Jak Barley-Private Inquisitor and the Case of the Seven Dwarves

by Dan Ehl

  The Baron and Baroness had gone all out. Even this tucked away seating had a floral arrangement made of rare Venus mousetraps that would snap up any table scraps tossed in their general direction.

  "You are very quiet, Master Jak," Morgana observed after several minutes of silence as we ate. "Are you one of those who can only savor one pleasure at a time, either food or conversation?"

  I was actually thinking about Frost Ivory and feeling guilty. I should at this instance be working on her case. My only solace was that Frost Ivory apparently would not know if I took a day or month to solve her plight. There were of course the dwarves to think about and their apparent goblin allies.

  "I can be of help," Morgana added before I could reply to her last comment. "I have always been intrigued with private inquisitors."

  "Everyone thinks my work is so romantic or exciting," I automatically repeated what I have told a number of would-be private inquisitors. "In fact, it is tedious and boring."

  Morgana stopped her wine glass halfway to her lips and cocked her head, giving me a wry smile. "Let us consider that. In the last few days you have been attacked by Reverian Assassins and giant wolf spiders; traversed ancient, unknown caverns; faced Blackwatch Goblins; been hired to free a beautiful maiden from a spell; and am now with a woman of extraordinary beauty and wit."

  "Yes, if you are going to put it that way, it does sound intriguing on the face of it. But constant adventure can get old. Once you have faced death a dozen times, it is no more enthralling than washing socks," I answered modestly then cocked my head. "How did you know all that?"

  "Your friend, Sergey, seems to think it is all very exciting. He cannot wait to publish it."

  "Like all hack scribes, he likes to embellish." I was not giving my usual witty rejoinders. Morgana was watching me with hands clasped beneath her chin and elbows on the table. I found myself just wanting to regard her pursed lips and heart-shaped face.

  Out of this fog came the first clear notion I'd had for the evening. I tried pushing it away, but it tenuously clung to my thoughts. Why couldn't Morgana help? I would hesitate to place any other maiden at risk because of my task, but she was the daughter of a notorious witch who could even protect her across town from Reverian Assassins.

  "What can I do?" she asked excitedly.

  "Do you read minds?" I asked. It was not the first time she had seemed to catch my thoughts.

  "No, just your face. For a hardened private inquisitor, you are very evident in your feelings. But I like that about you."

  "That I am shallow?"

  "That too. Just hush and tell me what you want me to do."

  "If I am so obvious, you should be able to read my face."

  She squinted her eyes and cocked her head for a minute, giving me time to gaze back at her. "You want me to go in disguise and delve into Frost Ivory's background. And one of the reasons you find me attractive is that I remind you of a secret girlfriend named Whilmia from when you were eight years old."

  I drew in a breath and fought to keep my jaw from dropping. "How did you all know that?"

  "As with a stage illusionist, a private inquisitor seldom reveals her methods. Let us just say that I observe obvious signs an untrained eye will miss."

  Was she able to hear thoughts? Had Morgana inherited some of her mother's powers? She easily read the apprehension I was feeling and relented.

  "If I was to begin searching for why such a curse was placed on a client, I would try to first identify all possible enemies. That would mean investigating her life before she came to live with the dwarves. Was she hiding from someone? Why else would she live with seven coal dwarves? And being a maiden, I can ask questions without provoking as much suspicion as a man."

  Morgana sat back smugly and again clasped her hands. "As you see, once explained, my deductions suddenly plunge from the realm of wonder to a more mundane plane."

  "But how did you know about that secret girl friend named Whilmia?"

  "Just a lucky guess."

  I eyed her suspiciously for a minute before speaking. "I was also thinking I would not have to worry about you getting hurt with a witch mother who is always watching over you."

  "That is not quite true," Morgana answered and reached out to pat my hand. "Mummsie cannot be shielding me constantly. It would take up all her time and energy. She is only warding tonight because she knew I would be out with a notorious private inquisitor under a death threat from Reverian Assassins. Things like that tend to bring out the maternal instincts in her. She is funny that way."

  "Excuse me. I hate to break up such a charming scene, but I believe I will be leaving the party early." It was Mika.

  I looked up guiltily. I had totally forgotten him. "Mika, I am sorry, I feel--"

  "Don't worry on my account," he laughed and nodded in the direction of several young men appearing too nervous to approach our table. "I would have been over here with you, but I met some interesting fellows and have accepted an invitation to visit the local taverns."

  "How will you get home? I am afraid I am to blame for you not arriving in your own carriage."

  "Don't worry. I am sure one of my new friends will find me a conveyance. It was nice meeting you, Master Jak, and I believe I will be sending some business your way shortly."

  On that mysterious note, the viscount bowed to Morgana and turned to make his way to the waiting group.

  "At least the Baron's son, Runuld, is not among them. I would hate to think of Mika associating with that scoundrel."

