The Chimney: The Merc Papers

by G. T. Spoor

  “Belong to our assassin,” Berk finished.

  “Quite possible. I think we should follow those tracks first.”

  Berk carefully made his way down the hall so as not to brush up against any of the fragile furniture. He seemed determined not to make a mess of the crime scene like he did the last one. The owner of the footprints they followed knew exactly where they were going. Down the hall and to the right, into what appeared to be a dining room. It was there they found the shriveled-up remains of Mr. Flintmace still lying on the ground surrounded by dust. There was nothing left of him but a hollowed out husk. His arms were stretched out, as if reaching for something. Only the area, in front of the dower, was disturbed. Nothing else was touched.

  Berk seemed at a loss for words and stood in the doorway, staring down at Mr. Flintmace. Emily scanned the room with the lantern.

  “Why would the killer return?” she asked.

  Berk scratched his head and shrugged. This time she was ready for it and braced herself against his shoulders.

  “I guess he had to come in if he wanted to kill Mr. Flintmace,” he answered.

  “But Mr. Flintmace was already dead.”

  “He was?”

  “We know whatever the killer used somehow drains the life out of everything in the general area. That’s what created the layers of dust on the floor and dried out all the furniture. Since the killer left footprints in the dust, both coming and going, it would only make sense if he returned after Mr. Flintmace was dead.”

  “Of course, because if he was here at the time, he would only leave one set of footprints going to the front door.”

  “Very good. We’ll make an investigator out of you yet.”

  “Thanks.” He laughed. “But we still don’t know what happened or who did it.”

  “Maybe not,” she said. “But there might be someone who can shed a little light on that.”

  “Who?”

  “I’ll tell you once we’re outside. But grab a piece of Mr. Flintmace, will you.”

  “I’m sorry. You want me to do what?”

  “Just snap off a piece of his hand, so we can take it with us.”

  Slowly, he looked over his shoulder at her. “You want his hand? Why?”

  “Because this isn’t normal.”

  “You’re telling me.”

  “No. I mean what happened here isn’t normal. It has something to do with the mystic arts, and if that’s the case, then Mira might be able to help us.”

  “Mira? Who’s Mira?”

  “She’s someone who supposedly knows something about this stuff.”

  “If you say so.” Berk sighed.

  Kneeling down, he reached forward and gingerly took hold of Mr. Flintmace’s outstretched hand. With a slight twist, the dower’s arm came off. Berk groaned.

  “I don’t think we need that much,” Emily said.

  “Yeah. I didn’t think so.”

  He gently tapped the end of the arm on the floor until it broke off, leaving him with half a hand and three fingers.

  “Here, give it to me,” Emily said, holding out another one of Sarah’s handkerchiefs.

  Somehow she didn’t think Sarah would be too pleased if she knew what Emily was using them for. She carefully wrapped the hand up and slipped it into her jacket.

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Oh, I’m already gone,” Berk said as he moved to the front door.

  Once outside, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Emily ducked back down in the pack and pulled the lid closed as the two Red Wolves approached.

  “What’s the matter?” Tyler laughed. “Too much for you?”

  “Ignore them,” she whispered. “We’re onto something and they’re jealous. Look across the street. See the woman in the window? She’s been watching everything. She might have seen who entered Mr. Flintmace’s home.”

  “You can go home now,” Berk said with an air of newfound confidence. He didn’t even look at the two Mercs. “I’m finished here.”

  As he strolled across the street and up the front steps to the old woman’s building, Emily watched through the wicker as the two Mercs made their way into Mr. Flintmace’s home. She had a feeling the reason they stayed wasn’t so much they were ordered to, but that they wanted to search the property for anything of value. Now that Berk was finished with his investigation, they would pick the dower clean. Too bad for them there wasn’t anything left in the house worth taking.

  “Sorry to bother you, ma’am. Merc business. May I come in?” she heard Berk say.

  He stepped through the threshold, into a foyer that couldn’t be more different from the one they left. This place was full of life, dust free, and smelled of fresh-baked bread.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am. I need to ask you a few questions.”

  “Of course. Please come in.”

  Emily waited until the door closed before opening the lid of the pack. She stood up and leaned over Berk’s shoulder.

  The woman of the house was bent with age, thin and frail with hair of silver gray. Thick glasses framed a wrinkled, but pleasant, face. She didn’t seem surprised to see Emily pop up out of the wicker backpack, but then she was probably watching when she got in.

  “Sorry to bother you, ma’am, but as my partner said, we need to ask you a few questions.”

  “Oh. No need. No need. How is Mr. Flintmace? I haven’t seen him around all day.”

  “I’m afraid he’s not doing too well, ma’am,” Berk answered.

  Emily shook her head.

  In a way, she understood Berk’s reluctance to break the news to the old woman, but in keeping with her own teachings, she couldn’t lie. It wasn’t going to do the woman any good to believe that Mr. Flintmace was going to make a recovery anytime soon.

  “I’m afraid he’s dead,” Emily said.

