The Songstress Murders

by J. B. Garner

  “What is it, milady?”

  “Come, Inspector, let us discuss the rest of this in my laboratory.” I forced myself to rise, despite the twinges of pain. “Where it's safe.”

  From A Visitor's Guide to the Walled City by Eve Torrent, Wind tour guide:

  The first layer of the Walled City is divided into three Wards, like the rest of the layers of the city. The First Ward fills the middle of the layer, dividing the Second and Third Wards with a sea of the most impoverished of the City's population. The Second and Third are more prosperous, each dominated by the various docks and warehouses to service trade along the Great River, but crime and corruption run rampant here. Travelers through these Wards would be advised to know where every Watch house is if moving through these Wards.

  From Experiments on Morality by Kaj Stonewell, Daj philosopher:

  As my experiments show, good and evil exist both as cultural constructs and actual, measurable forces. However, despite physical concentrations of Good and Evil, we cannot let morality be confined to studying this one expression and measures thereof. Remember, even if using arcane means such as a Moral Compass, to detect and measure good and evil, morality cannot be so specifically analyzed to separate intent, methodology, and results. A truly evil man committing a saintly act, even for ultimately ill intent, may very well show to be Good by any means of measurement.

  Continued from the journal of Inspector Vela Redmane, 14 Octavian 736 PC:

  I hadn't originally intended to smoke another cigarillo on the way to Kraatz's office, but my time with Lady Hsu had left me both excited and anxious. The decision to consult with Milady had been questionable because of the rumors that circulated around the Hsu family in general. Naturally, there was the knowledge that much of my theory as to the murderer's method of operation was confirmed. Add to that Milady's feline beauty, despite her lost legs and several years over me, I was a bit flustered at several points in our discussion. It took some considerable bit of willpower not to press events further. It might be considered unethical, considering Milady's position as a possible expert witness at this juncture.

  Still, those things were within my capacity to deal with without a long drag of smoke. Pride wasn't a crime, after all, and I was confident I could keep my composure around Milady, at least until the conclusion of this case. A pat at the Moral Compass hanging around my neck, pulsing with the mild warmth of measurable Good, reassured me of that. It was Milady's ruminations about the arrowhead that had put me off my game.

  There had been a definite shift in Milady's mask as she led me deeper into her fourth-layer manor. Despite the pull I felt to her, I was not blind to her strained mannerisms, the obvious show of politeness she was putting on. Admittedly, I am ashamed to note that a part of me didn't care. Regardless, the silver-steel fragment had brought whatever nerves were bubbling under the mask to the fore.

  “Silver-steel,” she murmured as her golem legs clanked down the hall. “Rare, pure, and only of practical use to certain monster hunters.” I held my tongue, despite the professorial tones Milady was dropping into. “However, there are several impractical uses.”

  “Incredible beauty combined with the strength of steel,” I said when silence reigned. “If you wanted arms or armor for flair and function, it would be an ideal material.”

  Milady paused for a moment. I couldn't see her eyes or face, but the faint shake of her shoulders spoke volumes. “Yes.” She unlocked a set of double-doors and opened them wide.

  Unlike the clean-if-sterile manor, the chambers beyond were an organized chaos of papers, books, worktables, and various arcane tools. Crystals, wands, bits of strange metals, aged papers scrawled with reddish inks, all the typical elements of a sorcerer's laboratory. More notable was a somewhat disused stone slab, covered with tools more akin to a smith's or a jeweler's, a golemancer's work space. In proper use was the fine, rosewood desk with its arranged rack of tuning forks and velvet-lined trays of stones much like the one I had already shown to Milady.

  Milady placed that one on a holder atop the desk before, to my momentary surprise, she moved on to the golemancy table. “Silver-steel's purity is more than physical. It has a spiritual purity that allows it to serve in a variety of magical rituals and spells, all in association with the soul and the spirit world.”

  “Such as for the animating force of a golem?” I could see a few pieces of scrap metal, silver-steel among them, on the table. At a closer glance, the tools didn't seem as unused as I had thought.

