Natalya immediately began surveying the scene. Primarily, she was looking for anyone who wasn’t reacting like the rest, or if she was lucky, someone whose hands were still stained with blood. Of course, life doesn’t work that way, so there was no one who particularly grabbed her attention.
The town sheriff, Benjan Caellar, was trying to get people to clear out of the scene of the crime, but wasn’t having much success. Naturally, for a small town such as Ravengro, even vandalism of this sort was enough to inflame curiosities and even send chills of fear through the spines of the towns more nervous residents.
“Do you know the significance of the letter V being painted like that?” Heimish asked Kendra.
“I’m not entirely certain, though it feels important,” she answered. “You might try checking the records at the town hall. I’m sure there’ll be something there.”
“I’ll do that later, then,” Heimish said.
“What about the statue?” Natalya asked the others.
“What’s its significance?”
Santino, eager to show off his knowledge, answered. “The town itself was founded long ago as a place for the guards of Harrowstone and their families to live, so everyone had a lot of respect for the guards. The statue was built to commemorate a number of guards, including the warden and his wife, who lost their lives along with all of the prisoners during the fire that destroyed much of the prison.”
Exactly the kind of thing angry kids would vandalize. At least, that was Natalya’s thought on the matter. But adventurers couldn’t afford to assume that even the smallest detail was insignificant. That was how you found yourself with a goblin’s knife buried in your guts. Until the culprit was caught, she knew that she had to assume that whatever had done this was a threat to the person she was protecting, and that meant at least trying to figure out who did it.
Meanwhile Heimish, seeing the sheriff’s growing frustration, cleared his throat and put his practice as a bellowing street preacher to work. “Good folks, perhaps we should move along so that the good sheriff can complete his investigation. I’m sure we’re all concerned with this matter, but for now, we’re only underfoot. Certainly, if there is something to be worried about, the town’s sheriff will let us know as soon as he does.”
The crowd considered his words, and a few began murmuring their assent. Slowly, the people began to disperse.
Once everyone else was gone, Sheriff Caellar walked over to Heimish. “I thank you for your assistance. Now please, I ask that you all move along as well so we can get this cleaned up.”
“Of course,” Heimish said. “I was merely waiting for the crowd to disperse so I wouldn’t get knocked down in the rush, what with my bum leg.”
“Understandable,” the sheriff said, then turned to Santino, who had his hand outstretched.
“Yo,” Santino said. “Long time, no see.”
“You,” Benjan said, his eyes narrowing. “We don’t have any time for your shenanigans right now.”
“But I haven’t done anything yet!” Santino protested.
“It’s the ‘yet’ that concerns me.”
Heimish interrupted Santino’s rebuttal by putting his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Come now, the sheriff has work to do, so we’d best be getting out of his way.”
“Fine,” Santino said, rolling his eyes.
As the party began walking away, the sheriff called out. “Hey, Santino. Look, when we’re done with our investigation, maybe I’ll have time for us to grab a drink and reminisce. Just stay out of trouble until then.”
“No promises,” Santino called back.
Kendra laughed. “Some things don’t change. Anyway, I need to go run errands.”
“Do you need accompaniment?” Natalya asked. After all, protecting her was Natalya’s job.
“No, I should be fine, especially during the daytime.”
Natalya nodded. “Understood,” she said, still concerned.
Stein spoke up. “I’ll go with you as far as the town square,” he said. “I need to pay a visit to the apothecary.” That made Natalya feel better. At least Stein would be nearby if Kendra needed help.
“So, with that settled, I’m off to go search the graveyard for something,” Santino said.
“Perhaps, if it’s something in the cemetery you’re after, you should talk to Grimburrow first?” Heimish suggested.
“Well, whatever you do,” Kendra said, “don’t go digging up any graves.”
Santino gave her a flat look. “I’ve grown up. I don’t dig up the yard anymore.” He then turned to Stein. “Hey, while you’re at the apothecary’s place, you should pick up some hemlock to help you sleep. You snore something terrible.”
Stein pulled a vial from his coat. “If my snoring is keeping you awake, I’ve got something right here that will help you sleep through it,” he said sinisterly.
“Well, give it here,” Santino said holding out his hand.
