Lake Merrin

by Samuel Colbran

  “Pleased to meet you, Lone.” Oh, for the love of the Trinity, hurry up! “Now all you have to do—”

  Brain shuts down; too bored and hungry! A free feed so close. Just follow what she is doing and tick and sign. Tick and sign. Tick and sign. Food and sign. Food, and ham, and bread, and—

  “Lone, you are drooling on the paperwork.” What? What? “You look starved. Head over to the mess hall.” She vaguely waves to the back of the barracks. What is with these directional gestures? Not really helpful. “I'll finish this off. Say hello to Joan for me.”

  Who is this Joan? Could it be Captain Stillwater? No. Enough of that. Off to the mess. With that vague wave, it should be ... This is just the back door, and I am looking out over a small, uninspiring courtyard. Wonderful. Hang on, is that the delightful aroma of food? Just over in that building. A few more steps and I shall have the feast of a lifetime! And the door is locked. Typical.

  What the bloody Abyssus is happening? If this is not open, I am not going back to Gunnar and saying, “Mess was not open, no food!” With my luck, five seconds later I’d be eaten by a rat, cat, and dog. Maybe I could slip around the back and be all charming with the kitchen staff and find a lovely little basket of food?

  Turning the corner, I spy that knight from the sparring circle again, covered in some sort of goo, and a Gnome throwing buckets of water over him. Weird.

  I shake my head, and by the back door, I see a kitchen helper. Well, she is probably a kitchen helper; she is wearing an apron at least and has her sleeves rolled up and hair tied into a bun. Now, how can I convince her to give me food? I know, name drop! “Hello.” She just stands there, with a sort of greenish-tinged face. “Excuse me.”

  She looks at me with horror in her eyes. Seen that before, some things are just too hard to un-see. “Yes ...” Trailing off and looking at the knight guy. This will be fun.

  “I am sorry. I have you at a bad time, but—” Name drop! “—Acting Commander Zlata is looking for her lunch.”

  “What? Zlata!” If she was green before, now she is pale as a sheet which, with her complexion, does not help. Needs to wash her face more, the acne is severe! “Her lunch? Please, I'm sorry, it’s just that—this way.”

  What has Zlata done to people, I wonder, as I am led inside the mess hall. Well, sort of a room, more a collection of ramshackle tables thrown together with a few doors to what must be a kitchen, where all the wonderful smells are coming from. I feel a little sorry for her. Maybe I should have dropped Stillwater's name. “Are you alright? You look a little green and pale.”

  “Oh, it’s just been a bad day, now gone to the worst possible day ever. You have heard that Commander Axel was poisoned?”

  Looking around at the empty tables and chairs, there does not seem to be anyone else here. I wonder where everyone else is?

  “Poisoned? I heard something happened.” Yeah, Zlata is a bitch and has some hand in this whole thing. How else would she know she was ‘soon to be acting commander’? “But I did not know that he was poisoned.”

  She points out the door. “Those two, the gnome and the knight, came in here because this is where the Commander ate last. They started asking questions.” And now she cries.

  Great! Food—remember? I walk over to the side where a counter has some cutlery and find a clean-looking cloth. “Here. What is your name?”

  “Um, Claire,” she says, taking the cloth with a grateful nod before noisily blowing her nose.

  “Pleased to meet you, Claire. So they just asked questions? Does not seem so bad.”

  “It gets worse. Um, those two confronted one of my fellow workers, Dwel, and started questioning him.”

  Why am I caring? Well, if I do not calm her down, no food.

  “Please, go on.” Gently I touch her shoulder, so she feels like I care.

  “Thank you.” She smiles, bottom lip wobbling. Internal eye roll. “I don't understand, but Dwel has something to do with the poisoning. I knew him for two years.”

  Another bout of tears—oh great. Comfort the crazy lady by patting her shoulder a few times. “He tried to run but that paladin stopped him, and before I blinked, he turned to goo.”

  Goo? Were they just washing off a dead man?

  “Okay, well you know those of the Orange. They do what has to be done for the greater good.”

