The Songstress Murders

by J. B. Garner

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

  Kept the receiving stone around my neck, hoping for interesting news as much as dreading it. Events were set into motion and not much to do yet to influence them. I needed to consider options regarding the Bard. Its actions perplexed me. Thought of contact crossed my mind but too risky.

  Everything rested on Redmane and what she discovered, or so I thought. I was wasting time, half-focused on work, when Xian came into study unbidden. Reported Father had arrived and was waiting to speak with me.

  It took a moment to process that. Been two years since the last time I was forced to face the bastard. His presence could throw everything apart and to refuse to see him would make him suspicious, more dangerous. Pulling myself out of wheelchair, I got back onto my legs. Familiar pain helped my focus. Would need all of it to deal with Father.

  “Dearest daughter, it's a joy to see you again,” he gushed with his usual false praise.

  “As it is for me to see you, Father.” I plastered on my own false smile. “Shall I have Xian bring refreshments so we may properly catch up?”

  “I am afraid I do not have time for such formalities today. You and I are both such busy people.”

  “Father, you know -”

  “Oh, please, my dear! You may be 'retired' officially, but I am your father. I know you too well.” His smile widened. “What it is you do doesn't matter to me, of course, but I also won't waste much of your valuable time.”

  Didn't like the feeling of the room; the temperature was rising slowly. Stress and anger at this game we played since the fire was the cause, most assuredly, as opposed to other, darker things. “Well, what is it you need, Father?”

  “The anniversary of your mother's passing is very near.”

  I hid my clenching fists. “Yes, I know. I know very well.”

  “I can never reverse the course of that day, but I wish, in my old age, to atone for the past.” Brief pause. “Well above and beyond what I have done every day since then.” He looked me in the eyes. His were red-tinted, as if he had lost too much sleep. “I would like you to join me at the gravesite on that evening to witness it.”

  True contrition on Father's part? Unlikely, it was just more pomp and circumstance. Still, it was an opening. “It would be a dishonor not to be there. Send word of the specifics and be assured I will be there.”

  The false smile seemed to curl over itself. Smug bastard. “You don't know how happy your words make me. I will have word sent within the day.” He stepped forward to give a ginger, stiff embrace.

  Heat seemed to jump again and my sight turned red, but it passed the moment he receded.

  “There is one other thing, as an adjunct to this.”

  “Yes, Father?”

  “One of my business associates told me that you had done some custom work for the Silver Bard.” Somehow, I kept my expression level. “If that's true, I would be most honored if you could send a missive to it and extend my request to perform a hymn for this occasion. The Nymians seem to think there is no thing or creature more skilled at the purification rituals than that golem.”

  Purification was certainly needed. I kept my voice to even tones. “That is true. I will see what can be arranged. No one knows who the Bard's master is, but hopefully he will look highly upon a request coming from such a respected member of the nobility.”

  “You flatter me, daughter.” He smoothed out his silk jacket. “Now, I should go. You and I, we have much to do before the twenty-first.”

  It was as much a trap for me as it was a chance to finish my work, but I had to take it. “Indeed we do, Father.”

  Continued from the journal of Inspector Vela Redmane, 15 Octavian 736 PC:

  Gale's wake carried me through the halls to another chamber door, indistinguishable from the rest save for being slightly larger in size and the presence of a knob and keyhole. Her feathered fingers quickly worked a key into the lock. There was a quiet click and the Purifier opened the door, gesturing for me to enter. I nodded wordlessly and followed the gesture.

  Larger than the monk's cell I had stayed in, I suspected this was one of the cleric's offices or, considering the Nymian tendency to sparse conditions, Wyst's own chambers. In many ways, it aped its smaller cousin, with the furnishings of the same simple, sturdy construction. The desk was considerably larger, with a brass inkwell and penholder among a sea of papers and books. One wall was dominated by a bookshelf laden with more books and scrolls. Opposite of the bookcase was the bed, at the foot of which was a small personal shrine to Nym. Kneeling at said shrine in prayer was Christabelle herself, dressed not as a barmaid but in the simple robes of a Nymian acolyte.

