by Beth Lyons
His story fascinated me. “You’re telling us that Jana strangled her sister?”
“Yes.”
“She planned it all out, every detail.”
“Yes,” Farley said again, and I could tell that he was starting to relax into his words. “Methodical, calculating. That’s Jana Grimwell.”
Jesskah nodded her head. “Why Hawktite then?”
“What?” Farley turned sharply in his chair to face Jesskah.
“Jana. What in her calculations made her decide to kill her sister in Nori Hawktite’s house?”
At her question Farley pushed himself back into the chair as if trying to disappear. Part of me wished he would disappear, at least for a few minutes so I could figure out how to end this discussion and get him to Central. Could Boleian create a dimension door? I didn’t relish marching Farley out his front door, down the steps, past the protester, and through the streets of Thornbury.
The protester. Enraged by Nori Hawktite’s Table for One. Angry enough to spend his days in front of the Edjrest house. That had to get under your skin, especially a man like Farley.
“Oh. Hawktite’s house. Right. I don’t know exactly.” Farley looked up. “I think she once told me—”
“And what of Fara Fram?” Even took a step toward Farley. “Why would this Jana kill her?”
“Fara had a great voice. Yes! And Jana was afraid that the Lamplighter would replace her with new talent. She was obsessed – she is obsessed about her career.”
“But why drag you into this, Farley?” Jesskah asked.
“I think we’ve all spent enough time here in this,” I framed out a space with my hands, “zone of lies.” I stepped away from Miles’ chair to stand beside Even. “You killed Helena and Fara. Not Jana. You.” I shrugged. “With a little help from a cleric named Farrell.” I suddenly felt exhausted. “And to be honest, Farley I really don’t care why, but this has your signature all over it. You killed Fara and left her at Hawktite’s to damage his reputation in the same way that you thought his book had damaged yours. You lied to Fara, lured her into a situation so that you’d have a body double. Someone to confuse the police’s timeline, skew the facts of the case.”
“No, but you have it wrong.” He started to rise from his chair and stopped at a frown from Boleian.
Ignoring Farley I said, “Who’s going with me to Central?”
“There’s Jana Grimwell to deal with, Vox.” This from Boleian.
“He’s making that up!” I said. “She doesn’t have anything—” I realized that I was wrong. Jana Grimwell had to be part of the murders. She’s the one who IDed Fara Fram as Helena.
“Oh.” That was all I could manage. Looking from Boleian to Jesskah, feeling torn – on the one hand, Jesskah. Who wouldn’t choose to spend more time with her? On the other, going with Boleian – that was probably part of the job, right?
Boleian nodded as if he had read my thoughts.
Did you read my thoughts? Are you reading my thoughts right now? I stared hard at Boleian, but he didn’t react.
“So,” I said, “Boleian and I should go see Jana Grimwell. Will you be alright?” I asked Jesskah.
“I’ll send Vance along,” said Miles. “Farley knows better than to tangle with Vance.” With that Miles reached over and rang a bell.
“Jana means nothing to me.” Even nodded at Farley. “But this one, he did in Fara; I’ll see him safely to jail.”
As they led Farley out the door I heard Jesskah say to Even, “I met Wisdom today. The resemblance is striking. Is she your mother?”
Even glanced over her shoulder at me, a quizzical look on her face. “Something like that,” she said.
###
Jana would either be at the Lamplighter or home. Or anywhere else in all of Varana.
I said as much to Boleian as we hurried down the street.
“She will be at home,” he replied. “Decorum dictates it.”
“But—”
“As to that, why should she flee? First of all, she has no idea that Farley’s been arrested. Plus what is there to connect her with her sister’s death? Only an intricate web of deceit unraveled by Vox Swift. Good job, by the way. Well done.”
I blushed at his praise, mumbled a thank you, and after a moment’s pause I said, “You didn’t meet her – Jana. She’s – I don’t know what she is, but I wouldn’t take anything for granted with her.”
