Chapter 17: The Priestess

     Captain Frayg was examining the scene in the stables behind the Seabreeze tavern when she walked in. There was some considerable noise outside, as someone of her stature never traveled, even only so little distance as that between the Cathedral and the river, without an honor guard as escort.

     She was a short woman in flowing white robes and a white cloak with a wimple. She wore a belt of silver and gold and a silver chain diadem with a golden sunburst that dangled on her forehead. She also wore a white veil. She was preceded by two men in burnished bronze mail with white tabards also bearing the sign of Sol before she strode into the stables as if she owned them and the whole city around them.

     She had large dark eyes. and was dark of complexion, but the rest of her features were difficult to make out.

     "Who is the man who thinks he is in charge here?" She demanded almost as soon as she had entered.

     Frayg looked at her flatly. This was going to take some finesse, and he didn't feel particularly diplomatic this morning, considering he now had a second body – this one a woman's – missing its eyes and brain. Just keep your wits about you, and remember to act deferential. He approached the woman and bowed to her.

     "I'm Captain Hambelton Frayg of the City Watch of Ayrst, Your Eminence. I've been assigned to this location."

     "Very well." She looked at him appraisingly. "I am Archpriestess Halissa MacMorgen, Prime Examiner of the Temple of Invincible Light. I've been told there are signs of Witchcraft here."

     Not only a Witch Finder, but the highest ranked Witch Finder in the entire bloody Temple! Frayg grew concerned. Why would someone of such high office concern herself over this?

     "Pardon, Your Eminence, but I've seen no such evidence. As far as I can tell, we have a simple case of …" He hesitated, searching for the correct words.

     "Murder. You may speak the word freely without offense to my person."

     "If it please Your Eminence."

     "The event does not, but direct communication does."

     Frayg bowed, and the priestess continued. "So who is the victim in this case, Captain?"

     "We aren't sure yet. Your Eminence. That is to say, it's a young woman, but we don't know her name. We have men questioning the patrons of the Tavern, but we haven't much hope."

     "What about the stablehands?"

     "They've already been questioned. They claim not to have seen the victim enter the stable. In fact, they claim that no one entered this particular stable all evening. It's mostly used for storage and houses the proprietor's – that's Mistress Arya Seefer – it's where she keeps her two horses. Other horses, whether for sale or boarding are kept in the larger stables."

     "And what about the state of the corpse."

     "Well, it's rather shocking, Your Emi-"

     "Nothing shocks me, Captain. In the execution of my office I've seen things which would no doubt give you more than a few sleepless nights."

     "As you say, Your Eminence."

     She turned to her honor guard. "You two step outside and guard the doors. The good captain and I will have a look here. See to it that we're not disturbed." The two men saluted her, arms across their chest, and stepped into the stable yard.

     "Now, Captain Frayg, take me to the corpse."

     Frayg led the way to the end of the stalls where the last one to the left was open. There, in a pile of straw was the body of Aliquah. Her empty eye sockets stared blackly up at the ceiling. There was dried blood all over the straw.

     "You've seen something like this before, Captain?"

     "Your Eminence?"

     "Please, Captain, you may call me Halissa. Titles and honorifics can resume in public."

     "Thank you … Halissa. And please call me Frayg. Or Ham, if you'd prefer, though only a few friends call me by that."

     "Well, I wish for us to be friends, Ham, because I have a feeling we'll be seeing a bit of one another until we find out who is behind this abominable act."

     "As it pleases you."

     "Now answer the question. Have you seen this before?"

     "Yes. Just two days ago, in fact. There was another … murder. The last was a young man, and his eyes and brain were also missing."

     "And what are the differences besides the sex of the victim?"

     "Firstly, the man was found inside an inn – the Carter's Rest – in one of the upstairs rooms. His purse was missing, as well. As you can see, this victim still has hers, though it is empty."

     "And?"

     "Well, the other victim was tied to the bed. There was no sign of a struggle or of forced entry." He indicated the disheveled state of the stall. "As you can see here, there appears to have been a fight. The young man was nearly disemboweled, but this woman has only a wound to the back of her head – aside from the missing eyes and brain, that is to say."

     "Now, tell me Ham, why do you suppose anyone would take the eyes and brain of these two young people?"

     "I haven't the slightest idea ... er, Halissa. I expect that there may be some very evil purpose behind it. Some sort of Dark Rituals, perhaps? I have no knowledge of such things myself, but as you spend your days seeking out the sort of people who do, I suppose your presence here is just such an indication."

     "Very good, Ham. Now tell me what you know of the other victim. Who was he?"

     "His name was Nodge Prayner. He was the son of the Baker over on The High Street at Farm Street."

     "And he was at the Carter's Rest alone? Or was he with a group of friends? Wait. If he was that close to home, but let a room for the night, I think I can come to a conclusion. He was either preparing to leave home, and didn't know where he wanted to go, or, more likely, he'd found some companionship of the carnal variety, and likely didn't want to bring her home to meet his parents. Perhaps a whore?"

     "Several witnesses did see him dancing with a woman that night. Though they all agreed she was dressed too well for a ... Prostitute. The serving girl who saw the pair of them to the room said the woman was very pretty and very well dressed. But there was little sign of her in the morning."

     "Hmm. That's interesting. Assuming the same murderer in both cases – and considering the situation, I think it's safe to do so – he certainly has no compunction against killing women. So, did he take the woman to another location? Do you have any idea who she might be?"

     "Unfortunately, no. We have a good description of her, and a few witnesses who claim they would know her if they saw her again, but that is all."

     "What is the description, then, if you would indulge me, please?"

     "Well we know she is shorter than average and has very dark brown hair and eyes – one witness described them as the color of chocolate. She's young, but not as young as the victims. Apparently she dances well and likes to drink red wine. That, unfortunately, is all we have to go on."

     "Do you think that's enough? In a city the size of Ayrst there are bound to be a large number of women who could fit the description."

     "Unfortunately, yes. In fact I've already met one, but I don't expect it was her."

     "Make that two." Halissa pulled the wimple from her head, revealing her long dark hair. "I suspect I'm even about the right height."

     Frayg frowned at her. "Hmph. I see your point."

     "In any case, I suspect we'll find her in a condition similar to this one."

     "Unless she committed the act herself."

     "Wait. You suspect the woman of having murdered the young man?"

     "Not necessarily. I wouldn't cross her off a list of suspects yet, though. As far as we know, she was the only one with him, and then she went out the window."

     "The window?"

     "Yes. She wore a green corset that night. The window to the boy's room was open and, as I said, there was no sign of forced entry. However, when I examined the exterior of the building from the alley I found fibers matching the corset's description on the drain pipe. I believe she climbed out that way."

