by Trevol Swift
Jhee smiled and nodded. Mirrei always the apt pupil. Jhee’s quick praise of Mirrei made her pause.
“The poetess claims the deaths were murders.”
“Do you believe her?”
“Unsure. What I do know about the poetess is she is an accomplished liar and troublemaker. I thought it best if I look into it.”
“Flagging and addressing irregularities others missed or ignored is how you got your reputation.”
Jhee sighed. “And our one-way trip to the capital.”
“Who else can boast their wedding feast ended with half the guests arrested?”
Jhee shook the inhaler. It rattled lightly. “Don’t remind me.”
“Almost empty?”
“Ugh, greens houses again it is.” Jhee dabbed gel on another bite. “Come with. You can pick up your supplies while I make inquiries and perhaps let me know what exactly she is growing in there.”
“Thank you,” Mirrei said.
“Thank me for what?”
“For losing that frown, that look. The piteous, worried expression everyone has around me.”
“I’m sure they do not mean to offend.”
“It’s just tiresome. I do know what is going on with myself and my health.”
“Do you feel I disrespect or am overly dismissive of you?”
“I know you can’t abide foolishness. Foolish in your mind often equates to age.”
Jhee took hold of Mirrei’s dainty, slight hand and kissed it. It certainly felt a shade warmer and stronger than usual. “My apologies.”
Mirrei tapped the tip of Jhee’s nose. “Note, I only accept because I’ve seen improvement in your behavior. Towards me at least. Let’s go.”
The Greens Houses
The pair found Sister Serra waxing her wave skimming board and puffing on her glass pipe by the shed.
“Decided to take me up on my offer, eh? I could give you some seed of enlightenment for your man there. It works wonders for those afflicted with the war mind. Saheli found it most helpful.”
“He wouldn’t take it.”
“Too proud, I suppose. Perhaps an elixir for yourselves then. I have many.”
The Sister propped up the skimmer and offered them the pipe. Jhee waved away the smoke.
“Do you not partake at all or just when you are investigating? You think Saheli and those other Prospectives were murdered. You’ve been running about the isle asking questions.”
“You are very well informed.”
“I have my ways.”
The wave skimmer propped up beside the work shed fell over. Mirrei held up her hands. “Sorry. Curious and clumsy.”
“My wave skimmer. Do you skim?”
Mirrei sparkled her eyes and blushed. “Me? I could never.”
“You should. Can’t skim much since the weather turned bad. Although, knew some suicidal skimmers who would try. Makers bless them.”
“I adore your extraction setup. Is this where you refine your guidance seeking tinctures?”
Mirrei spoke softer as she moved down the work area away from the skimmer and shed. If Sister Serra wanted to hear, she had to follow.
“I’ve also been studying the mold and mildew affecting the crops.”
“I remember. Noble rot. For your new wine, correct?”
“Among other things. I’m corresponding with pharmaceutical companies about the blight and major farming operations about hardier crop strains.”
The lock on the shed hung unsecured. Jhee peeked. A black and white bundle behind a curtain caught Jhee’s attention. Jhee moved aside a bit of cloth. She recognized the Maye Queen’s headdress and robes. Mirrei pointed opposite Jhee’s direction.
“Is this good for migraines? Denbe and I get the most terrible headaches.”
“How do you normally treat them?”
“I make a sweet-smelling poultice. Lashotic.”
“Of course.”
“My, that’s a nasty scrape on your hand. How’d you get it?”
“Hm, don’t know. Running around in the vineyard somewhere.”
Jhee returned holding the Maye Queen robe and headdress. “Or cavorting at a bonfire in the orchard?”
“Makers’ whim,” Sister Serra said. “It was a lark. We found some masks and did some rituals to the Warrior of Pain. No harm done.”
“Sister Elkanah might disagree. These belong to the archives, correct? Along with your ritual implements: the ceremonial dagger and chalice.”