“I have met her, thank you very much. Canny, street smart, hungry for an angle. I understand Jana Grimwell just fine. And she will be laying low. Guarantee it. Leave the city? That’s just going to draw attention. Mark my words: she’s going to play the grief card for a few weeks and then make her move. I’d wager Farley promised her marriage, but now she’ll have to regroup, lay new plans”
“Speaking of wagers, you want to bet on whether she’s home or not? Fifty silver?” I flashed a coin at Boleian.
“Deal.” Boleian pulled out his coin purse and held up his own coin. “Of course how do I know you’re not betting with informant money I gave you, hmm?”
A few minutes later we were at Jana Grimwell’s front door. Boleian knocked, and we heard an almost immediate, “Just a minute.”
He gave me a quick smile and held out his hand for my fifty silver piece. Reluctantly I handed it to him. A moment later Jana opened the door. Her motion faltered when she saw us both at her doorstep, and she held the door only partially open. “You’re—”
“Boleian of Vedasa. We met the other day. You might remember my associate Vox Swift. May we come in? Won’t take but a moment. We,” he gestured at me, “just have a few follow up questions.”
“Of course. Sure,” she said but didn’t move to open the door wider.
“Is there a problem?” Boleian’s voice was mild.
“Sorry to call so late,” I said. “If this is a bad time...”
“It is. It really is.” Jana’s fingers gripped the door. “Helena’s death – her senseless, senseless death – it’s got me—”
“Then our good news is just what you need!” Boleian pushed on the door, and Jana yielded, letting us in. She said, “Good news?”
“We caught the killer,” I said and stopped three paces into her living room. Two suitcases were open on the couch, half full of clothes. I smiled and caught Boleian’s eye. My silver, I mouthed. He rolled his eyes.
“Going somewhere?” Boleian lifted a shoe that lay half in and half out of one of the suitcases.
“Those are Helena’s I’m packing them up. You say you caught—?”
“The killer. Yes.” Boleian peered at the bookshelf by the door.
“His accomplices are,” I paused, “still at large.”
“For now,” Boleian added as he pulled a thick book from the shelf. “Are you the reader or was that Helena? Miles tells me she had quite a head on her shoulders.”
Jana slumped to the arm of a wingback chair. The seat held a large canvas bag stuffed with clothes. “My sister, she was many things to many people.” She ran her hand lightly over the sweater folded on top of the bag. “That was her downfall.”
“You haven’t asked for his name;” I pointed out. “Don’t you want to know who killed her?”
“I know who killed her – what truly killed her. Ambition. Greed. Jealousy. This city killed her. Every mean thought, every glare, every rude gesture.” Jana leaned forward as if in pain.
“Pretty speech.” Boleian snapped shut the book in his hands. “We can’t implicate Thornbury as an accomplice to murder, but we can certainly implicate you.”
As the words left Boleian’s mouth, Jana pulled a small glass vial from the canvas bag. The vial appeared empty to me, but the cork stopper told me otherwise. Before I could react, Jana thumbed off the stopper and downed the contents.
Chapter 26 Star, Star
Without thinking I threw myself at Jana, knocking the potion vial from her hand. We collided with an audible umph from Jana and tumbled over the chair and off the far side. I
assumed that she’d used an invisibility potion, so I didn’t loosen my grip even as we landed wedged against the couch, Jana in front of me like we were lovers spooning.
“Let me go!” Jana’s voice was raspy as she beat against my hands.
Her hands, I could see her hands. If that wasn’t an invisibility potion, what was it? She wasn’t stronger, or more charming — if anything she sounded downright froggy.
“Alright then, Jana.” Boleian knelt and took one of her hands. His eyes met mine, and he shook his head slightly. “What,” he said to her, “was that? What kind of potion did you take?”
“Invisibility,” she said in a harsh whisper. “Supposed to be.”
He reached over, picked up the empty vial, and sniffed it. “If I were a betting man, and I at least do not have that flaw, I’d guess that Farley gave you this bottle, told you it was an invisibility potion. If things got dicey for you, drink it and disappear, eh? But if my nose is correct, this is an inflict wounds potion. Thanks to Vox throwing herself at you, which made you spit out some of the potion, you’re probably going to live, and thanks to Vox, we can make sure that you do live.” Boleian waggled his finger at me. “Go ahead.”
