by A Clarkson
He considered his words as he handed her the tub of ointment. “There have been discoveries in recent years, amazing scientific finds that have enabled things previously thought impossible. The rybrum is one example of that, a plant that can power cities.”
Ira nodded. The rybrum was amazing, but it was hardly a new discovery. Arnold Valverna found rybrum twenty years ago.
“Although unique in its ability to replace the fossil fuels lost to us a century ago, there have been other more recent discoveries of organic matter capable of truly extraordinary things.”
“Like this cream.” She said, wiggling the jar in her hand.
Magnus nodded, “Exactly. That cream is made from a plant that grows near Caldessa, and has been used for many generations to treat injuries. About two years ago a lab was able to unlock some component of the plant, something nobody quite understands, or has been able to repeat on any sizable scale. But essentially when handled in this way,” he gestured to the cream in her hand, “the plant now promotes healing in a previously unheard of way. What should have taken months to heal, now takes weeks. And smaller injuries can be healed in days.”
She frowned skeptically, “So this is some magical healing ointment?”
“You could say that,” he said with his cat-like smile.
“And this is what you do? Find and sell items like this cream?”
He bobbed his head from side to side, “Amongst other things.”
“What do you mean?”
“As you know, after the Drought the world changed. Cities that were once major metropolises disappeared, and huge tracts of land that had been used for industry reverted back to nature.” He paused and took a sip of his drink. “We have discovered that in these abandoned places, some of the flora and fauna that returned to these spaces are... new. They didn’t exist before, and only appeared after the Drought. My men and I go into these places and retrieve these items.”
“Items?”
Magnus bobbed his head from side to side, “Plants, animals, rocks. Whatever we find that we don’t recognise.”
“How is this possible?” she asked in disbelief.
“Nobody really knows, but the most popular theory is that whatever caused the Drought also stimulated something else in the Earth. Like a chemical change, or some kind of movement in the earth that exposed minerals that were previously hidden.”
“So what? There are great minds around the world that now think we have magical plants growing?” She asked in disbelief.
Magnus huffed a laugh in response. “Well there are many minds, not sure how many I would call great, but,” nodding, he continued, “yes, in a nutshell, there is something going on that we don’t understand, and can’t explain, that is allowing us to do things we have never been able to do before. Things previously thought impossible. Things that many of the world's best scientists have no option but to describe as magic.”
“And you are telling me that this,” she waved the tub of cream at him again, “is some kind of magical healing cream?”
Taking a large swig of his glass he said sardonically, “As the saying goes, magic is just science we don’t yet understand.”
“I didn’t take you for a charlatan Magnus.” Ira said with a frown, suddenly less confident in the powers of the ointment in her hand.
He smiled at her skepticism, “Because I sell goods that you don’t understand?”
“Because you use people’s desperation for the impossible to make a profit,” she accused.
“Why is it so difficult to believe that other plants have the capacity for amazing things? You have seen for yourself the power of that ointment, why doubt other things?”
“All I have seen is a cream that takes the pain away for a few hours. It is probably just a numbing agent that masks the discomfort and makes me think the injury is gone.”
“And the rybrum?” he asked with growing frustration, “how do you explain that?”
“Just because you have one genuinely miraculous thing in your bag doesn’t make it a bag of miracles.”
“That is what you truly believe? That the rybrum is the only thing in the world to have the capacity to do more than it appears on the surface?”
“Of course not,” she scoffed. “But that doesn’t mean that plants will suddenly sprout magical properties and solve all our problems either.”
“And Adrian’s ability to travel to us here in Valverna? How do you explain that?”
“Let me get this straight,” she said slowly, “you think that the Sarcosian Empire has unlocked some magical plant? And that is how they sent Adrian here?”
“Yes. Either a plant, or a stone. Maybe an animal but that is more unlikely,” he said.. At her frown he continued, “This is what I do, Ira. I travel around speaking with labs and researchers about the projects they are working on. If they need something, I find it. If they make something, I sell it.”
“So you’re the trader of all goods, strange and unusual? No wonder you were so excited about seeing Adrian. That kid must just look like a big paycheck to you.” She said scornfully.
“Adrian is not some paycheck Ira!” he growled. “I have known his family for a long time. And I know they have been researching this for many years. They will be thrilled. The ramifications of such a discovery are huge!”
When she still seemed skeptical he continued, “Ira, the world is on the brink of something new, everything we know or thought we knew has changed in the last hundred years. Every day people are discovering new things that never existed before, incredible things that will change our world in ways we could never have imagined. How can you not be excited about it?”
“Let’s just say that I’m not willing to buy invisible clothes just yet.”
Chapter 9
The Bedroom
Magnus stood with Ira at the small gate that led to her parents cottage. He could see from her rapid breathing that she was anxious about going any further. He watched her shut down as they made their way here. As if shielding herself from her own feelings with a thick layer of ice. Magnus felt as though even the air around her had cooled by several degrees.