“I planned to return them. Eventually. Because of who they’re associated with, she didn’t guard them closely as the others.”
“How did you gain access without being seen?”
“This place is honeycombed with passages and exits. Escape routes put in after the massacres so that the residents could always have a way out.”
“Did Saheli stumble upon one of your revels?”
“No.”
“You involved Prospectives in your little revels?”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps some of your participants changed their minds or had an attack of guilt. Were the dead Prospectives part of your little cabal?”
“No.”
“They threatened to tell Saheli.”
“No!”
“Maybe remorse so overcame them, they wanted to go to Saheli and confess their misconduct.”
“Please, Justicar. You have it all wrong. Ask the mortician. We were both at the rite the evenings of the fall and the first tremor along with a dozen other village elders. Despite my boasts, I don’t hand out medicine to or revel with just anyone. With Saheli, I finally felt like I had an ally. She was willing to honor other aspects of the Makers than the stern disapproving ones. I think she was one of the few who truly understood my path as ecstatic rather than ascetic. Saheli was open to the ecstatic path. What worth is it to kill my most powerful ally? I think Saheli made her wishes clear. She saw the pods and farming as the future of the abbey, not Elkanah’s musty, old books and bones. The copy I got hold of must of been an old one. Saheli showed me her plan to enlarge the agriculture operations. A tasting room and shop to bring in more funds for the abbey.”
“You ran to Sister Elkanah to gloat about it.”
“No, but she found out somehow. Imagine how well she took it. I saw them arguing, and I caught her following the abbess. She’s who you should be questioning. With Pyrmo in charge, Elkanah has exactly what she wants. A more conservative abbess with as much greed for relics as her. The sick Prospective was her creature. She used him to spy among other things. That is when she wasn’t doing it herself. I wouldn’t be surprised if she poisoned him. You won’t tell Pyrmo or Sister Elkanah, will you? If the Justicar would see fit not to... should the Justicar be interested perhaps in attending herself I’m sure we could come to some reciprocal arrangement.”
“Stop right there, before you sail into a bribery charge. I’ll confirm your story first then decide how to proceed.”
15 The Charmer
A Favor
Mirrei waited outside while Jhee got a quick confirmation of Sister Serra’s whereabouts from the mortician. The woman perspired and stammered throughout but confirmed Serra’s account of the revels in the orchard. She was full of profuse apologies for her behavior, regrets that Shep would not be able to autopsy the bodies, the state of the fields. Given enough time, she might have confessed to the assassination of Qamate. Perhaps indeed Serra and the mortician’s frolics in the orchard had led to tales of the Mist Abbess resurfacing. With the two alibiing each other, there were two more suspects removed from her list. She might keep an eye on them all the same. There was still the matter of the contraband and wine smuggling.
“I hope that didn’t upset you too much,” Jhee said.
“You work is more exciting than I imagined. Who knew an abbey could be such a hotbed of intrigue and scandal? Fertility cults. Affairs. Rueful confessions.”
Time to move on to Jhee’s next likely suspect, the archivist. She had yet to speak to
the woman since their first trip to the archives. Who would have thought she would have dreaded a visit a place full of so much history and knowledge? While she was there, she hoped to accomplish another task. Jhee needed a better map. This supposedly secure fortress of an abbey had more secret entrances and passages and back doors, so many no one could possibly know them all.
“I guess we better try to question the archivist now. I might prefer another stint with the bog gnats.”
“You know it might calm the waters between you and Kanto if you ask him to help with the investigation like you did me?”
“I’m unsure. I tried to have him identify a clue, but just made muck of it.”
“The last time we were at the archives, he buffered you and Sister Elkanah.”
“Maybe you should ask him. I’m not sure if he’s speaking to me right now.”
“It will mean more coming from you.”
Jhee and Mirrei returned to the room. Jhee sat beside Kanto. She cleared her throat and straightened her robes before proceeding, “Would you like to help me with my investigation?”