“No, I think not. You have to prepare it properly, or it’s no good. I’ll mix you up some later. Now, we’d best be off,” he told Kendra.
“Let’s have a drink later,” Heimish told the butler.
“Of course, assuming my other duties permit.”
Once they were gone, Heimish turned to Natalya. “Would you like to accompany us to speak with Father Grimburrow?”
“I don’t really need you to come with me,” Santino protested.
“It’s fine. Besides, I would like to talk with the good father myself. Call it something of a professional courtesy between the servants of the gods. So, are you coming, Natalya?”
She considered it. “As old as he is, it’s not impossible that he would know something about that letter V, or maybe something else of interest regarding whatever it was Petros was researching. Since Kendra doesn’t need us, it seems like a good enough place to start our search.”
Santino seemed annoyed. “Okay, fine, you can come with me. But first, I need to stop by the blacksmith.”
As the trio made their way over to the smithy, Heimish decided to make conversation. “So, Natalya, what’s your story?” he asked.
“I’m a bounty hunter and an adventurer. I met Petros when I ran across him in the process of getting cooked and eaten by a pack of goblins.” She then looked back at the road ahead.
“Alright, then,” Heimish said, taking the hint that she didn’t have much to say on the matter.
As they approached the smithy, a dwarven woman of around middle age stood out front, talking to a group of children. “Now remember, kids,” she said. “The food at the Laughing Demon isn’t all fun and games. Ain’t no coincidence that Zokar serves more corpse chowder when an unpopular merchant leaves town. If he invites you into the back room, you should definitely think twice. Now off with you, and mind your mothers.”
Santino waved. “Hey, Jorfa,” he said.
“Well, steel my knickers, if it isn’t Santino Clifford! Heard you were in town!” Her grin was open and friendly. “So, are you here for business or the old ‘Sunday Special’?” She said the last with a wink.
“Sunday special?” Heimish asked. “But it’s Thursday.”
Santino ignored him. “Guys, I’m gonna need about six minutes and fifty seconds. Can you wait that long?”
Jorfa laughed. “What, you saying you last three minutes longer than you did back when I last saw you?”
“I’ll be right back,” Santino told the others as he followed the dwarf into her shop.
Natalya was annoyed. “I get the feeling this will be a waste of a day,” she told Heimish.
“No day is wasted as long as you enjoy yourself,” Heimish said with a smile.
A few minutes later, they heard howling from within the shop. A couple minutes after that, Santino walked out with a swagger, a couple bags in hand. As he walked out the door, Jorfa slapped him on the behind.
“Like I said, I get the feeling this will be a waste of a day,” Natalya said to Heimish.
They continued on to the temple. Along the way, Santino revealed that the bags were filled with caltrops. “Jorfa makes the best caltrops,” Santino told the other two.
“Useful,” Natalya commented. “But why do you need them?”
“I’m going to make an offering,” Santino answered. Natalya decided that she didn’t need to know what he meant by that.
Outside of the temple, a trio of acolytes was tending to the grounds. “Excuse me,” Heimish said. “But is Father Grimburrow in at the moment?”
The nearest acolyte stood from his weeding and walked over. “Sorry,” he said. “But he left five minutes ago.”
“Five minutes ago,” Natalya mouthed to Heimish, looking even more annoyed than before.
“Then we’re gonna go visit my father’s grave,” Santino declared, turning to start walking out into the cemetery.
“Wait,” the acolyte said. “I’ll have someone go with you. Father Grimburrow warned us about your shenanigans.”
Santino looked offended. “But… I’m very private about my mourning!” he whined. “I don’t want someone seeing me cry.” He even faked a tear.
“There, there,” the acolyte said. “Need a hug?”
“Yes, please,” Santino said. As the man embraced him, he took a big sniff of the man’s hair.
“It’s lavender,” the acolyte whispered.
“Can you accompany us?” Santino asked.
“Sure.”
Natalya grunted. “I came here so we could talk to Father Grimburrow. If he’s not here, I’m leaving.”
“It does seem we missed our chance for the day,” Heimish said. “Will you be okay, Santino?”