     "That's very interesting." She frowned. I'll have to destroy that corset when I get back. "So, if she is your suspect, I suppose we're looking for the same woman in this case, yes?"

     "Most likely, though I wouldn't stake my life on it."

     "How do you mean?"

     "If your suspicions are correct, and the eyes and brains are needed for some sort of Dark Magicks, then isn't it likely we're dealing with some sort of band of … witches, or whatever they are?"

     "A coven of witches. I would expect them to be a very small coven, though. We Inquisitors are very good at finding them, and when we do we are also very good at getting them to tell us how to find their brethren."

     "I see." Frayg hesitated before adding, "That's comforting to know."

     "As it should be, Ham. We are the bastion which protects Palonias from the worst kind of enemy: the Darkness Within."

     Frayg bowed. "As you say, Halissa."

     "Now, take me through this scene here. Like you I'm an investigator, but my investigations are not usually of the physical variety. I get my clues from the mind of the perpetrator and from The One."

     "As you wish. First, as I pointed out, the victim suffered a blow to the head, though there appears to have been a struggle first." He walked over to one of the bales of hay and pointed behind it. "There is a broken bottle and a broken glass here. They were drinking mead."

     "They?"

     "It appears as though the victim was lured here by the someone. The Seabreeze was crowded last night, so they must have come out here for a little private party. This is similar to the story at the Carter's Rest. If the woman is involved, she must try to get her victims off their guard and to an isolated location."

     "You believe the same woman may have lured this girl out here for a drink?"

     "It's possible. Or perhaps it was a young man operating in the same method."

     "That is really all we'll know until we're finished questioning the other patrons."

     Halissa bent over and reached behind another of the bales. From behind it she pulled out a small crystal. It glowed with an amber light. She held it up for Frayg's inspection.

     "And what do you suppose this is, Ham?"

     He blinked, startled. That wasn't here a moment ago. I would have seen that.

     "I … is that a Witch Crystal?"

     "Yes. What do you know of them?"

     "Very little, I'm afraid. Isn't that your area of expertise?"

     "Yes it is, and its presence here confirms my suspicions. There is some manner of witchcraft involved here."

     "And that is proof?"

     "Yes. These crystals do not form naturally. Oh, they come from natural sources, but a crystal such as this one is shaped and treated using the Darkest of Dark Magicks. I will need your help." She began pulling her wimple over her head and refitting her veil.

     "I''m at your service."

     "You're not going to like this, Captain Frayg, but I am taking charge of your investigation. I would still like you to lead it as usual, but I need to be informed of all progress, and I may need to make decisions you will not like. Is that understood?"

     "Yes." Frayg stiffened. Back to titles, I see. "Yes, Your Eminence."

     One of the Archpriestess's Honor Guard entered and bowed.

     "What is it?" She asked impatiently.

     "Your Eminence. One of the watchmen has asked permission to enter."

     "I suppose we're done here. Let him in."

     The guard bowed again and left them.

     Halissa turned back to Frayg. "Do you suppose they have some information for us?"

     "Let us hope."

     The guard entered somewhat nervously. On seeing the Archpriestess, he bowed low, before he began.

     "Pardon me, sir, I didn't like to interrupt, but we have an identity on the … the body, sir."

     "Please tell us then," Halissa said sweetly. Frayg merely nodded.

     "Her name was Aliquah Namadar."

     Frayg closed his eyes. Just great, he thought. A nobleman's daughter. He sighed heavily before opening his eyes again. "Anything else?"

     "Yes, sir. Some of the other patrons knew her. They said they saw her go off with a woman. And one of the serving girls described the woman as being very generous – said she'd paid two gold marks for a bottle of mead ..."

     The Archpriestess interrupted, "Thank You, Watchman."

     Both men looked at her in some surprise, before she continued, "I must be going, as many duties call. However, I expect to be kept up to date on the investigation, Captain Frayg."

     "Yes, Your Eminence. How should I go about that?"

     "You may send reports to the Cathedral. If I have anything of interest to tell you in return I shall send you a note or a page."

     "As you wish, Your Eminence."

     With that, she swept from the stable. The guard let out a sigh of relief.

     "It's OK, Alpert." Frayg smiled. "She made me nervous, too. Woman like that ... makes everyone nervous."

Chapter 16: The Dreamer

Chapter 16: The Dreamer

     Merrik Trammer stood in a green field, before an enormous rock. On top of the rock there stood a fool who was juggling three balls. One ball was yellow and shone with a bright, clear light – it was almost blinding if he looked directly at it. One ball was a deep purple and had a golden crown painted on it. The Final ball was a swirl of black and white.

     Suddenly he was surrounded by many people who were pushing the great boulder from all sides. Nevertheless, the boulder stood where it was. Then two of the people on opposing sides of the rock stood apart from the crowd and began to plead to the fool for help. One was a woman with her face painted black and the other was a man with a crown in his hand.

     "Lean this way," cried the woman.

     "No!" Said the man. "Lean this way."

     The fool began to lean back and forth in turn, and the rock began to move.

     Each of the two speakers began frantically pointing behind the other, The woman pointed towards a small dip in the ground behind the man where wraith like forms could be seen swirling chaotically. The man pointed to a group of mounted knights on a small hill behind the woman.

     The Dreamer suddenly realized that all all the other people weren't trying to move the rock, but to hold it in its place. He felt the overwhelming urge to help the people, but he wasn't sure which way to push.

     The fool began fishing pebbles out of his pouch and pelting the people with them. All the while he managed to keep the three balls in the air with one hand and still rock the great boulder back and forth. Every time the man or the woman spoke, the fool would nod to the speaker reassuringly.

     As the people began to falter under the assault of the fool's stones, the ground beneath the man and the woman grew black and the grass withered. The troop of knights charged towards the stone, as did the wraiths. But when they met in the middle, they vanished.

     But the great stone had begun to crack, and the man and the woman were slowly sinking into the ground. The fool laughed as the assembled people began fighting over pieces of the boulder as they fell away.

     Then the fool looked at Merrik, acknowledging him for the first time. He spoke two words: "Chaos Reigns!"

     Merrik Trammer sat up. He looked around the library from the sofa on which he'd lain. That was a rather odd one, he thought. What could it mean? The library had grown dark. The lamps were out and the light coming in through the windows was the slanted red light of the setting sun. He wondered how long he'd been out – he didn't actually remember at which point he'd fallen asleep, or any other dreams. He would have to meditate on that one. He somehow doubted it had anything to do with the countess or her present circumstances, but he couldn't be sure. Morpheus shows you what you need to see, whether you know it or not, was what Master Jaycen used to tell him.

