The group made quick time through town, heading to where Gwen was certain she would find Kurst: The Flame of the Fallen. Orcs were well known to desecrate corpses, so Trunau had a tradition in which its residents burned the bodies of those who passed on, to prevent the orcs from having a chance to do anything to them. And that was where Rodrik was headed, so Gwen knew Kurst would want to tend to it.
She would have been there herself, had it not been for her investigation.
As they approached, it was clear that everyone was keeping a their distance from him out of respect for his grief, though Gwen had heard that every one of the town’s watchers had stopped by throughout the day to stack a single log onto the pyre out of respect for their fallen comrade. Only Gwen had not done so yet, as far as she knew, though Omast had also been busy and had not had the time to come by.
“Kurst,” Gwen said as she approached, motioning for the others to wait.
The young man sniffed, trying to hide a sob. He reached up and wiped the tears from his eyes. “Cousin, what are you…” he stopped as he turned and spotted those with Gwen, his eyes wide with shock. “What happened? Everyone else is covered in blood!”
Valbrand looked down at himself. “Oh. Right. Maybe we should have cleaned up before going to the temple.”
Kermit checked himself out. He was clean. “I’m fine. And you’re always covered in something.”
“The meat isn’t good if its juices don’t end up on your shirt,” Valbrand said defensively.
Lucky Days looked at herself. “Oh no. I’m gonna need to get a new skirt. And a shirt. The armor’s probably okay. But I really liked this skirt.”
“I’d be happy to help you out of those,” Valbrand suggested to the girl.
“Thanks, but I can get it. It’s no problem,” she said innocently, missing his innuendo. “Though Sakura-chan usually doesn’t get me dirty like that.”
“I think that was my fault,” Kermit said apologetically.
“Oh! That’s okay then. I was just worried Sakura-chan was upset.”
Kurst listened to the strange conversation with a look of incredulity. “But what happened?” he asked.
“Oh!” Lucky Days exclaimed. “We killed some wolves.”
“What? Where would you encounter wolves?”
“They were near the bridge,” Gwen answered. “They were attacking the midwife’s house. Several kids had been chased into there.”
“It’s okay,” Lucky Days said. “Everyone’s fine. Well, not the wolves. They’re not fine. And neither is my skirt.” She puffed out her cheeks, pouting.
“How did wolves get into town?”
“Someone brought them in on a cart,” Kermit answered.
“That’s… suspicious.”
“Wolves are the best for when you really want to win a dog fight,” Valbrand answered. The others looked at him. “What?” he asked. He then grinned. “I made so much money that day,” he said wistfully. “Though he didn’t have enough to pay me. That idiot’s two daughters had to work off his debt.” Everyone was looking at him. “What? They were of age. I’m not some kind of deviant.”
Gwen ignored what he’d said. “Anyway, there’s something I need to ask you,” she said to Kurst.
“What is it?” Kurst asked.
“It’s about Rodrik. Was he having trouble sleeping?”
“Not that I know? I mean, he wasn’t sleeping much because he was so focused on his masterpiece, but when he went to bed he would fall asleep pretty quickly. I don’t think he was waking up in the middle of the night either, unless he drank too much or had some inspiration he had to write down. Why do you ask? You found something, didn’t you?”
“There are signs he had ingested oil of taggit just before he died. I’d heard that some people use it to help them sleep, but if he didn’t need it, then it’s suspicious.”
“I’d… never heard of him using it,” Kurst said.
“The dose he would have had to take for those symptoms might have been too high for him to have managed to inflict the wounds upon himself,” Kermit added.
“Then someone drugged him and faked his suicide?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Gwen said. “But we need to keep this to ourselves until we have more proof. Not sure how Uncle will react when he finds out. And I don’t want him to do something rash only to be proven wrong.”
“Yeah, good call.” He noticed someone approaching. “What’s Douglas here for? He already stopped by to drop a log on the pyre.”
“I’ll place one while it’s burning,” Gwen said softly, looking at the ground.
“Don’t worry, Cousin. I know it’s more important to find out what happened to him. Just don’t forget.”
She nodded and turned to look at the new arrival. The watchman, Douglas Bannon, was a classic narcissist. He carried a kukri that was polished to a mirror sheen, which he was constantly using to check out his flowing blonde locks. In fact, he was doing just that as he walked up. It was a miracle that he never tripped while he walked.
