Unofficial Detective

by Kathryn Wells

  'Hello, boy,' Lizzie said. Her hair bun was larger today and not nearly so tight, and she had put on and dress and bodice in a deep burgundy. Thordric was suspicious that she had known the Inspector would find out what she was doing today, and had come to fight her case… and won.

  'Thormble,' the Inspector said in a strained voice, nodding to him to sit down. 'I believe you've become quite acquainted with my sister Elizabeth—'

  'Lizzie,' she said. 'Don't be so tiresome, Jimmson.'

  The Inspector glared. '—with my sister, Lizzie, then. Since she says she's happy teaching you, and I don't see any other options to solve this case quickly, I'm giving you a week's leave to learn what you need to figure this all out.'

  'A week's leave?' Thordric was so stunned that his voice came out as an excited whine. He jumped up, preparing to dance around the room again, but caught the state of the Inspector's moustache and sat down quickly.

  'You should run along and tell your mother, boy,' Lizzie said. 'And pack a suitcase too.'

  'A suitcase? Are we going somewhere?'

  'Well, I can't teach you what you need to know here in the town, the people are far too nosey. My dear husband owned a house just a skip away from Watchem Woods. It'll be perfect for you to train there.'

  'Wh-when do we leave?' he said.

  'Today, as soon as you're ready,' she said calmly. Thordric fainted.

  Thordric woke up to find the Inspector about to slap him sharply on the face, and quickly sat up to stop him. The Inspector let out a small sigh.

  Thordric saw Lizzie still sitting there in the chair, and his mother was there too. She seemed to have had time to go home and pack him a large suitcase full of clothes, which now sat by her chair.

  'Thordric? How are you feeling?' she said to him, putting her hand on his forehead to feel his temperature just as she had done when he was a small boy. He felt his face grow hot under the eyes of Lizzie and the Inspector, and brushed her hand away quickly.

  'I'm fine… really…' He wobbled to his feet and sat in a chair. 'How long…?'

  'Only an hour or so,' Lizzie chimed in. 'I helped your mother pack for you. We thought it would be easier to leave you here until we were done, in case you got more excited and used your magic clumsily.'

  Thordric scowled. 'Looks like I'm all ready then. Shall we go?'

  'Just one moment, Thordric,' his mother said. 'I thought you and the Inspector would like to know that my tests on the potions have given me conclusive evidence that they are indeed, one and the same. There are a few more tests that I have to carry out, of course, but I'm fairly certain that they'll give me the same result.'

  'Hmmm,' the Inspector said, twiddling his moustache. 'That Rarn fellow seemed so convinced that he had stopped taking it. Perhaps he was trying to convince us of it, too.'

  'I'm not sure, Inspector,' Thordric said. 'I don't think he would have the initiative to do something like that even if he was involved.'

  'Well, you could be right, Thornsby, but don't forget he is a full wizard. I'm sure he shows his talents with his work. He wouldn't be in the Council if he didn't have talent…'

  'Jimmson, you know as well as I do that the Council accepts all full wizards, regardless of their abilities. I'm betting our boy here has more talent in one nostril that this Wizard Rarn does,' Lizzie said.

  The Inspector's moustache twitched. 'As I was saying, Thornaby, the point is to not let your feelings get in the way. You have to look carefully at every suspect, and pick up on the slightest detail that might prove their guilt.'

  'Yes, Inspector,' Thordric said.

  'A very interesting pep talk, I must say,' Lizzie said, standing up and brushing off her dress. 'I'm afraid we really must be off now, though. You'll have to find someone else to serve your tea and Jaffa cakes.'

  The carriage jolted violently as Thordric and Lizzie went on their way to the house near Watchem Woods. He had never been in a carriage before, and found it strongly disagreed with him. His face was pale, and sweat was dripping down his forehead. His body ached so much it felt like he had a fever.

  'Nonsense,' Lizzie said when he told her. 'Just a little travel sickness, that's all. You could use your magic to lessen it, you know. Perhaps I'll tell you how so you know for the journey back.'