     Trammer hadn't always been his name. He had been born Broderick Kildaar, youngest son of Baron Aaryn Kildaar. His ancestors had fought many battles against threats to the Kingdom of Palonias. They were all good Universalists, attending services each Newday, as befitting a family of such stature. His family had a reputation of honesty and forthrightness. They were also, in the eyes of the youngest son, a bunch of hypocrites.

     Merrik's eldest brother, Anselm, had been sent to the Royal Court in Ayrst to train with King Jak's Paladins. There he'd learned honor and duty and how to fight. He'd also learned to judge others. The next in line had been Kawyn, who had chosen to enter the Temple, where he learned to minister to the sick and poor. He'd also learned to judge others – if anything he was even worse than Anselm.

     And then there was his father, the biggest hypocrite of the lot. He'd had an affair with that strumpet of an Aelf, Loretta. (His mother's housekeeper, no less!) She had given birth to twins: a boy and a girl. He'd even hinted at adopting them into the family, but the Baroness Mishella wouldn't hear of it. When confronted by his wife, the Baron caved in like a house of playing cards and had the whole lot of them bundled off to some settlement in the Unclaimed Wilds to the north – out beyond the mountains and the Tarsis Desert. They were barely gone when he got right back up on his Solar high horse and started judging others – as though he'd never fallen short of perfection himself.

     The last Merrik had heard the caravan with Loretta and the children had been attacked by an Orgish raiding party before they'd even made it out of Palonias. That was some time around twenty-three years ago.  And now here were these twins at the LaDuce Manor, who'd been found in the aftermath of just such a raid. They had to be his half-siblings. He'd hoped to dream of them: he wanted to know for sure. The Lord of Sleep gives you what you need, but not always what you want. That was another of Master Jaycen's favorite sayings.

     After news of the Orgish raiders had reached the city of Kildaar, his mother had had him and his younger sister, Lilaah sent to Fals for safekeeping. That was literally about as far away from the Grey Mountains as one could get and still be in Palonias. He was seven years old at the time, and Lilaah was only six. Nine years later he returned to Kildaar to do his proper duty by his father. (Lily had gone to the Wizards College at Mercer.)

     The Baron gave young Broderick three choices: Paldinhood, Priesthood, or Wizards College. He felt those were the best roads of development for the son of a man of his stature. Broderick had always had a keen interest in magicks, but from what he'd heard from his sister the Wizards Colleges were as full of hypocrisy as his family. Paladinhood was completely out of the question: he hadn't the stamina for it – nor the stomach. Just watching his brother Anselm at his exercises had made him want to retch. The poor, dumb, devoted bastard. 

     So, it was the priesthood he chose. That's when the real trouble started. He'd begun to learn to practice the Way of Sol, but then the visions had started. He hadn't had the talent for channeling the Divine Energies, in any case, and most times when he tried the visions grew worse and the headaches soon followed.

     Finally he couldn't take it any more. He left the temple and ran off to the big city – Ayrst. Sure, the headquarters of the temple – the Cathedral of Light – was there, but he no longer wanted anything to do with the Priesthood. he'd quickly learned that Templars were every bit as hypocritical as anyone else.

     He'd decided he could make a living telling fortunes for superstitious – and rich – old ladies. There was always some segment of the nobility that was fascinated by the metaphysical, and they loved having priests or wizards or performers of some sort to their gatherings to tell fortunes or speak with ones who had Passed into the Dream. (Though this was frowned upon by the Temple, of course.) He'd  told himself it wouldn't be unethical, as most of his visions somehow seemed to come true, after all.

     Once he'd arrived in the city, however, he mostly spent his time getting drunk. He also thought about suicide – a lot.

     Then one morning, after a particularly heavy drinking binge, he woke up in an alley. There was a man in robes of the deepest purple standing before him.

     "What a waste," he had said. "If you have the stomach for it, I can help you."

     The man was Master Jaycen Dreamwalker. He led Broderick to a monastery  and introduced him to his god. From that point on, when he had his visions there were no more headaches.

     So, he learned from the Monks of the Order of the Dreamers. They taught him to read his visions properly, and how to use small mirrors and Dream Dust and even the Tarokki as divinitory aids. He lived with them for a little over a year, but realized the monastic life was not for him. He had already chosen his profession, but had made the mistake of choosing a god, rather than letting his god choose him.

     He entered the priesthood again, but this time it was the right one: the Priesthood of Morpheus. And this time he had no trouble channeling the Divine Energies.

     Needless to say, the whole thing was a real scandal to his family. After a number of fights, he had simply disowned them all. He left the name Kildaar for good – just walked away from it. That's when he became Merrik Trammer. Since then, Ayrst had been his permanent home. Though most people in the city worship the One God, or Sol, there is room for other gods (or Aspects, as the Universalists would have him teach). There is a small church there devoted to Morpheus, and there is the monastery with which he still worked from time to time, receiving occasional lessons from Master Jaycen and helping to teach the novices.

     He'd been in some small amount of trouble with the Temple for his teachings. He eventually learned, though, that he could teach whatever he wished, so long as he was careful to couch his lessons in the kind of terminology that the Temple would find acceptable. There is hypocrisy everywhere, he thought. Even within myself.

     And now he found himself here. He had no idea how the Countess LaDuce had settled on him as a person who could help her, but he'd had a vision that he would be needed here, and her letter arrived the very next day. It was clear to him that Morpheus had some purpose for him here. Was it merely to uncover the identity of the twins? Or was there some larger purpose? Were the twins in some sort of danger? Surely Morpheus wouldn't send him all this way only to give him random visions of fools throwing rocks. There must be some connection. But what?

Chapter 15: The Servant

     Rikard could tell something was amiss. Someone had trampled through the shrubbery and been to the cellar door. He was uncertain as to whether they'd been inside, but knowing the nosy crowd that the old lady had invited to the estate, he wouldn't be surprised. That stupid hunter with his pointless questions – he'd be just the sort to go about putting his nose where it didn't belong.

     He wasn't worried about the Dreamer: most likely he'd just be moping about in the library all day. The big fellow was more brawn that brains: if he'd been inside, there probably wouldn't even be a door here any longer. Now, that redhead that the bruiser followed around - she was a bit of a mystery. Rikard wouldn't have minded a chance to talk with her alone. I could probably make her talk, he laughed to himself. I doubt I could get her away from that big ape, though.

     Rikard examined the door closely. There were no signs of forced entry. That could be a good sign, or it could be an even worse one than finding something. If someone found what he was hiding, and then tried to hide the fact ... well, that would spell real trouble. Why did I ever let Grigsby talk me into this, anyway? He needed the coin, sure, but what good was money if you ended on a Witch's Pyre? He'd have to get rid of these people, and soon. Maybe I overplayed my hand, sending her that note? It was too late to do anything about that now.