Kanto barely spared her a glance.
“I would like your help with my investigation. Please.”
“To what end?”
“Sister Elkanah.”
“Oh, so she is immune to your charms, then?”
“Please, be more reasonable than she is Kanto.”
“I’ve been reasonable for months. Even after you married a new spouse before you’d even wiped our wedding contract ink from your fingertips. I’ve been reasonable when you flee my every attempt to woo you. Or meet it with panic or disinterest. I have tried base appeals to your lust. Flattery. I often wonder if you would have warmed to me if I held back or presented you more of a puzzle. You thought you had me solved the moment we met.”
“People are dead, Kanto. I think we can agree that finding the killer is the priority.”
“Well, I’ve been asking questions on my own, denbe, and you know what I found? Given her age and the other activities she got up to, it’s no wonder Saheli died.”
“Please, you mustn’t go off investigating on your own. You have no authority to ask, and anything you find may be deemed unusable.” Jhee added, “That goes for both of you.”
“What do you want from me? I suppose you just want me to look pretty and act charming.”
“No, I—”
“Do you remember our first tea? I dressed impeccably. For a change, I saw some glimmer of the attraction and fascination I was used to receiving. I was putting away the tea service after you left when I realized I had been sitting in front of grandmamere’s antiquities collection.
“I’d hoped you’d be different than my mamere. House Kenyatta sires, denbe. Mamere was no exception. Officially, I have no baberes. Both sire and grandsire resided elsewhere upon the successful conclusion of their contracts. My dames had no use for them. Presumably, they settled down with those whom they loved and were loved by in return. My sire was particularly despised. He had produced female children for every dame except mamere. What she wanted was a daughter; a disappointment she never forgave my sire for or me. Being that I was not female, she had little time for me as well. Grandmamere, though, doted on me. She always kept a pouch of lace root melon candies. Every time I told her something new and interesting about the people who visited us, I got one. I’ve always known what likely paths lay before me. From the moment, I understood what my chastity tattoo meant. I will not be treated as my sire was.”
“My apologies. I have much to learn about having more than one spouse and many other matters. Please, help me with Sister Elkanah, and show me what you can do. That woman was insufferable.”
Kanto chuckled. “Where would I have gotten in life if I didn’t know how to flatter conceited old women? She’s a territorial, rigid, self-important academic. It’s no wonder you don’t get along. On our way then. I’ll help navigate these rocky waters. But you’ll owe me.”
“Owe you what?”
“I’ll think of something.”
Kanto’s smile filled Jhee with the notion she’d made a Dismantler’s Deal.
The Archives
The archivist popped her head out from behind the large book stand when Jhee, Kanto, and Mirrei entered the library. She sniffed. No one, least of all a Prospective, gained entry without her notice, yet somehow Sister Serra managed it when she stole the Maye headdresses and robes. “You. Again.”
“Sister Elkanah.”
“What this time?”
“Might I have access to your archives?”
“Didn’t your man just tear up the refectory?”
“Yes, but—”
“You must understand my first thought must be for the archives.”
“That was an exceptional circumstance.”
“I can’t take that chance.”
Jhee clenched her teeth then gave Kanto a pleading look.
“I understand your reluctance, Sister.” Kanto cast his eyes down. “I assure you I have no interest in arcana or the like. My grandmere always said it was not gentlemanly to cypher. It’s sage advice I’ve done my best to heed.”
“Your grandmere sounds like a sensible woman, unlike some others. Come then.”
“We weren’t the most Makerly household, but we did have a collection of antiquities and relics for our Maker shrine as my denbe here can attest.”
Jhee rushed to capitalize on the opening Kanto had provided. “I am given to understand you have a small library on local laws and ordinances.”
The archivist snorted. “And you wish to view them?”
“I thought perhaps I could contribute. A small gift of my own writings on the subject and a few relics from my personal collection.”