“I’ll be fine,” he said. “I’ve got… um…”
“Alvin,” the acolyte said.
“Right, I’ve got Alvin with me.”
“We’ll take Wilhelm with us,” Alvin promised. “Just in case more of those rowdy townsfolk show up.” He turned to another acolyte. “No, not you, Willem. You’re bugger all help if it comes to combat. Stay here and keep weeding.”
As the three left, Heimish turned to Natalya. “So, where next?”
“I think Kendra suggested looking at the records in the town hall for information on that ‘V’. I was thinking of going there next.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Heimish said.
It took over an hour to walk back and reach the hall, which was at least in part due to Heimish’s slow speed. That part didn’t really bother Natalya. She’d worked with dwarves before, and he was no slower than them.
Inside the town hall sat a receptionist, who looked up from the book she was scribing. “Yes, can I help you?” she asked.
“Well, I believe so,” Heimish answered. “Have you heard about what happened at the monument? A bit of bad business, that.”
“Yes. It was dreadful to hear,” the young woman answered.
“Right. Well, you see, we were told we might be able to find information here about the meaning of the letter ‘V’ that was written on the monument.”
“We’ve been tasked by Petros Lorrimor’s will with protecting his daughter, so it’s more than just a passing fancy,” Natalya added. “We want to make sure it’s not a sign of a larger problem.”
“Ah,” the woman answered. “Unfortunately, we can’t just let anyone look through the town’s records.”
Natalya had played this game before. “Of course. Is there someone who has permission we could pay to do the research for us?”
“Unfortunately, no. We’re all pretty busy. But if it’s important, you could ask Sheriff Caellar. He could give you permission.”
“We’ll do that,” Heimish said with a smile. “Thanks, miss…”
“Loxie,” the young woman supplied.
“Ah, yes. Thank you, Miss Loxie. You’ve been a great help.” He turned to Natalya. “Shall we go find the good sheriff?”
Natalya nodded. “Seems to be our logical next step.”
Meanwhile, Santino and the acolytes were nearing the grave. “Tell me,” Santino said, “Willem and Wilhelm, are they related?”
“No,” Alvin said. “But they do get asked that a lot.”
“So, what has Grimburrow told you about me?”
“Very little. Mostly he wanted us to keep an eye on you.”
Santino considered a moment. “Has he told you much about my father?”
“Who is your father?” the acolyte asked, perplexed.
“Petros.”
“Oh, no, he doesn’t talk much to us about him, but you could tell they were close friends.”
“Do you believe what the townsfolk said about him?”
“That he was a necromancer? Pharasma, no! Father Grimburrow never would have associated with a necromancer.”
Satisfied with the answer, Santino changed the subject. “So, as I understand it, Pharasmites believe in predestination. If that’s true, how can someone be responsible for their actions? They didn’t choose to do wrong, so how can they be punished?”
“Prophecy is vague. You may do what you’re destined to do, but how you do it, and why, they both matter.”
“So if I throw a rock at a bird, and was destined to do so, it matters why? So it’s fine if I was doing it because, say, I was hungry, but not if I did it because I just don’t like the look of the bird’s face?”
“Fine and not fine plays no role. But your reason will help determine the fate of your soul when Pharasma judges you. There is no wrong answer – aside from perhaps necromancy – but the path to your afterlife is paved with your intentions.”
“I see. So, do you get a lot of grave robbers?”
“What?! Pharasma, no! We keep an eye out.”
“But what if they weren’t necromancers after the body? What if they simply wanted their inheritance?”
Alvin gave him a questioning look. “Are they inheriting a coffin? Because it would be disrespectful to the dead to pull them out of their resting place, take the coffin and dump them back in. And it would be just plain weird to be buried in the same coffin with the previously deceased. No, we have a one corpse per casket rule around here.”
Wilhelm grunted as the trio reached the grave.
Santino walked over and knelt before the gravestone, looking for any signs of secret messages or compartments that could hold the prize he sought.
After a few minutes, he was satisfied that there was nothing, so he stood once more.
“You didn’t cry,” grunted Wilhelm.
“There were too many people here,” Santino answered casually scanning the graveyard for anything out of place that might lead to his prize. “I’ll cry later. Shall we head back?”
