by Dave Dobson
Despite our many differences, we did have one thing in common, and that was our commonness. We were both of quite humble birth. Boog did not know who his father was. He was probably some patron of the lowly tavern where his mother worked, most likely a very large patron. Boog’s mother had died when he was only ten, but a well-to-do tradeswoman had taken pity on him and given him employment in her shop. There, he’d received some schooling as he performed his various duties. As for me, I had a more traditional childhood. My mother worked as a scrivener in our tiny cottage, and my father was an assistant in a locksmith’s shop. We never had more than a few coins to spare. I’d helped both of my parents in their work as a child, which left me both literate and skilled with locks and tools.
The Inquisitor’s Guild was unusual in that it took apprentices into training based on their talent rather than their birth, although in practice there were still some favored children of high-born or wealthy families who slipped in on their parents’ name rather than their own merit. We were fortunate, Boog and I. There was much room for advancement in the Guild, and even as provisional inspectors, we had already achieved a status (if not wealth) far above our birth. The Guild had saved my life, too, in a way. In the second year of our apprenticeship, a plague swept through Frosthelm, and it had taken both my mother and father. Had I not been already apprenticed, I’d have died with them or been left a penniless orphan. Well, actually, I was pretty much a penniless orphan, but at least I had a job, a bed, and a home.
Sophie appeared at the office door. “Come, lads,” she sighed, and disappeared back inside. I fretted as we entered and found seats in the cluttered office. I hated to have let Sophie down, but I didn’t see where we could go from here unless we could somehow track down the mysterious Novara.
Sophie, the High Inquisitor, was stuffing some cheese in her mouth as we entered. It was rather pungent, but she was a great lover of cheeses, the more discolored and unpleasantly aromatic the better. She also led the Inquisition, a complex organization tasked primarily with the investigation of crimes and disturbances in the city of Frosthelm and the surrounding lands controlled by Jeroch, Prelate of the Northern Realm. In practice, our duties sometimes extended beyond crimes to counter-espionage, espionage, or other missions requiring a measure of subtlety, all at the whim of Jeroch, for the High Inquisitor answered directly to the Prelate. This made the Inquisitor’s Guild equivalent in stature (if not in numbers or in funding) to the other three service branches of the Prelate’s government –– the Prelate’s Brigade, the Frosthelm Guard, and the Justiciary.
“What’s happened?” asked Sophie through her meal, spewing some yellow crumbs on her desk. “I’ve heard rumors.”
I related the prior evening’s events in detail, with Boog supplying occasional additional remarks. Our saga was rewarded with one raised eyebrow at the disappearance of the magician, and the other went up to match it at the demise of Stennis. I had the moon and sun amulet with me, on loan from the evidence chamber, and I unwrapped it and placed it gingerly on her desk. The money we had turned in to the clerks. It would probably be given to Lady Moriff, although it would hardly be full compensation for her loss.
Sophie was silent for a moment, absently brushing cheese crumbs off her chin and her red inquisitor’s tunic. “Well, boys, you certainly dived in headfirst. I send you off after a simple theft, and you return with magic and murder."
“Murder?” asked Boog.
“Well yes, Beauregard.” Sophie was the only one I knew who used Boog’s given name. That is, more than once. Boog was a bit touchy about it, and those who didn't know that often ended up bruised or bleeding. “We can safely assume, I think, that Master Shortsaber didn’t opt for his own detonation. The question now is what to do next."
I swallowed. “Inquisitor, we would like to continue the investigation. Inquisitor.”
Sophie eyed me, her face inscrutable. She pushed an errant gray lock back up behind her ear. “I see. And how would you propose to do so, Marten?”
I had an answer for this. I’d spent a good deal of time in the library the previous night after we returned, researching and thinking. “Inquisitor, I’ve searched our references for symbols involving the moon and sun, and while I haven’t found a perfect match, I did turn up records of a religious sect, active over a hundred years ago in and around Frosthelm, that used the moon and sun, in silver and gold, as symbols. They were reported to have mystical powers, perhaps related to what we observed. The cultists were rumored to be trying to bring about the end of the world. If they’ve returned…” I trailed off as I noticed Boog drop his head into his hands.