  She let a bit of a smirk out. “You remember your reading well, Inspector.” She set a headband full of crystalline optics on her brow and raised the arrowhead up for examination.

  “There is something you're not telling me.”

  “Despite my initial alarm, I don't know if it is wise to reveal everything to you before confirming it through the proper divination.” The off-kilter mask had been set back into place. Milady didn't turn to face me, instead focusing harder on the fragment in her hands. “The Watch frowns upon the giving of false evidence still, does it not?”

  I was taken aback. When Lady Hsu had pledged to help me, the emotion had felt honest, but this rancor towards the Watch continued to rear its head. Why waste my time bringing me down into this sanctum to suddenly pull back?

  “Yes of course, milady.” I gathered myself together again. “When may I call upon you again?”

  “If your purpose is the results of the divination, then on the morrow.” She still refused to turn towards me.

  “What if my purpose is of another nature?”

  Milady's shoulders froze and her body tensed at the question, but whether through fear or anticipation? “I have sheltered from the world for years, Inspector. My moods are … mercurial, hence I have no answer for you.”

  My heart pulsed hard in my chest as I chose my exiting words. “Expect my visit in the morning, then. Good day, milady.”

  Milady gave no reply, her focus seemingly consumed by the arrowhead, as I bowed with a flourish. Regardless, I felt as if eyes were upon me the whole way out of Lady Alysa's manor. By the time I had gotten back within sight of the Watchtower, I already had both cigarillo and fire-stick at the ready.

  Kraatz, fortunately, was as easy to deal with as always. Short and rotund, with his usual extra-thick goggles to make up for his poor mole-eyes, the Chief Surgeon was waiting for me expectantly. Well, for me and the cheese-cloth wrapped lunch from Sandwar's Butchery. For some, rifling through a dead folk's organs would evoke nausea, but it made Hoorsin's belly rumble. Everything made that happen, though, so never consider that a moral flaw.

  “Please tell me you have good news, Kraatz,” I said, hoping to influence the already-determined outcome with a bit of a flounce into a chair.

  A life-long bachelor, Kraatz reacted appropriately to my bit of performance and the heave of my bosom. “Oh, don't fret, Vela!” he smiled. “Feathers put me exclusively on our former 'unknown'. He has been my only customer all day.” He gestured to the left at the cloth-covered corpse on its slab, fluids of various kinds staining it. “Take a look at the report while I take a moment to regain my strength. All that cutting and probing is exacting work, my dear!”

  I followed Kraatz's direction as he dug into his lunch of meat, cheese, and ale. Each section of the morgue had its own adjustable cooling enchantment and, despite my fur and coat, I had to suppress a chill as I picked up the sheaf of parchment at the feet of the dead Myan.

  Excerpt from Chief Surgeon Kraatz Hoorsin's report on Murder Victim OC2-1732:

  The victim is a Myan male, aged approximately in his early twenties. Tawny fur with irregular white patches, in good health, along with excellent muscle tone speak of an active life. As far as distinguishing marks, the victim's right arm was shaved of fur from wrist to shoulder, and marked with intricate tattoos of Myan Tai style. Cross-referencing with the Watch ledger of tattoo affiliations, these tattoos mark the man as a very high ranking member of the Foi Brothers smuggling family. Sca
rs of numerous wounds mar the man's body, but all have been healed satisfactorily and did not contribute to the man's death.

  Internal study and alchemical testing show that the primary cause of death was a rupture of several major blood vessels around the victim's heart. Combined with the physical evidence of intense sexual stimulation, eye dilation, and other signs lead to the only logical conclusion: the victim died of feelings of pleasure (not necessarily limited to the sexual) that caused intense strain to the heart and the rest of the body's systems, leading to the ruptures and death by internal bleeding.

  Continued from the journal of Inspector Vela Redmane, 14 Octavian 736 PC:

  “A Foi Brother, eh?” I said, finishing my scan of the report.

  “It is an odd method for a gang murder, but you have to admit it has a certain flair to it,” Hoorsin got out around a mouthful of roast beef. “Death by pleasure is strangely gruesome when you think about it.”