“Sure,” Alvin said. “So, did you hear how Petros died?” he asked Santino.
“No, I hadn’t heard the details. What happened?”
“Something fell and crushed his head, the way I hear it.”
“Ghastly,” Santino said, trying to sound upset.
When they reached the temple again, Father Grimburrow had returned and already gone to bed.
To pass the time, Santino tried to talk his way into Alvin’s bed, but managed to fail. So instead, he decided to wait in the temple until Grimburrow awoke, eventually passing out on a hard bench.
Back at the mansion, Natalya and Heimish returned, having been unable to find the sheriff. “Where’s Clifford?” Kendra asked when she opened the door for them.
“We left him at the church,” Natalya answered.
“Father Grimburrow wasn’t around, so he decided to visit Petros’ grave. So we left him with some acolytes and headed to the town hall in search of answers.”
“Ah, well, he’s always been one to disappear at the weirdest times. He’ll show up when he’s hungry. Any luck at the town hall?”
“Sadly, no,” Heimish answered. “It seems we need permission from the good sheriff to look through the records, and we were unable to find him before it started getting dark.”
“Well, good luck,” Kendra said. “If nothing else, it’ll be a good way to pass the time.”
Natalya went and changed clothes, then headed the home’s library to continue researching. Heimish, meanwhile, went and grabbed a chair in the sitting room to rest his weary leg.
A few minutes later, Stein returned, holding a small sack. “It has been a good day!” he told Heimish, brandishing the sack.
“Oh, why’s that?” the preacher asked.
Stein drew a bundle of herbs from the bag. They looked fresh cut and had been tied with twine.
“Wolfsbane. You should get yourself some if you can.”
“I’ll keep an eye out,” Heimish said. “Shall we have a drink?”
“After dinner, which I must attend to now.”
“Of course. I won’t keep you.”
In the library some time later, Kendra found Natalya poring through a book. There were three others stacked next to it. She looked at the one on the top.
“Oh, you’re researching the Whispering Way?”
“Yes,” Natalya answered. “They were mentioned in your father’s notebook.”
“They’re a fascinating bunch. Did you know that they have philosophies that they’re only allowed to pass on via whispers?”
“I hadn’t heard that.” Natalya did think that it made sense, considering the group’s name.
“I thought that the undead only moaned,” Heimish said from the doorway.
“Well, if it’s undead you’re interested in,” Kendra said as she walked over to a shelf, “I have an interesting book on the subject here.”
“I shall enjoy reading it. Stein says that dinner will be ready within an hour, so I thought I’d pass the time helping with the research.”
“Of course. I’ll leave you to it.” With that, Kendra left to go check on Stein. He always put far too much pepper in the soup for her liking.
“Anything interesting?” Heimish asked Natalya.
“Nothing useful,” she answered. “But I’ll keep looking.”
“I’ll help,” Heimish answered.
Dinner was a simple stew of chicken and vegetables. But despite being simple, it was hearty and quite filling. Natalya found herself quite ready for bed after eating. Kendra also retired for the evening.
Stein and Heimish went to the sitting room, where Heimish produced a bottle. “So, tell me more about wolfsbane,” he said to his companion.
“It’s helpful against all forms of lycanthropes.”
“You mean folks who are cursed to transform under the full of the moon? I haven’t ever paid much attention to the moon, my eyes more focused on the dark places between the stars.”
“Precisely. Bestial and dangerous. You have to be wary of them. Take every precaution you can.”
“Right. That seems like a good idea.”
“Forewarned is forearmed, my friend. So always be prepared.” The two drank for another hour, talking little, but simply enjoying the company of another soul and the warming drink before a crackling fireplace.
In the wee hours of the morning, Santino was awoken by the sharp rap of a cane to his back. “What are you doing, sleeping in Pharasma’s temple?” an annoyed Grimburrow asked him.
“What?” Santino looked around. “Oh, right. I was here to talk to you about my father. Read this,” he said, handing the letter he’d been given by Stein several days ago. Grimburrow pulled a small set of spectacles from his pocket and began reading.
After a few minutes of reading, Grimburrow finished and handed the note back to Santino. “So, what do you expect me to do about it?”
