by C S Vass
“What would you recommend?”
“He’s friends with a good lad without a lot of sense. He goes by the name Samwell. Approach Samwell first. Maybe he knows something. The boy doesn’t have much in the way of a constitution. He’d rather spend his time with his nose in a book than dirtying his hands with an honest day’s work. Put a little pressure on him, and the dandy will spill out everything he knows, I don’t doubt.”
“Have you tried that?” Godwin asked.
“It wouldn’t work,” Rolph said, shaking his head. “It’s different with me. I’m the mayor. A friendly face to all. I have a certain persona I need to keep up. I can’t go shaking down my own people.”
“No,” Godwin snorted. “You just hire others for that.”
“Yes, Shigata, I do,” Rolph said, his face darkening. “Because I use that thing the gods put between my ears. I have a village to run. A mayor is not a town guard. I don’t give two shits if the folk here like you. I can’t say the same about myself. Is that a problem?”
“Of course not,” Godwin said. “Very well, Rolph. I’ll take up the contract and look into this. I trust you’ll be generous with me if I succeed.”
“I will,” Rolph said. “And I thank you, Godwin. I was beginning to feel hope was lost. I swear, when I wrap my hands around the bastard’s neck who’s been terrorizing my people, he’ll be praying for a noose.”
Godwin stayed awake for the duration of that night. He was already well-rested, so sitting with his back up against the wall and waiting with the Darksword by his side was more than adequate respite for him while Robert snoozed in bed drooling in his sleep.
The next morning they breakfasted on berries with cream and hot pancakes served up with a side of bacon. It would have been quite pleasant, had they not been on the verge of an argument.
“I have to ask you to reconsider,” the Shigata said to his friend. “Should the worst happen, one of us needs to have our head long enough to walk it over to Iryllium and speak with Reinko. Besides, now that you’ve been inducted into your fancy new order, you’re probably too important to risk.”
Robert was not amused. After looking around pompously, he leaned in and said in a tense voice, “I’ll thank you not to mention The Order of the White Dragon in public again.”
Godwin glanced around. The inn was just as deserted as it was the night before. The only other person there was the barmaid who was doing chores in the back.
“Besides,” the Tarsurian continued. “This isn’t a simple matter of waving a sword around. It will require some true sleuthing. Analytic abilities. Logical deductions and abstract—”
“Okay,” Godwin said quickly. “You can come. Just don’t blame me if you get killed.”
“I never have yet,” Robert replied.
Godwin rolled his eyes.
“These people really do live like kings,” Robert said as he spooned a heap of cream onto his berries. “I can hardly imagine such fortune. Any one of these people could have been born just a few miles to the south into a gutter.”
“Wealth and happiness attract misery like flies to a corpse,” Godwin replied. “Why else do you think that we’re here?”
“Do you really think one of the villagers could be behind such brutal slayings?” Robert asked. “Why in the world would anybody want to screw this up?”
Godwin didn’t answer. Instead he was thinking back to the last Bloodwater War. He saw enough good men screwing up enough good things to put the question out of his mind for the rest of his days.
After they ate, the duo decided to take Rolph’s advice and speak with Samwell. They went to the house that Rolph directed them to and knocked on the door. An old woman with a back like a gnarled tree branch greeted them. “What?” she barked.
“We’re looking for Samwell,” Godwin said. “Is he home?”
“What’s the little fairy done now?” the woman snapped.
Well, we know Samwell’s not the killer, Godwin thought grimly. If he was, this old bat would’ve been first on his list. Instead of speaking his mind, he flashed her his darkest Shigata smile and said, “I have business with him.”
The woman was not impressed. “If you want to read poems with the dandy, do it in your own home. Don’t come back here!” She slammed the door shut.
“Well, that was not excellent,” Robert said.
“No, it certainly wasn’t. What should—”
“Don’t mind her,” a much gentler voice said. Turning, Godwin saw a beautiful woman walking down the road on the arm of a tall man with blue eyes that flashed the sunlight. “Samwell will be down by the river at this time,” she said. “Just go that direction until you reach it and then turn west.”