The archivist’s eyes sparkled and widened. “What kind of relics?” she said with measured pauses between her words.
“Hand-carved, late century adjudication weight and scales set given as a gift to the third prefect.”
“I am not interested in pagan idols. It would be inappropriate to have such things amongst our holy relics.”
“These though are purported to have been blessed by Canon Oandzo.”
“You have the provenance?”
“I have the signed note she sent along with the gift.”
“I’d have to have it authenticated. Which texts were you interested in viewing?”
“A few manifests which may be vital to my work, some reference books, and perhaps Sister Niza’s account of Saheli’s death.”
Sister Elkanah cut her a dubious look. “Make a new, formal request, and I’ll consult the abbess and the vizier on it.”
“Time is a factor.”
Jhee fished the access writ the vizier had slipped her from her sleeve and placed it on the book stand in front of the archivist. Once the archivist verified the card, she snorted at Jhee again. “Hopefully, this one is better trained. The same rules as last time. Nothing leaves the archives. Duplication is on a case by case basis. We have a station for conch image capture. However, not all items can be exposed to such direct lighting. No males allowed in the arcane archives whatsoever or near the bones of our honored dead.”
Glass doors which led to the staircase hissed open. Jhee and entourage crossed the threshold and traversed the steps to the library spire. Two paths flanked by tall stacks of shelves floor to ceiling diverged from the entryway behind the archivist. Jhee touched her palms together at angles for the First Makers’ clasp. She brought her crossed hands to her esca before proceeding.
To Jhee’s right, shelves bore every manner of chests and boxes. Stone, wood, polymer, colored glass. Some plain, some gilded and gleaming with jewels behind glass walls. Coffin-like chests. Funerary jars for the remains of the honored dead.
The right wing bore books in an endless array. Short, tall, fat, thin. Loosely bound sheaves of parchments. Document boxes. Aging conchs. Carved stones and shells whose weight and rough texture she already imagined in her hands. Or the slight scratch
ing of parchment paper between her fingers. The joy Jhee experienced in the mineral springs did not compare to what she felt now. In this archive, she might genuinely remain forever. Hour upon hours spent with tactile, visceral representations of history held in her hands. Such fragile treasures like the heart of a lover.
Jhee inhaled deep the air’s slight fishy tang. No doubt from the seaweed paper. A hint of decay and must from the flesh and blood and bones of canons and paragons reportedly housed here floated to her. Maybe the trace of an alchemist furnace or reagent created the sub-scents. One report she read of the archives said it housed the bones of a celestial.
As much as Jhee wanted to grab the nearest book or treasure and study it, she limited herself to the abbey’s records and histories. She, Kanto, and Mirrei began to pour over books.
“Pirates and raiders destroyed or overran many other area monasteries,” Kanto said. “Tranquility Bridge survived due to its unique location and large number of fighters. The Abbey of the Broken Sword was originally founded by ex-soldiers who had turned to the ways of religious reflection. They changed the Pillarist name Swordbridge to Broken Sword.”
“And from that to Tranquility Bridge,” Mirrei said.
Jhee turned a page of the text she read, records of building supply purchases. Curiously she could not find the architectural drawings she saw her first visit. “The Abbey of the Broken Sword at Tranquility Bridge. Technically, Tranquility Bridge is the name of the bridge, not the abbey.”
“It says here that an untold number of spouses and children took their lives rather than be taken by the barbarians,” Kanto said.
“That’s the romantic interpretation, anyway. I doubt the children committed suicide. Which alone means whatever the prevailing narrative, the truth is there were a lot more murders than there were suicides. I suspect reluctant adults were helped along too.”
“So, a massacre either way.”
Jhee could not cast aside the notion she had been toyed with, led around. She had run around the isle chasing down every half-baked, fish-brained rumor when she should have been thinking smaller, simpler. Her curiosity had her chasing phantoms and tales. She must return to first principles.