Sophie’s smile was not unkind. “So, you start with a jewel thief, and in less than half a day’s time, you’re proposing the resurgence of a century-old cult of suicidal moon-worshipping mystics?”
My confidence fled me. I felt somehow naked. “Well, Inquisitor, when you put it that way, I…er…”
Boog stepped in before I could do more damage. “Chief, we’d like to take the amulet and what’s left of Stennis to the Augur and see if we can learn anything to help us track down the jewels and this Novara, if that’s her real name.”
“Now that sounds like a reasonable course of action,” replied Sophie. “But why should I trust it to you two and not assign a senior inspector? The matter has grown more serious, it seems.” She grinned. “Especially if we’re dealing with sorcerous cultists.”
I shifted uncomfortably but found my voice. “Well, Inquisitor, we’re short-handed, which is why I think we were assigned this case in the first place. With forty inspectors out east at the border, and all the incidents on the map out there, I'd think there might be more urgent business for the senior inspectors than wrapping up a case where the suspected thief is already dead and the stolen property likely lost.”
Sophie placed her hands on the desk. “Ah, now you’re talking sense, boy. Though I do appreciate your initiative in the library – there's always a chance that such unlikely inquiries could bear fruit. I’ve seen it happen, more than once.” She rose, her red tunic rumpling as it settled over her broad hips. "All right. You two carry on, but I want a report daily, and sooner if you find something interesting.” She pointed at Boog’s injured forehead. “Stay out of trouble, too. Tell the Augur to give this case high priority on my order – I’m sure I’ll be hearing from Countess Moriff about her precious jewels at least another three times today.” She gestured at the door. “You’re dismissed.”
As we made our way through the door, past the incident map, Boog muttered, “Cults? Marty, really.” A huge hand cuffed me sharply on the back of my head.
4
Augury
They had the roof window open, so the Augur’s chamber was mighty cold. I think the idea was that the pool responded better in sunlight, but in the winter, that made mystical scrying a real test of endurance. Boog was stoic and indifferent, as always, but I stamped my feet, clapped my hands together, and tried to keep my teeth from chattering. Next time I was going to bring a sweater or an extra cloak. Maybe both.
The Augur stood up by the pool, gazing intently into its waters, walking slowly around the edge of the marble basin. I didn’t know what she was working on currently, but I figured she’d better hurry, or the Augur’s pool would become the Augur’s block of mystical ice.
“Inspector Mingenstern. Your dance routine is somewhat distracting.” The Augur’s sonorous voice echoed through the chamber. Her eyes didn't leave the pool.
I hunched over, hugging myself, but ceased my fidgeting. “Sorry, Augur.” She grunted, and then sprinkled powder into the pool from a brass tureen. This would calm the waters and end the scrying, I knew. I’d used the pool myself a number of times while training under the watchful eyes of the Augur.
Those watchful eyes turned to us, unnaturally pink and unblinking. “Back again so soon?” she asked, pulling her rough brown hood up over her short white hair. She stepped down from the dais towards us. “What do you seek?”<
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“A mysterious sorceress, who magically escaped from a tavern last night,” I replied. “We think she was tied up in the robbery we are investigating. Also, her accomplice was killed last night, maybe through her magic.”
“And what have you brought to guide the waters?”
Boog held up the linen bag of Stennis parts. “Her accomplice.” Even in the cold weather, it was starting to emit a rather noisome odor.
I pulled out the wine bottle and the glass. “These, which she used at the tavern.” I set them down and pulled out the pendant. I held it up. “And this, which she desired greatly. It may be enchanted, and it may have been the cause of the death of the man in the, uh, bag.”
The Augur glided over to me, her brown robe dragging silently on the floor. She stretched out a bony hand to grasp the moon and sun. “A thing of power, this,” she rasped. She closed her eyes.