  "I think Mika is capable of taking care of himself," said Morgana as she turned back to me. "Now, let us discuss tomorrow's plans."

  "Wait. Those were my thoughts before hearing you are not always under your mother's charm. And what is she going to think, you hanging around with a notorious ferret?"

  "That is private inquisitor," Morgana corrected me. "I believe she will be happy to have me out from underfoot. We have been seeing way too much of each other since our move to Duburoake."

  "It is hard to imagine the two of you even running into each other in that monstrous place, let alone getting underfoot." I almost shuddered thinking about any temple of Dorga and the dark dungeons they must all possess.

  "Good evening. I would like to offer my respects to the Lady Morgana and the famous ferret, Jak Barley."

  "That be private inquisitor," Morgana and I replied as one.

  Before us stood a tall, gaunt figure dressed completely in black. The garb was of a simple cut that still spoke of money. The inside of his cape bore only one color, a brief flash of bright red showing when he bowed.

  Until now I would have sworn only Frajans could be that pale--his unwholesome lack of color brought to mind maggots, corpses, and a number of other unnamed creatures that insanely gibber during fetid summer nights in coastal swamps and perverse temple ruins.

  He watched us with ice blue eyes set above high cheekbones and full lips more at home on a woman. The visitor's black hair was swept back and glistened from the use of too much hair oil. Still, some females might think him handsome.

  I stood and bowed, not wanting to shake hands. He inspired a strange dread--and I have had more than a few confrontations with ghouls, demons, and the undead. I forced myself to smile; more for bluster in front of Morgana than civility for the stranger. It felt as if the temperature around our table had dropped by twenty degrees.

  "And you are?" asked Morgana. She was fortunate etiquette did not demand a female to stand for an introduction or a gentleman did not kiss the hand of an unmarried woman.

  "Forgive me, I am Count Frederick of Kripdenstein, visiting your fair city on a trading mission."

  "Please have a seat, Count," she properly offered. I made several pained faces behind the Count's back as he turned his full attention to Morgana. She ignored me.

  "I would not wish to intrude," he responded and turned for my consent.

  "Why of course, Count," I sputtered just in time to wipe the grimace from my face.


  I took several long steps and quickly pulled out a chair that would place him the furthest from Morgana and me. It might have looked strange, but I didn't care. There was no way I was going to be seated close to whatever the Count was. Morgana smiled graciously to make up for my strange actions.

  "That is very cordial, but first let me retrieve my drink I left at another table." He bowed again and turned, offering another fleeting glimpse of the red cape lining.

  "Jak, why are you acting so strange?"

  "Morgana, why did you invite him to sit with us?"

  "You are being silly. I was only being polite. No one else has presented themselves to our table."

  "And they sure will not now--not with Count Cadaver here. We will be lucky if we can get a servant to bring a drink," I hissed, as if he could hear me from halfway across the room. For all I knew, he could.

  "I admit he appears a bit odd, but there is something about the count. I think it must be his eyes."

  "No, those high wire opossums over there are odd. Count Frederick is well beyond odd, weird, or even bizarre,"

  "Jak, you are upset. What is the matter? Are you jealous?"

  "Jealous of the coffin kinder? Hardly. The count is definitely vile news. I think he would rather nibble on your neck than finish his glass of wine."

  "Do you think he is a vampire?" Morgana's eyes opened widely. "I have never met a vampire. Mummsie never had anything to do with them. She claims they make a horrible mess at the table."

  "Blood is probably difficult to get out of silk napkins."

  "I think you are imagining things. The count is a bit pallid, I will admit. But he does have a commanding presence. Be good."

  I could not retort. Count Frederick had returned and was seating himself across the table. I pride myself on being an easygoing person when it comes to most nonhumans, but I have had an abhorrence for vampires since a case involving a missing merchant's daughter. The private club frequented by S&M female vampires turned out to be a false lead in the case, but that night turned out to be one of the more twisted experiences I have weathered. I was never so thankful to hear a cock crow in my life.

  "How long have you been in Duburoake?" Morgana asked.

  "Only a couple months, but I have been enjoying discovering the secluded parts of the city off the beaten tourist paths."

  "More likely dragging tourists off the beaten path."

  "Did you say something?" the count politely inquired.

  I must have spoken my thought out loud. I shrugged my shoulders at a frowning Morgana. "I said you must try our wonderful beaches. There is some excellent fishing off Broken Jaw Reef. Last week someone caught a sixty-pound muck eel. Or you could just sprawl on the sand and work on your tan. Ouch." Morgana had kicked me under the table.

  "Did you arrive by ship, Count?" Morgana steered the conversation to what she hoped were safer topics.

  "Yes, it was a pleasant voyage for the most part, though I cannot say much for the ship cook's idea of fare," he laughed.

