Justicar Jhee and the Cursed Abbey

by Trevol Swift

The figure lowered her hood. Pyrmo glanced at the flask she held then shoved it into her sleeve. She sighed, shook her head, and took it back out. “Alas, you’ve discovered my dirty little secret.”

  “May I ask what that actually is?”

  Pyrmo’s attention went to the black keg. “Tranquility Black. Moonshine. My own private stash. I am ashamed to have you see me like this.”

  “Let only those whose feet have never been wet lecture someone else on how to keep theirs dry. I’m afraid I will have to ask you a few questions regarding the death of Saheli and the Prospectives.”

  “Ask. Whatever answers I have, I will give.”

  “I’ve heard your account of when Saheli died. I’ll need your accounting of the times leading up to the deaths of the Prospectives.”

  “My accounting? It’s hard to say. I was well into my cups then. The night of the storm where the Prospective fell, I had been drinking particularly heavily. Likewise, the first tremor. As embarrassed as I am to say, I made quite the spectacle of myself. Far more than ever, the poetess did.”

  Jhee laid a finger aside her nose and tapped in thought. Pyrmo’s contempt for the poetess then lay more in the distaste of seeing one’s own flaws reflected back at you. “Can anyone confirm this?”

  “Confirm? I would think half the abbey could. To the specific, though, the prioress was called to put me to bed like a child. Not my noblest moment, Justicar.”

  “I will confirm this with her.”

  “Of course.”

  “Did you have occasion to visit Prospective Yaou?”

  “I did.”

  “May I inquire what you spoke about?”

  “I am afraid, on that, I must be oblique. As the communication happened under the veil of counsel.”

  “He confided in you something for which he wanted absolution or advice.”

  “Why does it feel as if I am being interrogated?”

  “Four people have died here in the past few months. To faithfully execute the task you set me, requires my due diligence.”

  “Your thoroughness is appreciated. Though had Saheli’s miraculous death not had such a thorough accounting by so many witnesses, I might not have thought her long for this world. She was on the aged side. As for those poor, young boys, life is always short and harsh for those such as them.”

  “Still, I want you and the residents of this abbey to know you are not forgotten. To do less, would be a disservice to you and my duty under the law.”

  “I see. You shame me once again with your insight, Justicar. My personal failings have led to my not being as concerned with the affairs of those beneath me here at the abbey. I think we should both strive to do better by those under our care.”

  “I am glad you would agree.”

  The abbess unscrewed the flask’s cap and proceeded to the nearest drain. After she dumped out the contents, Jhee nodded. Pyrmo grabbed the black orchid tea. “I will require this to sober up. I’d also appreciate your discretion.”

  “Once I have satisfied certain curiosities, we shall speak no more of this.”

  The abbess set aside the tea to clasp forearms and touch foreheads. The overly familiar gesture between them more warranted this time. Though the reek of smudge thick on Pyrmo—which now made more sense—worsened Jhee’s headache. Despite that, the smell of burn cream and licorice overpowered it.

  Jhee twiddled the letters on her conch to log the abbess’s statement longhand, glad to have enriched someone’s life. Given her domestic blunders of late, she luxuriated in a rare feeling of competence.

  Although, if Pyrmo’s alibi checked out, she might have been on the verge of eliminating her major suspects. What was it Raigen said Saheli suspected in her letter? Another authority undermining her. If anything Sister Serra said could be believed, Pyrmo made a prime candidate for this Mist Abbess character. If she and Sister Elkanah disapproved so strongly of Saheli’s methods, Jhee could see them staging a coup. Though, would they have gone as far as murder?

  Back at the room, Mirrei prepared Jhee another poultice. “Try not to give this one away.”

  Kanto returned to their chambers. “Mirrei, may we have the room?”

  “Sure,” Mirrei said. “Keep it civil, you two.”

  “Shall we try this again?” Kanto took the other chair in the nook. “I feel like you think I’m some kind of fool. I don’t like you looking at me that way.”