“I just need permission to search.”
“Search?” the priest asked, not liking where this was going.
“The graveyard.”
“Absolutely not! No one is allowed to disturb the graves.” Then, deciding he may have been too harsh, he added, “Look, I’ll have my acolytes search in a way that won’t bother the dead. I will let you know if they find anything.”
Santino sighed. “Fine. I can live with that. Here, take this for your trouble.” He handed Grimburrow a heavy sack.
“What’s this?” the priest asked, eyeing the contents with confusion.
“Caltrops. You can lay them in the cemetery to keep away grave robbers.”
Grimburrow whacked Santino with his cane. “Be off with you!” he said, annoyed.
“Fine! Fine! I’m going!”
With nothing to do, Santino headed towards the blacksmith, hoping that Jorfa would be up and bored.
Unfortunately, he found the building locked, and knew better than to wake her up at this hour. So he decided to wander around a bit.
As he was walking down the road, Santino spotted some old footprints that seemed to head off towards the river, making a straight line towards the monument. He tried to trace their origin, but was unable to find anything. In the end, the only thing he could really tell from them that they were made by someone wearing large boots.
Not that they probably mattered. They were just in a weird place, was all.
Once the sun had risen, Heimish and Natalya had a quick breakfast and went to find the sheriff at Heimish’s suggestion. They bid Kendra a good day and hurried off as fast as Heimish’s leg would let him.
They found Sheriff Caellar as he was opening up the town jail to let out the local drunk. “Good morning, sheriff!” Heimish called out.
The sheriff turned and eyed them in the early morning sunlight. “Oh, it’s you,” Benjan said. “What can I do for you this fine morning?”
Heimish closed the distance and shook the man’s hand. “Well, you see, Sheriff, we were wanting to look into the meaning of that ‘V’ on the monument, to see if it held any danger to Miss Kendra. But Miss Loxie at the town hall said we needed your permission to look at the records.”
The sheriff laughed. “You know what? I like you. Okay, I’ll set you up with a pass. But only you.” He eyed the tiefling warily. Natalya didn’t care. She’d seen that look hundreds of times. “And it’ll only be good for one day. If you need more time, you’ll have to pay a fee to the town hall to renew it, to help pay for the time of anyone who has to put things back in order when you’re done.”
“I will be careful not to get anything out of order, but I am perfectly happy to pay a reasonable fee if necessary.”
“Good man. Just let me finish up here and we’ll go get you set up.” Benjan opened the door to the jail and then went in and unlocked the cell used to hold drunks. “Okay Westley. It’s time to get up.”
“Morning already?” a voice asked with a groan.
“Yep, morning already. Now get up and get on out. I’m not feeding you.”
“Okay, sheriff,” the drunk said, stumbling out of the jail. “See you tonight.”
“Yeah,” Benjan said with a sigh. “See you tonight.”
While the sheriff was inside, Santino arrived. “What’s going on here?” he asked Heimish and Natalya.
“I’m going to get a pass from the sheriff to do some research at the town hall. Anything interesting happen for you?”
“I found some weird footprints, but aside from that, not really. What should we do now?”
“Well,” Heimish said, “I’m probably going to go do my research. You two could go try to find other information.”
“Maybe one of the townsfolk saw what happened at the monument?” Natalya asked.
“It’s possible,” Santino said. “We could always ask around. But where to start?” He thought for a moment. “The tavern?”
Natalya shrugged. “As good a place as any.” She turned to Heimish. “Will you be okay on your own?”
The preacher shrugged. “As long as no books fall on me, I should be fine.”
“The tavern it is,” Natalya said. “I’m assuming you know the way?” she asked Santino.
“Of course!” the odd man answered with a grin.
At the town hall, Heimish soon realized he was out of his depths. To call the organization of the records haphazard would have been incorrect, but the truth was that whatever system was being used was an invention of a strange and unique mind.
“Having trouble?” Loxie asked him after several fruitless hours.
“A little,” Heimish admitted.
“It takes some getting used to. Let me help a bit. What are you looking for?”
“Any information on the prison that might give us a clue as to what that ‘V’ referred to. I suspect it might have something to do with the event that prompted the building of the monument.”