I waited for her to continue. She stayed stock still, her hand covering the amulet resting in my palm. I waited some more, time enough for the silence to move past mysterious into awkward. I gave Boog what I hoped was a questioning look. He shrugged and put down Stennis. My arm started to cramp up.
“Aaaaah,” gasped the Augur at last. “Very interesting. We shall see what the pool can reveal.” She turned and moved toward the door. “Set up the objects around the pool, Marten. You know the methods – you were an apt pupil. I shall return shortly.”
“Are you going to seek more information on the amulet?” I asked, hopeful.
“No,” she said. “It’s damned cold in here, and I need to visit the privy.”
Boog grabbed the bloodstained bag, and he and I crossed the ornate black and white tiles to the raised platform in the center. We walked up the curved steps to the pool, illuminated in the cool blue-white light from the window above. The chamber was circles within circles, the pool basin set into the circular dais, the dais surrounded by a diamond pattern of runed black and white tiles, themselves interrupted by a circle of seven carved columns reaching up to the edge of the window in the ceiling thirty feet above.
The basin atop the dais was six feet wide, curving down to a depth of about three feet at its center. The enchanted waters of the pool rippled and gleamed, although there was little enough breeze in the room to stir them. Around the basin, carved into the marble platform and filled with gold, were seven large runes, where objects related to the subject of the scrying were placed. It was better to have a full set of seven objects, but it was even more important that the objects connected in different ways to the subject. A cherished belonging, a lock of hair, and some soil from a dwelling would provide much better results than, say, seven socks, unless you were particularly interested in the subject’s bunions.
For our initial augury, we had used a number of articles from Countess Moriff’s house – a splinter from the strongbox she’d used to store the jewels, the key to its lock, mud scraped from a footprint in the hall nearby, some of the other contents of the treasure room and strongbox, and a strand of the lady’s hair. The shimmering waters quickly resolved to show a man examining the jewels. With his description, a sketch, and a few hours of questioning at various taverns, we were able to identify him as Stennis. Our efforts were aided, no doubt, by his none-too-subtle wardrobe, hairstyle, and personality.
This time, it would be a bit trickier. I placed the amulet carefully on the topmost rune, reserved for the most important object. Then I added the wine bottle and glass from the Swan on the second and third spots. I then looked at Boog and held up my hands. “What now?”
Boog heaved the bag over to me. I caught it, barely, and almost stumbled back into the pool. That wouldn’t have been good. “Uh, sorry,” said Boog in response to my swearing.
I swallowed, trying to fight the metallic tang building in my mouth. Finally, I opened the bag and then promptly closed it. “What the hell am I supposed to do with this?”
“Well, you’ve got four more runes.”
“But…I don’t…ugh." I set the bag down. I picked it up. I set it down again. It was heavy. “This is…repulsive.”
Boog nodded in sympathy. “I’d, uh, be glad to help, but your skills at augury far outshine mine, O Apt Pupil.” He wiggled his fingers at me sarcastically.
“Thanks. Thanks a lot.” I opened the bag again. Stennis’ head was thankfully face down. I’d rather have used some of the more unrecognizable bits, but I figured the head might be more important. Grimacing, I pulled it out by the hair and set it on the fourth rune. I added what was left of his jacket on the fifth, figuring it was most directly affected by the explosion and the amulet. What else to use? I put the dagger from his boot on the sixth, although that seemed only marginally connected. I was making a terrible mess on the dais. Hopefully one of the Augur's apprentices would be around to mop up.
What to do for the final rune? I could add more of Stennis, but he wasn’t really the target here, and fishing through the bag was getting pretty unpleasant. I considered using one of the Gortian coins from the pouch, but money tended to be a poor choice, because it changed hands so frequently and contacted so many different people. We didn't have anything else belonging to Novara, or even anything that she’d touched. I pondered a moment more. Boog handed me a towel from a pile in the corner, and I wiped my hands.