  That comforted her, tears dried up. “You are right. Believe in the Trinity, and you will not be led astray.” Both of us make the triangle of the Trinity. Thank you, Trinity, for saving us from the horrors of the night. “What did you need? Ah yes, Zlata's lunch.”

  She wanders off towards the kitchen doors. I wonder if I should bring back some of that goo for WayWocket—might make me look good. Ah, there is a jar, and some goo left on the ground. Seal it, and good.

  Claire comes back with a basket filled with meats, fruit, cheese, and bread. Love dropping the right name. “Here you go, love. May the Trinity smile upon you.”

  “May the grace of the Trinity protect you as well,” I reply. That was drilled into me every day at the orphanage. Saying those words and seeing a paladin of the Orange at work makes me thankful for the light of Trinity. Grateful I do not have to be that guy—a hero.

  As this is Zlata’s food basket, and I have seen enough of her today, the best plan is one: hide my tabard as it attracts too many eyes. Basket will do nicely. Two: move like I own the place as I enter the main building and head back. Confidence is the key to being stealthy in the city or any urban environment. There might be three or four Watchmen around, but I need to get moving now. I wish I knew what was different about my tabard, but this is not the time to dwell on it.

  Good, not a single soul is looking this way. Must all be busy being guardsmen. Only a few more metres before I can slip down the stairs. Is that guy looking my way? Okay, I belong here. Cool, calm, and collected.

  “Hey, what’re you doing in here and where are you going?” For Jara’s sake! Why do you forsake me, Trinity? I guess that did not work. Lower the basket so this fool can see you are a Watch. Now blather at him.

  “Sorry, I was taking this foodstuff to be analysed.” Keep a calm but authoritative demeanour. “I just do not know if anyone has, you know, poisoned it,” I whisper.

  Let that sink in. This stuck-up officer’s face has just lost all colour. He whispers back, “Is it from the mess hall?”

  “Yes, I was trying to keep a low profile. People are eating there today. Do not want a mass panic. Are you alright? Looking a bit pale there.”

  As I look around, no one is paying any attention to us. This guy is on some power trip. He looks at me and, if it is possible, turns even whiter. “Do you think it’s… bad? I—I ate the mess today.”

  As I glance at him, I reply in an impressive tone, “You may want to nip down to the pharmacist. Cyric, I think his name is.” Only know this as I have heard his name through the grapevine around the docks. “He should have a pill to sort you out, or the shrine is another option. A blessing from the Trinity could be just the thing.”

  With that, he turns and leaves me standing here. Wonder what his problem is? I hope he makes it—like I care! Back to sneaking past the office. No one is looking this way. Yes, made it to the stairs, just a few more steps and I am out.

  “Solo, what are you doing up here?” Stillwater. Damn, but not so bad. “There’s an emergency happening now. All hands on deck and here are you, getting a gigantic snack it seems. What have you got to say for yourself?”

  Why me? I replied to her with composure, “I was ordered by Gunnar to gather foodstuff from the kitchen for his pets. Can we walk and chat? This was Zlata's lunch, but with everything happening up here, I thought we needed it more.”

  A quirk of her lips betrays what she thinks before she resumes her usual stone-faced routine. “Okay, let's go.” That was a quick change of heart.

  While we descend the stairs to our lovely, mould-filled office, I ask her, “You don’t really like Zlata, huh?”

&n
bsp; “Yeah, you could say that. She is the reason I’m with the Rejects!”

  “Really? So being down in that musty basement was not your idea?”

  She laughs; a strangely feminine laugh for someone of her stature. “You could say that, Solo. Zlata has been the bane of my existence since she was promoted to Sergeant. Just has the Commander wrapped around her little finger.”

  “With the way she talked to me earlier, there is no love lost with what happened to the Commander.”

  She stops and turns to me with anger shining through her eyes. Please don't punch me. “What? What makes you say that?”

  Now I have stepped in it. No need to involve me in internal politics. “Just an off-handed comment when she assigned me to your squad. Just ...that she was looking forward to being the acting commander.”

  “I don't understand. There are myself and Saul, more senior than Zlata, but still, that woman—” you mean fiend, but continue “—thought and now is acting commander!”

