The Songstress Murders

by J. B. Garner

  I sucked in a deep breath and nodded. Once again, Kraatz proved why I trusted him so dearly. As a reward, I gave him a kiss on the forehead. “Thank you, Kraatz.”

  “You're most welcome, Vela,” he said in high spirits. “However, I'd suggest you get on with things or else I might ask for another kiss, a less platonic one.” He smirked through his mouthful of meat and cheese.

  “I suppose I better,” I said as I made my way to the door. “I have enough of that kind of difficulty these days as it is!”

  My goal was clear. Find that surviving Brother and find out what had destroyed the apothecary. Our murderer may have struck first with pleasure, but had moved on to more destructive means. I thought again about the meaning of chains. Ruji had been there and he was the second youngest of the Foi, the second link in the chain.

  I hoped against hope that he was the survivor. I had the growing feeling that the Foi Brothers knew more about this killer than they had shared. It was only a few blocks from the Watchtower to the border of the Second Ward so I eschewed a cab or carriage, taking the walk to gather my resources and plan my search.

  Before I even made two steps, an insight became clear. I was doing it again, as these many pages show, throwing myself into my work to cloud the torrid events of my love life. Now I was caught in strands between two very different women, both so strange, so beyond the norm that I felt truly lost. Instead of even trying to sort that out, here I was, throwing myself entirely into my Duty. A turn of the day and I'd swing once more, if history stayed true, and find solace in the arms of those I love. Back and forth, it was a cycle that could only end in tragedy. Still, they say recognition is the first part of any solution. If only I had the willpower to follow through to that goal. Instead, I let my mind focus past thoughts of Milady and the Bard and onto the investigation at hand.

  My first stop would have to be the Scale. First, my intention to inform Scoven of Christabelle's safety had so far gone unfulfilled. Second, with its brisk business and no-questions-asked policy, the bar served as a crossroads for all sorts in the Ward. If Ruji were dead or missing, word would be on everyone's lips. If not, I could then press on directly to the Brothers' main haunts. No matter Yung's declaration, I had told him I would not be kept out and I meant every word.

  It wasn't yet midday by the time I had finished my stroll to the Scale. The mood on the street was apprehensive and, unlike most days, the Ward Folk were sullen and subdued, focused on their own business. It didn't take a native like me to realize that there was a tension in the air, and the average men and women had the sense to keep wisely out of the way of the impending trouble.

  The Mermaid's Scale was no better. Though well-populated by workmen either finding solace in their brief lunches or late-nighters just now roused from their beds and needing meals, every face was downcast on his or her bowl or plate. Despite that, there was still the echo of subdued gossip rumbling through the crowd. Even when things turned sour in the Second Ward, tongues never went silent; they just wagged a bit quieter.

  Scoven looked up crossly from the mug he was intently cleaning at the sound of my boot heels, an expression that only soured more when he saw who it was. “Gods damn you, Vela. When I done told ye where Christa lived, I didn't 'spect ye to tear the whole damn building into ashes and cinder.” He spat to his side, an act answered by the ringing of a spittoon. “Now everyone's actin' like war be brewin' and I've lost my best hostess.”

  I raised my hands disarmingly. “For once, I'm not the cause of your problems, Scoven. Christa is quite safe, though I have to report that she has found religion and may not be in the hostess trade anymore.” Sitting on the stool opposite him, I didn't play at levity as I continued. “The rest, however, may be true. There is something brewing, something deadly, and I don't think it is satisfied with one dead Brother and one incinerated building.”

  “Ye have a keen nose for trouble, don't ye, my dear?” The old sea dog let out a bark of a laugh and poured a stout, pounding it onto the bar in front of me. “At least the lass be safe. Good girl, hopefully being a cleric suits her.” He squinted, focusing on me with his right eye. “I take it yer here for more than just a beer and a message, eh?”

  Dropping my voice to a strong whisper, I leaned forward over the bar, making as I often did to be flirting with the barkeep. “Whoever or whatever destroyed the apothecary missed someone. One of the Brothers that had been there survived.”

