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

by Dan Ehl

  "Do you?" I called him on his flippant reply.

  "No."

  I waited for more, but that appeared to be his entire reply.

  It wasn't that Lorenzo was appearing to avoid the topic, but to make him elaborate on his single-word answers smacked of coercion. Seeing he was not going to willingly volunteer further information, I dropped the matter and examined the cart and the small horse that was pulling it.

  "It appears the hearse was busy today," I noted. "It probably is only free in the evenings."

  "Nope, sold it."

  "Sold it! You mean you owned that carriage?" I asked in surprise.

  Lorenzo smiled as he flicked the reins to speed up the dawdling nag. "You don't think a bar, hot tub, and all that chrome are standard for a hearse, do you? I know a gnome with his own body shop and I had him customize the chassis and interior. He even had to modify the springs to carry the weight of the hot tub."

  "And you sold it?" I asked in wonder. "I cannot imagine anyone who could afford it also having the ill taste to actually use it."

  "I sold it on contract. Even had to throw in some seed money so they could pay for their work uniforms. Seems they have a rather novel ideal of how to outfit themselves."

  I turned in my seat and scrutinized Lorenzo. "You do not mean..."

  "Yup, 'fraid so. Your four buddies are now owners of the Duburoake Limo Service to the Rich and Famous."

  "Lorenzo, who is going to want to charter a hearse for social engagements?" I asked.

  "It appears quite a few since it was the transportation of choice for the most talked about couple attending the gala event of the season. I think it was the hot tub that did it."

  I stared at Lorenzo in silence for at least a minute, but he refused to capitulate. He maintained his typically outrageous look of innocence and even batted his eyelids before I finally conceded.

  "You did not plan all this, did you? I mean, I have often wondered what you do for a livelihood. You are not some kind of crass purveyor who plants vogues then harvests gains like a quack healer during a plague?"

  Lorenzo maintained his guileless pose and answered, "One has to make a living."

  "Just so," I snorted. "Did you even break even?"

  Lorenzo laughed and slapped me on the back. "I would have if I hadn't had to throw in a horse. But I look at it this way--I know where I can always catch a cab."

  He flicked the reins to quicken the horse. The small carriage did not have much in the way of springs and the cobblestone kept my teeth rattling. I almost bit off my tongue when we a hit a gap in the cobblestones. We were now making good time with Lorenzo weaving wildly in and out among the bulkier and slower carriages and freight wagons.

  "You are going to feel bad when we run over some poor child," I noted while firmly clutching my seat as the buggy pitched around a corner.

  "We won't have anyone following us at this pace. Sit back and enjoy the breeze through your hair," Lorenzo advised and if anything, sped up the cart even more.

  "You know the wind in my hair is a good way to get a lot of split ends," I tried a different tact, not wanting to show my true feeling--wanting to cover my eyes and scream for him to slow down. "And this cannot be beneficial for the horse."

  As I said that, I surveyed the black horse for the first time. It was an odd nag, with a rough coat and lank of frame. There were several irregular scars about its flanks. Some appeared to be the marks of quarrels with other stallions.

  "Just what kind of horse is this? A rather seedy beast. I hope you did not pay too much for it."

  "Don't worry about Fury," said Lorenzo. "He may look scruffy, but he can knock about any of your more well-bred horses. He is a mustang, a wild horse from my home world."

  "That is what I look for in a steed. I am sure the owners of other horses appreciate that quality," I replied while again tightly clutching my seat as we took a corner on one wheel.

  "It does make it easier to find a parking place," Lorenzo answered.

  "Are we almost there yet? I have to go to the water closet," I yelled above the clatter of the wheels.

  "You should have gone before we left," admonished Lorenzo.

  We were nearing the edge of Duburoake and coming to the waterfront. We would be seeing less traffic and I hoped I would soon be able to breathe a bit easier. Lorenzo slowed and turned into a wagon train stop. Rows of heavy freight wagons were pulled off to one side as their drivers were either eating or watering their teams. Saddle horses and smaller carriages and wagons were parked closer to the shops.

  "It will only take a second," I said as I thankfully stepped onto solid ground.

  The sound of iron striking iron and the smell of charcoal wafted from the blacksmith's shed. Several wagons had corners propped on tree stumps as their wheels were waiting repairs by the cartwrights. Past the smithy was a row of sheds and larger structures that harbored sellers of feed, a horse healer, an inn, tavern, and a canteen.

  I walked into the canteen since it would have an outhouse cleaner than that of a roadhouse's. It was also a coach stop. There were a number of tables and a long counter. There were the peculiar patrons who always frequent such road environs. Cluttering a half dozen freestanding shelves were souvenirs and other items that appeal to travelers and waggoners.

  "Key, please," I requested of the lean young woman at the counter. Her cast had a bluish sheen that mirrored her eyes. I could not place her lineage, though she would have been comely if not for her sour disposition. She gave me a surly nod while continuing her conversation with an imp, almost flinging the large brass key my way.

