Justicar Jhee and the Cursed Abbey

by Trevol Swift

  “Clam up, you old goat. No one’s been stealing your drugs, old woman.” Sister Serra turned to Jhee. “My deliveries are less frequent. Our cash crops haven’t been the only things to suffer from the weather. We also keep the heavy pharmaceuticals under lock and key.”

  “I’ve got my eye on you,” Zalver shouted.

  “Well, remove it. I’m leaving. Bye, Sister Zalver. Come to the pods later. I’ll give you some real medicine.”

  Sister Serra left. Jhee turned toward a cordoned off infirmary section.

  “What’s this area over here?”

  Zalver guffawed. “At the moment, quarantine. It’s where Prospective Yaou stayed while ill.”

  “Usually, a quiet room for patients,” the infirmarian said. “Or where staff nap when we’re busy.”

  “If the doctor would allow me?” Jhee asked.

  The physician tossed Jhee a fresh pair of medical gloves and an infection mask. “Do be careful, Justicar. We don’t know what he died of.”

  “I will.”

  “Did he leave any belongings?”

  “His effects are over there. They were meant to go to the mortician,” the infirmarian said.

  “Should be the incinerator,” Zalver yelled. “I meant to take them myself. I intend to fumigate everything when I get the time, but it’s been so busy here.”

  Jhee contemplated the abandoned infirmary again.

  “I’ve already disinfected it. Several times over,” the infirmarian said.

  “Like I’d trust you to do a job like that right.”

  Once Zalver wandered off again muttering, Jhee searched the sickroom’s plain bed and chest. The same rough, simple sheets as the other Prospectives. Jhee flung open the wardrobe against the far wall. The interior held a few day robes. Their hangers scraped along the clothing rod as browsed through them. Plain, but fashionable. Not the sort of clothing clergy or laity would wear. “When was the last time someone stayed in this room?”

  “Just before your arrival.”

  Jhee pitched her voice low. “Passing strange Prospectives chose to put themselves under the physician’s care when they knew to go elsewhere if truly ill.”

  “Not everyone stayed away. Abbess Saheli for one. Vizier Bathsheba stayed here after her accident. Sister Elkanah often complained of cuts and rashes from dealing with the archives.”

  “Naturally, she wouldn’t seek out Sister Serra.”

  “Her injuries reminded me more of those the gardeners get.”

  “Oh? The Prospective she brought in, what was his condition like?”

  “I’m no doctor.”

  “You tended him nonetheless.”

  “He didn’t seem sick. At least, not until the end. I think he may have been hiding.”

  “From who?” The infirmarian kept his eyes to the floor. Jhee approached him. “If you know something, you should tell me.”

  “On several of Sister Elkanah’s visits, I found her in here. The last time was just after he died.”

  “Who does the bed checks? You or the doctor?”

  “Sister Zalver, but she logs it. If you could not tell, she prefers I not perform certain duties. I checked the logs, though, none of our patients went missing.”

  “According to Sister Zalver. And her questionable faculties. Thank you.” Jhee raised her voice, “Sister Zalver, I’ll take these off your hands.”

  “Please, do.”

  The Morgue

  Outside the infirmary, Jhee quickly went through the box. Nothing except a basic Prospective’s robe and shift. Cologne emanated from the box and its contents. The infirmarian must have doused everything in the infirmary. When she shook out the clothes to check for hidden pockets, a peculiar woven bracelet with a thin coin-shaped charm clattered to the ground. She did not recognize the decoration on its faces. The likeness of some Lesser Island Maker or ancestor, no doubt, perhaps even Maker geld.

  “Has that half-blind goat got you running her errands?”

  Jhee vaguely remembered the mortician as one of the clerics who had danced and sang at the feast. “I volunteered. I was there seeking relief already.”

  “Brave woman. Worst smelling living person I’ve ever met. I asked for his personal effects days ago. Put them over there with the others.”

  “Zalver wanted to burn them. She thought they might be infectious. Did you perform autopsies on the bodies?”