  Scoven smirked and gave a coy wink, but his hushed words were an answer, not a come-on. “That'd explain why old Yung's flooded his territory with thugs. Word is that Ruji's gone missin' and there are a lot of sabers being rattled.” He picked up another glass to clean with his not-quite-so-clean bar rag. “Add to that them tales of angels flying around these parts and that fire, well, it'll take a fair bit o' luck fer there not to be another round of bloodshed before the next dawn.”

  I took a gulp of beer to mask my expression at the news. “Angels, eh? We Second Warders could use those. I suppose we'll have to settle for the Watch.”

  “I suppose so.” Scoven leaned in closer. “It ain't much to go on, but try nosin' around the Fortuli. The old queen saw the fire from her perch and swore up and down this very morning that she saw someone slinking away from the mess. You know what that means, aye?”

  “That Queen Fortuli is bound to be in trouble.” The Fortulis were a Hive cluster that tried their best to be honest and hardworking, but most wound up involved as muscle for whatever local gang could provide for their needs. Still, they were fundamentally good people. Why the old queen would throw around words like that in this climate, well, she was old when I was a little girl, so age must have finally gnawed away at her reason.

  “I'll be assumin' ye'll be drinkin' and runnin' again?”

  “Aye, you'd assume rightly. I fear my tab is going to grow.”

  Scoven rolled his eyes. “If ye somehow keep them Folk out of trouble fer today, I'll consider us square.”

  I nodded my thanks and tipped back the rest of the beer. “Wish me a fair deal then.”

  “Fair deal, Vela, fair deal.”

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

  Slipping the bonds of earth below, I fly high,

  Rising on love and feelings bright.

  For a time, the song of despair, though nigh,

  Can slip off into forgetful night.

  Though my heart is half, it fills and swells,

  Here among the clouds of white.

  Courageous heart, even now I hear

  Its pattering beat, so warm and alive.

  I wish she could fly beside me so near,

  To slip the bonds of duty like the Hive.

  Forsooth, we each wear our own chains,

  Here among the clouds of white.

  The Lady, half-as-mine, is the chain

  That binds me and, all the same,

  Holds her to me in the main.

  Does our heart swell to that name?

  Was that what lit her fire again,

  Down below the clouds of white?

  The length of my chain snaps abruptly,

  As far from half-as-mine as I can go.

  Would that I could escape so justly,

  Yet the answer remains the same: no.

  But perhaps it matters not, as love abounds,

  Down below the clouds of white.

  From The Hive: A Singular Folk by Yon Kyle, Olden naturalist:

  Most of the post-Collapse Folk combine Olden traits with those of common mammals. There are two exceptions. One is the Wass, combining piscine traits with the Olden, but otherwise they remain very close to the other Folk. The Hive, however, is unique in that they combine insect traits to a far larger degree with the Olden than the other Folk. They possess group intelligences, hence the name, forming the tight knit communities one would expect from such a joined psyche. Even so, individual Hive members can show shocking degrees of individuality. This group min
d is just the first and most notable of the vast differences that make the Hive so unique among our many races.

  Continued from the journal of Inspector Vela Redmane, 16 Octavian 736 PC:

  The Fortuli Hive is a unique landmark in the Second Ward. As with most Hive, the buildings in the small block-complex they inhabit were constructed by the family itself, favoring hexagonal shapes and multistory buildings. Add to that the placement of the entrances at odd levels, and it is convenient for flying creatures but troublesome for walkers like me. That day, though, I found it an advantage. Anything that might hamper any Brothers poking around was a boon.

  Fortunately, I ran across a couple of the Fortuli workers. As with those I had known in my youth, they were big lugs, more insect than Folk, completely engrossed by repairs on a dilapidated facade. The Hive's fortunes seemed as poor as ever, but if they showed much care, I couldn't tell.

  Walking up behind them, I cleared my throat. “Good morning, Fortuli.”

  Antennae twitched and one of them turned toward me while the other didn't even arrest the motion of his (hers? It was hard to tell at first glance). “Morning greetings, Watcher Aard. The Fortuli consider why City Watch organization come to the Hive?”