  “It's horrible, though for entirely different reasons. It's an affront to all things Myrien holds dear.”

  Kraatz licked one of his claw tips. “Right, you're right. Sorry to have brought that up, Vela.” He pushed up from his desk, the cheese-cloth bare save for crumbs and an empty flask. “Still, knowing this was related to the low ward's criminal world; that has to clear up a lot of things, eh?”

  “It would certainly seem to clarify the motives. A number of other gangs have been tussling with the Brothers for their spot on top of the Myan Tai smuggling routes.” It didn't all make sense, though. I kept my suspicions to myself for now, not until I had more substantiation.

  Hoorsin made on with the small talk, making commentary about his own impressions on my new Chief Inspector and conjecture as to the exact identity of this particular Foi Brother. This murder had none of the hallmarks of a typical gang assassination. The various collections of unlawful scum that infected the first layer were violent, uncouth, and either shockingly forward or distinctly cowardly. The Ratiri-led Wharf Runners, for instance, would prefer a silent assassination that looked to all but the best trained eyes to be an accident, if the body were found at all. The brutal Door-Knockers would have sent a gang of thugs to bash through the door and beat the man to death before shouting about the deed on every street corner.

  This man had been killed in a unique way, both involving sorcery rarely seen among the gangs and a certain lack of care. An odd choice of words, but the best I could attach to it. There was no real attempt made at concealing the death, only the origin of said death, yet there had been no cries on the street or chest-thumping by the Brothers' rivals. Between that and Milady's reactions lingering in my head, I came to the working hypothesis that there was more going on here than a simple gang killing.

  My thoughts were broken by the ringing of the morgue's office bell. Kraatz shuffled off in a huff, muttering something about the startling lack of apprentices this season. Trying to recapture my line of thought, the stillness of the morgue was shattered for good just a few moments later, when Hoorsin returned, at the head of four more Myan men, all dressed in the same rich finery of the corpse on the slab before me. Hard eyes, hard faces all, I didn't need any introductions to pick out among them Yung Foi, the eldest of the five actual Foi brothers who ruled their gang with an iron fist. The tawny coats and the curves of the faces betrayed a close family resemblance between the four of them, as well as the dead man.

  “I haven't finished restoring Master Foi's body to its original condition but -” Kraatz tried to explain as Yung pushed past him, focusing his barely-contained rage ahead, either at his dead brother or at me, I wasn't sure which.

  “Stop your tongue, Daj, or we'll hold your muzzle shut,” one of the youngest of the brothers growled. “We gave no permission for you Watch scum to defile Qi's body!”

  Hoorsin's hackles started to rise and he was about to open his trap again when I moved forward, brushing shoulders roughly with the elder Foi. “Master Hoorsin meant no offense, but when a man dies under such mysterious circumstances, the Watch has a right, a duty to investigate as soon as possible. You do want your brother's murderer found, don't you?”

  The momentary urge to snap at another Watch dog I saw in the younger brothers' eyes was mixed with a certain low-brow lust as they turned on me. “We don't care what rights the Watch has, lady,” their spokesman said, who I figured to be Ruji, the second brother. ”You don't need to bother yourself with his killer.” He flashed an evil grin to the others. “We'll make sure real justice is served.”

  My chest started to burn from the heat of my Moral Compass as I put a hand on my crossbow's grip. “Might I remind you gentleman that conspiracy to murder is as much a crime as a murder is? I have no compunctions about nailing all four of your tails to the wall right now.” My intentions had started as diplomatic but how could I live up to the Watch's name if I backed down from a pack of dockside thugs such as these?

  “Aard-bitch!” The snarl was accompanied by the sound of steel escaping leather as Ruji pulled a knife from a concealed scabbard, a motion answered by my hand crossbow leaping from its holster.

  Not giving the brothers the satisfaction of seeing me flinch, I leveled the crossbow at Ruji's eye as he held his knife to my throat. Kraatz, with the duller reactions of the office Watch, was a moment late as he picked up a scalpel from his tool tray, flanked by the two remaining youths.