Gwen was embarrassed to remember that she had once had a crush on the man. He was an idiot, but he was very pretty. Douglas flipped his hair, smiling at his reflection, before looking up at the group. He was smiling at Gwen in particular.
None of the three newcomers was at all prepared for what they heard next. “Hae guise. Like, um liek da chieftess Halgra ben callin’ you. She gonna wanna talk witch you.” He brushed the hair from his face. “Like, uh, like here, this note is for you.”
Gwen cringed inwardly as she took the scrap of paper and read it. “I’ve been ordered to go make a report.” She turned to the other three. “It’s pretty late. Why don’t you all go have some dinner and get some rest. We can resume the investigation in the morning.”
“You sure you want to go alone?” Valbrand asked. “I’d be happy to go with you. It’ll probably be cold tonight. I can keep you warm.”
Gwen could taste the vomit in the back of her throat. The thought of letting a man with orc blood touch her filled her with revulsion. “If you try to follow me, I will be forced to find Qumeel,” she said angrily.
“No, no,” Valbrand answered quickly. “That’s fine. I’ll go back to the inn.”
She turned to Lucky Days. “Cham’s pretty good at doing laundry. She might be able to get your skirt clean.”
“Oh! Thanks. I’ll ask her before I do my nightly workout.”
Gwen felt bad leaving the girl with the obviously drooling predator next to her, but she had seen Lucky Days handling that naginata, so she figured she’d be fine. And she didn’t get the feeling that the grippli would allow anything untoward to happen. At least, she hoped she would be. But Gwen didn’t have time to think about it. Halgra was waiting, and she wasn’t a terribly patient woman.
Across town, Omast and Jazier arrived finally at the last of the sites of the graffiti, the town’s smithy. The place was known as Clamor by the locals, though its ostensible actual name was Morninghawk’s Fine Steel, after its owner, Sara Morninghawk. Nobody called it that, of course, except for newcomers. It was a favorite joke of some locals to direct such people to the smithy by its nickname without any hint at the real name just to see the clueless wander, sometimes for hours, in search of a place that didn’t seem to exist.
Omast knocked loudly at the door to the smithy. “Sara!” he called out. “We came about your complaint!”
The sound of hammering continued for a full minute before stopping. Jazier thought he heard the hiss of hot metal being quenched in water, then a few moments later, the door opened. A bald half-orc woman with muscles that only a few currently in town could match opened the door. “What do you want, Omast?” she asked. She noticed Jazier. “And why do you have Ruby’s magician with you?”
“Sorry to bother you,” Omast said. “But you reported some graffiti, right? We’re here to clean it up.”
Her scowl softened. “Oh. About time.”
“Where’s the mark?” Jazier asked.
“Not one to waste time. I like that. It’s in the back. Give me a moment to get my shoes.” She disappeared back inside without waiting for a response.
“I’ve never seen a woman with muscles like that,” Jazier noted to Omast.
“She’s definitely a strong one,” Omast agreed. “I bet she’s even stronger than Kermit. But don’t tell him I said that.”
A few moments later, Sara returned. Before stepping out, she turned and hollered , “Agrit! I’m gonna go show these guys the graffiti!”
“‘Kay!” a woman’s voice called from within, that of Sara’s dwarven wife, Agrit Staginsdar, who had closed the House of Wonders – her magic shop – down early for the day out of respect for the death of Rodrik. She had been fairly close to the family, having tutored both Gwethlantithwen’s mother and later Gwen herself in the arts of magic.
As they walked to the back of the building, Sara made conversation. “Are you sure you’ll be able to remove the mark? I’ve just about given up hope that anything short of painting over it will work, and then I’d have to paint the whole building.”
“It won’t be a problem,” Jazier answered.
“Good. Even with Rodrik’s death meaning I no longer have to work on that replace hopeknife he commissioned, I’m swamped with work.”
“What?” Omast asked, surprised. “Are you sure it was Rodrik you were working for? He hadn’t hired you on behalf of someone else?”
“I’m pretty sure,” Sara said. “Unless he wanted someone else to have a knife with a copy of the inscription Brinya had me carve into it for him. Why do you ask?”
“Well, it’s just, he was found with a hopeknife on him. They say that’s what he used to kill himself. I assumed it was his.”