  “Pursuant to the Justicar’s new directives. The prioress and I did. One showed the markers of being crushed by rubble. Prospective Yaou asphyxiated. Evidence of cyanosis. No fluid in the lungs.”

  “Abbess Saheli?”

  “As best I could. Her remains were quickly interred in the crypts given the miraculous nature of her death, and the necessity to embalm before the crypts became inaccessible.”

  “Anything unusual about the body? Any signs of violence?”

  “Nothing not in keeping with the spirited nature of her last sermon. She looked quite peaceful. Not like the poor Prospective who drowned, though. Crabs had got at the body. Hard to tell if he died of something else. I could send you the autopsy images.”

  “Dear Makers, no. I mean my conch is almost full, and I can’t signal out to ether it. I’d like my senior spouse to review them, however. I’ll give you a routing code for his device.”

  “If ya like.”

  Jhee noted the dates on the boxes. “Are these the effects from the others who died?”

  “Ayup.”

  “May I?”

  “If ya like.”

  Jhee recoiled from the mildewed smell of Leigh, the drowned Prospective’s belongings. Her headache worsened. “The prospective who drowned. Where was his body found?”

  “Out past the breakers on the far side of the isle.”

  Drowning. Breakers. Jhee cringed. Perhaps she would investigate into that locale later. “Ever heard of the person called the Mist Abbess?”

  The mortician chuckled. “Zalver can’t help yammering about conspiracies and secret cabals, can she? A tale to frighten misbehaving novices. Obey the rules or the Mist Abbess will get you.”

  Jhee closed the box. “Is this all their effects?”

  “The abbey sells or salvages what we can. I do keep a log.” The mortician brought Jhee her records. “Yes. Yes. I remember this. The one who drowned was found with a sizable quantity of minted shell on his person. As well as an antique chest containing more in his trunk. It’s not unusual for refugees to have hard currency. It’s traditional to donate it to the abbey, though, upon taking orders. Such a large amount of it though. I informed the prioress, and we logged it into the treasury. I believe I still have the chest as I was waiting for the rest of his effects. It seemed valuable like a family heirloom of some sort. I kept it in case we located his family.”

  She had seen stamped shells, the former hard currency, more and more. With the wall wreaking havoc on inter-isle communication, centralized banking and currency transfer had become less reliable. Shell promissory notes and markers had regained popularity.

  The mortician led Jhee to a locker and pulled out a black lacquer chest of exquisite make. While she did not have Kanto’s eye for finery, she admired the angular, scrollwork and craftsmanship.

  What would a novitiate be doing with this? A holdover from the days prior to starting down the cleric’s path? A prospective monk should have either left such items with family or given them to the abbey to do good works. She delved further into the man’s belongings where she found a wrapped bundle of delicate and expensive silk containing another of those coin bracelets tied to a single shell of currency looped through with leather cord. She sniffed the cloth, a trace of musky perfume or cologne. Why would a novitiate have such an item? What manner of unnatural acts went on at this retreat?

  Jhee held up the two bracelets side by side. “What do you make of these?”

  “What have you got there?”

  “I found them among the other Prospectives’ effects.”

  “Maker or cr
aft geld of some sort? I haven’t quite seen this one before.”

  “Me neither. Mind if I hold on to these?”

  “If ya like. Could they be from the reliquary or archives?”

  “How would they gain access?”

  The mortician chewed on her finger quill. “This is a peculiar structure honeycombed with nooks. During renovations, we often find old caches of weapons and food, sometimes valuables. The earthquake also uncovered a few more of its secrets.”

  “The minting marks are too recent.”

  The mortician chewed her quill more.

  “What is it?” Jhee asked.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  “If you’ve thought of something, please.”

  “I didn’t actually see the prioress log the money into the treasury.”

  “Why should that cause you concern?”

  “I’m loathed to relay gossip, mind.”

  Why should anyone stop now? Jhee bit her tongue even though she wanted the mortician to be out with it already. “No, please, do.”

  “I heard Saheli caught her stealing.”

  Jhee pressed against her nose in hopes from some relief from the pressure. “You’ve been more than helpful.”

  “Sinuses?”

  “I got a powerful whiff of the mildew.”

