“How? How would I do that?”
“Point at her with your finger! How else? You might kick her, if you want,” the ghost said angrily. “I’ll be the last to mind!”
“Gramps, are you out of your mind?” I roared, dispensing with my formal tone of voice. “So I’ll point my finger at her; what do you think will happen next? She’ll claim her innocence, and the entire village will be chasing me with stakes and torches! This goes beyond fun and games!”
“They won’t!” The old man disagreed emphatically. “Make sure there are lots of people around, and summon her to be tried at the statue of white marble, the one in front of the temple. It’s our protectress — Helione, Goddess of Justice. You can accuse her of her sin there! If she refuses, she’ll admit her guilt! And if she doesn’t, the goddess isn’t blind! She’ll let the truth be known at once!”
“I see,” I said in a slow drawl.
Old Jogley was perfectly right. Waldyra’s religious system permitted this. If one demands justice next to the statue of a deity, the deity in question will mark the culprit. However, if the accuser turns out to be wrong, they can expect a severe punishment for slander.
What if Jogley was wrong? What if the mushrooms contained no poison? Could he have died of natural causes, or been killed by someone else?
A deity’s curse was the last thing I needed. It would be like a dark cloud hanging over my head and visible to everyone without exception. And it wasn’t just it’s visibility — a curse affected all the character’s stats and skills in a manifestly negative way. Most of the local shopkeepers and traders would instantly refuse to have anything to do with me. The curse’s effects would also be experienced by any fellow group member for as long as they remained in the same group as me.
I was sure Gosha would be anything but pleased if I managed to get cursed by a local goddess. Such a curse would stay with me for as long as it would take me to expiate my guilt, which was anything but easy. If I turned out to be right, I’d receive a blessing from the same deity, and those last a long time... Still, it would be a huge risk.
“It is her!” The ghost broke the silence, approaching me slowly and staring me right in the eye. “Her and none other! I swear it on my soul!”
“Jogley, are you quite sure? I’ll be risking my neck here. If you’re wrong...”
“It was her! She’s my killer! I’m certain! Rosgard, aid us in our hour of need! If you refuse, Alishana will die, too! And if that happens, my son will either try to kill himself, or, worse still, get scooped up by Phelagea! I’ve lived a long life, but they haven’t yet! They’re good as children! Help us!”
“It’s easy for you to ask me for help,” I said gruffly.
“Well, I can’t get away from my grave! I’m bound to it! And who knows when someone might decide to come here at night... And I cannot show myself during the day! And there’s that damned mascot that keeps running around and squealing hideously! It ran past my grave earlier on, and I couldn’t help wincing... If that thing’s anywhere near, I won’t even be able to come out at night!”
“The mascot?” I asked automatically. “The unieye, you mean?”
“The very one. It keeps going wherever it likes! And it’s been munching the flowers on my grave, too! The swine! Its jaws kept making those hideous sounds, yuck!”
“Well, he won’t be running around any longer,” I muttered under my breath.
“What are you mumbling there?”
“I said I’d do it,” I said with a sigh. “But I’ll expect a reward.”
“And what will you ask of me? I’m in your hands now,” the ghost looked deflated. “I was never rich... But I’ve hidden a war chest in a safe place. A few silvers, and three dozen coppers. They’re buried under the porch. Would that be enough?”
“I won’t be asking for money,” I shook my head. “I need information.”
“Come again?”
“I need to find out a few things, my dear old Jogley,” I rephrased it to get my point across. “Tell me everything you know of the Silver Legend and Grym the Inconsolable. We’ll be even then.”
“Uh...” the ghost said, falling silent for a long couple of minutes, its eyes raised toward the night sky and its lips moving in contemplation.
I kept shaking with impatience, barely managing to stop myself from telling the old man’s ghost to hurry.
“The Silver Legend, you say...”
“Yes!”
“And Grym the Inconsolable?”
“Him and none other!”
“Never heard of either,” Jogley spread his hands, giving me a puzzled look. “Who are they?”
“What?!”
“Have you gone a little deaf, perhaps?” the ghost said irritably. “This is the first time I hear them mentioned! Look, how about we keep it simple and you just take the money I’d left under the porch, eh? I don’t know what you’ll think of next...”
“But this is impossible!” I blew up, taking a quick step toward the ghost and unsuccessfully trying to shirtfront it. “You’re the old fisherman Jogley! The very one pointed out to me by Snessa the seer!”
“She must have been wrong, then!” Jogley barked back. “I am a fisherman, the name’s mine, and I don’t need you to tell me I died an old man, but I’ve never heard of anyone called Grym in my whole life!”
“Damn...”
“So you’ll refuse to help now, won’t you?” The ghost looked saddened and deflated. “My measly savings are of no interest to you, I don’t know anything you want to know, so my fool of a son and Alishana with a child in her womb will have to die horrible deaths, while you just walk away grinning that ugly grin of yours, is that right?”