Godwin bit his lip. Robert bowed pompously. “We’re deeply indebted, dear lady,” he said, taking her hand and planting a loud kiss on it. “My name is Robert, and my noble companion here is Godwin of the Shigata. Who are you and your… husband?”
Godwin had to stop himself from hitting the Tarsurian upside the head. Why exactly was I going to start being nicer to him again?
The woman laughed, a sound like chimes ringing in the breeze. “I’m Sara, and I know who you are. My husband is Rolph. He told me all about the two wanderers that came in yesterday with some murderers. Judging by your demeanors, I’d say that you must be Robert, and you must be the Shigata Godwin.”
“Right you are, my lady,” Robert said, bowing again in a manner that verged on obscenity. When the man whose arm she clung to coughed, he looked up. “And who are you, good sir?”
“Brent,” he replied. “I’m Sara’s brother.”
Godwin caught himself snorting and turned it into a cough. “A pleasure,” he said. “Though of course I wish we were here on happier business.”
Sara leaned close to them, her face suddenly very white. “You couldn’t possibly suspect Samwell, could you?” she said. “He’s a sweet man. The last person who should be on your list.”
“Sara,” Godwin said patiently. “I arrived here yesterday. I suspect nobody, and there is nobody that I’m not willing to speak with. Samwell is first on my list for reasons of my own. I assure you, I’m not in the business of false accusations.”
Brent glared at him, which Godwin responded to by smiling wickedly.
“Of course not,” Sara said. “Forgive me if I’ve given offense.”
“Not at all,” the Shigata said.
“You can’t offend him, Sara,” Brent said loudly. “He’s on your husband’s payroll. Come along now, let’s…” Suddenly Brent’s face had turned very white.
“What’s wrong?” Sara said. They all looked to where his eyes went and saw that he was looking at a tree on a high hill some ways away. Two bodies swung eerily from it, just within the distance where Godwin could see that their faces were purple with bloat.
“Disgusting,” Brent said. He looked like he was going to be sick.
“What’s wrong?” Godwin asked, his eyes glittering. “Not a fan of my work?”
“As it turns out, Shigata, I’m not. Nor do I find the need to get into a pissing contest with you. Go find your killer and begone.”
Sara gave an apologetic look, and the two were moving on their way. As they strut by him, Godwin gave one last smile and said, “You mistake me, Brent. It’s your killer I’m after, not mine. And I intend to do just that. Thank you for the advice, Sara.”
“What was that all about?” Robert asked as the two walked away.
“What?” Godwin said. “Never met an arrogant prick before?”
“I could hardly say that after traveling with you,” Robert replied. “Are you in a bad mood or did you not get your share of bloodshed yesterday?”
“Bloodshed? I’ll remind you that I shed no blood yesterday. I didn’t even draw a sword.”
“Well that’s not strictly true as you did break the man’s—okay, okay,” Robert finished, seeing the look in Godwin’s eyes. “All right, forget I said anything. Save it for the killer, killer
.”
Following Sara’s instructions, they found a small river that twisted and slivered through the hills and towards a meadow. Yellow sunlight shone cleanly on the bark of straight pines without a hint of snow about them. As they got closer, they heard the voices of two people arguing.
“Wonder what that’s about?” Robert asked as they grew closer. Along the banks of the river by a cluster of cattail reeds was a man holding a book and a woman holding a bottle.
“Probably something that’s none of our business, but we’ll get mixed in anyway,” Godwin said.
“You don’t ever listen! You just hear what you want to hear!” the woman screamed. “You’re just like everyone else, no matter how much you say that you don’t want to be.”
“Jane, be reasonable,” the man said in a small voice. He had a fat face and a mop of curly red hair.
She slapped him. Judging by the sound of it, she slapped him pretty hard.
“Oof, poor fellow,” Robert said. “I’ve been there.”
The couple looked at them as Godwin and Robert approached. “You Samwell?” Godwin asked.
“Who wants to know?” he replied in a shaky voice.