  Berk flinched.

  “Oh dear,” the old woman said. “Such a waste. I often spoke to him when he headed off to work in the mornings. What a shame. Do you know what happened?”

  “Not at the moment. No. That’s why we’re here. We were hoping you could help us.”

  “If I can. But I’m not sure what I can do.”

  “I couldn’t help but notice you sitting beside your window. Do you often watch the streets?”

  “There isn’t anything else to do these days, what with Victor’s passing and the children having moved out. Watching the people is about the only entertainment I have left.”

  “Were you watching Mr. Flintmace’s house today?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Do you know if he had any visitors?”

  “Let me see now. There was Mr. Jacob from the MRC. He visits Mr. Flintmace quite often. I believe they were working on something together. That was late this afternoon. He didn’t stay very long and seemed to be in a hurry—didn’t even wave goodbye when he left. There was another visitor who came twice this morning. I don’t think I’ve seen him before. He dropped off a small package and came back about half an hour later. He didn’t stay long either. It looked like he just came back for the package.”

  “What package?”

  “Oh, I don’t know what it was. It was a small box. I couldn’t see much of it. He left it for Mr. Flintmace this morning. Placed it on his doorstep, knocked on the door, and ran away. I thought he was playing some kind of a prank. You know how these kids are. Mr. Flintmace came out and seemed surprised to find it. He waved to me before taking it inside. Nice fellow, even for a dwarf.”

  “Could you describe the man who left the box?”

  “I didn’t see his face—he was too far away and my eyes aren’t as good as they used to be, but he was dressed in these dark green robes with a blue circle on the back. At least I think it was a blue circle. It was hard to tell. He might have been one of those religious nuts. They’re always coming around shouting out their nonsense. I don’t bother with them. I was surprised Mr. Flintmace even let him into the house the second time. He never str
uck me as a believer. I doubt if they had much to talk about since he didn’t stay long.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. You’ve been a big help. If you can remember anything else—”

  “There was something else, although I don’t know if it means anything. After Mr. Flintmace brought the box into the house, something odd did happen. There was this flash of… I don’t know if you could call it light. It was almost like a flash of darkness. I know it sounds odd, and maybe my old eyes were playing tricks, but that’s what I saw. I assumed it was something Mr. Flintmace was working on. He’s an engineer, you know. I think he and Mr. Jacob have been working on something together.”

  “Did you happen to see Mr. Flintmace after this… flash of darkness?”

  The old woman thought for a moment and shook her head.

  “No. Can’t say I did. Although he must have still been home since he let that man in to pick up his package.”

  “And are you sure it was the same man who dropped it off?”

  “Oh, I couldn’t say. They were both wearing the same thing, but then all those people do, you know those religious people. They try to get you to join them, but I’m too old to change my views about the afterlife.”

  “I think that’s about all we need to know,” Emily said. “Thank you for your help, ma’am.”

  “Any time. If there’s anything else I can do to help Mr. Flintmace get better, please let me know.”

  Emily ducked back down in the backpack as Berk headed out the door. The two Red Wolves hadn’t come out of the building yet, so they had no problem getting back to the hot-top unseen. Berk set the pack down by the rear of the vehicle and Emily climbed out. She had to admit the idea wasn’t as ridiculous as she originally thought, and it was kind of fun being carried around. Like the piggyback rides her sister gave her as a kid.

  As they pulled away from the curb, Berk was silent. Emily could tell something was bothering him.

  “Okay, what’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Was I wrong not to tell the old woman that Mr. Flintmace was dead?”

  It seemed like an odd detail to be hung up on. Of all the information they learned and what they saw in the dower’s building, a simple answer to an easy question was the only thing bothering him.

  “It’s hard breaking bad news to people,” Emily answered.

  “You did it without a second thought,” Berk said, then cringed. “That didn’t come out right. I didn’t mean to suggest you were heartless—not that I even thought you were.”

  “It’s all right. I know what you meant. It’s not that I didn’t want to spare her feelings, but my teachings forbid me from telling lies. Besides, I don’t think she truly understood.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. She’ll be sitting by her window tomorrow, waiting for him to come out and wave to her. Funny thing is, she’ll probably see him.” Berk laughed. “So, what now? Where do we go from here? Do we check out the churches? Find out if any of their members are assassinating dower engineers?”

  “Not just engineers, but engineers who work for the MRC. That’s at least one thing they had in common. I wonder if they knew each other. The old woman thought Mr. Jacob, from the MRC, was working on something with Mr. Flintmace. What if he was working on something with Boulderjaw too?”

  “You think they were all working on the same project?”

  “It’s possible, but how would we find out?”

  “Oh, that’s easy,” Berk said. “We talk to the dower chief. The head of their union. If they were working on something together, he would know.”

  Chapter 12

  Natamora and Greetings

  “How do you know about this place?” Emily asked.

  Berk pulled the hot-top off the main road, taking a left down a long dark alley. The only light came from the lamps mounted to the front of the vehicle.

