by Dave Dobson
Hopefully they could begin to refill the pool soon, although I thought they probably waited on the Augur’s recovery. I did not doubt the estimate of a month to fill it again. I looked around the room, at the carved columns, at the benches set out for observers, and at the neat stack of cleaning cloths, in case anything messy was placed on the runes.
As I retreated back down the stairs, I wondered at the sophistication of the ancient masons who had constructed this chamber, about which the Guild Hall had been constructed much later. The room was a perfect circle, its dimensions accurate and identical beyond our ability to measure. The tiles were set perfectly, the runes carved flawlessly, the ornate decorations repeated meticulously around the chamber. And none of it had shifted or abraded in all the centuries of use. There must be some powerful magic at work at this place, and so much knowledge about it must have been lost since its creation.
It was then that I suddenly realized I was staring at the diamond pattern that made up the chamber’s floor. I had seen it so many times that I barely noticed it anymore, but the tiles around the basin were a diamond of black marble, surrounded by a ring of white marble extending to the wall. In a flash, I was on my knees, examining the floor. I closed my eyes and imagined the plan of the Guild Hall and the chamber’s place in that plan. I had entered from the south, so I crawled over to the northern side.
Each tile in the floor around the raised dais had, carved into it, a rune filled with gold. Many had been translated, but others remained a mystery. It wasn’t anything I gave much thought to anymore — just decorations in the room. As I crawled over to the northern part of the black diamond, however, I had eyes only for the runes. And in the triangular tile that made up the northernmost corner of that diamond, I saw a symbol that turned my insides all tingly.
Carved into that tile, by hands at least eight hundred years dead, was a full moon partially obscuring a sunburst, an exact duplicate of the amulet.
12
A Rugged Fellow
Boog had our prisoner by the arm and was hauling him roughly along. “Hey!” complained the mud-spattered man, wiping a small feather from his upper lip. "That hurts!”
Boog just snarled at the man, and the prisoner promptly shut his mouth. I’d have shut mine too. Boog was in a nasty temper after having pursued this individual, a Maurice Houghton, across a field, down a stream, through a barn, and into a chicken house. Small tufts of feathers still stuck to both of them, especially their wet, muddy boots. I'd avoided being so decorated by mere good fortune, having circled around to the back of the farmhouse in case he attempted to escape.
Escape he had, but through a side window. By the time I’d seen him fleeing across the field, with Boog charging after him, I was much too far behind to catch up, and I had followed at a more sedate pace. Which fit the case, a fairly mundane one: a carpet merchant in town had discovered a dozen carpets missing from her warehouse. I wondered at the wisdom of the thieves –– there were many more portable, more valuable items to steal than carpets. Most of those the Guild apprehended were not blessed with genius.
This was our fifth case in the three weeks since finding Novara dead, with three solved and two still active. Sophie Borchard had kept us hard at work after the Novara business, and I didn’t know if it was merely because the Guild was so short-handed, or whether she was trying to keep us from looking further into those earlier events. We’d split our extra time three ways. I was to work in the library, trying to figure out what the moon and sun symbol meant. Gueran was using his placement in noble circles to try to dig up more information on Marron and his connection to Novara. Boog had set out to do some legwork in the city, trying to track down anyone with connections to Novara and Stennis, and Marron too, for that matter. I know we’d been warned off Marron, but some orders seemed less mandatory than others. More guidelines, or suggestions, really. Tips. Regardless, I’d barely had time to sleep, much less make any real progress in my studies, and I was sure the same was true for Boog and Gueran.
Working with Gueran had been surprisingly less annoying than I had anticipated. I had originally doubted that it would work, but either his dunking in the privy or our shared purpose had dampened some of his more obnoxious tendencies. Not that he couldn’t still be a pompous boor, to be sure. But I had to admit his competence, and he seemed to share with me and Boog a love for the Guild and a strong sense that we’d been bought off.
If only we’d had more time, but criminals don’t normally wait on our convenience. This case, of the purloined carpets, had been fairly routine thus far. We’d checked out the merchant’s employees, but they all seemed unlikely, and most had witnesses as to their location on the night of the robbery. The customer list the merchant provided had proved similarly unhelpful until we’d hit upon Maurice, whom the merchant described as a frequent visitor to the shop, but one who’d never purchased anything. We’d come to his farm merely to question him, but his attempt at flight made me think we might have found our man.
Boog shoved Maurice back into the farmhouse, a large, well-made building with two stories. Maurice stumbled a bit on the wood floor, and I worried that he might fall, as his hands were tied behind his back. He stayed up, though. He looked scared and sweaty, his face flushed and glowing in the light of a small oil lamp.
Boog pushed Maurice down onto a chair, causing some feathers to go fluttering about. I wandered about the house, opening doors to some of the other rooms. Oddly enough, each room I visited had a fine, new carpet laid tastefully out on the floor. One even had a small parchment tag displaying a rather exorbitant price tied to its edge. Tsk, tsk, Farmer Houghton. I untied the tag and returned to the front room, where Boog had begun questioning the farmer.