  “Go see Sister Serra. She grows the medicinal herbs for the infirmary, and I dare say she’d be better at fixing what ails you than Zalver.”

  “I’ll take your advice. Soon. The prospective who they found crushed. What can you tell me about his death?”

  “Buried by falling debris in the courtyard when the tremor hit. Suffocated, poor thing. Interesting if you think about it all three lost their breath.”

  Jhee went to note her findings and noticed her low battery. “Mind if I induct for a bit.”

  “If ya like.”

  Jhee input her notes manually. Dictation required power and space her conch lacked. And she still couldn’t transmit.

  “You’ll not get nothing down here. Best try the storm light spire.”

  A long, arduous trek to the top of another spiral tower ranked low on the list of actions she wanted to perform. The prioress did mention the solar arrays.

  Jhee charged her conch a few more minutes before heading for the nearest wing to the solar array. She stared at the door hearing the rain and crying winds outside. The Storm Child’s rage had quieted some since she arrived. It was still guaranteed to be wet and miserable out, though. She clutched her robes about her and sighed before she stepped into the elements.

  On a storm rent night, the panels were a nightmare of reflections and shadows. The eyesight played tricks. Difficult to tell if someone stood amongst them. With an overactive imagination, perfect fodder for more eerie sightings. Jhee sheltered by the arrays for some protection from the wind and rain.

  Creatures dashed this way and rustled that way through the weeds amongst the solar panel bases. Jhee hoped. The moisture beaded off them or ran to the ground in rivulets to puddle underneath them. She held her conch aloft. At first, she saw nothing then a single pip faded in. It acted a guttering candle flame in the wind. She exclaimed with excitement.

  “What was that?” a snatch of words on the wind said.

  A disjointed reply came chopped and sliced by the wind. “Nothing... crab-rats.”

  One of the eponymous crab-rats scurried by Jhee. She pressed her mouth closed to stifle a yelp. Who would come out here now aside from her? Those who wanted privacy and nothing but the winds and willows to keep their secrets.

  Jhee doused her conch within her robes and dimmed her eye color. It took a moment for her eyesight to adjust. A little way off she saw the prioress talking to Raigen. Jhee murmured a concealment cypher. Before she completed her eavesdropping formulation, the pair separated.

  The abbey door clanked open. Raigen went inside while the prioress remained a glow orb in one hand and a large bundle in the other. Jhee huddled closer to the solar array. The prioress went to the far edge of the array before giving a sharp whistle which cut through the storm noise. Another figure came from the mists, and she handed the bundle off. The prioress stopped before the door to the abbey and gave another quick look around. She peered in Jhee’s direction for a long time then turned and went inside.

  Jhee used the delay to examine the Bridge Tower from this vantage. A discolored patch corresponded to the scorched section seen on her visit. After some quick and dirty triangulation, she traced the faulty section of the array. Several had bent struts smudged with soot, a short-circuit perhaps. She captured an image with her conch. Saheli may have collapsed from sunstroke. Had Saheli’s transcendence taken place in the tower, this may have accounted for the brilliant flash of light.

  Jhee waited a little longer before she headed for the warmth and dryness of the abbey. Her measly long-range signal pip had gone almost immediately once she was inside. She contacted Bax and set him about the task of trailing Raigen.

  Jhee yawned. Anything else she might do must wait until tomorrow, though. She returned to her spouses, soaking wet.

  “Were the supplies underwater?” Shep asked.

  “Don’t even get me started. The physician tried to give me an emetic.”

  “Vomiting? For a headache?” Mirrei asked.

  “Tomorrow, I’ll inquire about topping up our stores with the Mistress of Horticulture.”

  10 The Isle

  The Shed

  Early in the morning, Jhee sought out the horticulturist. A few Prospectives who had been standing around talking hurried back to work. Jhee paused to have a gander at Saheli’s favorite spot. Her mixed company on the initial tour meant she had not been able to investigate it as thoroughly as she wanted. Jhee rested on the bench and cast about her. White flickering from the ajar shed door drew her attention. She moved closer.