  He mumbled a weak reply, and turned his head to look out the window. They went past posh, three story houses, and the smell of a bakery whizzed up his nose. They were in the rich part of town, only a few streets from the Wizard Council. How could they have spent so long in the carriage and still be in town?'

  Suddenly, the carriage jolted over a stretch of cobbled stone, and he promptly passed out again.

  Thordric's eyes snapped open as a loud hooting sound suddenly assaulted his ears.

  The carriage had stopped moving, and he found that Lizzie had gone. He opened the door to get out, but missed the step and fell forward into a puddle. He spat out the water in disgust, and was about to get up when he saw the house in front of him.

  The walls were made of grey stone, and it was two stories high. What made Thordric stare the most, though, was simply how long it was. It was the length of twenty carriages, and that was just the part he could see! The rest of it disappeared into the depths of the forest.

  'Ah, young master, you're awake,' the driver said, spotting Thordric on the floor. He wore a thick leather jacket that showed a woollen lining, and leather gloves. Even so, he rubbed his hands together against the cold that Thordric now felt. 'Please tell the lady that I'll be heading off now. I'll be back in one week.'

  He got back up onto the carriage, and flicked the reins of the great horses that pulled it. They trotted away with great enthusiasm. Thordric watched them disappear into the encroaching darkness, before hurrying towards the thick wooden door of the house. He pulled it open and staggered inside, and the warmth of a fire struck his limbs.

  It was bright inside, for hanging on the walls were yellow globes letting out light. He had never seen anything like them.

  Footsteps sounded down the hall and Lizzie appeared, now in a much simpler dress than she had been wearing earlier. 'There you are! I was just about to come and get you. There's a hot meal waiting for you if you want it; this way.' She turned, but noticed he wasn't following. 'What is it?' she said. Thordric pointed towards the globes, his mouth agape. She smiled. 'An invention of my husband's. He was very fussy about always lighting candles and sconces on the walls, thought it would burn the wallpaper. So he developed these to use instead. They work using a special potion that gives off light for nearly eight hours when shaken, and as soon as it dims, all you have to do is shake them again and it'll light up.'

  'That…that's genius!'

  'I know. Still, food is waiting, come along,' she said, and walked back down the corridor. Thordric followed her, suddenly aware of his stomach growling loudly.

  The kitchen was a long walk from the entrance, and Lizzie led him down corridors that twisted and turned so much he wasn't sure which part of the house they were in. When at last they got there, Thordric found a large wooden table laden with plates and cutlery, and the most delicious smell coming from the great black stove that took up half of one wall. He sat down at the table and watched as Lizzie pulled out a large stack of roast potatoes and an entire chicken, and more vegetables and sauces than he'd ever seen. His mother certainly didn't cook like this; she never had the time too. Usually he did the cooking, which was limited to stew, pasta and rice dishes.

  'Where did all this food come from?' he asked, pilling up his plate with as much as he could fit on it.

  'I ordered it to be sent here yesterday, and it arrived this morning. I told the delivery boy to use the skeleton key I keep under the hedgehog statue outside. We've got enough for the whole week. Even if you do eat this much every day,' she added, eyeing up his full plate.

  'That must have cost an awful lot of money,' he said, wolfing down a potato.

  'It did,' she smiled. 'Fortunately my dear brother is pay
ing for it, so you don't have to worry.

  Thordric choked on his peas. 'The Inspector actually offered to pay?'

  'Well, no, but I persuaded him. You're a valuable member of the station, even if he's too stupid to admit it to himself. He knows full well that they can't solve this case without your help, therefore your training, as I pointed out to him, is of the utmost importance.'

  Thordric finished his meal, uncomfortably full, and Lizzie showed him to his room. It was, as with everything else in the house, enormous. The bed was a double, and he found his suitcase on it waiting to be unpacked. Two large oak wardrobes stood on either side of the room, and to his amazement he found a door that led to his own private bathroom. The bathtub was white porcelain and had a tap fitted on it, quite unlike the battered tin bath he had at home.