     He used the key to open the cellar door and went inside, closing it behind him. He reached into his pouch for his tinderbox, and lit the lamp that hung on a peg nearby. Carrying the lamp, he examined the floor. There was very little dust. Someone must have swept the area clean. Whoever it was could have been anywhere – and gotten into anything. There was no reason for anyone to hide that they had been here except to hide what they found. Rikard went straight to the stack of crates near the back wall. He picked up several of the lighter crates that were stacked on top of the one that concerned him. He examined that one closely by the light of his lamp. It was obvious someone had opened it and then tried to close it back again in the hopes that he wouldn't discover the fact. Now, which of them would have done it? And how long ago had it been? he knew he had to get a message to Grigsby right away. These damned crystals had to be moved as soon as was possible.

     Owerst Nandliss had wandered the wood, watching the workmen about their business, and noting the tracks left by the various fauna that were native to the area. It made him sad to see this ancient forest destroyed, but he knew there was nothing to be done about it. As much as he enjoyed wandering about outdoors, he knew he'd eventually have to get back to the manor grounds and do what he could to assuage the countess's fears.

     Nandliss was unsure of whether the countess's dream was merely that, or whether it may have truly been a vision, as she believed. He'd encountered many strange things in his travels, but he was loath to trust in the hopes and fears of an old woman, no matter how highly born. Still, she was paying him to find what he could, and he would do his duty. Besides, the possibility of discovering some strange new thing made the whole enterprise worthwhile.

     He left the edge of the wood from a point somewhat east of the manor house, and advanced toward it. There were still a few trees scattered here and there on the grounds, and the gardens to the west were still quite lovely at this distance, considering the time of year. The foliage was just beginning to change color, and a few errant leaves had already fallen to the ground.

     Nandliss spied a large white willow near a thicket at the back of the house. Odd, he thought. I should think, considering the nature of her dream, that the countess would have had that tree removed first. Perhaps she hadn't been out on the grounds in so long that she'd simply forgotten it was there. He approached the tree and examined the thicket. It was really more of a large shrubbery that grew right up against the house. He spied a pair of tracks that led out of the shrubbery and headed east, around the corner of the house. Curious, he followed them back to see whence they had come. It appeared that there had been a large, heavy person and a much lighter and smaller one traveling together. Probably the young Ms. Froske and her large friend, Mr. Insel. He came through to the little clearing and saw the coppiced ash and the cellar door. The tracks here were much more difficult to follow: the ground here was hard, willow roots reached thirstily about, and the ground covering was springier. Nandliss, however, with his expert eye could form a story of what had happened here. The two sets of tracks he had first encountered must have belonged to a pair who was following a third set. They appeared to have followed them to the door and then out and left the way he had come. The set they had been following led in and out, and now a fresher set led in. Whoever the last person to come through here was, he was still in the cellar. He decided to wait to see who it was.

     Rikard opened the cellar door and stopped halfway through. There was the Owerst, examining the ground. After a brief moment of thought, he opened the door loudly and called out, "Master Nandliss, sir! I think I may have discovered something. You should come in and have a look."

     Nandliss turned and approached the servant. "Of course, good man. Is something wrong?"

     "I'm not sure, sir. I've discovered something ... unusual ... in the cellar here. I put everything back as it was, for fear that whoever hid these things would do me some harm if they found out I'd discovered them."

     "Discovered what, Rikard?"

     "Come, have a look for yourself." He motioned the Owerst inside.

     Nandliss walked past Rikard, who held the door open for him. The servant pointed towards the back of the cellar.

     "Back there, some of those crates seem to be empty, but the one on the bottom is the one that concerns us." He followed behind Nandliss and began moving crates aside. He grabbed the crowbar and pried open the crate. "There are these strange sort of crystals …" he trailed off.

     Nandliss reached into the crate and, pushing aside the straw, he pulled out one of the wrapped bundles. Unwrapping it, he revealed a glowing blue crystal.

     "I'm not sure what those are, but I'm sure it's nothing the Countess knows about. They have a look of wrongness about them, sir, wouldn't you agree?"

     Nandliss looked aghast. "These … these are very dangerous things to have about. How did you come to find them?"

     "Well, sir, I was out walking the grounds and I noticed that it looked like someone had come through the hedge up there, so I just sort of started looking around, you know. I knew of this cellar, of course – in fact I have the key – but it hasn't been used for anything in years. So when I saw that it looked like someone had been inside, I decided to have a look around myself."

     "Have you any idea who had been in here before?"

     "No sir, except …" He hesitated, perhaps too dramatically.

     "Go on, man!"

     "Well, I assumed it was one of you guests, sir – on the countess's orders, of course. But I didn't know who it would be."

     "Well, it certainly wasn't me: I've only just come from out in the wood. Where are the other guests?"

     "Hm? Oh, I believe the Dreamer is with the countess, though I think he's spent most of the day in the library."

     "And Ms. Froske and Mr. Insel?"

     "Haven't seen them all day, sir," replied Rikard. "Have you?"

     "The last I saw of them was at breakfast. They did say they were going to have a look about the house. Perhaps they found the same thing you did?"

     "Could be. But … no. Never mind."

     "Come now, Rikard. If we're to get to the bottom of this, you'll have to share everything you know."

     "Well, it's not something I know, sir, it's just that a thought occurred to me: what if it was Insel or Ms. Froske who put these here?"

     "Highly unlikely."

     "Oh, well, if you say so, sir. I suppose you know them much better than I do."

     The Owerst paused for a moment. Come to think of it, he'd never met either of them before. Surely Ms. Froske would be incapable of involvement in something like this. The big man, though: he had a look of untrustworthiness about him. Nandliss wasn't sure why the two of them seemed so odd together. Was it possible that Insel was using some sort of Dark Magicks to control the young woman?

     "Listen to me, Rikard. I think we'd best pack these crystals back up the way you found them. Say nothing of them to anyone, understand?"

     "As you say, sir." Rikard nodded and set about re-packing the crystals.

     "If one of the countess's guests is involved in this, it's best that we don't let on that we know anything about it. They'll be on their guard and we'll likely never discover them. However, if we keep a close eye on this place and the goings on about the manor, we may yet find out who put these here."

     "Yes, sir." Rikard knew noblemen well enough to know that when one of them said we in the context of some chore, it was likely what they really meant was you servants. So all he had to do was make sure he was the one on watch when Grigsby's men came. In the meantime, he'd just have to make sure they came soon – tonight, if possible.