“Ah, yes. The fire. Terrible, that.” She went two shelves down and grabbed a small tome. “This talks a bit about it. Apparently there was a riot, and somehow a fire got started. The warden, Lyvar Hawkran, sacrificed himself and twenty three of his guards to keep the prisoners from escaping. His wife also died in the fire, though I’m not sure why he couldn’t get her out.”
“Were the prisoners really that bad?”
“Heavens, yes. As I understand it, they were all terrible men who had committed severe crimes.
Would have been better if they had been given summary execution rather than being locked up until someone could get around to dealing with them later.”
“I see. Thanks, Miss Loxie. I’ll read through this and see if I can find any other records near where it was that might be relevant.”
“Oh, you won’t find what you need near there. Most of those are bills of sale for crops over the years.”
“A most confusing system indeed,” Heimish said to no one in particular.
At the tavern, Natalya and Santino were getting nowhere. “This is a waste of our time,” Natalya complained. “No one seems to know anything.”
“Give it a while,” Santino said. “They’ll start remembering when they get a few more drinks in them.”
“Right,” she answered.
Almost on cue, a loud drunkard, his arm around his friend, declared at a near bellow, “You know that prison up there? They say the executioner’s ghost patrols the halls of the western side of the prison, and that on some nights, his scythe can be seen patrolling the balcony on its own, as if carried by an invisible spirit.”
“That’s hogwash, and you know it,” the tavern keeper retorted.
“No it’s not! It’s true, my buddy Westley swears he seen it once!”
“Ah, so we’re taking the word of the town drunk,” Natalya said to herself. “Okay, I’m done,” she said to Santino. “I’m going back to Kendra’s library. At least I might find something useful there.” Then she stood up.
No sooner had she stood than she heard a man at a nearby table shout in triumph. “Ah-ha! I win!” he said as he slammed his cards on the table.
And then the cards burst into flame.
The bright flash of light blinded both Natalya and Santino. Natalya, disoriented, tried to center herself. She put her hand on the hilt of Faith, then tried to listen for the sounds of anyone coming at her.
Santino, meanwhile, heard something else. It sounded like screams coming from the cellar below. Carefully, still being blinded, he lowered himself to the ground and listened below.
It was just as he thought. He heard screaming!
When her sight returned, Natalya scanned the room. Everyone else looked just as disoriented. Strangely, though, she noticed that the cards that had been at the center of the whole thing appeared to be perfectly fine.
She’d known multiple adventurers who used various flash powders, and they all had a strange odor to them. “May I inspect your cards?” she asked the patron.
“What?” he asked. “Oh, yeah, go ahead.”
She took the card that was on top, The Uprising, which depicted a bunch of men with torches and pitchforks, and gave it a good sniff. “Nothing. No one put any kind of flash powder on this.”
“I’m no magician,” the patron protested. “That was some kind of strange omen.”
“Right,” she said. Perhaps she’d want to look into the meaning of the card later, just in case it really was an omen.
She glanced over and watched as Santino was trying to casually make his way into the door to the taverns cellar. “Excuse me,” the tavern keeper, Zokar Elkarid, said as he stepped between Santino and the door.
“What are you doing?”
“I heard screaming coming from below the floorboards. I’m going down there to expose whatever torture dungeon you’re running,” Santino accused.
“I’m not letting anyone down there.”
“We’ll see what the sheriff has to say about that,” Santino said.
“You do what you’ve gotta do.”
“I’m gonna go get the sheriff,” Santino told Natalya.
“Keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t try to go destroy the evidence.”
Natalya sighed. “Yeah, alright,” she said, sitting back down in her seat.
Santino jogged over to the sheriff’s office, only to find that Benjan Caellar wasn’t in. Instead, it was one of his deputies, a dour-looking man by the name of Vrodish who waited within.
“Can I help you?” Vrodish asked Santino.
“There was a fire at the Laughing Demon, and screaming beneath the floor. Come quick! I think that Zokar is keeping prisoners in the cellar!” Santino declared.
Vrodish sighed and looked out the window. “I don’t see any smoke.”
“It was a small fire, and it went out quickly. Please, we have to hurry before he hides the evidence.”