  Just let it slide and change the subject. “It is nothing. Commander Axel will recover, and you can talk to him about it.”

  “You are right, Solo. Let’s get back to work.”

  We walk in silence down the stairs. As we reach the bottom, I can see our workstation in an unnatural blue light. I turn to Stillwater. “Trust me, you are one hundred times better at being a Watchwoman than that black-hearted woman. You care. I can tell by all those cases you work on.” Just blowing smoke up her.

  “Thanks, Solo. Maybe while you’re around you could help us out a bit.”

  Wow, that is the first proper smile I think I have received from her.

  Need to take the presure off me, so time to pull the drivel card out again. “One second, I noticed a couple of things while I was filing those reports.” Did not find anything, but there are four murders in two robberies. Might make me look good. “Here. These seem connected. What do you think?”

  I have no idea if they are connected, but if I can fake out Zlata and others in my past, Stillwater will be a breeze.

  Walk over to Gunnar. “Here you go. Some food for your companions.”

  He grunts at me but sees Stillwater looking over the files. “Thanks, half-breed.”

  Just smile. “No worries. Scored it off a kitchen member just before they threw it out because of—” My stomach does a flip. “—the guy who turned into a pile of goo.”

  WayWocket pipes in, “You are saying there is a goo man upstairs, and no samples? What sort of imbecile doesn’t think of me! I might want to see the goo man!”

  Wow! “Sorry, WayWocket, I did grab you a sample. There was a fellow Gnome up—”

  “What! What Gnome? Coming to make fun of. Not like others. I don’t like machines and grease! Wouldn’t help poor WayWocket, he was special. Can see the magic. Made these.” Points to the lights. “No weird chemicals. See the heart of the solution? Yes. Beautiful. Yes, yes, where is that sample?” I grab it out of the basket, and he takes it with both hands, looking intensely at the goo. “Always the Dawn will rise.”

  Stillwater looks up and says, “I can’t see any sort of relationship between these files, except that they occurred together; the murders with the robberies. But the murders are beggars, no one else was hurt. No warehouse guards or anyone else connected to the storage area.”

  Claptrap does not leave me now. “I have seen this before. If certain individuals wish to burgle a place, they do a few trial runs.”

  “Okay, I can see that, but how does it factor in the murders and the different robberies with the little connection?”

  How can I say this without sounding like I have no idea what I am talking about? “Look at the security for each of the buildings. It is pretty high end. A forger engineer would have put a lot of love and attention into the locks.”

  “I see where you are going. Test on a similar locking system, then the real deal will be easier. Still, doesn’t explain the beggars’ murders.”

  “Let me ask you a question. How would you find out information on any sort of robbery?”

  I can see the wheels turn, which is good. “That is a good point. We talk to people who frequent the area—”

  “And more often than not, they would be beggars.”

  “You do have a point. Still, people die. It happens.”

  “Look at the report on how the murders were done—same type of cut, same angle.” It is true, I have no idea how that stuck in my head today. “The locks are the same. I know you can see it and I am pointing out the obvious.”

  With a weary shake of her head, she looks at me. “Point taken. There is a connection between these cases. But how does this help us?”

  “Easy. Follow the type of lock and which other buildings use that lock, and that could be the next target.”

  “We can look at it over the next couple of days. I am a little curious how you could connect the dots.” Damn, should stay quiet. Damn it! “That aside, I have our patrols for the next three days. We have the market, then a warehouse, and finally the residential area. Three dull areas; shouldn’t expect anything different.”

  She turns away from me, and Gunnar and WayWocket are listening in on our conversation. “Gunnar, what do you think of this idea, and you, WayWocket?”

  Gunnar looks deep in thought. WayWocket says, “Patterns within patterns. All swirling around in the primordial essence of the world. Yes, breathe in the majestic thought of this, this person, this Solo.”

  Gunnar turns to Stillwater, then chuckles and says, “Could be right. But look at him! He’s a joke, boss.”