He knew that the bodies had been removed by the city constables, and had seen the results of the autopsies. He hadn’t discussed the details with Ira yet as the specifics didn’t differ greatly from the previous victims, and he didn’t feel the need to drag her through the details.
As if sensing what he was thinking Ira turned to him with an expectant expression. “I know you read the reports on the scene. I need to get used to this and think of this as any other attack. So,” she waved her hand in a go-on motion, “talk me through the scene or whatever it is you do.’
Magnus nodded, and pulled a small file from his pocket. Looking at her one last time, she nodded in confirmation.
“The assailant arrived a few hours after dawn. Based on the lack of damage to the structure the theory is that they simply knocked, and the door was opened by B--”
“Victim A,” Ira interrupted hurriedly.
“--By Victim A,” he agreed. “The assailant attacked as soon as the door was opened, rendering a fatal blow to the gut. The attacker then moved into the kitchen where Victim B was believed to be tidying up from breakfast. There were signs of a large struggle before Victim B was eventually subdued.”
Magnus glanced at her to gauge her reaction so far. It looked as though Ira had locked herself down and was doing her best to process what he was saying in as detached a way as possible. He continued.
“We believe that the weapon was laced with a fast acting paralytic that is fatal. That being said, the autopsies on both victims indicated that the cause of death was blood loss, not poison. Victim A crawled from the entryway into the lounge prior to the paralytic fully setting in, and died shortly after from the trauma to his gut.
As with the previous victims we found evidence of torture to Victim B that seems to have occured after the paralysis has come fully into effect. The slight difference in
this case however is that unlike previous victims, Victim B died from blood loss not poison. We therefore believe the murderer misjudged and accidentally nicked an artery, bringing death on very quickly.”
Ira suddenly glanced up. “What do you mean by very quickly?”
Magnus looked back toward the cottage, “It wasn’t good Ira,” he said, shaking his head, “I won’t lie to you there. But it looks like our guy fucked up.” He turned to face her again, seeing such raw pain shining out from her eyes that his breath caught.
Swallowing, he made himself continue. “From the report It looks like Clarisse died within minutes of the paralytic entering her system. The majority of the injuries you saw were caused by the struggle. She fought back. Surprisingly well.”
“But she didn’t know how to fight.” Ira said softly, confusion colouring her tone.
“Apparently she did. Some of the blood we found didn’t belong to either Clarisse or Bill. So she managed to make the bastard bleed.”
Ira frowned slightly. “That doesn’t make sense. She always talked about how she didn’t like fighting, how she was a pacifist and didn’t want to fight.”
“People change their mind when it’s life and death, Ira,” Magnus said softly.
She shook her head, “No, that’s not what I mean. The murderer has taken out many people. Skilled people.” She emphasized. “Bill was an expert fighter, and he was downed in a single blow and yet Clarisse was able to get a hit on our guy?” She looked at him in disbelief. “That just doesn’t add up.”
“Perhaps he had the element of surprise against Bill. We know he attacked as soon as the door was open. Maybe Bill never had a chance to defend himself. Even the best swordsman in the world can be caught by surprise.”
“I suppose,” she conceded slowly. “Though I still think something about this seems off.”
Looking up at Magnus again, a new calm in her eyes, she asked, “What happened next?”
Magnus looked at his report, “Next it looked like our man had a tantrum. The place, as you saw, was pretty smashed up. Some of this we know was a result of the fight. But it looks like Clarisse’s premature death made our murderer lose his temper.”
Ira nodded as though this was not new information. He imagined she had seen this for herself when she discovered the bodies.
“Did he go upstairs?”
“From what we could tell, he searched through the bedroom and bathroom.”
He placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to draw her focus away from the cottage, “This is why we’re here today, I need you to look around and see if anything is missing." He paused, "Are you sure you want to do this?”
Ira turned to meet his eyes, determination shining through, “Yes.”
***
Inside the cottage was both better and worse than Ira remembered.
The bodies had been removed, which was good. But the yawning void left in their place was worse. Ira could remember with painful clarity the sight of Bill’s outstretched form on the lounge room floor. The pain and anguish pulling his face tight. The lack of a body did not make the memory any less vivid. If anything it only made her mental image stronger. As though Bill was not a lifeless body, cold and dead, but alive and silently screaming in torment as his body froze and his life blood bled out.
This was an impossible task. Ira’s mind was so focussed on the vacuum created by Bill and Clarisse’s absence that she could barely see the objects around her.
Had they always owned that vase? Did someone move that chair?
The truth and reality blended with a sense of absurdity as her mind tried to comprehend that this space was no longer the home of Clarisse and Bill. It was a vacant house full of things that no longer held any value. Ira didn’t recognise any of it. Everything seemed foreign and wrong. As though this was a poor replica of the home that stood here only days before.
Ira forced herself to look around and try to remember how the cottage looked during her last visit.
She had come over to help Clarisse get their stores ready for the cooler months. They hung herbs until they filled the kitchen rafters, and boiled up fruit and vegetables to store in jars. It was a ritual they did at the end of every summer, and always gave Clarisse a chance to talk to Ira about her life and future plans.