“Sir, how much have you had to drink tonight?”
“What? I’m not drunk! Please, you have to hurry!”
Vrodish sighed and rolled his eyes as he put on his hat. “Fine, let’s go.”
As Natalya watched, business at the tavern continued as normal, aside from a bit of buzz about what had just happened. Zokar didn’t seem to be doing anything suspicious, but she declined his offer of another drink all the same.
A few minutes later, Santino returned with Vrodish in tow. “Excuse me, Zokar,” Vrodish said. “This man claims there was a fire?”
“That’s right!” the patron with the cards said. “I put my cards on the table and suddenly they burst into flames! Everyone here saw it.”
Vrodish gave Santino a look. “So, you weren’t lying after all. Okay, and then there was what else?”
“Screaming, coming from the cellar,” Santino said.
“Right. Mind if I take a look, Zokar?” Vrodish asked.
“Not at all, Vrodish,” Zokar said.
As the deputy headed down into the cellar, Santino’s face was smug. A few minutes later, that look disappeared when the deputy shook his head.
“Nothing out of the ordinary down there. You must have been hearing things when you were spooked by the fire.”
“I know I heard it,” Santino growled. Then he sighed.
“Okay, if you say it wasn’t there, it wasn’t there.”
“Good,” Vrodish said. “Now don’t drink too much tonight. I don’t want to have to deal with you again.”
Santino dug around in his pocket. “Want some candy?” he asked, holding out a wrapped treat to the deputy.
“No, I’m fine,” Vrodish said before turning to leave.
“Your loss,” Santino said as he popped the treat into his mouth. It would only be hours later that he’d remember that the piece of chocolate had been laced with a laxative.
Once Vrodish was gone, Santino laid his head on the floor again. “What are you doing?” Zokar asked.
“I thought I saw a coin on the floor, but I can’t find it,” Santino lied.
“Ah, well, look, now that this mess is behind us, no hard feelings?” Zokar asked, extending his hand.
Santino took it and shook. “Yeah, I guess we’re okay. Hey, while you’re here, do you know anything about the old prison?”
“Can’t rightly say I know more than anyone else,” Zokar said. “But what I do know, is that you look like a man who needs some wolf balls. They’re one of my most popular offerings.”
Santino shrugged. “Sounds good. Give me two orders to go.” He took his seat across from Natalya.
“So, do you have any ideas?”
“What do you know about Harrow cards?” Natalya asked him.
“Only that they’re used for fortune telling. The Pharasmites are big on fate and stuff. Maybe Grimburrow would know? It’s still early enough if you want to go see him.”
Natalya nodded. “It’s worth a shot.”
Zokar returned with a couple skewers with meatballs on them. “Here you go, two orders of wolf balls. Anything else I can do for you?” he asked.
“Do you have any idea who defaced the monument?” Natalya asked.
“Nothing for sure, but I bet it was some dumb kids.”
“I hope you’re right,” Natalya said.
At the temple, Grimburrow frowned at the return of Santino. “I told you I’d send someone for you if we found anything.”
“I’m not here for that,” Santino said. “My companion here wanted to ask you a question.”
Natalya explained what had happened at the tavern while Santino handed one of the skewers of meat to Father Grimburrow. “…And so I was hoping you might be able to tell us more about the Harrow, specifically the card called ‘The Uprising’.”
“Sorry,” Grimburrow said. “But I don’t know much about that. What you need is a proper diviner. Unfortunately, I don’t think there are any in town.”
“Right,” Natalya said. She turned to Santino. “Do you think we could get Kendra to send for one from a nearby city?”
“What?” he asked, mouth full of wolf ball. “Oh, yeah, I bet she’d be willing to do that.”
Natalya nodded. “Then that’s the plan.”
Santino turned back to Grimburrow. “Don’t forget to send someone as soon as you find something.”
Annoyed, Grimburrow waved dismissively at him with the back of his hand. “Shoo! Go home. Pharasma says it’s your destiny to leave.”
“Fine, I’m going!”
The next morning, there was more commotion. This time, someone had killed a cat. Again, a letter had been written on the monument. This time, it was the letter ‘E’.