“Wait here,” I said, finally. “I’ll be back in just a bit." I ran down the steps, out the door, and through a series of passages to the evidence storage chamber. There, I signed out the countess’ strongbox key, thinking that this might connect our augury more directly to the robbery. On my way back to the pool chamber, I hesitated. A potentially foolish thought had occurred to me.
I turned and ran up the stairs to the library. There, on the table I’d used the night before, lay the book on cults I’d been reading, Weirde Woorships of Froosthelme, by Sir Neggin Boniface, a long-dead inspector who, despite his predilection for extraneous vowels, was an informed and valuable resource.
I picked up the book and headed back to the pool chamber, still unsure of whether I’d use it. The danger, and it was quite real, was that the book and its contents would have nothing to do with Novara or the amulet. In that case, the pool might well delve into some useless connection between them – a time that the book and the amulet were in close proximity, for example, or a glimpse of Novara’s favorite book, and our efforts would be wasted. The pool could only be used a few times each day, at most, as it sapped a great deal of the Augur’s strength. It was very unlikely we'd get another chance.
I reached the room and saw that the Augur had not yet returned. I held up the key, and Boog nodded. “Good idea.”
“How about this?” I held up the book.
Boog took it and read the cover. “Are you insane?”
“Maybe. We could just play it safe, I suppose. But what if I’m right about the cult? I have a strong feeling about this.”
“Just like the strong feeling you had that Melovian history would figure prominently on our exam?”
“Won’t you ever forgive me for that? It was two years ago, and we passed it, after all.”
“No, YOU passed it. I, on the other hand, had Remedial Antiquities for two months with Lady Entlemousse. I can still smell her oniony breath.” He frowned at the memory.
I sighed. “It’s all right. We can leave it out, and I’ll be fine with that. It’s up to you.”
Boog chewed his lip. “A strong feeling?”
“Yes. Pretty…very strong.”
Boog looked annoyed. “Pretty strong, or very strong?”
“Very strong.”
Boog sat down hard on a bench. “All right, then.”
“So…?”
He made a submissive gesture toward the pool and slumped down in his seat. I ran up eagerly and removed the dagger, dropping the key in its place. Then I placed Sir Neggin’s manuscript carefully on the seventh rune.
As I dropped the dagger back into the bag of Stennis bits, the Augur returned. She glanced at Boog and climbed
the steps to the pool, where she surveyed my choices carefully. She gazed at the book for a long time, her eerie pink eyes impossible to read. Finally, she picked it up. I feared she was removing it from the pattern, but instead she walked around the pool.
“An interesting choice, Marten. But if we’re going to try that, let’s move it up a bit in the ranking.” She swapped the book for the wine bottle on the second rune and moved the wine down to the seventh position. I felt quite proud of myself and shot a triumphant look at Boog. He rolled his eyes.
The Augur began her preparatory ritual, sprinkling all seven objects with blue powder. I’d known its recipe for our augury examination, but I’ve forgotten the details. Saltpeter, ground eye socket bone, bat ears, something like that. Spiders, too, definitely spiders. Next, she pricked her finger with a slim silver dagger and dripped seven drops of blood carefully into the center of the pool. The water bubbled a bit. She pulled a small jar of salve out of her robe and rubbed some on her injured finger. This wasn’t strictly part of the ritual, but without the healing balm her fingers would be covered with scars by now with the incessant bleeding.
She stood, clasped her hands before her, and then proceeded to pull on each finger, cracking each knuckle, then pushed each finger to her palm with the opposite hand, cracking them again. Then she flexed them repeatedly, giving rise to numerous additional pops and cracks. Then she grabbed her head and chin and rotated her neck to both sides, giving out a startlingly loud series of crackles and crunches.
“Why does she do that?” whispered Boog, who’d come up to observe the pool.
“How does she do that?” I replied. I wasn’t sure, but I suspected it was mostly for show. The Augur was an odd individual.
Everything was ready. The Augur began to chant. It was ancient Arunian, the same language as the runes, often used in wizardry. I’d become crudely versed in it during our studies, and I knew the routine here, having done it myself on several occasions. I knew better than to hum along with her, though.