  'Can I have a bath?' he said, running his hand over the smooth surface.

  'Of course. In fact,' she said, sniffing. 'I highly recommend it. The tap only lets out cold water though, so you'll have to heat it up yourself. And I don't mean by using the stove.'

  Chapter Eight: Firewood

  Lizzie left the room, leaving Thordric to run his bath. The water was icy. He wouldn't be able to bathe in it; he'd freeze after only a few seconds. She certainly knew how to stop him from taking short cuts. Rubbing his eyes to try and get his brain working again, he decided to let the bath fill before trying to heat the water. While it was running, he unpacked his suitcase.

  His face went scarlet when he saw his underpants on the top layer, for he remembered that Lizzie had helped his mother pack it for him. He hastily threw them into one of the drawers inside the closest wardrobe. Next were his shirts and tunics, followed by his trousers and socks and, going red again, his thermal vest and long johns. At the bottom was a bottle of Wizard Council enhanced cough medicine, a toothbrush, and the pair of scissors his mother had used to cut his hair.

  By this time, the bath was almost full to the brim. He turned off the tap and knelt down by it, contemplating the best way to heat it up. So far, he had learnt that most things done by magic had to be visualised as though he was doing them by hand, like painting, and fixing the kettle. He was confident that if he thought about the water being on a hot stove, it would do the trick. It did- too well. He dipped his finger in and brought it out again, wincing as a blister started to form on it. Getting a metal coat hanger from one of the wardrobes, he carefully unhooked the plug to let some out, and then replaced it again. He turned on the tap, letting in the icy water, and waited for it to cool the water down to a bearable temperature. It didn't take long.

  He stripped off, eager to soak in the now warm water, but the door sprang open and Lizzie came in with a pile of fluffy pink towels. 'Sorry,' she said, putting them on the bed without noticing his nakedness. 'I couldn't find the white ones.'

  Thordric hastily covered his private parts with his hands and tried to sidle behind the bathroom door so that she couldn't see. Unfortunately, she looked up before he got there, and started to chuckle. His face began to feel as scolding as the bath water had been.

  'Don't be so silly, boy! There's nothing to hide about. I did have a son of my own once, you know.' She threw a towel at him to reduce his embarrassment. He quickly wrapped it around himself, trying to keep some amount of dignity against the pinkness.

  'You never told me that,' he mumbled. 'Besides, I'm almost a man.'

  She chuckled. 'Almost, but not quite.' She turned to leave.

  'Wait,' he said. 'You said used to. What happened to him?'

  She sighed and sat down on the bed. 'He ran away. Right after my husband died. He was a year or so older than yourself at the time, and I spent ten years searching for him. Eventually my heart couldn't take anymore and I gave up looking.' She sniffed, making Thordric feel rotten for asking, but still he felt compelled to know more.

  'Was he a half-wizard too?' he said.

  She rubbed her eyes and straightened up. 'I thought he would be, but he never showed any signs of it. My husband tried to teach him a few things despite that, but he couldn't pick it up, and he didn't have any interest in it either. Anyway, that's enough of my talk. You'd better get in the bath before the water cools again,' she said, and left the room.

  She knocked on his door early the next morning, saying that breakfast was ready. Thordric opened his eyes and looked to the window. It was still dark outside. He groaned.

  Dragging himself out of bed, he pulled on some fresh underclothes and trousers, and fished around for one of his warmer tunics. He put on his boots and clumped down the stairs, trying to remember which corridor to take to get to the kitchen. He decided to go left, but found that the light globes were only lit partway and so turned back to go the other way. After several more wrong turns, he found himself in the kitchen where Lizzie had laid out a hot bowl of porridge for him. He ate it hungrily, wondering where she had gone. His answer came a moment later when she breezed in through the door, alarmingly carrying an axe.

  'Don't be long finishing that, I've got your first task set up in the garden.' She put the axe on the table beside him. 'You'll need that,' she said.

  He stared at it, his spoon hovering in the air near his mouth. 'You want me to chop firewood?'

  'Yes, it gets cold in here if I don't keep the fire burning.'