“Hey, mind what you’re saying, gramps! And what has that got to do with anything?” I waved my hand disappointedly. “I’ll help them and accuse the poisoner of her evil deed. But, damn and blast... It really didn’t play out the way I’d hoped it would...”
“You’ll help?” Jogley looked overjoyed at once, soaring above his grave yet again. “Now, that’s more like it! You’re a real mensch, Ros! And your smile isn’t that ugly by far...”
“You sure are a bit of a chatterbox, gramps,” I replied in a jejune voice. “Especially for a ghost... There are living folks who talk less.”
“What about that legend, anyway? Who’s this Grym? And why is he so inconsolable?”
“He was a legendary warrior. The Silver Legend is the legend of his armor. He had renounced his power once, throwing all of them into the Elyrne River off the Doom Rock. Something of that sort... Well, it doesn’t matter now, since you don’t know anything. No point in idle chitchat. So I’ll get going, I guess,” I exhaled wearily. “Would you like me to light up your Last Light lamps for you?”
“Hey, hold your horses!” The suddenly pensive ghost said gruffly. “Silver armor, you say? Elyrne? Doom Rock?”
“Ye-e-e-e-s,” I said in a soft drawl, placing myself down on the grass very carefully. “Just like that. Did you just remember something?”
“Well, old or not, I’ve never complained about my memory,” the pesky old ghost said, contradicting his earlier complaints about forgetfulness. “I’ve told you I knew nothing of this Grym, and that was the whole truth! Well, my memory does give out at times, of course, but...”
“But what?”
“Well, many years ago, when I was a strapping lad, and every girl hurried into my arms, while the lads covered their faces in sackcloth at the sight of someone as fair-faced as me...
I kept silent, holding my breath, my eyes fixed on reminiscing Jogley, who kept rolling his eyes and making contented sucking noises.
“Anyway, we were fishing on the Elyrne, me and a few other fishermen. Our net was so big that we barely managed to pull it with four boats. The current is strong there, and the water’s murky... There’s also a lot of deadwood on the bottom... But the catch was worth it! I filled up my purse with silver and gold in just a month, and my friends made a pretty penny, too,
may they rest in peace. None of them are alive now; we might meet again over there... But I was talking about something else. Listen to me, o Rosgard, our savior! One late evening we pulled out the net — just as usual, it was full of all sorts of stuff, not just fish. And what would we find at the very bottom? You know, the part that keeps collecting all kinds of sunken junk... I’ll tell you. There were three strange things, all covered in dirt. Catch my drift?”
“Could they be...”
“Aye! Once we cleaned them from dirt and rinsed them well in the water, we couldn’t believe our eyes — it was silver! And not just any silver, either! There were all kinds of ornaments and letters no one could read. But they didn’t look much like armor, sorry to disappoint you.”
“Right, but what did they look like? Can you tell me?”
The ghost scratched its head, and started describing the items they’d found:
“There was a wide bracelet, a silver belt, and some weirdly twisted thing with leather straps attached to it. So that was the catch we got that evening. Could those things be what you’ve been after?”
“I’m sure they were!” I said with conviction, taking a step toward the ghost. “Take a look, Jogley. Did the bracelet look like this?”
The ghost studied my forearm carefully, and nodded affirmatively.
“It looked exactly the same. The ornaments, too. My... So your clairvoyant was right, after all. Her gift must have been strong.”
“Dearest Jogley! What did you do with your catch?”
“Sold it, of course,” the old man replied matter-of-factly. “At the very same village where we’d been staying. There was a trader there, name of Kumowan, and he ended up buying all of that stuff. He grabbed it all the instant he saw it, and gave up eight full gold pieces, two each. That’s how I became rich in just a day. But I know nothing of what’s become of those things since. Sorry about that. You’d need to visit Kumowan personally and question him well. It’s not that far from here. It’s a village by the banks of the Elyrne, name of Selene. That’s where he lives. You’ll get there in no time at all.
“Selene, next to the Elyrne, trader by the name of Kumowan,” I repeated. “Is the trader a local, or not?”
“I’ve told you he lived there,” the ghost gave me a confused look.
“I get it, but is he from over here, or... uh... a stranger like myself?” I wormed my way out of that one.
“He’s a local!” Jogley said with certainty. “I’ve seen enough strangers like you, so I can tell by now. So, tell me, have I helped you?”
“You have, and very much so!” I replied with gratitude, recording all the information I’d just received in the notebook that was part of the interface.
The thread I’d been following as pointed out to me by the clairvoyant didn’t break, and I was thankful to all the deities for as much already. Even though the items had ended up in a trader’s possession, who must have moved the “hot” stuff instantly, making a lump sum in the process, I did have some leads to investigate.
“Say, my good man... You’ll keep your promise, will you?”
“I’ll do it this very night,” I replied instantly. “I’ll accuse Phelagea the poisoner of her vile deed — fortunately, there won’t be a shortage of witnesses at your wake. So we’ll have the crowd and the opportunity. The mayor’s there, too. So I should hurry, old man.”