  “Christabelle!” My joy at seeing her safe and in the flesh overtook my professional facade. I crossed the room in a few strides as she stood up with a smile.

  “Inspector, I'm glad -” Her sentence was interrupted for a moment as I gave her a hug. “- you're all right!” As I stepped back, Christabelle ran a fingertip across the mended line of my watchcoat. “You were bleeding so badly. The Bard assured me, I think, but between how hard it is to understand and my own fear, I wasn't sure what to believe.”

  “Oh, never fret about the Watch. We have our ways and, even if something had happened, there is always another to replace us.” I surprised myself by not shuddering at the thought. I had no want to meet Zain at his/her table to have my final hand dealt to me anytime soon. “Were you hurt in the scuffle? I find I can't remember much of what actually happened.”

  “I am untouched, thanks to you.” Her whiskers twitched with a faint smile. “I think it was the cosh to your head that might have scrambled things, ma'am.”

  “Please, call me Vela. After last night, I think we can be properly informal.” The presence of Her Radiance was constant behind me, but she kept her own counsel for now. “So, as we are both perfectly fine, can you please tell me what took place? As you must know, this one murder has endangered more lives, your own included, and any piece of information might let me conclude this sordid tale.”

  Settling herself on the hard bed, Christabelle nodded. “I will do the best I can, Miss Vela, though it was a frightful experience, at least until Nym sent her angel to us. Yes, I know the Bard isn't an angel, but it certainly looks like one, yes?”

  “That I do remember and yes, I would agree.” I pulled out my notepad and inked a claw tip in the present inkwell. “Now, by the time I arrived, you already had uninvited guests. Who were they and why did you let them in?”

  “I didn't know who they were until I had opened the door.” My look of confusion was quickly answered. “I live over that Runners' den for a reason! They usually don't let anyone up those steps without a challenge.” She shrugged. “I guess everyone has their price, even kin.”

  It wasn't a surprise, given the Ratiri's vast families, that Christabelle had ties with the Wharf Runners. I nodded for her to continue.

  “Many do, sister, but not all,” Wyst interjected. “Always remember that.”

  “Of course, Radiance, of course.” Christa flashed a smile before turning back to me. “When I let them in, I recognized the tattoos immediately, as well as the resemblance Qi had with one of them.”

  “I heard part of the questioning. Did you tell them everything you knew?”

  “I surely did! I wasn't going to die because of some manic gangsters, not at all. Sadly, they didn't seem to believe me much, so I strained my brain for anything to give them, some scrap that would satisfy their questions about Qi's mysterious companion.” She shivered, as if reliving last night. “I thought certainly that I was about to meet the Dealer!”

  “Why did you start singing?” The Bard’s song was the connection I needed to follow.

  “It was the only thing I could think of to appease them. You see, when Qi had checked in, I took him to the room and made sure he had everything he needed. Proper hostessing, Vela!” She smiled proudly. “The whole time, he was humming this tune under his
breath a real enchanting piece, so I asked him about it. Right then and there, he belts out the whole thing, well a refrain or two at least, and told me it was the song his lady sung.” Her whiskers twitched as her nose wrinkled slightly. “Qi's singing voice was horrible, but the beauty of the song really shone through. Stuck in my head, it did!”

  I nodded slowly, the gears turning in my brain. “Continue please.”

  “Well, Vela, the next bit is a bit muddled. You burst in and the Fois didn't take kindly to the interruption. I must have been hysterical, because all I could think to do was keep singing that song and huddle behind you. You seemed to do well fending them off for a moment, but then things got really chaotic! Seems the Brothers didn't pay them Wharfers enough to tear up the place.

  “They rushed in through the door you knocked open and then it was a nasty three-way scrum. One of the Runners brained you good, leaving you open for the fancier of the Foi boys to get a good cut on you. I pulled you away, still singing that crazy song, and that's when it happened!”