Chapter 14: The Woman

      The woman stood on a balcony overlooking the Royal District. The towers of Ayrst Palace were the only features of the city that reached higher than her perch. She surveyed the city below with some small measure of disdain: the place was full of vermin, but many of them were useful vermin. They were ignorant of the uses to which they could be put, but the woman knew that the power to manipulate them was the power to control the twin forces of history and destiny.

      The sun was just beginning to meet the horizon off to her right, and so lamps were beginning to come on below her. The Temple servants would be lighting the lamps in her own chambers, soon. The autumn breeze carried with it a hint of the coolness to come: the time when the Ice Aspect of the Lord of Invincible Light would reign. The people would celebrate this with their festivals – meaningless rituals to soothe their superstitious minds, an abstract light to ward off the darkness in the recesses of their own souls. Whatever gets them through their paltry lives, she thought.

      She was a short woman with very dark hair and eyes. She was also petite and very pretty, with a generous mouth that curved up at the corners making her seem ever on the verge of a smile, even when she was in a cloudy mood. She wore flowing white robes with gold embroidery about the neck, sleeves and hem that made a whish as she strode back to her chambers.

      The servants had already been. They'd lit the lamps, and brought her fresh water for washing. There was also a new carafe of chilled red wine and a glass on a silver tray by her bedside.

      She poured herself a glass and drank down the contents in one gulp. She then filled it again, but this time she sat it on the night table. There was much to be done tonight, but first she had to speak to that miserable Dvergar. She went to her wardrobe to choose her attire for the night. She first pulled out her favorite green silk corset, but upon examination she realized that there was a tear in it. Should she even bother to have it mended? I'll just have another made. She tossed it aside. Where is that aberrant little circus freak? She hated waiting.

      There was the sound of a sharp knock, followed by silence, then two more together, then one alone again. At last!

      She glided to the chamber door where she pushed a bolt in place to lock it. Then she went to the east wall and pulled aside the edge of a large tapestry to reveal the polished marble that made up the entirety of the Tower of Sol. She found a place where there was an imperfection in the stone – a small chip where three yellow veins came together and inserted her finger into it. There was an audible click, and a portion of the wall gave way, swinging inwards, to reveal an unlit chamber.

      There stood the disheveled Dvergar. He swept past the woman and looked around him.

      "Where in All the Hells have you been? You know I don't like to be kept waiting."

      "Had bus'ness wit' da Troop."

      She threw up her hands. There was no use arguing with the diminutive miscreation. He was here now, and that's what mattered. "Are you ready, then? Have you scouted out the place?"

      "Yea."

      "Well?"

      "It's called the Seabreeze Tavern. Nice place."

      "That's awfully close to the last one. Look, Sticky, next time I need you to find a place a little further afield. Maybe try in the House District."

      "Yea. But this time by the river. Lots o' young nobles likes to 'slum it' there, as they say."

      "Fine. It'll do for this night. I'll meet you at the tavern's stable."

      "Yea. An' here's the drug." He reached her a small vial of blue liquid.

      "Good. Now be gone. I need to finish preparing."

      The Dvergar returned the way he came, closing the hidden portal behind him. The woman straightened the tapestry in its place.

      She went back to her wardrobe and decided on a black leather corset over a white blouse and indigo skirts. She looked at herself in the tall stand mirror. Who would be the unlucky soul tonight? Sticky had better be right about the clientele at the Seabreeze. No one would panic if the details didn't get out, but if the victim were someone of importance ... well, the Watch would hardly be able to keep it under wraps this time, would they?

      Once she was dressed, she exited through the same passage Sticky had used. From there she followed a spiral stair on its lengthy course to the base of the tower. She slipped out into the stables via means of another secret portal. Looking swiftly about her to see that no one was there to witness her egress, she walked around the back of the Cathedral into an alley that led to the Mayrand Way – the main avenue that led between the Cathedral Square and the Palace. Once on the street, she slipped into the crowds and continued on towards the river.

      The Seabreeze Tavern was a simple two-story construction on the High Street which was separated from the river and the High Street Bridge only by a Moneychanger's and a small alleyway. The alley that ran between the two buildings led to a stable behind the Tavern itself. It had few rooms to let, and thus was primarily used as a tavern hall. The stables were, in fact, larger than the Tavern, and the proprietress, Arya Seefer, made more than a little coin through trading in horses as a result.

      Upon reaching the tavern grounds, the woman immediately followed the alley to the stables. She waited until the stablehands were busy talking with another patron to surreptitiously enter one of the buildings. She went to the last stall on the right, passing several horses on her way. There sat Sticky.

      "Took ya long enough," he said, looking up at her from his seat on a bale of hay.

      "Yes, well let's bear in mind that my time is far more valuable than yours."

      He grunted. "As you say."

      "Have you the mask?"

      "Yea. And th' other thing ya asked for." He reached behind him into a large sack that was mostly covered in straw.

      "Oh, very good. Did you have much trouble finding it?"

      "Nay. Our man out at the farm has been bringin' 'em in by the crate." He handed her a small glowing crystal. Its light shone faintly amber.

      "Let's just be sure our man doesn't get himself caught with them. More importantly, be sure he never knows my name."

      "Don't ya worry yourself none, Archpriestess. He don't even know my name."

      "You be careful using titles like that, you fool!" She rounded on him. "If the wrong ears were to hear … let me just say that I would not be alone on the pyre!"

      The Dvergar chuckled. "Don't get your skirts in a twist. I was just havin' a joke. Ain't no one here now but horses on any account."

      She glared at him as though to murder him with her eyes. "Well no more jokes of that sort."

      "Yea."

      "Just you be ready with that mask and cloak. I doubt I can get a room at this place, so I'll bring someone out here to the stables. Do you have an escape route planned?"

      Sticky nodded.

      "Good. This time, be sure someone sees you before you vanish. I want the description on every wagging tongue in all of Ayrst by tomorrow morning. Do you understand?"

      "Yea."

      She left Sticky alone in the stable to wait. As she walked to the tavern, she thought of all the ways she might kill the filthy little Dvergar. He knew far too much to be allowed to live. And he has far too loose a tongue.

      Inside, the Seabreeze Tavern was a dank, smelly shit hole. Young nobles come here? It hardly seemed possible. The smell alone would drive out most commoners, let alone the delicate sensibilities of the upper classes. Nevertheless, there were more than a few young people dressed every bit as well as – if not better than – she was. The little fool knew his taverns, at least. There was a trio of musicians playing in one dingy corner of the room. They were surprisingly good, considering their surroundings.