  “I have come to seek understanding with your Queen.” I gestured up to the highest floor, where traditionally the Queen would be. “Is this acceptable to the Fortuli?”

  The Hive's antennae twitched again, no doubt carrying my request to the Queen. That mental communication was momentary before s/he swiveled her/his head to me, mandibles clicking. “The Queen will make understanding with you, Vela Aard. We have memories of larval you.” S/he patted her/his chest. “This one is ZeeZeeArr Fortuli. This one will escort you to the Queen.”

  “Thank you, ZeeZeeArr. The Fortuli honor me with this understanding.” At least the Queen wasn't so scattered yet as to not remember me or to start losing control over parts of the Hive. I have heard tales of Hive Folk when their Queens lose control over their brood before a new Queen has taken over and they never end well.

  ZeeZeeArr led me down a narrow alley deeper into the Fortuli block, to a remote ground floor entrance. “This is the door for grounders.” S/he opened it wide, letting me enter before closing it behind us.

  There was a lack of solider Fortuli, a fact that made me a bit on edge. It is rare that a Hive Queen won't keep a contingent of soldiers at the hive at all times. With the tension on the streets, it was even more unusual. If there is no Queen, there is no Hive.

  Though not made of the native materials of a bee's hive, the complex's interior was carved of wood and stone with distinctly organic styling, preferring curves and smooth edges over hard angles save for the continued predominance of the hexagonal symbology. I found myself wondering about the gods and goddesses the Hive worshiped. Did they have their own or did they sing to their own versions of Myrien and the rest? It was too easy to write off the Hive as too alien to want to understand, a horrible thought but all too common.

  We walked up winding ramps and through cramped corridors until we reached what had to be the highest level of the complex. It was dominated by a single chamber and dressed in what finery the Fortuli could scrape together despite their poverty. The center of that finery was what anyone would describe as a throne, but its exotic construction, like a hollowed-out eggshell of beaten copper and supported by spindly legs and an iron chain suspended from the ceiling, would make any Folk pause. From that throne, Queen Fortuli sat, the stiff hairs on her insect legs turning a steely gray with her advanced years.

  While I had more experience than most with the Hive, growing up near the Fortuli as I did, I had never seen the Queen before. Few, if any, outsiders ever do. Larger in size than even soldiers, the Queen was the least insect-like of any Hive I had seen, with close-to-normal proportions and the traditional two arms and two legs. Still, her body was exoskeletal, like the others, with once-vivid patterns of yellow and glossy black across her frame. As with the rest of the Hive, I'd have no clue as to her gender if not for my knowledge that this was the Queen.

  Again, there were no soldiers here that I could see, just a few workers attending to repairs. Equally disturbing, there were no larvae (more like normal Folk child than what one might expect) here or in any chamber I had passed. Were the Fortuli dying?

  ZeeZeeArr seemed nervous as far as I could tell as s/he maneuvered to be by the Queen's side as she focused her multifaceted eyes on me. “Ah, Watcher Vela Aard. We remember you. For the Lost, you are a good one, yes.” She gestured lazily around the room. “Welcome to the Fortuli, where no other Lost has been. You seek understanding with us, you say?”

  “I do.” I bowed deeply. “I have fear, Queen, from what the others outside the Hive say. The things the Fortuli have said might bring the Brothers to the hive.”

  “We do not fear this,” she said, her words backed by the clacking of mandibles. “The Fortuli have nothing more for the Brothers Myan and the Brothers Myan only seek that which profits their hive.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Nothing more? What have the Brothers already taken?”

  The Queen's antennae quivered violently and she slumped in her throne. A high-pitched buzzing seemed to echo from her form and ZeeZeeArr knelt down, massaging the Queen's temples below the antennae.

  “The Brothers Myan have taken everything of value, Vela Aard,” the worker said, taking unusual initiative for what s/he was. While all Hive have their own identity, it is rare for workers to act upon it. “Though you are Lost, you are Inspector Soldier. You know the Fortuli. You must see the loss.”