Jazier worked as they talked, and was thus prepared to butt into the awkward silence that ensued. “I’m done!” he declared, satisfied that you couldn’t see any trace of the obscuring mark that had been there moments prior.
“Wow, you work fast, magician,” Sara commented, admiring his handiwork. “Do you also get stains out of laundry?” Agrit had made her an apron the year previous, and she’d managed to stain it with a spilled bottle of flux the first day she’d used it.
“It shouldn’t be a problem, though… well, what do we have here?”
“What is it?” Omast asked.
“I was using magic resonance to search for any traces of our vandals, like I’ve done at each other site, and this time I got a hit. The trail leads off that way,” the wizard pointed.
Sara stepped in front of him. “You can’t go that way,” she said hastily.
“Why not?” Omast asked.
“The magic you’re sensing is from the picnic I had with Agrit this morning. She treated me to a display of lights as we ate in the pre-dawn hour.” Jazier had a feeling that she wasn’t telling the truth, but the aura was faded enough that he couldn’t determine the exact nature of the magic to call her bluff.
“Sara, it’s me you’re talking to,” Omast said. “Are you hiding something?”
She sighed. “Do you believe Rodrik killed himself?”
“I don’t know,” Omast said. “But I don’t want to believe it’s possible.”
“And you?” she asked Jazier.
The wizard shrugged. “I am new in town. I do not know anyone well enough to say. But I did see him in the hours before his death, and he did not appear to be one who was on the verge of taking his own life.”
“And being new in town, perhaps you do not harbor the town’s prejudices.” Her eyes became determined. “Wait here a moment, both of you.” She walked back into the brush on the far side of the yard and disappeared into the hidden cellar that few knew existed.
“What’s going on?” Jazier asked.
“I don’t know,” Omast said. “But Sara’s one of the good ones. We should wait to see what she wants to show us. I just hope she hurries. I need a drink.”
“If you say so,” Jazier responded noncommittally.
A few moments later, Sara returned from the brush. Behind her walked the figure of a venerable half-orc. He appeared to have just awoken. “Katrezra,” Omast said. “What are you doing sleeping in the brush behind Clamor?”
The old half orc took a seat on a rock. “I heard everything. My visions revealed a great terror. The marks play a part.”
“Who made them?” Jazier asked.
“I do not know. But the demons will use them to determine where to search.”
“Fat chance of that,” Omast said proudly. “We cleaned them all up.”
Jazier decided not to mention that Omast had done almost none of the actual work and instead asked a more pressing question. “But isn’t that a symbol of a good deity? Why would demons use that?”
“Is it not always thus with demons?” Katrezra asked. “Do they not always seek to twist the holy into serving their profane purposes?”
Jazier closed his eyes, and for a moment thought he saw a flash of the ritual in which his brother had given away a piece of his soul. “Yes,” he said softly. “They like to twist and corrupt that which is good. I know that better than most.”
Katrezra nodded. “I can see it in your eyes. So, you have not come here seeking me? None believe me guilty of my friend’s death?”
“Why would they?” Jazier asked, puzzled.
“I’ve been aiding him. He seeks answers to a mystery, and his search takes him to dark places. Even as far as the Plague House.” Omast made a symbol against evil at the mention of the last. “I had a vision in which calamity would befall him. I tried to warn him to give up his search, but he wouldn’t listen. I fear my failure to stop him may have led to his death. So when I heard he had died, I came here. I knew young Sara would believe me.”
“I still do not understand why they would suspect you,” Jazier repeated.
“In this town, half orcs are always under suspicion.” He sighed. “Halgra does what she can to reign in the outright hatred. But Rodrik’s masterpiece was meant to bridge the divide, to help half orcs truly become members of the community, but I fear that will never happen now.” He reached into his robes and produced a book. “This belonged to Rodrik. He was documenting both his investigation and his work on his masterpiece. I do not believe any but he could complete his masterpiece, but perhaps you are the right man to finish his search.”
If demons truly were behind this, then Jazier knew his brother could not be far behind. “I will look into it.”
“The Plague House holds clues. Rodrik was certain he had missed something,” the elder said.
“I will look into it,” Jazier agreed.
“You’ll have to count me out of that,” Omast said. “Nothing could possibly get me to go near that cursed place.”
“Isn’t it your job to look into this?”