      She searched the crowd for a likely mark. There was an attractive young man playing dice and laughing much too loudly. He would likely end up in some sort of trouble whether she took any interest in him or not. There was a group of well-dressed young people sitting at a corner table together. They seemed to be chattering amongst themselves – the way young people often do – about the manners and dress of the other patrons. It would probably be difficult to separate the weak member out of that flock. Ah! Just there on the edge of the group sat a young woman who was obviously trying to fit in with them but didn't quite know how. The little clique was ignoring her for the most part.

      She was a pretty girl, though she clearly didn't know how to use it to her advantage. Her clothes were expensive but rumpled, and her blush was applied incorrectly – it was the wrong shade for her light skin tone in any case. She also seemed to pay more attention to the women dancing around the room than to the men. Was she jealous of the way they danced so freely or the way they carried themselves? Or did her tastes in pleasurable company lean somewhat outside the norm?

      In any case, it shouldn't be too difficult to get the girl alone for a few questions. The woman noticed that the girl's glass was nearly empty, so she went strait to the first serving girl she saw and tugged on her sleeve.

      "Yes?" The poor girl looked flustered. Evidently tonight's crowd was a bit much for her to handle.

      "Listen to me carefully, and I will make it worth your efforts."

      The serving girl stopped short and gave the woman her full attention. "Go on."

      "I want you to drop whatever you're doing and go to the bar. I want a bottle of the best mead this place has and two glasses brought to me over there in two minutes." She pointed in the direction of where the girl was sitting. She then pressed a gold mark into the serving girl's hand. "There will be another of these when you've done as I ask."

      "Right away, Mistress!" The serving girl scurried off to the bar.

      The woman came close to the sitting girl, who was oblivious to her approach.

      "That's a lovely dress you're wearing. You should keep better care of it: it would more finely complement your figure."

      The girl looked up at her. "Pardon?"

      "Your dress. It's very nicely-tailored. I think with just a few adjustments you would outshine any other woman in the room."

      "Well, I uh … I mean to say, thank you. It's an old dress." She blushed.

      "I quite like it. How did you come by it?"

      "It was my mother's … before she Passed into The Dream."

      "Oh, I'm sorry to hear. How long ago was that?"

      "It's been nearly two years now, I think."

      "My own mother Passed in birthing me, so I never knew her."

      "I'm sorry to hear, as well." She brushed a lock of her auburn hair out of her face.

      "So what brings you to this little pit this evening?"

      "Oh, well some of the others were going slumming, and I thought I'd tag along."

      "This lot here?" The woman nodded to the circle of young people seated around the table nearby. "Why ever would you tag along with them? If anything, they should be trailing you like needful pups."

      The girl giggled. "You've clearly not spent much time among the newly rich."

      "Oh, is that what they are? I think the term pretenders fits them better."

      "Oh, you're a wicked one!"

      "You have no idea." The woman noticed that the serving girl was approaching them. "Here, your drink is nearly gone and I'm quite thirsty myself." She took the bottle of mead and the two glasses from her and handed her another gold mark. She examined the bottle and filled the glasses, handing one to the sitting girl.

      "Here, try this. It's mead from Kraycia. Perhaps not the best in the world, but likely the best you'll find in a filthy dive such as this."

      "Thank you," she said to the serving girl. "Be on your way now." The serving girl left them alone, bowing her thanks.

      By this time, the pair of them were beginning to attract some attention from the clique of chattering young nobles at the table. One of the boys in particular – a tall lad with dark hair and bright green eyes, wearing a coat of the finest blue velvet with silver scrollwork up the sleeves – stood and bowed to the woman.

      "Is she bothering you, madam?"

      "Not at all," replied the woman.

      "Surely I can provide you better company."

      "Surely you can take a hint and put your overly privileged arse back in its chair." She waved him away as though dismissing the lowliest of servants.

      His mouth dropped open in shock. "Do you have any idea who you're talking to?"

      "Do you have any idea how very little I care? Now leave us be." The girl stood up, laughing and very nearly spilling her drink. The woman led her a little ways away from the group.

      "You've gone and done it now, Miss," said the girl. "That's Michel Friedland. His father's the-"

      The woman cut her off. "Head Master of the Tradesman's Guild."

      "Yes. How did you know that? Have you met him?"

      "No, we've never met, but I know the name – and the reputation."

      "I'm sorry, but who are you, exactly?"

      "Please forgive me. My name's Lily." She bowed to the girl.

      "Just Lily? That's not much to go on."

      "You know, the polite thing to do when someone introduces herself is to introduce yourself in turn."

      "Judging by your behavior just now, I didn't think you put much store in politeness." The girl grinned broadly. "Nevertheless, I'm pleased to meet you. My name's Aliquah. And until I know more about you, that's all you're going to get. Fair is fair, yes?"

      "Very well." The woman nodded. "Then I propose that you and I and this bottle find somewhere else to sit and get to know one another a bit better."

      "I'll agree to that. Where do you propose we go? The place is rather crowded, and I think my seat's been taken already."

      "How about the stables, then?"

      "All right. It's bound to be quieter there, and we can hear each other talk."

      "Also, I expect the company of horses to be much pleasanter than that of cocky young noblemen."

      "Agreed," laughed Aliquah.

      The woman took her hand and they swept out of the Seabreeze and into the cool evening air.

      "That place was getting too stuffy anyway," said the girl. "And this mead's going to my head. A little fresh air will do me some good."

      "Yes, those kinds of crowds are a bit ... much. Come, follow me." She pulled Aliquah behind her and led her around the tavern to the stableyard, where she stopped short. "Wait just a moment."

      "What? Why?"

      "I like to play a little sneaking game, you see."

      "A game?"

      "Yes. See those two men over there?"

      "They're stablehands, I think."

      "Yes. Well, let's see if we can sneak into the stables without them noticing us."

      "But, why? There's no reason for them to stop us going in."

      "Oh, I know that, but I still think it's fun."

      "All right," Aliquah arched an eyebrow at Lily. "If you say so."

      The pair of them ducked behind a fence and waited. The two men were talking to one another, but the women couldn't hear what they were saying. A man on a horse rode into the yard and dismounted. The three men all turned their attention to the horse as they led it to the far stable.

      "Now!" hissed Lily. The two of them sneaked into the first stable. Once inside they both began giggling.

      "Well, Lily, I guess you were right. That was fun!"

      "Of course I was ... and I'm always right!" Aliquah snorted at this assertion before Lily once again grabbed her hand and pulled her down the rows of stalls to the end. She opened the empty stable to the left where a lamp was lit. "Here, we can sit on these bales of hay and have another drink."