“Me,” Godwin said, deciding to start tough from the beginning like Rolph suggested. He turned to the woman. “I don’t care who you are. You can go.”
She stared at him with heavy-lidded eyes and burped. “Kind of a bully, aren’t you?”
Godwin held his silence as the woman took a swig from her bottle. Finally, she shrugged. “Whatever,” she said. Tossing her empty glass casually into the river, she hiccoughed and stumbled away slowly, her white dress trailing behind her in ghostly folds.
“Jane, wait!” the man said.
“Not so fast,” said Godwin, putting his arm out. “Settle your lover’s quarrel some other time. I have some questions for you.”
His face turned very red, and for a moment Godwin thought that he might actually hit him. But the man’s shoulders slumped, and he sighed. “Fine. Just tell me, what is it that you want?”
“I already said,” Godwin growled. “I want to speak with Samwell. That you?”
“It is,” he said. “And from the looks of you I’m guessing that you’re some thug hired to deal with the little problem in the village. So am I right? Out with it already!”
“Easy now,” Robert said tenderly, stepping into the conversation. “I think that perhaps all of us may have gotten off on the wrong foot. Let’s just start over. My name is Robert. This is Godwin. He’s a Shigata, and he’s here to help your village.”
“I know the kind of help that the Shigata offer,” Samwell pouted.
Godwin studied Samwell’s face carefully. He had seen that expression many times, and he decided that Rolph was wrong about him. Samwell wasn’t a pushover dandy who would cave at the first sign of a threat. He might well be a weakling, but he was the kind of weakling who had been preyed upon and bullied since boyhood. The kind of weakling who held onto his dignity and knew how to take a punch even if he didn’t know how to throw one.
“Samwell, I am here to help,” Godwin said. “And I don’t suspect you of having a thing to do with the murders. But I would like your assistance. I’m sorry for driving the girl away. What was her name? Jane?”
Samwell studied Godwin’s face suspiciously. “Yes,” he said at last. “Her name was Jane. Is Jane.”
“What were you arguing about?”
“Nothing that matters,” he said. “Life, love. Small things.”
It took everything Godwin had not to roll his eyes. The bastard was more pompous than Robert.
“Splendid!” Robert said. The Tarsurian threw his arms out wide and patted Samwell on the back, apparently in an effort not to be outdone as the bigger arse. “So you’ll make a wife of her then? You’re a lucky man. She’s quite a beauty. And clearly knows how to handle her drink. One can’t overstate the importance of such a quality in a woman. I once knew a girl…”
Robert’s voice suddenly trailed off into nothing as he caught Godwin’s glowering look. “Ahem, well that’s quite a long story, quite boring. Another time, perhaps.”
“I do want her to be my wife,” Samwell moaned, slumping into the reeds and tossing his book aside. “But she’s just so difficult. She’s affectionate one minute, moody the next. And she’s got it in her head with everything going on that we have to leave the village. But we can’t leave! Our whole lives are here. Where would we go? How would we get by?”
“Hm,” Godwin said, as it was the most polite thing he could make pass through his lips.
“What a conundrum, my dear fellow!” Robert shouted. “An absolute predicament if there ever was one. But fortunately for you, you’re far from the first man to find himself in such circumstances.”
“I suppose so,” Samwell said.
“Quite right! Now, if you’re really concerned about making sure that lovely Jane will stay in your arms, the best way you can do that is to put her mind at ease about staying here. So then, help us out with the small matter of these murders, and you’ll be well on your way.”
Samwell looked at Robert like he’d sooner leap into the river than spend a moment talking about the murders, but all the same he swallowed and said, “I’d help you if I could of course, but I don’t know how I can. I mean, everyone knows everyone here, but that’s what makes this so scary. If I were to put money on it, I’d wager that whoever is doing this to the village is some psychopath out in the wilderness who comes in at night, gets his sick thrill, and is out of sight by daylight.”
“Possibly,” Godwin conceded. “But in my experience, unless the killer is a demon in situations like this, it’s usually someone who knows the victims quite well.”