  Resisting the urge to feel at the healed cut, I gestured with my claw. “What happened?”

  “There was this bright, white light that poured through the windows and a great wind blew open the shutters. I thought I had snapped from the blood and the fear, but it wasn't that. That song I was singing was picked up by someone else, but it was the most beautiful thing I ever heard – no offense to your choir singers, Radiance! - So beautiful it made every Brother and every Runner stand there a-gape in awe. 'Course that's when something crashed through my roof. Song or no, that seemed to snap them scalawags to!”

  “That was the Silver Bard, yes?” My heart started to hammer as the image flashed before my eyes, the majestic silver figure, unfurled wings, and that song! It seemed hearing more of the tale stirred cloudy memories. “Tell me more.”

  Christabelle clasped her hands together as if in prayer. “Indeed it was! Just seeing it, swooping down and casting back those blackguards, all while letting out such a glorious melody; well, you can see what I'm wearing now. Straight to Nym's embrace that sight has sent me.”

  “Before you inquire, Vela, it was Christa's choice, not a condition of refuge,” Gale clarified in her soothing tones. “We would require no return to see to the salvation of another, most especially one brought to us by the Bard.”

  “Are the rumors true then?” I said, turning my attention to the Purifier. “Are the Nymians and the Myrienites the ones who created or at least control the Bard?”

  “No, sister, we do not.” Considering Wyst's position and our locale, I knew she could not be lying. “Your spirit belongs to Myrien, so you must know that the very idea of controlling a being such as the Bard would be anathema to your church. Likewise, those in Nym's embrace must do so willingly, just as so many cast their lot with the Unseen.

  “We do not know by what hand the Bard was created. Her existence and purpose are as much a mystery to us as much as it is to you. Still, I could think of few creatures in the City I trust more.”

  Her words sank in, mixing with the feelings I already had. Still, as reliable a judge as Her Radiance might be, there is still room for error, just as in my own feelings. I needed facts.

  Christabelle stood and asked what I had yet to. “Sister Gale, could the Bard have killed Qi? Could she have even consorted with him? He's a reviled thug!”

  “Suspected, Christa,” I added automatically, a response that made my Moral Compass tingle. “Guilt requires proof, proof we don't have. Still, Her Radiance, I would know the answer to these questions as well.”

  “Would you wish to know my feelings, I could answer you swiftly.” Wyst clasped her hands together across her belly and let out a hollow sigh. “However, as you said, the Watch deals in facts, in unassailable truth. That truth is that I do not know. I would assume the Bard could kill in self-defense, as all mortal Folk have the right to do. The problem lies in the fact that our friend is a unique entity, unlike any golem I have ever known before.”

  “Does it …. Does she have a soul, a mind with free will?”

  “The spiritual essence used to animate that silver-steel shell is of a strength I have never before sensed in a golem,” Wyst said, stroking her beak. “It surges with a purity I have rarely seen. Yet, the essences used to animate a golem are so unlike the immortal soul within us. My hypothesis would be that she is, indeed, a living being, just of a very different type than you or I.”

  I couldn't keep my sigh of frustration contained. “Excuse me, sister, it is simply that again all I can find is theory and conjecture.” I closed my notebook. “There is a killer out there, one's whose actions could tip the entire Second Ward into bloodshed with the ferocity the Foi Brothers are showing. I need facts.”

  Wyst's beak quirked into what I assumed was a smile as she put her soft hands on my shoulders. “Vela, I have nothing but respect for the Watch and trust that you can cleave through the theory to find the truth. Is not all truth found in conjecture?”

  Taking a deep breath, I nodded. Embarrassing, really, becoming so flustered so quickly. Perhaps it was all the brewing entanglements, my thoughts of Milady, these stirring images of the Silver Bard, the churches, the gangs. It threatened to overwhelm my deductive mind, but I couldn't let it.

