The Songstress Murders

by J. B. Garner

  Pain surged through false legs at that moment, a horrid reminder of the past, why I did not pray. I wasn't that naive girl anymore.

  I thought about Father. Made me sick to consider but he was, despite all he had done, still my father. He could have wisdom about … what? Love? Hard to believe I even considered Father about such a thing, especially with what I knew what his true intent was.

  Disgusted, I shoved away rest of dinner, told Xian to clean up, and retreated again to my sanctum. The only one who had the answers I needed was me. Disconnected my legs, put down these notes, and am going to find sleep, as much as I can manage that these days. May it bring me proper wisdom.

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

  I stopped by the Second Ward offices and made a quick report on the confrontation with the Foi. I refrained from adding Lady Hsu's words to the public record. After all, she had yet to reveal any truly new information, simply reinforcing my own hypothesis to this point. There was no need to raise any hackles by having any part of the Hsu family associated with the Watch.

  The fire had been before my time in the Watch, but it had been the talk of the town. It was complicated even more by the persistent rumors that not only had Lord Aiden been responsible for the fire (the origin of which had been strangely shrouded by the Sorcereum's archons) but had his hands deep in the same smuggling trade as the Foi Brothers. Myan Tai was the wealthiest trading partner to most of southern Aardsland, the Walled City included, making the fact that so many wanted a pour from the honey pot no surprise.

  What natural sunlight filtered through the harbor was fading by the time I finished my paperwork and the Celestial Stone's hue was shifting to the pale glow of moonlight. There were no leads to pursue at the office and, while I could make the argument that a rest before my morning engagement with Milady was in order, I would be remiss in my Duty if I did not see if I could rustle up more information on Qi Foi's death.

  There were two obvious approaches. I could focus on the murderer. What new player was involved (for I was still certain it was a new player) and why target Qi? The problem was the lack of information I currently held. It made far more sense to wait for the divination to finish, hopefully see behind Milady's mask, and use that as a jumping-off point.

  The other choice was to focus on the murder itself. Kraatz's autopsy had gleaned all the evidence we could from the body, but the location could still prove fruitful, more specifically the people at the location. The Mermaid's Scale was a rough house, but a clean one. While I didn't doubt the staff would have been helpful to the Watchers questioning the crowds, there was a certain personal touch that I felt I could provide that might lead to more information than the pavement pounders would have discovered. At the worst, I would have a full belly and delightful scenery of all kinds to look at.

  By the time I crossed the layer from the Watchtower to the Scales, dusk had turned to evening as seven bells came and went. The Scale didn't get truly busy until night had set in, though my appearance in full uniform at the doors did set what crowd there was on edge. The prospect of two nights in a row of trouble would have been a party slayer for me certainly. There was enough press of flesh to make the entire common room uncomfortably hot, hot enough to make me open my watchcoat.

  A few patrons who could see past the uniform gave me a friendly nod, a leering smile, or both. Returning the gestures appropriately, I made my way up to the bar, supposedly carved from the mast of the merchantman from which the tavern took its name. Scoven Soren, the Aard-folk owner of the bar, was on-duty along with a Wass-man I didn't know, and the white-furred sea-dog switched places with his colleague to plant himself in front of me as I leaned against the old oak timber.

  “Evenin', Vela,” he said in a gravelly voice. “Ye here fer business or pleasure? Pleasure, I'm hopin' after last eve.”

  “Sadly business,” I admitted, “but hopefully I can find a bit of pleasure later, if nothing turns up.”

  Soren barked out a laugh. “Never change.” Wiping his nose, he slapped his bar rag over his shoulder. “Whatcha be needin', then? Let's see if we can get ye to the pleasure quick as a flash.”

  “Start with a mug of ale, a venison steak, and information.”

  Scoven barked the order to the back sans the final bit, and set a frothy mug in front of me. “As fer yer information, ye know it depends on what yer askin' and who yer askin' about.”