  ZeeZeeArr's words tied together everything I had seen here, the missing soldiers, the lack of children, and the Queen's gossip. Her actions did not come from senile ramblings or any sickness; they came from one who feels that their world has already ended. Without soldiers and larvae, the hive would die. Even worse, what if the Brothers had a queen larva? Whatever the answer, the fact remained that the Queen thought there was nothing else the Brothers could do to hurt the Fortuli.

  “Myrien's love, I am so sorry. I only now see and understand.” I took a step forward, thinking to perhaps comfort the Queen directly, but Zee's look warded me off. “The Watch knew the Foi were smugglers, but not kidnappers. Not slavers.”

  “The Fortuli would tear at their hive, but they hold our future against us.” The Queen had managed to compose herself to continue. “But like other Lost, the Brothers Myan do not understand what it means to be Hive. We cannot act, yet we still see. We may be lost, but our sting will find them dead in the end.”

  “Your Highness, the Fortuli are not lost yet.” I didn't know the proper protocol for the Hive, so I simply dropped to a knee before her. “Speak to me of what the Fortuli see and we can stop them, bring back your lost people, and help you stay alive.” I left my own desire to catch my murderer unsaid.

  “We see that they are hunter and hunted. We see that there is a fiery one above all the Brothers Myan that punishes their failure. We see that the silver thing stalks them.” The Queen faltered again, as if it was difficult to rise above her self-imposed resignation.

  Again, it was Zee who finished the Queen's speech. “Most importantly to the Watch organization's understanding, we see where the Foi Myan Dee hides, among those Lost the Brothers Myan have taken.”

  My eyes widened. The lower layer has and likely forever will be rife with disappearances, easy to write off among the poor and the constant trade through the waterways. The idea that the Foi Brothers were taking people off the streets was certainly possible, if frightening. The question, though, was why. I would find an answer.

  Focusing on that and shelving thoughts of the fiery creature and silver one the Queen spoke of, I said, “Then please tell me where. I can bring the Watch in and we can tear down their doors. With evidence of one series of kidnappings, I am certain we can move on, find everywhere the Brothers are hiding, and free your people!”

  The Queen clutched the edges of her oval seat hard enough
to deform the thick copper. “We do not care for life. The Fortuli will last or it will die, so long as the Brothers Myan pay. From their lowest larva to their demon master, promise us, Vela Aard, Vela Understander, that your Lost justice will prevail.” Instead of merely slumping, the Queen appeared to pass out entirely, her arms and legs going limp.

  Zee shook her/his head and turned towards me. “This one will tell you, Vela Aard, what you must have understanding of. Where the Foi Myan Dee is, where your Lost people are.”

  I got to my feet, jaw set. My Moral Compass hummed with righteous indignation. “I know your Queen does not agree, ZeeZeeArr, but I promise you and your cluster that I will do everything in my power to help you survive as well as bringing the Brothers to our justice.”

  The worker's antennae worked furiously as s/he stepped closer. I held my ground even as two of her/his powerful arms rose up. Instead of any hostile action, Zee made a motion in the air right in front of me, inscribing a hexagon in the air with both arms. “The Fortuli thanks you, Vela Understander. Though the Queen wishes only justice, we…” Zee paused for a long moment. I almost thought something was critically wrong before s/he finished. “ … I wish to live, to know the vibrations of my brothers and sisters again.”

  I nodded solemnly. “I promise I will make it happen.” I realized the danger of making such a promise, both to my physical and emotional well-being. Still, in hindsight, what else could I say?

  ZeeZeeArr put his/her clawed arms with surprising gentleness on my shoulders and took me into the next room to tell me of where I was to go.

  From the notes of Lady Alysa Hsu, 16 Octavian 736 PC:

  Progress on the ritual continues well, though some components turning into major expense. No matter, material cost is unimportant in terms of end result. Still, would take a few days to finish the purchases and have them sent via courier to the mansion.

  I contemplated my relations with Redmane and the growing situation with the Bard. Though early in the morning it seemed prudent to let Vela make her decisions, especially with foreknowledge of Myrienite beliefs, but was starting to feel uneasy with said course of action. I trust Vela, yes, but, as noted before, the Bard can be overwhelming to some. Can I trust Redmane that much?