      As Aliquah entered the stall Lily turned and looked into the one across from it. It appeared to be empty. Where had that Dvergar got himself to now? He was supposed to have been waiting there. Surely he would come back soon. Probably went to get himself a drink, the fool. She had returned more quickly than even she had expected, but that was no excuse for him to keep her waiting.

      Lily sat on the nearest hay bale and gave it a pat. "Here, have a seat next to me." 

      Aliquah sat. "You know, Lily, there's something strange about you."

      "You think? Tell me, then: what is it?"

      "Well, you carry yourself like a proper noblewoman, but ..."

      "... but what? I don't act like one?"

      "Something like that, yes. You remind me of what my mother used to say: 'Act your age, young lady!'" She laughed again. "But I never wanted to. Perhaps it's because you grew up without a mother to tell you those things, that ..."

      "That I don't act my age."

      "'Yes."

      "Well what age do you suppose I am?"

      "At first I thought you were my age, but I see now you're a bit older."

      "Oh, really?"

      "But not by much, I don't think. And regardless of your physical age, I think you're much younger than that at heart."

      "Oh, I see. So, you think I'm an old woman playing at being a girl, do you?"

      "No, not at all! You're not too old ..."

      "Too old? Who said  anything about too old? Too old for what, exactly?" Lily leaned in close to Aliquah.

      Aliquah swallowed. "Too old for me to notice your eyes."

      "What about my eyes," Lily whispered.

      "How they're so ... dark and deep. And beautiful."

      "Oh, my dear ... if my eyes are deep because they've seen things. If they're dark, it's because they have secrets." Their kiss was warm and soft, at first, but as their lips pressed harder, Aliquah pulled away.

      "Wait, Lily."

      "What ever is the matter, my sweet?"

      "Who are you? Why are you paying such attention to me?" Suddenly her voice grew cold. "Did someone put you up to this?"

      "Why no, not at all. Who would do such a thing?"

      "Some of those fools in the tavern would."

      "Well, I've never met any of them before tonight. And to answer your question, I'm paying attention to you because you deserve it. You may take care not to draw too much attention on yourself, but I have a keen eye for beautiful things -"

      "Oh, I see. So I'm just a thing to you?" She stood up in a huff.

      "That's not at all what I meant, dear Aliquah." Where was that bloody dwarf? She was going to lose this one if he didn't return soon. "Please, sit down."

      "Why?"

      "Because I want to get to know you better. There's something special about you, and I can't quite put my finger on it."

      "I get the feeling you've used that line before."

      "No. Please. I won't try to kiss you again. Just sit. Here - have a seat across from me and have a drink and we'll talk. Please?"

      Aliquah folded her harms across her breast and sat on one of the other bales. "All right. Maybe you're not what I fear."

      "Please don't fear me." Lily swept her arms wide, and in doing so knocked the bottle of mead on the floor of the stall behind her. "Oh! How clumsy of me. See? You're making me nervous, Aliquah."

      Aliquah tilted her head at Lily as Lily turned to get the bottle. She popped the cork out and poured them each another drink.

      "I'm just glad I didn't knock the glasses over, as well. Though I suppose the straw would have broken their fall." As she turned, she palmed the small vial of blue liquid and poured a few drops into one of the glasses. She handed it to Aliquah and raised her own.

      "What was that?" Asked Aliquah.

      "What was what, my dear?"

      "What was that you just put in my glass? And don't try to pretend you didn't. Let me see your other hand."

      Lily raised her hand, empty palm upwards. "Nothing."

      Aliquah stood again. She reached her glass to Lily. "Then drink this."

      "What? Surely you're joking. You think I'm trying to poison you, or something?"

      "Maybe. Or maybe just drug me."

      "Whatever for?"

      "To calm me down against my will, maybe? To make me do something I'll regret? To kidnap me? There could be any number of reasons." She suddenly turned towards the stall door. "What was that noise? Is there someone in here?"

      "Just horses, my sweet." Aliquah stepped away from her, her back against the high stable wall.

      "I don't think I want to be here any more."

      Suddenly the stall door opened to reveal a broad figure. It stood not much shorter than a man and wore a bulky black cloak. But it was the head that Aliquah couldn't tear her eyes from. It had a bulbous, lizard-like head with grey-green skin that  shone wetly in the flickering  lamplight. It had a longish snout with a ring of teeth in the end, and tentacles where its eyes should be.

      Aliquah turned away from it, and backed towards Lily, who slowly stood up and drew a heavy-hilted dagger from its  sheath. Suddenly Aliquah screamed and rushed at the creature, trying to knock it over and make her escape. It barely budged, though, and she was just about to make another attempt when Lily struck her on the back of the head with the pommel of her dagger. She collapsed in a heap.

      "Sticky, you fool! Where were you?" Lily pulled Aliquah up by the back of her dress and threw her on her back into a pile of straw. "Help me with this."

      "Didn't expect ya'd be back as soon as all that," said the figure. He removed the Teuthanurae helmet he wore.

      "It's a shame I had to wound the back of her head. This isn't going to look right. Well, what's done is done. I need to get back, so you finish up. And remember ... make sure you're seen – wearing that." She indicated the helmet.

      "Yea."

      The straw under Aliquah was beginning to pool with blood from the head wound. Lily stepped away and brushed the blood off her shoes against one of the bales of hay.

      As she exited the stall, she turned back to Sticky. "Remember - if there's not a panic in the streets in two days, we'll meet again on the third. And this time we need to go somewhere in the House district, understand?"

      "Yea." The Dvergar pulled a long thin metal instrument from under his bulky cloak and set to work. He'd remove the eyes first, then scrape out the inside of the skull and put its contents into an oiled leather bag before tossing it into the River Ayrst.

      Lily left him to his ghastly work.

Chapter 13: The Reaper

     "Right here in Conquests of the Great Empire there's a reference to a journal – supposedly kept by Imperator Leiwenend himself – where there's a description of the physical appearance and habits of the Teuthanurae." She put the new tome in front of Frayg and sat in the chair next to his. "Right here:"

          Teuthanurae are about the size of a man, but of greater girth. Their skin 

     is much like that of a salamander and varies in color from green grey to 

     almost black. They have short limbs with long fingers that end in suckers

     much like those of an octopus. Their heads are broad at the top, ending in 

     a toothy proboscis at the bottom. Their most unnerving feature is their lack 

     of eyes. Indeed, in the place where a man's eyes would be are instead a 

     pair of tentacles.

          They are known to feed on other intelligent creatures, including humans, 

     Aelwyn and Dvergar. They particularly crave the eyes and the brains, 

     which they get at through the ocular cavities using their versatile snouts.

          It is said that the Teuthanurae are practiced in the manner of dark rituals 

     and use these abilities to bewitch their prey, putting them in a trance state, 

     thus allowing them to feed without the resistance of the prey. Parties of 

     Teuthanurae have been known to hunt and capture other races to use 

     as labor and for a ready source of food.