“Is that right?” Samwell said, standing again. “Well, let’s hear it. You suspect it was me, so what can I do to change your minds?”
“Actually,” Godwin said. “It’s come to my attention that you’re friends with a man named Rickon.”
“Rickon?” Samwell said. “You’ve got to be joking. Rickon is no killer.”
“Samwell, listen,” Godwin said. “From my perspective, anyone I talk to is going to say that. If he’s no killer, then so be it. I’m not accusing anyone yet. But can you tell me anything about him? Has he acted strangely of late? Any changes in behavior? Mood swings?”
Samwell groaned and massaged his head with his hands. “All right, this will sound bad, but it’s no secret, and you’ll hear it from anyone you ask. Rickon does have a bit of a temper. But he’s always had that. He’s prone to get angry, punch a wall, punch a man on occasion. But what of it? He’s hardly the only one. I’ve never seen him lay a finger on a woman. Slashing two teenage girls to ribbons? Ridiculous. I’d stake my whole reputation on the line behind Rickon. He’s not the one.”
“I see,” Godwin said as he wondered if Samwell’s whole reputation could buy more than chickenshit if he took it to market. “So, just to clarify, you’ve noticed nothing odd?”
“No!” Samwell shouted.
“Your killer is a witch.”
Godwin turned. Sleepy-eyed Jane was stumbling back, a fresh bottle in her hand. She took a long swig, coughed, and wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her dress.
“Jane, go home,” Samwell said. “I’ll come for you when we’re done here.”
“Why? So they can accuse you and kill you and hang you from a tree with those thugs? Tell me, Godwin, were those men guilty or were they just some poor peasants you found in the country that you thought you’d make a quick coin on?”
“The Shigata don’t do that,” Godwin said solemnly.
“Piss on the Shigata, and piss on you, you grumpy fuck.”
“Jane!” Samwell said, his face flaring red. “Go home this instant!”
“No,” Godwin said. “Tell me, Jane. What do you mean the killer is a witch?”
Jane shrugged and took another gulp of booze. “Isn’t it obvious? Nobody in the village has the stones to do what’s been done to t
hose bodies. The vicious mutilations. The strange symbols. The shrieking at night.”
That last part got Godwin’s attention. “What shrieking?” he asked.
“Jane, what are you talking about?” Samwell said urgently. “There’s been no shrieking.”
Jane burped. “I don’t know. Some banshee. It wakes me up at night. Always shrieking down here by the river. Haven’t you heard it?”
“Heard it!” Samwell cried. “Of course I haven’t heard it! Why haven’t you said anything before?”
“I’m saying something now,” she responded with a shrug of her shoulders.
“So you think whatever shrieking monstrosity is down here is causing all the killings?” Godwin said. “A witch?”
“A witch. Demon. Rusalka or banshee, maybe. I don’t know. I’m not the Shigata here. Gods, my head is killing me.”
“All right,” Samwell said, straightening his back and standing tall. “I think we’re done with the questions for now. If you need anything else, I’m sure you won’t have any trouble finding us. Best of luck, Godwin. I really do hope you can bring this to a speedy conclusion.”
“Don’t we all,” Godwin muttered.
Samwell went to take Jane’s hand, but she pulled away. Grabbing her arm firmly, he steered her up the hill while she laughed and hiccoughed. Godwin grimaced and Robert frowned as her mocking cries fell down the hillside. “Save me from the witch, master Shigata—hic—hahaha—save me, save—hic—me!”
Chapter 13
“Rolph is the mayor, married to Sara. Samwell is the poetic one with the girl, Jane, who drinks too much. Sin is really Harold, but how could anyone call him anything but Sin at this point? Then there’s Rickon, who Rolph suspects of having something to do with the killings. I’m forgetting someone, damnit, who am I forgetting?”
Robert had been talking to himself most of the morning, trying to take stock of the various people they had met in the village. Despite Godwin’s insistence that some demonic force was behind the grisly murders they had been recruited to deal with, Robert was under the impression that he was some sort of master sleuth.