“No. I watch the wall. I drink. And sometimes I clean up graffiti.”
“Are you sure it’s not cowardice.” Jazier asked.
“I’m sure. It’s just not my job.”
“Fine,” Jazier said, annoyed. “I will go alone if I must.”
“I’d bet Kermit would help you if you asked. And I bet he could get Valbrand and that tone deaf girl to help as well.”
Sara laughed. “I’m glad someone else noticed that singing was terrible.”
Back across town, Gwen made her way to the Ivory Hall, home of Halgra and the place where she met with visitors and what dignitaries Trunau had. When she arrived, one of Halgra’s sons escorted her to the Chief Defender’s office, where she found Halgra carefully sharpening a long black knife.
That made Gwen nervous, as she knew that the Chief Defender paid special attention to her knives when she was angry. “You’ve been investigating your cousin’s death,” the woman said.
Gwen nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And you’ve been working with the strangers from my daughter’s ceremony.”
“Yes, but in my defense, that was Kurst’s idea. And they proved themselves helpful when the wolves attacked. In truth, ma’am, they were terrifying.”
“Yes, the wolves. Where did they come from?”
“We found a cart with cages under the bridge. I have not had time to ask around whether someone remembered seeing it being brought in.”
“You have been busy. I can’t blame you for that. But about your fellow investigators, could they have been involved in bringing in the wolves?”
“I don’t know, but I do not get the impression that they were involved. They seemed as surprised as I was.”
“I see. And what of your talk with Brinya? What is your impression there?”
“You knew about that?”
“I knew she would be on your list of people to talk with. What did she say?”
“She seemed upset. I cannot completely rule her out, but I do not think she had anything to do with Rodrik’s death. Not unless it turns out to be a suicide, which I don’t believe to be possible. Not anymore.”
“Why not?”
“We went to the Sanctuary to speak with Katrezra, and while there viewed Rodrik’s body. There are signs that he was drugged. Between that and the fact that he supposedly used a hopeknife when it was clear he’d lost his, I believe the scene had to have been staged.”
“I see. And what of Katrezra? Why did you want to talk to him? What did he say?”
“Brinya said that Rodrik had been spending time with Katrezra, so we wanted to see what he knew. And I’m sorry, ma’am. He’s gone missing. He disappeared before dawn.”
“What?” Halgra asked, stabbing her knife aggressively into the table and startling Gwen. “Sorry. You have to find him. Before your uncle gets word of his potential involvement and disappearance. I fear what Jagrin will do if he gets to Katrezra before I have him safely in custody so he can face a proper hearing.”
“Understood, ma’am. I will work through the night to find him.”
“You’ll do no such thing. You haven’t rested since your last watch. You will return to the Longhouse and sleep. You may continue your investigation in the morning.”
“I have a watch shift in the morning,” Gwen protested.
“I have already taken care of it. Qumeel has agreed to cover your watch until you finish your investigation.”
“That’s appreciated, ma’am. I will thank him when I next see him. If there’s nothing else, I should get to bed then so I can get started first thing in the morning.”
Halgra turned to look out of the window. “There is one other thing.”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Zilvazaraat sent word ahead that he would be coming by in a few days. Wrap this up by then and I’ll make sure he has something nice to give you.”
Gwen was startled. Uncle Zil was coming? His carefree laughter was just what Gwen needed right now. If he was coming, everything would be okay. The mercane had become part of her strange family. Where Uncle Jagrin was a stern but loving disciplinarian and a replacement father figure, Zilvazaraat was always quick to nurture Gwen’s playful side, spoiling the girl whenever he visited. In truth, he very much was like an uncle to her.
Last time he’d come, he had brought delicious honey cakes wrapped in a strange clear paper. He had promised that his next trip he would bring pies fried in oil and coated in sweet icing the likes of which she had never encountered. He even said there would be many different flavors, from apple to blueberry to even cherry! And he’d promised she could eat them along with some of that delicious tea she loved so much.
The thought brought her a moment of respite from her grief, but it was not long before she was brought back to reality. “You are dismissed,” Halgra said.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Oh, and Gwen?”
“Yes?”
“Keep an eye on the frog, the small giant and especially the strange girl. I don’t trust them.”
“Understood,” Gwen said. She didn’t exactly trust them either. But she was pretty sure that they didn’t have anything to do with Rodrik’s death, at least.