“So, Maurice, we hear you’ve taken an interest in carpets from the south,” said Boog.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” stammered Maurice. "I hate carpets. Always have.”
“But you’ve got a carpet in almost every room,” I said. “Not very common for a farmhouse. You’d think they’d get muddy.”
“They’re family heirlooms,” said Maurice.
I held up the tag.
“I was planning to sell that one,” he said. “Hate carpets.”
Boog shook his head. “I saw two more in the cart in the barn. I suppose you were off to market to sell those family heirlooms as well?”
Maurice looked pretty miserable, but he said nothing. Boog pulled out his small notebook and pencil and began writing down details. Maurice squeezed closed his eyes. Finally, he spoke.
“This isn’t going to go very well for me, is it?” he asked.
Boog and I looked at each other. I flicked a feather off of Boog’s tunic. “No,” I said. “I don’t think so.”
“What is the penalty for carpet theft?” he asked. “Not that I stole anything, or know of any carpet thieves,” he added lamely.
“That depends on a lot of things,” I said, “but it’s up to the Justiciary, not us. If you confess and cooperate, that can help. If the carpets are all present here, and undamaged, that might help. If you turn in an accomplice, or someone you were going to sell them too, that might help. If you can provide us with valuable information, we can sometimes put in a good word.”
Maurice looked unhappy. “But what is the range of possible penalties?”
Boog smiled. “Well, they might let you off with public flogging and a fine. Or confiscation of the property here, and all your belongings. Or, they might cut off a hand. This isn’t quite serious enough for the iron maiden or the rack, wouldn't you say, Marty?”
“No, the rack would be a stretch,” I replied, smiling. We’d done this routine countless times, but it never failed to crack me up.
Boog grinned back. “And there’s always death.”
Maurice blanched. “Death?”
“You can’t rule it out,” said Boog. “If the judge is a friend of the merchant, or had a bad egg at breakfast, say. They can be quite capricious.”
> Not strictly true, I thought. The Code of Laws described the range of penalties for most crimes in fairly specific detail. But I let Boog have his fun. He was covered with feathers, after all.
“Bad egg,” mumbled Maurice, his eyes wide.
“So, what will it be, Maurice?” I asked.
He sagged a bit in his seat. “There are five in the house, four in the storage shed out back, and three in the cart in the barn.”
Twelve. Excellent. That would be all of them. “Why carpets, Maurice?” I asked. I had to know. “Why not gems, or artwork? Or, chickens?" Boog shot me an annoyed look.
“I love carpets,” he replied, looking miserable. “Always have.”
We tied his ankles and wrists to the chair and searched the farm. All of the carpets were where he said. They looked to have been lovingly cared for. When we returned, he looked anxious.
“I’ve thought of something! Something that might help!” he cried as soon as we entered the house. “I was at a tavern a few days ago, and I overheard a group next to me talking about a meeting.”
“Fascinating,” said Boog. “A meeting. Shall we let him go now, Marty?”
“No,” he cried. “It was not a normal meeting. They were bad.”
“Oh, well, if they were bad, then sure,” said Boog.
“Listen to me!” Maurice was getting agitated. “They spoke of stolen goods, and of kidnapping!”
Boog snorted. We’d heard this kind of tale a number of times, and Maurice certainly seemed more likely to have an active imagination than to have stumbled upon something important. I figured we should hear him out, though. There was no harm in listening. “What goods? What kidnapping? Why didn’t you mention this before?”
Maurice looked at me with some calculation. “You’ll get me mercy from the judges?”
“No promises,” I replied. “Tell us what you know.”
Maurice took a deep breath. “They said they were meeting at the empty Jezarmi warehouse on the wharf road, by the fountain there. The one with the red doors? I only noticed because it was near the carpet warehouse. That got my attention.”
He paused, looking at us for approval, and I motioned for him to go on. “One seemed like the leader. She said they needed to meet there in five days – that would be two days from now. At midnight. Pick up their payment there, and drop off the goods, and their guest."
“This sounds more like a business deal than a high crime,” I said, doubtful.
“But they laughed when they said ‘guest’ – and they were acting in a very suspicious manner.”
“Suspicious how?”
“I don’t know, suspicious. They were armed, and they looked mean.”
“Which tavern?”
“The Burly Boar, in town—”
“I know it. How many?”
“Five or so, I think. Maybe six. They came and went.”
“Any uniform, or distinguishing features?”
Maurice thought for a moment. “No, no uniform. They were all strong, tough-looking, mostly women. I was scared of them, so I moved to the other side of the tavern.”
I looked at Boog. This was weak. He said, “This is the best you can do? There’s nothing that says the goods were stolen, or that their guest is a prisoner.”
“Look, the warehouse there is empty, and it’s been closed down for years. I go by there all the time taking my goods to market. There’s no legitimate business going on there."
“This Jezarmi – Boog, you heard of it? A merchant, a family, or a company?” I asked.
He shook his head, but he was thoughtful. “Sounds familiar somehow.”
Maurice looked at us expectantly. “So, you’ll check it out? I’ll get mercy?”