“Are they remembering me fondly?” Jogley inquired with great curiosity. “What are they saying? I hope my fool of a son didn’t skimp on the food and drink? Is there enough beer? Do the maidens howl? Do the crones cry? And, if they do, are they putting any feeling into it?”
“Oh, everybody’s recollecting you with great fondness. There’s enough food and drink for everyone, and the howls and cries are loud and heartfelt,” I grunted. “Look, I should really run, or the wake will end.”
“No way,” the ghost shook his head. “It’s our village. If it’s a feast, the folk will keep on sitting there until the morning. But you should hurry still. And once this is over, tell my family to come to my grave often!”
“I sure will!” I replied, already running. “Don’t you worry!”
“And may they raise as many mugs as they can in my memory, so I might rest in peace!” The old man kept on going, giving me his last pieces of advice.
“Sure!”
“And don’t say you’ll do stuff for free the next time, you simpleton!”
“Gramps!”
“Also, tell my son to treat Alishana well!”
“I will, I will! Stop yelling loudly enough for all the graveyard to hear!”
“Good luck to you!”
I waved my hand goodbye as I left the graveyard and started running toward the village. It was time to raise a ruckus at the wake.
Judging by the sad songs I heard from the direction of the village, the party was still in full swing. Perfect.
“Hold on to your petticoats, Phelagea,” I thought to myself. “I’m coming to get you.”
Chapter Three
Ruckus at the Wake. Divine Judgment. Unwelcome Guests Are Hard to Get Rid Of. Lagenbrock.
THE MOMENT I entered the gate, unhindered by anyone, I instantly had a very intense déjà vu experience. The same man as earlier, barely able to stand on his feet, was there to greet me at the entrance with a full tankard in his hands. He pressed it into my hands with a short command.
“Down the hatch.”
“Indeed,” I followed the suggestion and emptied the tankard, just as I did the previous time.
The man nodded approvingly, took away the empty vessel, and headed for the keg. Was that the only direction he knew, I wondered?
I went to join Stevan, who’d been sitting in the same place as before. The déjà vu intensified, so I shook my head vigorously to stop feeling like a stuck record skipping over and over time and time again. Or could that just be the accumulated weariness?
“You’re back?” Stevan seemed to be pleased to see me as he slapped me on the shoulder. “Let’s have a drink then!”
“Damn... But I’ve been here before, too,” I mumbled, accepting a huge mug. “You’re repeating yourselves, folks. Or is it just your software?”
“What’s the matter, Rosgard? Did anything happen? Or have you been overdoing it with the sauce?”
“Eh?” I came to my senses. “Oh, no, my good man, it’s all fine. I was just lost in thought for a moment. Tell me, Stevan, would a certain Phelagea be present here — a neighbor of the deceased Jogley? She’s supposed to have a daughter she wants to marry off, too.”
“Phelagea? Why, sure, she’s right over there. See her?” The shopkeeper nodded. “Phelagea’s daughter Phetissa is to Jogley Jr.’s right, and the old woman herself is right next to her.”
I was no longer surprised at him nodding in the same direction as before. May the déjà vu continue... I just looked in the same direction. Everybody was still in the same place as they had been before my departure. Jogley’s grief-stricken son was still at the head of the table. Alishana remained faithfully at his side, sitting to the right.
To his left, though, was an enormous red-faced wench. I observed her for a few minutes, realizing she’d been acting like Alishana’s reflection. An extremely ugly and grotesque reflection in a distorted mirror. A Quasimodo in a skirt, if you will. She was enormous, with a completely expressionless face and an oily gleam in her beady eyes, with a thick brush of hair over her upper lip to boot... All of the above crowned by a thin and bony nose.
But it wasn’t the woman herself that had interested me, but rather her actions. She was imitating Alishana laboriously, copying her every move. Whenever the young wife would put a chicken leg on her husband’s plate, Phelagea’s daughter would do just the same. Whenever Alishana would touch her husband’s right shoulder encouragingly, Phetissa would instantly place her enormous paw on his left shoulder. She would go on like this without showing a hint of an iota of embarrassment. The beautiful Alishana was sullen and mournful, w
hile Phetissa’s lips would occasionally twitch in a triumphant smile. Little wonder, that...
I took my time sipping my beer and observing the strange trio before I looked further left, toward Phelagea, who’d been observing her daughter’s behavior all along and whispered something encouraging into her ear every now and then. Mentoring her, no doubt. In plain sight of everyone. Sure enough, this was a game and not the real world. Everything was a lot more straightforward and in-your-face here, so that even the dimmest player could notice the hints and assess the mood of any local. But I still felt somewhat unnerved, as if all of it was happening in reality. It left an ugly aftertaste. This might have been a fantasy world, but many things were copied from real life, after all. This sort of stuff happened everywhere.
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