  I continued to the back door and out to a small parking lot used for the help's horses and carts. Inside the outhouse, I suddenly felt apprehensive and nervously glanced around to see if there were any tiny green, fury lobsters with spider legs. There did not seem to be, though there were plenty of webs with dried flies among the ceiling beams. There were also the obligatory scratchings on the rough board walls that mused on life and the licentiousness of several wenches. A pipe running up the wall connected to an outside copper reservoir. It ended in a faucet for hand washing.

  I hesitated at the door, remembering the last time I stepped out of a public water closet. This time there were no bug lobsters nor Reverian Assassins.

  Lorenzo was in the canteen buying a clock that looked like a sequined black cat. The clock face was on the cat's stomach and a long tail acted as the pendulum. As the tail swung back and forth, so did the cat's eyes.

  I handed the key back to the sales maiden who grabbed it as if I were ruining her day with my presence. She refused to make eye contact.

  I said to Lorenzo with a grimace, "What are you going to do with that grotesque thing--archery target?"

  "I thought I'd get it as a gift for our hostess. I've always loved them," Lorenzo answered as he held the clock at arm's length to admire the overall effect.

  I rolled my eyes at the thought of Lorenzo presenting the witch with a cat clock. This was going to be better than I thought. "I'm sure it will look nice on her walls, maybe next to that Third Eon oil by Wanderbirch."

  Lorenzo turned and asked the girl, "Could I have this wrapped?"

  The sales maiden froze. Her eyes finally acknowledged she had customers and it was not pretty. "Wrapped?" she asked in a deathly cold retort.

  "Yes, you know, something attractive, but not too overstated."

  "Yah want me to wrap this?"

  "Yes, please."

  "Yah want me to wrap this?" she repeated in a voice loud enough to daunt a corpse. She obviously believed if she said it enough times in such a dreadful tone, Lorenzo would be cowed into taking the clock and leaving.

  "Yes, that is exactly what I would like. Maybe something in a festive lavender."

  Her eyes chilled even more and she took a deep breath. "Yah want me to wrap this?" The contest had caught the attention of those near the counter and they seemed to hunch down in anticipation of the expected outcome.

 
; This time it was Lorenzo's turn to do the stare. His voice and face did not glower. He did not appear overtly angry or menacing-but his brows slightly turned in at the center and his lips lost any trace of a smile. He leaned toward the sales maiden and spoke softly into her face. It was a foreign dialect I did not recognize. She answered in a matching whisper, but with a severe expression upon her face. This went on for a minute.

  The exchange finally ended. There was a collected silence as all eyes waited for the girl to erupt. Instead, she paled and backed away. Her voice quavered as she asked, "Lavender, you said?"

  "Yes, that would be nice." Lorenzo had returned to a lighthearted voice.

  The humbled maiden brought back the clock in a nice wrapping that even included a ribbon and bow.

  Lorenzo thanked her and all eyes watched as we exited the diner.

  "Just what did you say to that woman?" I asked once we were back into the sunlight. "Threaten to cut her throat?"

  "Nothing so crude. I observed she was of the Sinth Highlands and the blood of the Hunters of Dawn's Edge. And yes, her current situation could seem belittling, but her kin would be shamed to see her rudeness to strangers," Lorenzo replied. "It seems she eloped with a freight driver against the laws of her clan. He deserted her and now she is too humiliated to return home. I offered to send bribes to her tribal elders and speak with them in her name."

  "And she believed you, just like that--some stranger?"

  Lorenzo shrugged his shoulders. "Not many speak the Sinth lingo and I knew the names of her uncles."

  I abruptly stopped halfway to the cart. Lorenzo halted a few steps later. "You set that up, didn't you? Admit it. Just to impress me with your worldliness. We walk into a wagon train stop with some troubled maiden of an obscure mountain people and you know her uncles. Become real."

  He shrugged again. "Actually, I didn't know all of them. Just the ones on her mother's side."

  We looked at each other, neither breaking our empty expressions. Sometimes Lorenzo drives me mad. I finally sighed. "Oh, only one set of uncles. That be not so remarkable."

  We began walking back to the cart though Lorenzo just had to issue one last declaration, "But then again, I did date one of her father's sisters."

  I chose to ignore the comment.

  The rest of the ride to Morganna's domicile was uneventful. Lorenzo kept to a slower pace up the twisting hillside for the horse's sake. Once again, it took several servants to pull back the massive bonewood doors as the bronze hinges protested like banshees. In the daylight, I noticed the two ivory door grips were carved into the likeness of bled maiden sacrifices. The priests of Dorga are such a whimsical lot.

  Morgana was waiting inside the doors. Her hair was unbound and she wore a white linen gown. I thought her as comely in the simple attire as when draped in splendid silks.

  She curtsied to us both, but wore a playful smile when her gaze turned to me. "And this be your friend? Master…?"

  "Lorenzo, Lorenzo Spasm," he answered.