Boog pulled Maurice up from his chair. “You’ll get what’s coming to you. But we’ll see.” Suddenly, he paused. “Jezarmi…Jezarmi…”
Boog looked down at Maurice, who was gazing up at him curiously. “What are you looking at?” asked Boog. He gave Maurice a shove, and we continued out the building.
13
Down to the Letter
The next morning, before working on our report on Maurice’s ill-planned robbery, I visited the Augur first thing after breakfast. She’d been making a steady recovery. She'd even resumed some of her duties, which now centered solely on refilling the pool. I pressed her for information on the rune in the north corner.
“Ah, Marten,” she said. “I wish I could tell you more. As you may recall from your lessons, we know the meaning and significance of only a portion of the runes in the room. The seven around the pool, the most central, we believe simply to be numbers, indicating the rank of the objects placed upon them. The rest, out on the main floor, must have had great significance to the builders, but we do not know much about them. The four runes we think of as elements are displayed among them – earth, air, fire, water. The others are a jumble, with no apparent connection between even those whose meaning we know. The four at the cardinal directions, at the corners of the diamond, may have had some significance. We think the south one, the flower, to be life, and the east one love, but the west appears nowhere in our histories. The north one, though – that was the sign of an ill-omened religious movement, back in my grandfather's day, as I think the book you brought indicated. Quite a scandal, with many nobles involved.”
“If the south is life,” I asked, “couldn’t the north be death?"
“Several have proposed that interpretation,” she replied, “and I’ve found it plausible, but there’s simply no evidence one way or another. That doesn’t necessarily fit the moon and sun symbols, but it is folly to presume to know their thinking. I was curious enough to use the amulet and the book in your augury, to my regret."
I knelt once more to study the carving as the Augur puttered about, cleaning the distillation apparatus for the creation of more water for the pool, occasionally cracking a knuckle out of habit. What the rune could mean, and why it was so important to Novara, I still had no clue. From behind me, I heard the Augur’s voice. “Have you learned anything new about your mysterious rune, Marten?”
“No, Madame. Unfortunately not,” I replied, rising from the floor. “I’ve had little time to spare, to be honest.”
“And your vision of the city’s fiery doom?”
“Still as much of a puzzle as ever.”
She walked over to me and placed a hand on my shoulder, leaning gently on me for support. “I find that the most troubling bit of all about this whole affair, more than the amulet and the symbol, more than the strange magic of that day, and certainly more than my own incapacitation. I’ve never known the pool to fail in a prediction that clear, and I’ve not read of such a failure in any of the records.”
“You’re sure it was a prediction, and not an image of some distant past?” I asked.
“You said you saw the clock tower, did you not? That is less than sixty years old. I can remember seeing it built when I was a young girl. We’ve not had a rain of fire from the sky in my lifetime. Even as addle-brained as some think I am, I'd have likely noticed that.”
“The future, then,” I mused. “One of the pool’s rare foretellings. But we cannot know how soon it will be. Maybe it will be centuries in the future.”
“I’d rather not count on that, Marten,” she said. “The pool draws its images from the objects around it, and, with the possible exception of the book, those objects were all bound together by current events, in the present time. If the connections between them inspired that terrible scene, then I fear it may not be far off.”
Her voice had grown softer and more ominous as she spoke. I stood there, full of fear, pondering the imminent destruction of all that I knew and loved.
The Augur patted my shoulder. “Of course, I may be full of fever dreams and fancy,” she said. “I’m just a crazy old woman who tends a giant magical bathtub, after all.”
I wished the Augur good luck at refilling the pool and decided to find Boog to complete our report, although I wo
uld much rather have been working on the rune than on Maurice’s petty malfeasance. The end of the world ranks a bit higher in my book than stolen floor coverings. As I was about to go, the Augur perked up. “Say, have you done anything with that amulet?”
“No, I haven’t,” I replied. “I guess it must have been returned to evidence storage. Frankly, I haven’t wanted to mess with it since the augury.”
“Well, I was thinking, I have a friend, a scholar named Monique Lenarre. She’s one of the Prelate’s advisors. She lives in the north tower in the castle and has a workshop there. You might want to let her examine it. She’s something of an expert in ancient magic. Well, she fancies herself one, I should say.” The Augur grinned, then went back to her reagents. “Moni might have some insight. I’ll let her know you’ll be visiting.”
This sounded promising, at least more so than another late night at the library. Maurice could wait, I thought, rather recklessly, hoping Boog wouldn’t be too angry. I headed over to the evidence storage chamber. Through the thick bars blocking the window, I could see the evidence clerk, Lianna Willis, there at her desk.
“Hi there, Lia,” I said, trying for my friendliest, most chipper voice. “I was hoping to take another look at the amulet we were using on that case a couple weeks ago. I've got a new lead on it.”
Lia looked at me dourly. “That case has been closed, and all the evidence pertaining to it is under an impound order.”
Impounded. That was very rare, and usually reserved for extremely valuable items. It certainly wasn’t done for an entire case, unless the case involved a top-secret investigation ordered by the Prelate.