  “It would seem to me then that all paths lead to the Bard,” I said at last. “The truth, at least a section of it, lies with her.” Despite Milady's protestations, 'she' felt better than 'it' to me.

  “That I can assist with, Inspector,” the Purifier smiled.

  Finally, perhaps this would be the break I needed to shed a light into this case.

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

  No visit to the Walled City would be complete without a few hours spent at a Branch. The Branches are large balconies arranged as a compass rose (North, Northeast, East, etc.) on the third and fifth layers. Originally constructed as lookout posts for the City Guard, the years have seen them turned over to public use. You will find no better place to gaze out over the Great River, the Orb Sea, the surrounding farmlands and hamlets, and, to the far west, the Olden Wastes, a grim reminder of the Collapse.

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

  To prevent all possibility of spontaneous consciousness, it is vital for the fledgling golemancer to infuse the golem's heart with the correct spiritual essence. Even the faintest, weakest of mortal essences can bring about the chance for free will. Instead, one must draw upon the weak spirits found in inanimate, natural objects and elemental forces. Fire, with its great intensity for a small space, is an ideal source for a beginner, though such golems tend to be short-lived. More skilled golemancers utilize such objects as raw stone, iron, and even alloyed metals to form far more durable constructs.

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

  Out on the Western tip, from where cold winds blow,

  Whispered song caught mine ear, a-bidding,

  In shadow she sat, half-as-me, swaying to and fro,

  Before her I came, my ears open to her calling.

  There in the light of the Wastes a-glowing.

  Out atop the Western wall, where baleful demons race,

  The Lady bid me listen to her tale of woe, of loss.

  In shadow she spoke, half-as-me, n'er light on her face,

  When words came to Father, red did her eyes cross.

  There in the light of the Wastes a-glowing.

  Out laying in the Western Branch, so high above the Folk,

  My duty shone so clear, for succor was needed.

  In Nym's light I stood, half-as-her, and finally spoke,

  “Milady, this thing I will do, to purify the souls as heeded!”

  There in the light of the Wastes a-glowing.

  Out in the Western light, the Heavens whirling overhead,

  The Lady bowed her thanks, red eyes hidden once more.

&n
bsp; In her heart, half-as-mine, there is darkness I dread,

  Yet there is a light still I see, heart beating once more.

  There in the light of the Wastes a-glowing.

  From The City's Herald misfortune and tragedy page, 15 Octavian 736 PC:

  In yet another tragic incident to befall the Second Ward, Timber's Apothecary, a Ratiri-owned business suspected of being a lurid den of drugs and depravity, was burnt to the ground in a sudden conflagration during the late hours of the fourteenth. By Zain's deal, the sudden blast was of sufficient intensity to not only consume the building nigh-instantly, but to burn out its fuel before it could engulf the entire dockfront. Initial suspicion by the Smokehounds and the Watch points to an alchemical accident during the mixing of illegal substances.

  Continued from the journal of Inspector Vela Redmane, 15 Octavian 736 PC:

  I folded the Herald's morning edition under my arm, trying to suppress the scowl that threatened my face. While I wasn't one to stand on propriety, it still felt wrong to have such a foul look standing just below the highest point in the Cathedral. Wyst performed what rituals were required to contact the Bard just above that point. Song was a primary role in it. That much I could hear, and that fact alone cleared up even more of the previous evening.

  “Another thread has been snipped off,” I muttered to myself.

  “Miss Vela?” Christa turned towards me from her gazing through the rainbow of glass.

  “It is fortunate you have found a home here, as your previous one has been destroyed. Unfortunately, that means someone is trying to cover their tracks. Until I put an end to this case, you're still in a great deal of danger, being one of those tracks.”

  “I am sure the church will protect me. Don't let concern for me distract you from finding this horrible killer!”

  My nerves twitched for want of a cigarillo and my Compass itched against my skin. “The Watch always gets their criminal.” It wasn't true, but one had to strive for the ideal. What other point was there in life if not that?