  Stillwater looks at me and smiles. Hey, I’m not into muscular girls! “He sounds like an idiot.” Hey! “But he has fresh eyes, and he might have skills that could be useful.”

  Starting to feel like people think I am a little slow—don’t really care. Money is what I need. Like Sarge always said, ‘Do your best, even if you are incompetent.’ Heard that a little too much during my five-year stint.

  “Hey, boss Stillwater, can I be excused for the rest of the day? Have to deal with some personal stuff. What time do you want me back here tomorrow?”

  “Boss Stillwater?” she says. I hear Gunnar chuckle in the corner. “It seems that Gunnar is rubbing off on you. Be here by dawn. You are dismissed.”

  Taking a chunk of bread and cheese, I wave and say, “See you, fellow Watchmen and boss. See you tomorrow.”

  Chapter Nine

  Journal Entry One continued…

  I cannot believe how dumb I was. Keeping my mouth shut was not part of my skillset. It has helped me in the past, but when it does not, wow! Such a three-ring circus it can be. Even with my faults, I have good friends—I mean, family ...

  Fingers crossed Pela has not started work yet. She is not like my mother or sister, as they are ladies of the night, but when do ordinary people start work? Don't know how I could make it up to her. Flowers? I have money but. Sweets? Again don’t want to waste it. Ruling that out. I could tell her the truth. Yeah right, like that would go anywhere. Need to think of something I could impress her with; something that would make my apology more acceptable. Let’s see, I have one hundred and two slips and seventy copper bits. I could buy a bunch of flowers—better than nothing.

  Girls like flowers? Yeah, sure.

  Should I head to her place or Corbin's? Corbin's is just off Market Lane, and Pela's apartment is off Residential Road. Do not think on how bad that name is, you have more important things to ponder; like how sincere you need to sound. Barrack to Market, then on to Blacksmith, to Tailor, and then on to Residential. Sheesh, what if a tailor did not open up on that street—what would happen then? Well, with all this imagination it would say Coffee Place—the best place to get coffee, or Bakers Street. Oh wait, there is a Bakers Street already. Pity Residential is not off that, it smells so delightful!

  Best the thing is to head to Corbin's and tell him to go jump in the lake for that nonsense from last night. First, ask if Pela is working, then ask him to take a lo
ng walk off a short pier. Better plan. Where did I leave my stuff? Oh yeah, the Hall. Pick that up too.

  There is a florist. I might as well see if there is something in my price range. It smells lovely in here as I walk to the serving counter and see a female Dwarf wearing gloves and arranging flowers.

  "Excuse me, madam Dwarf." Great, this is going to be fun. Dwarves drive such hard bargains, but they are the lifeblood of Favinonia's economy. "I am looking for a beautiful flower for a particular female friend of mine."

  She looks me up and down, smiles, and says, "Flowers are the best way to lighten a day. A few simple questions first: is there a type of flower you are looking for? As we are coming into summer, many new varieties are in season." She walks between vases, pointing out each one to me. I wish they had prices on them. "Roses are always good; you are looking at fifty slips per dozen. Then you have lilies, beautiful and haunting; fifteen silver for a dozen. Tulips, bright and colourful; ten slips—"

  Not going to spend all my money on flowers. Time to be stingy, even though I have over a hundred slips in my leather wallet. "They look fantastic, but a tad out of my price range."

  She folds her arms. This is not going to be good! "Price range? You come into my shop, the best florist in all of Lake Merrin, and say that you can’t afford the prices? Fine! What can you pay? If it’s less than three silver slips, then you are out of luck, and I will have to ask you to leave!"

  Do not want to spend any more than three silver. "What do you have available for three slips?"

  She snorts at me and says, "Daffodils, half a dozen. Price non-negotiable!"

  "That is perfect. That is what I was thinking anyway. Thank you so much for helping me on this journey." I bow to her. "Thank you again, madam Dwarf. May fortune shine on your family."

  See, I understand dwarves—family, money, and respect are what they crave most in life. Give them a little of each, and remarkable things will come your way. I can see the shock on her face.

  "May fortune shine upon yours as well … Maybe I was a bit hasty. I might have something a little more special. Come this way."