  “From what I can tell, you are quite intelligent in your own way.”

  “My own way? What way is that?”

  “Emotional. Cultural—”

  “You made some impressive strategic moves in the positioning of your house like coming to the aid of House Foster in exchange for half their holdings. Underwhelming ones too such as not crushing House Diamante when you had the chance. How many times have they encroached on both your sea lanes and spawning beds since? You were an academic, though. Women like grandmamere would eat you alive. I would be the secret ingredient.”

  Jhee viewed him anew. What could she say? She had never discussed household strategy with him, yet he knew about some of her more oblique maneuvers.

  “Nothing to say to that. Of course not.”

  Kanto rose.

  “The choice to marry you was mine. Though, if grandmamere disapproved, she would have found a way to talk me out of it and likely make me think it was my idea. She is well versed in the art of letting other people have her way. Grandmamere still got the better of you in our marriage negotiations. Yet, she was impressed with how hard a bargain you commanded.”

  Kanto glided from the nook as Jhee continued to sit mute.

  17 The Guest Wing

  The Performers

  According to Sister Niza’s account of Saheli’s death, all senior clergy were present and in full sight of the others. While it’s possible they were all part of some conspiracy, Jhee doubted it. With so many factions, the likelihood they conspired to protect the guilty party was nil. If either the archivist or the horticulturist had an advantage over the other, they would use it.

  First, Jhee must confirm or deny the abbess’s alibi before she entertained other theories. She tracked the prioress down in her cell.

  “I caught Pyrmo sneaking liquor. She claims to have been drunk the night Prospective drowned and that you put her to bed.”

  “I did. It explained much. She was prioress before me. Saheli’s indulgences extended to more than the deacons. She took the hands-on approach as abbess. No disrespect intended to Saheli or Pyrmo, but the abbey’s finances are a mess and Pyrmo a disaster as prioress which makes more sense considering her problem. I may not have always agreed with Saheli’s choices, but I trusted her judgment. Still, Saheli should have found a less challenging position for Pyrmo.”

  With each of Jhee’s prime suspects providing alibis for different murders, perhaps there was some elaborate scheme by which they all did it. A cabal that conspired to keep the truth of Saheli’s death private? While dramatic, with these players unlikely. A bit of the “Dispatches from Arrow Point”-era Jhee’s mindset had sneaked out. She had proceeded with the hypothesis that if Saheli were indeed murdered the perpetrator had to be a clergy member. Strangers such as the performers or refugees could not get close enough. Though, having learned of Saheli’s personal approach to running the abbey invalidated that premise. Which raised another possibility: what if the principal victims are the Prospectives?

  The suspect pool opened much wider. She may have been too quick to narrow her focus to the high table. A mistake she would now correct.

  Performers do use smokes and powders to make themselves disappear.

  She thought of Shep, Mirrei, and Kanto’s admonishments. Had she been too quick to dismiss the Prospectives and the refugees based on age or gender? Or even the performers? She had been ready to condemn Lady Bathsheba for snobbery, but what of her own. She knew how easy it was to lay blame for everything at the threshold of margin dwellers. Maybe she was making the same mistakes with the perpetrator as
she had with the victims. If not for suspecting them first, but for perhaps dismissing them as not smart enough. Members of the camps. Smugglers. Performers. She had cast aside her doubts on them for dubious reasons.

  “What do you know about the performers?” Jhee asked the prioress.

  “Not much. Some of them were refugees, and they sometimes did free shows there. They stuck to the port towns.”

  Jhee remembered the tattoos on the members of the camp, the smuggler, and yes, of course, one of the performers. This abbey had secret ways in and out aplenty. There existed smugglers and contraband. All that was required was someone on the inside. What better way to smuggle contraband or people to and from the abbey than via the performance troupe?

  The prioress kissed her Drakist effigy. “The things they’re saying about Saheli aren’t true. She was good folk. Yes, she had her own ways of doing things, and even I didn’t always approve. While her emphasis was on good works and labor, she valued knowledge too but understood formal education wasn’t for everyone.”