  'But you want me to do it by magic?' he asked.

  'Of course. I didn't bring you all this way to have you doing things manually.' She shook her head, busying herself with the kettle. He thought for a moment, finishing his porridge.

  'I don't see how that's going to help me recognise what magic was used.'

  'Then you're not using your brain,' she retorted. 'Have you finished?'

  He handed her his bowl, picking up the axe to head outside. 'Don't sulk, boy,' she added, watching him slouch out the room. 'And I want it chopped nice and neatly.'

  As soon as he opened the door, the wind hit him full in the face, knocking him backwards. He steadied himself, and stomped off to where the woodpile was.

  Staring at it, with tears in his eyes both from the wind and how high the pile was, he clenched his jaws and put the first piece on the block. He set the axe down on the floor, and tried to lift it using the same technique he had used for the paintbrush. It rose slowly into the air, making him shake slightly as he adjusted to its weight. Miming the movement with his hands, he chopped at the wood. The axe followed the movement but missed and bounced off, narrowly missing his foot. He jumped back, swallowing, and tried again.

  The axe went into the air easier this time, but when he swung it, it only clipped off a small bit of wood. His swing was too weak, he had to put more power into it, and precision too, else Lizzie would make him do it all again.

  Sighing, he tried a third time. This time, he managed to make it chop into the top of the wood, but it stuck hard and wouldn't come out. He tugged at it with his magic, and then with his hands. It wouldn't budge.

  Gripping the handle tightly, he planted his foot on the wood and pulled and pushed in all directions. Sweat began to drip down his back despite the cold, and with one mighty tug, the handle popped out of the axe head. Thordric lost his balance and found his backside planted in the ground; the axe head glinting in the sun as though cackling with mirth.

  Grinding his teeth together to stop himself from cursing, he got up and forced the handle back into the metal head. He put more force on the wood with his foot, and slightly less on the handle, and pulled. The axe came out cleanly in one piece, and flew into the air to land just behind him.

  'I'll get you this time,' he muttered, looking at the block as though its very presence offended him. He lifted the axe back up by magic, his resolve making it sail into the air, and swung it down with all the force he was capable of. It split the wood right down the middle, even on both sides. 'Hah!' he said, picking up the axe again and swinging it around like a sword.

  'I presume you are aware of how dangerous that is,' Lizzie said behind him, making him jump a few feet into the
air.

  'I-uh, I just…' he mumbled.

  'Yes, I was watching,' she said. 'Now, cut the rest of the pile like that and I'll consider serving you lunch.' She disappeared back inside, closing the door with a bang.

  Several hours later, with his muscles aching and blisters inexplicably appearing on his hands, he trudged into the kitchen, where the smell of Lizzie's cooking made his stomach growl. She glanced at him and tutted, before bringing over a bowl of warm water to soak his hands in.

  'I don't understand,' he said, gratefully immersing his hands. The warmth spread through his fingers and the throbbing of his blisters eased dramatically. 'I hardly even touched the axe once I got the hang of it. How can I have blisters and ache so much?'

  'My husband called it Phantom Exhaustion,' she replied, setting up the table. 'It comes from convincing your body that you're using it when you're not. It'll wear off once you get more used to this kind of magic.'

  'I sure hope it does. I'll be in agony for the rest of my life if it happens every time.'

  They had stew and freshly baked rolls for lunch, which Thordric ate eagerly. Once he had finished, Lizzie asked him to bring in the wood he had chopped, using magic again. This he found easy, and managed the whole pile in only three runs. Once he'd done that, she called him into the kitchen. He almost went back out again when he saw the stack of pots she had produced from him, but she caught him by the arm and plonked him into the chair in front of them. It was only then that he noticed that they were all gleaming and without so much as a scratch on them. He looked at her suspiciously, wondering what she wanted him to do.

  'Now you've woken up your mind, it's time for you to try something new.' She gestured to the pots. 'As you can see, these are all in perfect condition. What I want you to do is mess them all up. I want dents and scratches, handles bent out of place and scorch marks.'