by J Seab
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Fillip took his horse form the stable the next morning and headed out to the farm. He wanted to see for himself what the situation was before he talked to the locals. Didn’t want to prejudice his investigation with all their claptrap, not until he’d seen the facts for himself.
He smelled the burned-out husk of the house before he saw it. Even weeks later, the smoky odor lingered. He kicked the nag sharply, urging her up a shallow slope, and there it was. The damage was extensive, a lot of charred logs and partially collapsed walls. Most of the structure still stood, but it looked dangerous. He’d need to be careful searching it for clues.
Beyond the house, the land opened into a broad valley of rolling hills set against a backdrop of a red and gold forest undulating across the rounded folds of the mountains. A few stray clouds drifted overhead, brightly lit by the morning sun in an otherwise clear sky. In the distance, he saw the wisp of chimney smoke from one other house.
Lots of prime land here, he thought. I could do a lot with it, instead of letting it sit here unused, wasted. He prodded the nag toward the house, examining the farm as he approached. The alpaca corrals were empty, their gates hanging open. There was an eerie stillness. He didn’t even hear the normal racket made by birds squabbling over their territory, squirrels fussing at the squabbling birds, and the scamper of rabbits eating everything in sight. It was as if the wildlife had abandoned this place. Still scared off by the lingering smells from the fire, he guessed.
Fillip dismounted in front of the nearest corral and tied the reins to the top rail. He wandered around, poking at the ground with a stick but he didn’t expect to find anything, even if he did feel a bit uneasy for some reason. He shrugged off the feeling. Probably all this good land, abandoned, going to waste because of Servitor interference, respecting the land, he thought derisively. That always got him riled, made him feel out of sorts.
He shifted his attention to the grounds around the house. No telling how many people had been stomping through since the fire. Any clues were long gone. Didn’t matter, that wasn’t the real reason he’d come out. He mostly wanted to get a firsthand look at the scene, get a sense of the layout. Then he’d talk to the villagers, find out who was out here first, and see what the Patrol knew. He’d figure it out.
He stood in the middle of the front yard and slowly scanned around. He stopped with his gaze on the house. Not much there, really. Looked shaky, likely to collapse anytime. Any clues in there would be long gone, just like everywhere else. No sense going in there. He would just get all sooty and dirty. Like that innkeeper said, it was probably wolves. He thought about riding over to that other farm but decided they wouldn’t know anything. Probably slept through the whole thing or were too busy playing in the bedroom. He’d talk to the village council first. They might know something useful. He needed to get the facts, not a bunch of wild speculation from the local yokels.
Still, there was that lingering feeling that touched him again. He hesitated, thought about that called Servitor coming all the way out here. Something definitely amiss about that. Why would he be so interested in wolves?
It made more sense that the Servitor was coming out here to cover up something, something to do with his oddment and the Ultimate Treasure. And that treasure map Russel had figured into it. Somehow, the farmer had found it, probably stashed in that old barn back there. That map had looked all dirty and smudged like it’d been in a pile of junk for a hundred years. Servitors learned the farmer had a treasure map so they rushed out, all concerned, but it was too late. The farmer had already passed it along, probably to some traveling junk collector. That agitated the Servitors, so they eliminated the family and burned the house, all to conceal evidence of the map that pointed to the Ultimate Treasure.
Fillip froze, his mind racing with the audacity of the thought.
It made sense. Explained the facts.
Fillip mounted his nag and headed back to the village. He knew he would figure it out. He had the knack. It would be hard to prove but nobody was as smart as he. They wouldn’t accept Servitor duplicity even with all the facts pointing that way. Russel didn’t show him the map because she didn’t want to prejudice his investigation, wanted him to arrive at the truth on his own. He smiled. He couldn’t wait to get back to Greelys Folly and tell her he’d figured it out. He only needed a bit more time. He needed to think it through some more, talk to some of the locals, make certain he had it packaged nice and tidy. Russel would expect that of him. After all, he didn’t want to disappoint Russel.
He passed a scruffy-looking old man as he returned down the road. Looked kind of familiar but then Fillip met lots of people in his line of work. Couldn’t remember them all. The man was riding a fine-looking white horse, though, not like the old nag he had. Fillip wondered where he got it. He didn’t like the looks of that big dog accompanying the man, though. He tried to steer his nag well clear of their path. Fillip nodded once as they passed but quickly turned his eyes back to the road when the old man looked like he was going to stop and chat a bit. Probably about the weather or all the wonderful sheep wool he produced. Some local farmer, he guessed. Maybe the local yokel who lived in that other house. He’d find out later. He had more important things on his mind for now. Maybe Marcus had finally straggled into the village. He could bounce a few ideas off him. Not that Marcus ever had any useful ideas but it helped Fillip to think things through. In some ways, it was like talking to the wall. Hearing his own words echo back to him stimulated his thinking. He would write another Servitor shattering exposé and get some more dols for his collection.
Russel would love it. That was a fact. He just knew it.
Chapter 17