  "Master Spasm, I have heard of you." It was Witch Morganna. I did not know if she just arrived or had been standing in the shadows. "Morgana, have our guests enter. Do not leave them standing on the stoop like some delivery lads."

  "Please, call me Lorenzo," my friend responded as he took her hand and kissed it with a courtly flourish. "And I have heard much of you. I have been waiting for this encounter since my friend, Master Jak, asked me to accompany him. You are even more beautiful than I have heard."

  Morganna's eyes widened and she pursed her lips before answering. "I did not know my appearance was a subject of banter."

  "How could it not be?" Lorenzo asked and waited expectantly as if it were more than just a rhetorical query.

  The witch returned his guileless look with that of mild surprise. "Of course," she finally replied in a frigid tone then turned to me. "Jak, you have been remiss in not telling me your tavern intimates routinely speak of me in a physically intimate fashion."

  I scowled daggers at Lorenzo. It was one thing to be witty with a notorious witch when one is immune to magic, but I can be turned into a scum toad or vomit maggots right along with the rest of the general populace when cursed by a powerful witch. I tried not to squirm under Morganna's glare while grasping for a safe reply.

  "I would not term it 'routinely.' They more often speak loathsome gossip dealing with your soul being damned for an assortment of malignant pastimes," Lorenzo offered as if in help. I was ready to kill him because I could tell he was not going to keep silent. "The other day someone said you possessed a venomous kiss that will blacken and swell a man's tongue until he strangles. I told him that I was moderately sure that wasn't true."

  "Moderately sure?" she repeated. "I owe you a show of gratitude for such a stalwart defense of my reputation."

  "I wouldn't go that far. I did have to admit the malignant pastimes were possibly true."

  The room turned too quiet for any desertion on my part not to be heard. Even the daughter seemed stunned into silence. The witch gathered herself up and stepped to Lorenzo so she had to lift her chin to meet his eyes.

  "Let us see then," she firmly spoke, "if the other rumor is true." Morganna parted her lips and slightly closed her eyes.

  Lorenzo placed his hands upon Morganna's shoulders and pulled her closer before leaning his head down to give her a long and passionate kiss. The witch's daughter and I exchanged bewildered glances. Lorenzo stepped back and suddenly grasped his throat and made a horrible gurgling noise. A small cry escaped from Morgana and I moved to his side with a hand raised to grip his arm.

  "Just joking," Lorenzo laughed and dropped his hands.

  Morganna actually appeared amused, though now I really knew I wanted to kill him. Lorenzo slipped his arm through the witch's and they started down the hall as if old friends. Morgana and I again traded astounded looks.

  "Here, madam, this is for you. Just a small token," Lorenzo said as he handed her his gift.

  "Why, how sweet. You should not have," the witch answered. She was actually smiling.

  "This is spooky," Morgana whispered in my ear. "My mother is weirding me out."

  "If there is but one thing to say of my friend, it would be that one should never be amazed at anything when around Lorenzo," I whispered back.

  We had fallen behind Lorenzo and Morganna and I realized I had taken Morgana's arm. I continued our leisurely stroll down the entrance hall and into the main anteroom, acting as casual as possible. It would ruin my blasé image of a private inquisitor if Morgana knew my hand tingled where I held hers. It seemed I could even feel her body heat as we walked side by side.

  "Our paths almost crossed in Bjorkastan several years ago," Morganna was saying to Lorenzo. "You had just smuggled in the banished heir to the throne. Both of you, I heard, had disguised yourselves as traveling jugglers and usurped the Council Administrator during the St. Ferber's Fertility Eve Festival."

  "You can't go wrong carrying out a conspiracy where all the guards are distracted by unclothed maidens smeared in butter and honey. Though teaching Princess Vreine to juggle was a difficult task, especially since she demanded using gutting dirks," Lorenzo conceded. "And I had hoped to meet you during the rising of the Volpian Great War Dead. How venturesome to attempt the resurrection of such a gruesome lot. "

  "I should be angry with you over that incident," Morganna laughed as she tossed back her head and swept a lock of hair behind her right ear. "I lost an ample retainer over that fiasco and I blame you for the failure."

  "You give me far too much credit. I could tell your heart was not in such a dark deed."

  The witch gave a crooked smile and gazed at Lorenzo in speculation. "You are the first in a long span of years not to rush in giving me only the meanest virtues."

  Lorenzo turned to squint at the witch. "That's not to say several of your exploits haven't been a bit on the villainous side, Morganna. I am afraid that until I get to know you better, I will be watching my back--though I'
d rather be watching yours."

  The witch managed a half-hearted glare. I noted she did not pull free of their mutual arm holding.

  Morgana shook her head. "You were right last night; your friend is not one to be cowed. What be more remarkable is that my mother is so affable. She enjoys terrifying callers. Mother will hum happily for the rest of the day if she can send a visitor stumbling from the door blind with terror. The only reason she did not pounce upon you and Mika is that I had threatened to run away from home and become a conservative if she did."