  “Let us save the dancing for pleasure later.” To ease the flow of the conversation, I leaned forward a bit on the bar. “You have to care that one of the Fois died in your tavern, Scoven. Christabelle lied to me about his identity, which is understandable, but she also told me Qi had prior arrangements with you.” My posture highlighted two things: my generous cleavage and the Watch badge pinned to my chest. Always best to present an array of advantages at the start of a negotiation.

  “Don't need ta be showin' all o' that. We've known each other since ye were just a pup. Ain't that yer not a fine figure of a woman but it'd be mighty odd fer me. Besides, I don't much appreciate people bringin' their dirty laundry into my house.”

  I smiled softly. Soren would always be Soren. “So what is that then?”

  “It'll be a mite disappointin', let me warn ye.” He narrowed his eyes, peering past the fringe of fur dangling into his eyes, scanning back and forth, something I had been doing from time to time myself. Satisfied, he put his hands on the bar. “That Foi really was here fer what ye'd expect. He told me he had a mighty fine an' special lady to meet last eve, made the reservation a good two days before, an' paid in full ahead o' time.”

  “Did he give any clue as to who this lady was?”

  “Nothin' solid but whomever she was, he was wrapped around her finger and wrapped up in chains. Ain't ever seen anythin' quite like it.” I was in mid-gulp of ale as he added, “And don't ask about if he let on why he didn' use his place or one of his brothers'. He didn' say an' I didn't pry.”

  I smirked. “I am certain it had to do with the identity of our mystery lady.”

  “Aye, no doubt.”

  We sat in relative silence for a stretch, Scoven occupied with the bar and I with freshly-grilled steak. Finally, two of my hungers satisfied, I caught Soren's attention one more time. “Is Christabelle working tonight?”

  “I figured ye'd ask.” He took up my plate and mug. “Gave her the night off, with the murder an' all.”

  “I know your policy on protecting your employees but -”

  “- but yer gonna ask where she lives anyway, aye?” The flat look on Scoven's face was one I'd seen many times before.

  “Perhaps a donation of a few crowns, split between the both of you, to ensure greater security for the future?” The Moral Compass twinged, but only slightly. After all, paid informants were one of the lifebloods of the Watch and my intent was honest.

  “Ten. Five fer me, five fer the lady.”

  I tried to bite back the wince as I counted out ten crowns, the gold glittering in the lamplight, and slid them to Scoven. Still, this was the only other line that was solid. I had to know who this mystery woman was.

  “Pleasure as always, Vela.” The old sea-dog smiled as he counted the coins into two equal piles, one winding up in his pocket, the other in the Scale's lockbox. “Christa lives over Timber's Apothecary.”

  “That Runner drug den?” I frowned as I slid off the stool. “I'll step lightly.”

  “You'd better. I don't want to open the Herald on the morrow to see yer dead body on the front page.”

  I shrugged off Scoven's warning as I buttoned up my watchcoat. Still, my senses were on edge and my hackles rose as I made my way through the streets of the Second Ward. By this time of the evening, the dockworkers and sailors filter into the Ward proper, looking for food, warmth, and distraction, slowing my progress as they clogged my way towards riverside.

  The Wharf Runners live up to their name, infesting the docks and sewers of the Second Ward. They were expert
at blending in with the disaffected and the poor that were forced to live among the riverside warehouses. Still, the Runners rarely started trouble if left undisturbed. Hopefully they wouldn't be startled by my presence.

  That's what I kept telling myself as I went up the alley steps behind Timber's Apothecary. I had only collected a few suspicious glares from out the shop's windows, a shop that unsurprisingly was still open at this late hour. Dim lamp-light crept through the shutters of the upstairs room as I came up to the apartment door.

  Before I raised my hand to the knocker, I froze at the faint sound of voices. My keen nose was confused by all the herbs and smoke from the shop below, but my ears could sort three voices, one familiar and two unknown. Despite the quaver in Christabelle's voice, there were no other signs of distress and I managed to bite down on the instinct to bust down the door with truncheon and crossbow at the ready.