  “Enough!” Yung's deep voice echoed in the chamber, more akin to the roar of a big cat than the purr of the average Myan. “Ruji, do not shame our family with your rudeness.”

  I still refused to flinch to see just how serious Yung was behind me. I could see enough in Ruji's own eyes, his green eyes filling with a different kind of terror. With an obvious waver along his blade, Ruji pulled back from me, as the other two backed off of Kraatz. Only after the three had retreated a full five paces back did I lower my crossbow.

  “I'm glad that at least one of your understand the situation,” I said, trying to hide the shakiness brought on by the rush of action. Risking a glance behind me, I caught a glimpse of Yung as he again passed by my shoulder.

  “Yes, Inspector Redmane, I do understand the situation.” The Compass calmed significantly but there was still a faint thrum of heat, the undercurrent of ill intent. “Here in the Watchtower, you are in your place of power.” He folded his hands politely behind his back. “Do not let this cloud you to the truth that the Second Ward is ours. I give you leave to carry on your investigation to find my brother's killer, but if you dare use that leave to interfere with my family's business, you will find the tables reversed.” He focused his burning eyes on me and I understood instantly why he was the leader of his family. It wasn't due to his age; it was due to his immense presence.

  “Thank you for the warning, Master Foi,” I said, forcing my muzzle not to clench. “Let me likewise warn you that, warning or not, that I will do anything necessary within the Law to find the killer, no matter what skeletons may be dug up in the process.”

  Yung inclined his head in a condescending nod. “We have said our pieces then.” He looked past me to where Hoorsin still had his scalpel gripped tightly. “Please send word when the body is ready so I may send bearers to return Qi home, Daj.”

  Hoorsin could only nod as the four remaining Foi brothers swept out of the room, Ruji still shooting me dirty glances.

  From The City's Herald front page, 21 Octavian 726 PC:

  Tragedy struck this morning when fire swept through the fifth layer, at just after nine bells. The Smokehounds and the Sorcereum rushed to the seeming origin of the fire, the Hsu family estate in the Fourteenth Ward. Fortunately, the damage and destruction was contained to the adjacent noble estates before engulfing the entire Ward. Sadly, this swift containment did not save the Hsu estate and several of the family. As of this scribing, the Smokehounds have confirmed twelve deaths and many more injured. Chief among the dead is Lady Ria Hsu, wife of Lord Aiden Hsu, famous spice merchant and trader.

  From Isaac's Primer on
Divinities by Isaac Yore, Olden philosopher:

  Of the several eternal divinities, the most unusual is Myrien, the god/goddess of beauty. At first glance, Myrien's very existence seems impossible, as many elements of what we commonly call 'beauty' consist of cultural constructs and species-related quirks. However, a study of Myrien's scriptures tells us that the 'beauty' the god/goddess embodies combines elements of traditional attractiveness, something that exists in all living creatures as part of their sexual functions, and concepts of 'inner beauty', something conceptually entwined with Nym, goddess of purity.

  Continued from the notes of Lady Alysa Hsu, 14 Octavian 736 PC:

  Divination wasn't really necessary, but you never know who watches, even in my own sanctum. Had told Redmane I would do it, so I did. Answers were as expected. Need to decide what to do with it.

  More exactly, told Vela I would help her, not exactly how or why. The knowledge could be construed to help or hurt her, leaving me at the impasse I remain at as I pen this, an impasse easily resolved by introspective analysis. The thought of that was more frightening that should be.

  Xian served dinner as usual, ignorant as always of my inner turmoil. Only the most primitive of spirits are used for golems. Safety, after all. Sorcerers are under enough scrutiny that no golemancer wants to be seen as drifting to necromancy by implanting more complex spirits, emulating actual life. Not the same thing, but the common man is too stupid to understand that.

  I ate sparingly. There was only one night to figure it all out. Vela would be here in the morning and could see, could feel her stubbornness. She would certainly be on the doorstep bright and early. Considered digging through old room to find copy of Myrien's texts; pray for guidance.