“Go ahead and what?” I asked.
“Heal her, of course!” Boleian folded his arms. “Cure wounds. Simple enough spell.”
Underwood hadn’t covered healing spells yet in our lessons. I shook my head best I could since I was still wedged into the base of the couch, arms encircling Jana.
Boleian heaved a great sigh. “Sorry you have to see this,” he said to Jana. “Honestly Vox, do you want to be a bard or not? What is magic but seeing the outcome you want and making it happen? Don’t you want Jana to have her voice back? Don’t you want her to be able to fully confess her crimes using her lovely dulcet tones?”
How was I supposed to answer that? What kind of jerk would shrug and walk away?
“Vox is going to let go now, Jana. And you will lie still for a moment, yes?” Boleian’s voice rolled over us both.
A moment later I was sitting up with Jana’s legs still across my own. “I don’t—”
“Sshh. Outcome, Vox. Start with the end and work backward. Goal-oriented.”
What is my goal? I want Jana well enough to talk, well enough to survive and confess. In other words I want a Jana who didn’t drink a potion of inflict wounds, so that she can help put Farley away for his crimes.
Fine. I have a goal, but – I looked into Boleian’s eyes expecting to see exasperation at my hesitation, disappointment at my reluctance. I saw instead patience. He glanced at Jana’s throat and mouthed outcome.
I can’t reverse time, but if I could really heal some of her wounds, that would be almost as good. Right? I laid one hand at the base of Jana’s throat. She flinched at my touch, and I saw that her face was wet with tears. I said, “I’ll try—”
Boleian coughed and shook his head.
“I will help you,” I said and tried to hit the right tone of voice. Healers in the Olden, unlike their human counterparts, have always been gruff. “Hold still. And stop crying.”
Her throat felt warm under my hand, her pulse a steady beat matching my own. I’d never touched a human so intimately, and Jesskah flashed through my mind. Does her skin feel this soft? Will I ever have a chance to answer that question?
Human and elf throats are remarkably similar. If I look at just this part of Jana, I can imagine Marilye. Or my first love, Neryssa.
Love. Love heals. Ah, but it wounds, too, I reminded myself.
With a frown I tried to focus on love.
In the quiet I heard Jana say, “What if – what if I can’t ever sing again?”
My first thought was that because of her actions neither Helena nor Fara would ever sing again. I almost said as much, human bedside manner be damned. But Jana looked young and vulnerable. Damaged. Who am I to damage her more?
“You will,” I said. “I promise.”
Jana gave me a tremulous smile, and my warm feelings evaporated. I said, “You did bad things. Me healing you doesn’t change that. People are dead. Your sister is dead.”
No response.
“Fine,” I said as I cupped my hands around her throat. “You’ll have years to sit and think about your actions. Now hold still.” I let my hands touch her once more.
Pain, loneliness, loss, regret. I felt them all and at once. My own, or Jana’s?
An old song fell into my mind, and I began to sing:
Star, star, star tonight
Won’t you come and sit right here
Beside me?
My lover’s gone; she’s gone away.
She’s gone, gone, gone away and left me.
She left my heart and left my side
She left me here to linger
Lonely
The forest lonely
She left the forest lonely.
Sadness settled on my shoulders like a weight, and I tried to remember the next lines. Something more about the forest. The tempo changes and… I saw myself walking through the Olden groves, feet crunching on leaves, fingers brushing ferns. The forest breathed with life. What is healing but breathing life back where it used to be?
With my middle finger I traced a line down Jana’s throat and imagined planting a seed in rich, loose soil. With the side of my hand I brushed each side of my invisible line, as if covering over the seed. But seeds need water, don’t they? I wiped a tear from my eye and touched her throat.
Warmth pulsed down my arm and through the finger that touched Jana. Like water, it splashed across her, glowing blue and slowly seeped into her skin.
I slumped back against the couch, and Jana sat up taking in heaving breaths. Her eyes wide, she said, “You— I, I can talk.” She put her hand to her throat.