  "Not enough blood sausage?" This time I managed not to make a noise when Morgana booted me. It seems women are always kicking me under the table.

  "Blood sausage?"

  "Ah, yeah. I, ah, heard blood sausage is a favorite food of Kripdensteinians."

  "No. Though maybe you heard it was pig fat," he laughed hollowly, though the smile shown to me lacked mirth. "Many of our peasants eat it like cheese when they are consuming the national drink, a fiery distillation made from fermented mare's milk. The fat supposedly coats the stomach as a protection."

  "Really? It sounds like charming fare."

  "You must visit my castle sometime and I will have you for dinner."

  "As the main course? Ouch."

  "Ha-ha, you Glavendalians have such a strange sense of humor."

  "Here, have one of these roasted garlic cloves," I said as I pushed a small silver tray in his face. "I have noticed you are eating nothing with your wine."

  "I am sure the count can feed himself," Morgana firmly spoke as she tried wrestling the serving platter from my hand.

  Did I detect just a bit of alarm from the count? He was twisting away from the bowl and leaning toward Morgana. I shoved my chair back, dove across the table, and flung myself onto the count. Food and drink went flying. He toppled backwards and I fell with him. Panicking because I had no silver dagger or wooden stake, I ground the tray of garlic into his face.

  Morgana was yelling and I could hear other shouts of alarmed guests. I found myself roughly hurled off the count. I sprawled, stunned, on my back as he scrambled to his feet.

  "Count, I am so sorry. I do not know what came over my..."

  Her words were cut off as he grabbed her by the shoulders, his eyes blazing an angry red and his snarl showing a pair of canines that would have done a direpoodle proud.

  I frantically stumbled to my feet, knowing I would not be in time. A vampire needs minutes to properly drain a victim dry, but only seconds to inflict its poison. I watched in horror as he lunged for her throat, only to throw back his head and begin violently coughing. I threw my weight behind my left shoulder and crashed into the Count's side. He lost his grasp of Morgana and stumbled--too engrossed in his apparent strangulation to strike back.

  I roughly shoved Morgana behind me and snatched at some silverware, coming up with a fork. I hoped it was at least silver-plated. Waving it back and forth in front of me, I cautiously approached the choking vampire.

  "Please, not the salad fork, young man. We are too far into the feast for that. Here, try the butter knife."

  The stubby piece of dinnerware was thrust into my other hand. I jerked away and turned to face the witch Morganna. She gingerly reached out and with one finger pushed the fork to the side.

  "Never aim a fork unless you plan to use it," she advised then turned her attention to the vampire. He laid flat on his back and clutched at his throat, though his thrashing was growing feebler. The witch calmly walked to his side and stomped her heal in the middle of his chest.

  With an "humpf," he spat out a garlic clove. He took a deep breath then aimed a sickly smile at Morganna. She flicked her fingers and he was gone, just the sound of a faint pop to show for his disappearance.

  Morganna brushed her hands and said, "Another visitor and I have not even changed the sheets from our last guest in the dungeon."

  I felt arms circling one of my own "How did you know the count really was a vampire? He almost bit me." There was a slight tremor in Morgana's voice.

  "Ah, the silver garlic bowl. I could see you, but he had no reflection."

  By now those around us were coming out of their shock. There was a hushed murmur of fearful voices. Some women were wringing their hands and a few cringed against their escorts. A table of five Ayrian women, part of the Mountain Queen's Guard stationed at their local consulate, were sheathing their swords. I noticed at least half dozen men with the provincial militia had drawn their sabers.

  An upset Baron Ruble, accompanied by his personal palace guardsmen, pushed his way through the ring of onlookers. "What has happened? Barley! I should have known you would be involved. What manner of disturbance are you creating at my ball? I will have you--"

  "Rewarded for his swift action?" Morganna finished the Baron's admonishment in a dangerous voice. She had placed herself between the Baron and her daughter as well as myself. The witch seemed to have grown several inches and her menacing presence caused the Baron to recoil.

  "A guest of yours, Baron, tried to attack my daughter. It was a vampire--a vampire at your precious ball. What kind of guest list do you keep? Master Barley saved her. One would think a mother would not have to worry for her daughter's safety in your domicile."

  Blinking nervously and looking about, the Baron began blubbering, "Who? What? This is an outrage. Of course my dear madam, I will see to it this moment. Where is the villain? I will have him questioned..."

  "That has already been taken care of, Baron. He is safely restrained
at my estate. And you will be sure I will be questioning him later tonight."

  The ominous tone of her voice stopped further protests. All within hearing, including the baron, were only too glad they were not the one to face her inquisition.

  "I believe my daughter has had enough excitement for one evening. We will be leaving now, Baron. Please give my regards to the rest of your family," Morganna stated coolly in a voice that promised she would suffer no fool gladly, but would be only too glad to make a fool suffer. She began herding us toward the distant doorway.