Ira remembered that last time had been the same. Clarisse spent a good few hours talking about Ira’s wasted potential in ‘those blasted fields’ as she always called them. Ira nodded along and tried to mostly tune her out. Something she had done a lot lately, and now sorely regretted. If only she knew her time with Clarisse was limited, she would have cherished it more.
But isn't that always the case? We cherish in death what we take for granted in life?
Ira decided to start upstairs, where Clarisse and Bill’s ghosts weren’t so vivid.
Starting in the bathroom Ira looked through the cabinet for anything that looked out of place. As far as she could tell, everything looked normal. But would she know? Ira wasn't that familiar with what Bill kept in the way of toiletries.
The bedroom looked as it always had. Well tended clothing hung in the closet or sat folded in the drawers. There was a vase of fresh cut flowers on the dresser beside a wooden jewelry box, and a half finished book on the nightstand. The bed was still neatly made as though Bill and Clarisse would come crawling into it later that night.
Everything looked so normal, as though they just stepped out for a walk, or to fetch some groceries.
Ira had this irrepressible feeling that she would turn around and see Clarisse and Bill walking up the stairs. Except she wouldn’t. Because they were gone.
Ira’s head filled with the pounding of her heart, and her breathing sped into frantic pants. Thinking she may faint, she sat on the edge of the bed with her head between her knees.
***
Magnus found her perched on the edge of the bed a few minutes later. At first he gave her some space to move around the cottage, wishing to leave her to her grief in private. He realized now that may not have been the best choice.
“This was too soon,” he said sadly, taking a seat beside her.
All Ira could manage was a nod.
“Do you want to leave?”
She started to nod, before stopping and slowly shaking her head.
“I need to do this,” he heard her whisper from between her legs.
Magnus nodded, even though she couldn’t see. He understood.
They needed to learn what the murderer was after, and Ira was the only person who knew this house well enough to see if something had been taken.
Privately Magnus thought this was likely a dead end. The murderer became frustrated when Clarisse died, suggesting that he didn’t manage to find whatever he was looking for.
But without at least trying to identify if anything was taken, they couldn’t be sure that they wouldn’t miss something.
So Magnus sat with Ira on the edge of the bed, his hand placed gently on the small of her back in a gesture of support, as she tried to slow her breathing.
“Will you tell me about them?” he asked softly.
Ira thought for a moment, as she sat up, her eyes now closed as she tipped her head back.
“Bill taught me to fight and shoot,” she said after so long a pause Magnus hadn’t been sure she would answer. “He always wanted me to be able to take care of myself. So he made sure that I knew how to survive in any environment.”
“He was a city guard, and helped to get me a job in the Citadel as a message-runner when I was only eight. He also let me join the guard training sessions so I could learn to defend myself.”
She laughed softly. “I worked my butt off in those things but I was always really small.”
Magnus saw a pink flush creep up her neck in embarrassment, or shame, he wasn’t sure which, as she admitted, “The years of hunger made my puberty hit a bit later than normal, and it took me forever to put on any kind of muscle.” She shook her head, a sad smile on her lips. “Bill
would always tell me that my time was coming. All I had to do was keep trying, and one day my body would just do it.”
Ira huffed a laugh. “I was always so annoyed when he would say that, because here I was busting my ass, and it made no difference. I could have all the skill in the world, but without any strength to back it up, I was still pretty useless.”
“Bill could see that I needed a win, so he got me throwing daggers. It wasn’t a weapon he used himself, he was always a big guy, and never had the patience to train with throwing daggers, when most of the time his brute strength did the trick. Anything out of reach, he would just shoot an arrow at it. But he knew the daggers would be a good choice for me, so he bought two sets, and asked Lucien from the Citadel to teach us.”
“Lucien was one of the youngest guards, probably only in his mid twenties at the time, and a total lady-killer.” She added with a small smirk. “I was a little bit in love with him I think. But he was also a master with any projectiles, arrows, knives, you name it. His aim was uncanny. It was amazing that Bill convinced him to teach us at all really.”
“We spent months working together. He could throw further, but from the start my aim was more accurate. It was an instant win, and gave me the push I needed to keep going.”
“He didn’t have to train with me. He didn’t need to learn a new fighting skill, though he always did love learning new things. But, for me, to motivate me, and keep me getting better, he did.” She sighed heavily, her eyes still closed, and Magnus saw that her cheeks were damp with tears. “That was just what Bill did. He knew where I needed to be, even when I didn’t, and he made sure he got me there.”
A choked sob escaped Ira’s lips. “God they can’t be gone.” She opened her eyes, desperation and pain plain on her face. “What will I do without them? Without their unwavering support and guidance, even when I was being an ungrateful piece of shit.” Another sob broke free as she held her face in her hands. “I don’t know if I can do this without them, Magnus. Be the person they wanted me to be. I just don’t know if I have it in me.”