capture a true beauty’s heart. She may not have been that great a housewife at first, but nowadays you won’t find a speck of dust anywhere in the house! And she’s always been a great cook, only it wasn’t our fare like boiled grain and soups, but dishes from faraway lands! I still remember them. Take one bite and you start prancing around the yard like a goat, and all your tongue feels like it’s on fire... Those sure were the days! Damn! Such rotten luck to have died now — I was about to become a grandfather! Well, anyway, I hope they’ll bring the young one to my grave every now and then for me to admire...”

  “Just a moment, Jogley,” I interrupted the ghost’s trip down Memory Lane. “So you didn’t quarrel with her? The two of you lived in peace?”

  “Peace, my bum,” the ghost snorted. “We’d fight every day! So what? It was none of the neighbors’ business, anyway! I say a word to her, and she replies with a dozen. That’s when the dust would start flying! She’d chase me around with a towel, I’d cover myself with a barrel lid, and that idiot son of mine would run around urging us to quiet down... That sure was the life!”

  “Indeed,” I agreed, somewhat stupefied.

  No peace for the wicked is a saying describing this very sort of old man — he must have been really something when he was alive.

  “Still, we were on great terms!” The ghost, lost in its memories, grunted challengingly, thrusting out its beard. “Everyone was envious! My son finally started to make something of himself with her. He wouldn’t so much as raise his voice at her! He’s kind-hearted, just like a calf, but he surely isn’t among the brightest. He might be as strong as an ox, but what about it? He never sees what his interest is — we’d barely managed to make ends meet before. He’s a good hunter, but he’d often come back from the hunt with nothing left but the pelt and the hooves, and the neighbors would get all the meat. Once Alishana started to take care of the house, things got much better. My son would no longer drink or go to taverns, and he’d bring everything he’d catch right home.

  “Right. So things are never as simple as they seem...” I exhaled wearily, and implored the old man’s ghost, “Sir, so who could have killed you? I haven’t found any other suspects...”

  “There’s nothing to suspect! It was Phelagea, our neighbor, may she burn in hell!” The old man roared. “Who else?!”

  “Indeed,” I nodded hurriedly. “Just as you were saying. Right. Yes, it’s really all clear. So it was her, right? What’s her name... Phelagea?”

  “It was!” Jogley declared with certainly, hovering over his grave and growing in size. “I’ve had a doctor check me up, and he said I’d live another hundred years. So I called all the neighbors over to tell them the good news and to celebrate. And by the evening Phelagea came over with some pickled mushrooms — she knew I’d always been fond of them, especially with some home-made beer. So we’d sat there talking about days gone by, and said our goodbyes. And, come morning, I felt a sharp pain in my stomach — I barely managed to open my mouth to call my son when I kicked the bucket! It was only once I became a ghost that I remembered something: Phelagea surely didn’t mind drinking all the beer she could get, but never touched the mushrooms once. That old witch! That poisoner!”

  “I see,” I said pensively. “So, your neighbor Phelagea... And why would she decide to poison you?

  “What do you mean, ‘why’? Because Alishana got pregnant! Didn’t I tell you I’d been expecting a grandchild? That’s why Phelagea decided to poison me!”

  “Say what? Uh, but what would her interest be?!”

  “Phelagea’s fondest dream had always been to marry her ugly daughter off to my son! That way she’d get all we have at once! The yards are right nearby! Bring down the fence, and you get a single huge yard! And she sure covets our wheat fields! Get it now? My son is like a mule — way too meek, will never say a contrary word, nothing like me! And now that I’m dead, there’s no one left to guard them! Phelagea will get her hands on everything!”

  “Right on! So, give me a moment to recap — am I right to understand you’ve been poisoned by your neighbor Phelagea, whose intent was to remove you as an obstacle to her becoming the sole owner of all your assets, real estate etc.?”

  “You lost me with all the big words. You wouldn’t be one of those brainy types who do nothing but read books?” The spirit looked at me askance, full of suspicion.

  “Oh, definitely not, I’m nothing like them!” I shook off the accusations indignantly. “So, have I understood you correctly?”

  “Is there that much to understand?” Jogley sighed sadly. “It’s all perfectly obvious. You don’t have to be a scholar to make sense of it. Phelagea’s had her eye on my son for a long time, trying to get him interested in her daughter. Then Alishana appeared, and all her plans fell through. Not that I was too fond of her cow of a daughter, either. Fancy my son marrying someone like her! So Phelagea’s decided to wait it out, hoping my idiot would fall out with Ali, or that I would kick the bucket soon. But she got burned there twice. Alishana got pregnant, and my son got me checked by a doctor, who said it for everyone to hear that I’d live for another hundred years...”

  “And Phelagea instantly went from passive contemplation to active measures,” I summed up.

  “Eh?”

  “Gave you some toadstools!”

  “Right on! Toadstools for sure. But she sure pickled them fine. I’d had a bowl all to myself, and wolfed down every single one!”

  “Not much to be proud of,” I said gruffly, and the ghost zipped it in embarrassment. “Hey, Jogley... But it’s far from over!”

  “Eh?”

  “This isn’t over, I say!” I barked. “She’d managed to get rid of you, but that leaves Alishana and her unborn child!”

  “Hot damn!” Jogley’s ghost made a helpless gesture with its hands, soaring high into the air. “How could I have not thought of that? Old fool! She’ll try to poison Alishana next! And once she does that, nothing will stop her from marrying my grief-stricken son to her harridan of a daughter! Oh, dear! Why are you standing still?! Run!”

  “Where to?”

  “Right to our yard! Warn them! My son and his wife! Hurry, Rosgard!”

  “Hey, chill, old guy,” I waved him off. “This parochial Borgia of yours can’t be that stupid to poison two people in the course of a single week. She’ll wait a w
hile — I gather, Alishana’s life will be out of danger for at least a month or two. But then, once everything quiets down and people start forgetting...”

  “Hurry up all the same! Tell the people the truth! Name my poisoner!”