  “’To every part, its place in the Design.’ Thank you for your candor.”

  Jhee found the rather storm-tossed appearing Pyrmo in the Worship Hall praying. The black orchid tea rested beside her on the bench. She placed a gentle hand on the abbess’s shoulder. Pyrmo started and gazed about her wildly.

  “Justicar, why are you here?”

  “Sorry to disturb you, Abbess. I had a quick question about the performance troupe.”

  “The performance troupe?”

  “Did they perform here frequently?”

  “Not at all. I believe this was their first time although the abbey is on their route. Though it was not my idea.”

  “Why the change?”

  “The troupe leader’s request. I thought with the special occasion, why not?”

  Jhee tapped the side of her nose. “Thank you.”

  On Jhee’s way to see the performers, she visited Lady Bathsheba to thank her for access to the archives and for her help in the aftermath of Shep’s incident. She also might glean more information about the initial state of the system.

  “You would have thought of it yourself eventually. You were under enormous pressure at that moment.”

  “Thank you then for hastening my recollection of the law. One more thing, whose idea was it to have the performance troupe play the feast?”

  “Saheli and I entertained the idea. We knew they came through the area often. Pyrmo made it happen, though.”

  Jhee contacted Bax. “Have you found out anything new?”

  “More gossip mostly. I’ve tried sending you field reports, but they’ve bounced.”

  This storm-blasted communication blackout had struck again. Laughter and clinking glasses carried through the connection. Were Jhee a less charitable sort, she would have suspected him of having been drinking it up this whole time. “Could you arrange for me to meet with the troupe leaders?”

  “Of course. They were just here.”

  “What’s your location?”

  “We’re in the hostelry near the guest annex. I can meet you and provide introductions.”

  “Splendid.” Jhee whipped out the trusty, invaluable map and set off.

  Scrapes and the odd rattle shadowed Jhee, as she met Bax in the guest wing. The troupe leaders were a married couple, the announcer and the assistant who held the fire blanket during Mr. Zane’s performance. They greeted her with hearty smiles and wide arms. A distinct change from the other receptions she had received these past few days.

  “Welcome, Justicar. Welcome.” The announcer kicked out a seat and had already poured her a cup of whatever they had already been drinking by the time Jhee sat. “No empty cups at my table. One. Two. Three.”

  The announcer, her husband, and Bax knocked theirs back then slammed their cups down on the table. Jhee took a deep drink. She ascribed no other distinct taste to the alcohol other than burn. She squeezed her eyes shut to stop them from watering. The liquor paled in comparison to the refujuice she drank the day previous. She covered her cup when the announcer went to refill it. The obligations of politeness had been met.

  “To what do we owe such a distinguished visit by such an important person as yourself?”

  “I’m in need of some quick answers if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course, not. We’d be happy to. Ask. Ask.”

  “How was it you came to perform for the feast?”

  “I’d think many of the troupes which passed by this place had wanted to. We’d often bypassed it ourselves. We might’ve done so again if two of our number hadn’t mentioned their anniversary celebration.”

  “Two?”

  “Yes, both Hethyr and Anshu mentioned the feast. They’d been after us to visit for some time. Although we’d make a few shell at the nearby town, it hadn’t made sense until now. Holy places can be some of the cheapest patrons. There’s something about celebrations which can prize open even the tightest clams.”

  Jhee nodded and took another polite drink from her cup. The announcer bobbed her head with satisfaction. Jhee’s shoulders loosened as she settled more into her seat. Either the alcohol or the announcer’s warm, melodic voice had wrapped a sense of welcome around her. “Do your performers give lessons or work by private arrangement?”

  The announcer raised an eyebrow. “Some have been known to. Mr. Zane, for instance. Mostly, by prior arrangement.”

  “No chance of calling upon them, now.”

  “They may make an exception for an official visitor. The hall across the annex. Men on the left and women on the right. Ms. Hethyr and Mr. Zane are at the far end.”