  Sister Serra slapped Jhee on the back. She gasped hard to get her wind back. “None the worse for wear for your visit to Sister Souse, I see?”

  Jhee felt a sharp pinch on her wrist. She found a bog gnat making a meal of her. She flicked its squished remains away. “Indeed. Your arrival was quite timely.”

  “I have standing orders with her assistants to call me if they’re concerned. Try this. It’s a mild analgesic.”

  The horticulturist handed Jhee a tube of spike leaf ointment.

  “Zalver mentioned something about missing drugs.”

  “Not missing. Rationed. Besides Sister Souse isn’t licensed to prescribe. Even if she were, we have doubts about how many of the pharmaceuticals would reach the patients. The prime suspect in the matter was the good doctor herself. She may have been a good doctor once until her senses started to go, and the self-medication. We cut back her supplies after a few mishaps.”

  “She’s still allowed to practice. Why?”

  “Same reason she got assigned: nepotism. We’ve been waiting for a replacement almost two full-years. Many doctors are moving inland. The Soothbringers have been offering free healing lessons. Penance they say. They charge no fees to learn or for their services. Though, the healing does involve the new science. We are an order who eschews arcana. Most healers have incorporated at least some of their techniques into their work. It’s getting harder to find doctors who don’t in some way.”

  “To hear her tell it, she still does a brisk trade.”

  “Sister Zalver’s favored remedies use spirits of the alcoholic kind. In particular, she views our select blend as a cure-all. I suspect it’s the only reason anyone still seeks her out for ‘treatment.’ Most learned to come to me or the prioress. Now, I have an extensive selection of mood-adjusters, medicines, and herbal remedies. Fill me in on the nature of the complaint, and I can narrow it down for you. For nightmares and trouble sleeping, I suggest tharos root, though it does vex the ability to cypher. For shakes and tremors, lilac acid tincture. Night flower for mania and midnight bloom for melancholy.”

  While her herbalism and pharmacology were a little o
xidized, Jhee found no quibble with any of those suggestions; unlike what the physician had recommended. Jhee might consult an expert, Mirrei, or bring her along on a return visit.

  “Something scholarly, perhaps. A study aid. I have several preparations good for memory and focus. Others which make one more receptive to learning, and creative and imaginative thinking.”

  “I think perhaps I should just stick to the items on my list.”

  “Your choice. If I may?” Jhee handed Sister Serra her list, who touched her chin and bobbed her head in approval. “Lashotic remedies. Solid choices. Portable and easy to store. You’ll want them pre-dried and ready for transport. We’ll have to go into the apothecary stores.”

  “If it’s not breaking any confidences, mind if I ask what you prescribed to Saheli?”

  “I’m no doctor. Simply a gifted amateur. Verdale, where I’m from, was teeming in plant life. A lot of it useful. A lot of it hostile. Mistake brightshade for blightshade, you’d regret it.”

  The bog gnats continued to buzz around Jhee. She swatted them away. “Am I clear on understanding that Saheli partook of brightshade?”

  “Just so. It’s one of those study aids I mentioned. It does have hallucinogenic properties though and is best not taken alone. Saheli took two seeds twice a week under my supervision for meditation purposes. We sometimes sought the four conjunctions together which lie deep in barbarian lands. All save one have fallen into their hands. The only way to visit them is via the use of ecstatics to open the mind and commune with the Makers through visions. Though, she had begun to develop a tolerance to it.”

  “Is that why you went up the spire to check on her and didn’t want her to go to the infirmary?”

  Sister Serra took up a glass pipe and packed the dried leaves into it. She rubbed her fingers together, which produced just enough flame to heat it. She took a deep drag and held it before releasing a voluminous cloud of smoke. “No one in their true mind wants to go to our infirmary. Saheli humored Zalver to make her feel useful. However, she also knew her, the prioress, and Elkanah to be tiresomely orthodox and inflexible. When I glanced over and found her gone, a closer look revealed her on the floor. You are right I did rush to the tower to search for any trace of seed of enlightenment, so they wouldn’t know. Meanwhile, the cat licked everything in sight, including her spilled drink. It escaped when I opened the door.”