  “I did some muscle work for the dowers a few years ago,” he said. “Took them down into the upper reaches of the abyss. Some type of fact-finding mission. When they got their information, we came back here.”

  It was farther north than the northernmost part of the city. The entrance was nearly hidden in the side of the mountain, down an alley and through a parking structure. If you didn’t know it was there, you would never be able to find it. It appeared the dowers still kept some secrets about the city to themselves.

  The tunnel had a gentle bend and turned slightly to the right, giving way to a large chasm. The road continued around the edge, hugging the outer wall. A three-foot-high stone barrier along the right side prevented any of the vehicles from falling off. There were several of these roads at different elevations, running around the chamber, which meant there were several more entrances into this hidden area.

  When they reached the other side, Berk pulled into a small courtyard surrounded by a cloister. Grand stone arches supported by spiraling columns gave way to a wide staircase that led to an imposing set of doors.

  The place felt both ancient and hallowed.

  No sooner did they get out of the hot-top, than they spotted a dower in long yellow robes, descending the stairs and heading toward them. Berk seemed apprehensive.

  “Never thought I’d be back here,” he said as he looked up at the section of the temple that hung over the courtyard. “Place gives me the creeps.”

  “Why would you say that?” Emily asked.

  If anything, she felt the exact opposite. It gave her a sense of peace.

  “I don’t know what it is about this place,” he answered. “But it feels like it’s waiting for something.”

  “Natamora and greetings, traveler,” the dower in the yellow robes said with a slight bow. “What brings you to Talomria?”

  Berk nervously looked over at Emily. He was obviously waiting for her to take the lead. She stepped forward and returned the dower’s greeting.

  “Forgive us, Atta, for we are lost.”

  The dower looked stunned for a moment, then smiled.

  “And yet, you have found your way to Talomria. Welcome, Piatta.”

  “Thank you, Atta. But I’m afraid we come with bad tidings as well as questions that need answers.”

  “Ask your questions, Piatta.”

  “Do you know of the names Flintmace and Boulderjaw?”

  “These clans are known to us, yes.”

  “Then I am sorry to say that Kivras Boulderjaw and Therm Flintmace have passed beyond.”

  The dower fell silent. He lifted the hood of his robes up to cover his head and conceal his face. “These are indeed bad tidings you bring us this day, Piatta,” he said after a while.

  “We have reason to believe their deaths were not accidents and may have had something to do with their work for the MRC,” Emily continued.

  The dower turned away from her and headed back toward the stairs. “Please, follow me,” he said. “I will take you to speak with Eristral Coaltank.”

  As they followed the yellow-robed dower, Berk kept them a few steps behind.

  “What was all that about,” he whispered. “Piatta, Atta, and Nata…”

  “Natamora,” Emily finished for him. “It is a greeting used by those who follow the Way. As for Atta, that is a title given to a teacher while Piatta is the title given to a student.”

  “So, what are you saying? Are you a student of all this?”

  “Sort of. I was raised by a Domatta in a monastery dedicated to the Way.”

  “A Domatta?”

  “A high-ranking teacher, a leader if you will. That’s probably who we’re going to go see.”

  The yellow-robed dower led them up the stairs, through the doors, and down the main hall. Emily was in awe of the architecture. In some ways, it was similar to the monastery she grew up in, from the arches of the doors to the beams in the ceiling. It was almost like coming home, except this place was much older and much quieter. It felt abandoned. There should be more people here, she thought.

  Up another flight of stairs and down another hall, they stopped at
the entrance to a small room where a single dower was bent over a table, the surface of which was covered with parchments and open books. This must be Eristral Coaltank, one of the Domatta of Talomria. He was short and stocky with thick arms and a long black beard that he’d tucked into his belt. He didn’t wear robes but instead wore a workman’s shirt and heavy khaki slacks over a pair of large dirty boots.

  Their yellow-robed escort motioned for them to wait and approached the Domatta alone. After they shared a few words, Coaltank sent him on his way. Closing two of the books and rolling up one of the parchments, he set them aside before waving for Emily to come forward.

  “Natamora and greetings, child,” the dower said with a slight bow.

  “Natamora and greetings, Domatta.”

  He seemed pleased by her reply.

  “I did not believe there were still followers of the Way among the vir.”

  “I’m afraid I have not met any since I have arrived in New Doral.”

  When she spoke the name of the city, Coaltank flinched. He looked away for a moment as if trying to hide his disgust. There was something about New Doral the dower didn’t like.

  “Jamdeag tells me you brought word of Kivras Boulderjaw and Therm Flintmace. That they are no longer among us?”

  “I am sorry, Domatta. Kivras Boulderjaw has been gone these past few days and Therm Flintmace passed only recently.”

  “This is sad news.” Coaltank paced the floor. He seemed lost in thought but only for a moment. Suddenly he looked up. “What of Tulurum Hardbrew?”

  Emily had never heard the name before, although, clearly, it was another dower. She looked to Berk for verification, but he had nothing. Coaltank must have seen their confusion.