  Instead, I pulled the roll of metal foil from my coat, unrolling a segment of it to make a cone. A few drops of an alchemical formula of my own devising hardened the fragile metal into rigidity. Placing the large end of the cone carefully to the door, I put my ear to the narrow end, bringing the conversation into clarity.

  “… just a normal room, milords, I swear,” Christabelle stammered. “I swear I don't know the name of the lady.”

  “Come now,” the second voice pressed, “There had to be something, even a little something.”

  “If Qi were so enamored, he would have let something slip in his lust.” The third voice seemed familiar now that I could hear it more clearly. One of the Fois? It seemed likely. “Spill it, little mouse.”

  “I – Well – No … it's nothing.” Christa corrected herself quickly, “There's nothing, nothing at all.”

  The window glass rattled behind the shutter as someone backed against it. The third voice (Ryuji, I was certain of it now) started to rise. “What is it? You have a count of five before I start removing digits.”

  That was the point at which I could hold back no longer. I tossed the listening cone aside, drawing my crossbow and truncheon in one clean motion. Strangely, Christabelle broke into a shaky yet beautiful song as I planted my boot right at the doorknob. Splintering wood mixed with the moving tones as the door flew open.

  “Inspector Redmane, Second Ward Watch! Drop your weapons and desist all criminal activity!”

  That's when everything turned into a blur of action and a haze of pain. As I sit here trying to properly recollect it, the day after, I fear a combination of the battle-rush and something more arcane left it all a muddle. There are only two things I could clearly recollect when I awoke: the song in my ears and a hazy vision of an angel, a figure wrapped in pure silver with wings like a Celestine.

  From Experiments on Morality by Kaj Stonewell, Daj philosopher:

  One of the most intriguing effects of physical Good and Evil is the effect of these crystalline substances on natural creatures. In fully adult Folk, the effects of small to moderate amounts of Pure Good or Evil tend to lay in the psychological. However, if still-growing youths are exposed, especially over a period of time, the concentration of moral energy creates alterations in the physiology as well. If a pregnant mother is exposed, the resultant child is changed into something elementally different from the mother and father. Babies exposed to Good are known as Celestine and resemble popular depictions of angelic servitors of the gods, while those exposed to Evil are called Infernum and take after various lower demonic monsters.

  From Famous Figures of the City, 276th edition by Tibold Rowen, Aard entertainer:

  First sighted among the songhouses of the Sixth Ward six years ago, the Silver Bard could be as accurately called a landmark or a sightseer's target then as a celebrity. You see, the Bard isn't a Folk but a particularly advanced golem of unknown creation. Strikingly beautiful, clad in silver from head to foot, and resembling a Celestine of some variety, the Bard has been playing its lyre, singing, and story-telling with exquisite skill throughout the City since its first appearance. Despite the desire of the Sorcereum to confiscate and analyze this unique creation, the churches of Myrien and Nym jointly interceded, arguing that the Bard did nothing but spread beauty and hope in its wake. Since then, the Silver Bard's notoriety has faded, but its appearance in an inn's common room always causes a stir among the music-enthusiasts and party-goers of the City.

  From the songbook of the Silver Bard, from the 8th Hymn of the 6th Movement:

  The notes of despair in my dreams, drawing me

  Down, down into the bowels of the great City,

  To suffer the sadness, the hopelessness no longer.

  For why did we live but for love and joy?

  What I must do, my heart sang back stronger,

  How to bring, to the lost below, peace to enjoy.

  The notes of despair resounded louder as I descended,

  Down, down into the depths of the mighty City.

  In this shrouded vault, absent from the touch of Nym,

  The streets, spread like a web beneath to pull me down.

  And yet I flew on, seeing the beauty, hearing the hymn,

  The glory shining through the crust of evil around.

  The notes of beauty, the song of my heart, rang out,

  Down, down into the mists of the darkened City.

  Through the web of despair, it drew me closer,

  For in the black sadness shone the beacon of Duty.

  Beholding dark shapes over light's composer,

  I saw discord set to silence the song of beauty.