  Jhee wrenched herself free of the camaraderie and rose to leave. Bax stood too with a slight sway. “Hold, my lady. Mr. Shep would have my hide if I let you go alone.”

  Bax, who had gone bright red and sweaty from the effect of drink, would be of no use to her in this condition. “In your current state, Bax, what help do you think you would be? No, Bax. Stay and partake with your friends. I only have a few simple inquiries. I don’t intend to be long.”

  The performers’ quarters were located across the annex from the owners. At least she did not have to ascend or descend steps. She held her glow orb aloft as she crossed the cloister, a long walkway of alcoves and columns, many filled with grotesque statues. She paused to examine one. They were eerily life-like with a similar finish to that of the abbey. She shivered.

  The patter of footsteps came to a stop an instant after hers then went quiet. A drip of water rang oddly warped by the annex’s weird acoustics. Had Bax chosen to follow her anyway? If he had, why would he not announce his presence?

  Jhee tucked the glow orb in her sleeve and ducked behind a column. Once her eyes adjusted, she noticed a shadowy shape stealing down the annex. She waited for the figure to pass then doubled back along her route a few columns. She peered out again.

  The whiff of something akin to sickly-sweet fennel came to her nose. A sharp strike to her head caused a flash in her vision. Her head struck the column. She swayed and slumped to the ground.

  The Actor

  Jhee awoke in a strange room. A young man, in a dressing robe, filed his nail claws at the desk beside the bed. He set aside the file to daub himself with cologne. “Oh, good, you have awakened.”

  She glanced around the room. One corner held hoops and poles wrapped in wick or topped with glow orbs. “Mr. Zane? How did I get here?”

  “I heard a thud outside my door. I opened it, and there you were. I initially thought you had passed out drunk.”

  He addressed her with a tone, while demur, deferential, also conveyed no hurry or concern for having found a strange woman at his door. Her head had the dull throb of a headache which had been her constant companion since her arrival. A hazy recollection of being struck returned. “Let me smell your cologne,” she ordered.

  “A fair thank you for someone who may have saved your life.”

  The room had the sooty smell of accelerant and o
ld fire. It made her nauseated. Jhee clenched her mouth shut. Her head exploded in pain. She probed the tender spots on her head. “Do it this instant, young man.”

  Mr. Zane gave a crisp snap of his sleeve and held over with the small, cologne bottle. He removed the cologne’s stopper and wafted the scent towards Jhee. Then he leaned in to let her catch his scent. Both scents bore cucumber undertones. Not a match for what she smelled before she had been struck. “I’ve known men who’ve received expensive jewels in return for less.”

  “Thank you. Forgive my rudeness. You should not have been the recipient of my ire. This stay has been bothersome in the extreme through no fault of yours.”

  She lurched to her feet. The room shifted as her perceptions righted themselves. The tenderness at both the front and back of her head stopped at the edge of her head wrap. The poultice must have cushioned the blows she took. It may well have saved her life.

  “You should be compensating me for all the liberties you’re taking, Justicar. What has you creeping about so late?”

  “I was hoping to speak to Mr. Anshu or Ms. Hethyr. If you could point me towards Ms. Hethyr.”

  “Hetty.” Mr. Zane rolled his eyes and adjusted his robes. “A subject of little interest to me anymore. She’s a crude, stupid, ungrateful, clumsy beast.”

  “Yet, you did keep company?”

  “When it pleased me. Which it no longer does.” Mr. Zane moved aside the collar of his robe to reveal old burns where someone attempted to leave a drawer’s mark or cypher’s sigil. “She was abusive and consorted with criminals.”

  “She sought to bind you?”

  “Don’t all artificers.”

  “Only the weak ones.”

  “Fortunately for me, she has her sights on another.”

  “Mr. Anshu.”

  “He recently joined the troupe. Right before our arrival here.”

  “Is he any more receptive to this attention than you?”

  Mr. Zane slipped one of the arm hoops from the corner over his forearm. He moved his arm in a circle until the hoop spun. “You would have to ask him.”