Faintly I heard Boleian say, “Well done, Vox. Well and truly done.” He reached down and pulled Jana up. “You’ll need to rest now. I’ll get Miss Grimwell to Central. There are a few detectives there who’d like to talk with her.”
Jana said something, but the humming in my head obscured her words. The world pulsed around me; I could feel the life of the wooden floorboards under my hands. I knew that if I sat still long enough they would share their stories with me.
“Stay,” I muttered. “I’ll stay here.”
“You can’t stay here, lass.” Boleian hauled me up. “Go home, have a cup of tea, take a bath. Take tomorrow off.”
That got my attention. “You’re giving me the day off? Why?”
“You’ve just done an amazing thing; you healed someone. You need to rest.”
I nodded and moved toward the front door.
“Wait!” Jana grabbed my hand. “Thank you for giving me back my voice.” She looked down. “I know what you think of me, and that makes what you did—”
I squeezed her hand and shook myself free. “Don’t mention it.” I walked out the front door and into Thornbury’s evening, wondering if I’d done the right thing healing Jana Grimwell.
But that’s what you do, I told myself. Vox Swift a murderer’s best friend. Surprised you solve any crimes at all, you’re so busy helping people get away with crimes, rewarding their bad behavior.
It’s not right that Marilye still walks around free after killing two men, and it’s not right that Jana Grimwell can still sing when she helped silence her sister.
###
I don’t remember the walk home, but I’d gained new resolve to find Marilye Forlone. At least Farley Edjrest and Jana Grimwell would be punished for their crimes. Marilye, thanks to my direct actions, was free to kill again.
But she hasn’t killed anyone else, I reminded myself. Not that we know of, anyway.
I dropped my keys on the dresser and sat at the foot of the bed. Cold comfort that – not knowing for certain that Marilye has killed anyone else.
Maybe Wisdom was right. Maybe I needed to stop this crusade. What good was it doing? None. In fact, perhaps it was harming me. I put Marilye in front of almos
t everything else. In the last three months I’d barely taken time to write home, visit friends, take in a play. Finding Marilye had consumed me, but what if there is nothing left besides the search? Can I be any other way?
The scrying mirror stood against the wall, covered with a blanket. I still felt the faint hum of the world in my ears. Maybe that was a sign from the gods. Could I try the scry spell now, perhaps for one last time while I still had the remnants of the healing spell coursing through me?
Humming softly I settled myself in front of the covered mirror. What’s the goal, Vox? Imagine your outcome, that’s what Boleian said. I want to see Marilye. That’s my goal.
No, that’s too vague. I want to find Marilye. Which means that I need to see Marilye in a recognizable place. She could be anywhere in Varana, and it won’t help me if I don’t know specifics.
With a yank I uncovered the mirror and stared at myself. Clear your mind. Clear your mind. Clear your mind. You won’t see anything unless you clear your mind.
“Of course I won’t see anything if I stress myself out.” With a sigh I shifted to the floor. Legs crossed, deep breaths, stare at the mirror. But don’t stare. See but don’t see.
Why was healing Jana so easy and this is so hard?
Try the song, I told myself. Maybe it will help. I don’t even know where I’ve heard that song before. But I knew it before. In the forest, walking in the forest and hearing…. Neryssa? Did she sing this sad song? Or was that a dream I had?
With a shake I tried to clear my head. Goal-oriented. “Where is Marilye? Show me Marilye.” I repeated the words in my head until they became a chant.
At some point the mirror’s glass seemed to ripple and become cloudy. I’d gotten this far in the spell several times. This was nothing to celebrate. But slowly the clouds dissipated, and I saw the sky through the forest canopy. Branches and trunks obscured most of the blue, but white light broke through here and there.
Part of my mind cautioned patience while the rest stayed focused on the white light through the branches. Eventually the scene in the mirror began to shift, as though I had been looking up, and then slowly brought my gaze back to ground level. Slight turn of the head, and Marilye stood beside me. Behind her I saw the tall ornate doors of Gurta Thar.