  The notes of beauty soared high at the sight of me,

  There, there, amid the night of the vaulted City.

  But greater was the beat of bravery alongside.

  No matter her blood spilled upon the stones.

  Courage pulsed as her heart slowed, almost died,

  And with it, ending the song's glorious tones.

  The notes of the heart called and for the light I saw,

  There, there, in the night of the endless City,

  For courage's sake, I flew down from the sky,

  Adding my voice, the melody added to rhythm's beat.

  Then came that song of hope, of love, to purify.

  Ringing out as a clarion call, it set darkness to retreat,

  Washing the stones clean, bringing day to night.

  ACT II – The Lady, the Bard, and the Brothers

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

  The fifth layer of the Walled City, comprised of the Thirteenth through Fifteenth Wards, is the heart of the government and the focal point of the noble houses. The only layer of the City that is fully open to the elements, it is considered an essential layer to visit for any sightseer or first-time arrival to the City. Of special note are the Nobles' Quarters of the Thirteenth Ward, the Lord-High Mayor's Palace in the center court by the Watchtower, and the Proving Grounds of the Inammi Griffon Riders.

  From Animating the Inanimate by Lady Alysa Hsu, Myan sorcerer and researcher:

  Understanding the full depths of golemancy requires a full understanding of what a golem is. Most Folk consider a golem to be an animated suit of armor or perhaps a statue. While these are not inaccurate descriptions, they are only the tip of the mountain in regard to the variety and use of golemancy. From limbs to replace injuries, suits of armor that bolster the strength and ability of the wearer, and doorways that only open themselves to masters they recognize, there are boundless opportunities to better the world we live in.

  From the notes of Lady Alysa Hsu, 15 Octavian 736 PC:

  Strong coffee was a balm as I kept watch. Redmane was breathing low and steady under covers now. She was lucky. Knife or claw had nicked a vessel in her guts, serious bleeding. She was delivered on my balcony just in time. From marks on club and empty bolt case, she gave as good as she got. It took much of my sorcerous knowledge to mend the wound swiftly. Sleep would heal the rest, leaving only a faint pink scar on the belly.


  Now that the crisis is over, I’m not sure how I feel about this. Hindsight was obvious, should have told Vela what I wanted to straight away. Watch or not, wanted her to be safe for reasons not entirely to my understanding then. I understood more, at least at my basest levels, once done healing, taking in the sight of her naked form on the guest bed. Yearnings I had thought lost burned in me and left me aching with desire. Forsaking something does not mean the want is cut off like a diseased limb despite best efforts; it lingers on.

  Remember trying to calm myself and center. She'd wake soon; I could get answers then. The Bard is never clear, never will be clear, not in its nature to be clear.

  I gripped my mug tighter when she began to stir. Silk sheet started to slip and the carnal part of me wanted it to fall away. I ran through Aberdale's Enchanting Formula repeatedly to keep the logical, intelligent part of my brain in control.

  Stir turned to start and Redmane shot up like a bolt, clutching the sheet to her. I could tell then there was an impulse, a youth there, untempered by experience. Stupid.

  “Christabelle!” Look turned from frantic to puzzled to focused in three heartbeats. “Milady?”

  “I can only guess, but I have heard the name. It does not tell me what events brought you to my balcony, bleeding profusely and carried by a winged golem.” Harsh tones, but I needed to keep control of the situation.

  Redmane's eyes narrowed and her brow creased. “It is hard to remember. There was a song so beautiful.” As if compelled, she tried to hum it. Knew the song from the first few notes, but let her carry on. No sense of key, but the richness of voice when she turned from humming to song made me want her all the more.

  “I am surprised you do not know it as a Myrienite. It is one of the Silver Bard's songs.”

  Instant recognition. “I know of the Bard but have never seen it in person.” She put one hand to her temple. “That would explain the figure burned into my brain. Such a captivating appearance, I shall never forget it, but it doesn't make any sense.” She glanced down at herself. “While I am certainly not shy, I think it would be best if we continue this after I am clothed, Milady.”