          Leiwenend wrote that on his first encounter with the Teuthanurae he 

     lost nearly half his troops, even though his forces outnumbered theirs 

     by more than three to one. He later writes of making a treaty with the  

     king of the Teuthanurae, named Pazsquo. In the agreement, a certain 

     number of  humans would be sent to their capital of Kerasis annually to 

     use for their own purposes, and one fifth that number of Teuthanurae 

     would be sent to serve as trainers in dark rituals and as the Imperator's 

     personal bodyguard.

     "That's … unbelievable." Frayg looked up from the book. "This doesn't sound like mere folk legend to me. It seems as though these things may have really existed!"

     "Bear in mind that the book you hold there is only just over a hundred years old, but the events it's describing would have happened nearly two thousand years ago."

     "Yes, but these things were written down even back then weren't they?"

     "Probably. Leiwenend may well have kept a journal, but stories grow with the telling. Also, the language you and I are speaking now didn't exist then. The letters we now use to write would have been different then, too."

     "So … language doesn't just change from region to region, but over time, as well?"

     "Exactly. There's a whole branch of study in historical languages."

     Frayg scratched his head. "Well there's something I never knew."

     "Of course you didn't. You've never needed to … which leads me to a question I didn't ask the Dvergar: Why are you so interested in Teuthanurae?"

     "Hmm? Well, it has to do with a crime that was committed in the Wall Street District a couple of nights ago. I don't think I should tell you any more than that."

      Zaria's eyes narrowed and her mouth twisted into a sideways frown. "Is that so?"

     "Yes. I really think I should keep the details quiet."

     "So, you want me to help you research something that I'd wager you've never even heard of until the last day or two, but you're not willing to tell me why?"

     "Exactly."

     "That hardly seems fair."

     "I'm a Watchman. I don't need to be fair." He laughed.

     "Fine then, you're on your own from here on out." She stood up and began gathering up the books and scrolls from the table.

     "Wait! I need those."

     "That's too bad. If you want me to help with your investigation, you're going to have to trust me."

     "All right," Frayg sighed "but you have to promise me you won't tell anyone about this, all right?"

     "Agreed." She dropped the materials back on the table and sat down again. "This is about that … that man that was sent into The Dream isn't it? The one at that inn?"

     "News really does travel fast, doesn't it? I have to warn you, some of the details are pretty gruesome – you might not want to know all of it."

     Zaria's face grew pale and she put her hands to her mouth. "You're going to tell me that that fellow's eyes were missing, aren't you? Oh, by the Invincible Lord of Light … you were going to leave until I mentioned …" She gasped. "His brains. Something ate his brains, didn't it?"

     "Well, I don't know about ate. But yes, they were gone, too."

     "So, you think that somehow the Teuthanurae have returned?"

     "I don't know. I think it's pretty unlikely that a legendary race of evil beings that have been gone so long most people have forgotten they even existed would suddenly make their presence known in one of the largest cities in the world."

     "That's true." She relaxed a bit. "Besides, I don't think they would stop with one person in an inn. From the research I've done, they'd be more likely to conquer a whole city using Dark Magicks, although, there is one thing, hmm …" She trailed off.

     "What?"

     "Well, according to this other volume …" She reached across the table for another book that was in a strange writing that Frayg didn't understand. She opened it and began muttering unintelligibly.

     "Well, what? What book is that?"

     "It's called Sklerwantes fon di Finstirniss – It means Servants of the Dark. It's written in a very old dialect of Ancient Palonian "

     "And you can read it?"

     "Not very well, I'm afraid. I could probably get Professor Belsen to translate it, but he'd ask questions."

     "Let's just see what you can make of it for now."

     "Yes … here it is. I saw this the other day." She began translating, stopping and starting as she came to difficult words or phrases: "Some say the force … I guess they mean power … of the masters … some really old texts refer to the Teuthanurae as 'the masters' – I think it was a name they had for themselves … relied on the usage of tvarken. Without the tvarken, their force was made small … diminished, I guess … or sometimes like the breath of death. I'm pretty sure that expression 'breath of death' was used to represent the concept of nothingness."

     "So what does that mean? What's a tvarken?

     "The tvarken are what hat we now call witch crystals."

     "So, you mean … the Teuthanurae derived their power from … the … the Unnamed?"

     "That's certainly how the Temple would put it. I doubt that's how the Imperials would have seen it, though. The truth is, no one really knows –" She cut herself off mid-sentence. "Um. What I mean to say is yes. 'The witch crystals are used to channel power from the Unnamed. But this power is naught next to the power of the Lord of Invincible Light.'"

     Frayg chuckled and gave Zaria a reassuring grin. "Don't worry yourself. I'm a Watchman, not a Temple Inquisitor: you don't have to cite verses to me."

     "You ... won't report me?"

     "No. Let me tell you a secret: half the people in this city don't buy into half of what the Temple would have us believe. Why do you think there are still so many churches and shrines to the 'Aspects' and not  only Temples of Light?"

     "I assumed because people are slow in letting go of their Old Gods. "

     "Exactly. The Temple would love nothing more than to see all of those Aspect Shrines torn down and minor temples put in their place, but the Temple is patient. They're willing to wait out the beliefs of the common folk and absorb them into their own teachings."

     "I see ... and once they have the people in the Temple, they'll slowly eliminate the old ways."

     "You're a quick learner."

     "Top of my class!"

     "But you're wise to be cautious. I wouldn't discuss such ideas too openly."

     "Ordinarily I don't. Things are different here at the college – professors encourage us to think about every possibility when we're discussing an issue. There's an unspoken rule what we say here doesn't leave here."

     "It's nice to know there is at least one place where unorthodox ideas aren't a crime."

     "You're a strange man."

     "How so?"

     "Well, as a Watchman you're supposed to uphold the law. The Temple of the Invincible Light is the official religion of Palonias now, so their decrees carry the force of law, don't they?"

     "Temple law is different. I'm sworn to uphold the King's Justice. The royal family of Palonias has changed, and so has the religious authority, but the oaths I took pre-date the adoption of Universalism by close to three hundred years."

     "So ... you're not a Universalist, then?"

     "Of course I am." Frayg grinned mischievously. "All subjects of Palonias are Universalists. It's just ... well, let's say some of us are more comfortable with our conversion than others."

     Zaria laughed. "I see."

     "Back to the witch crystals. This says that Teuthanurae need these crystals, or their power is weak or vanishes?"

     "Something like that. As near as I can tell."

     "So if one of these things really is lurking about, it would be pretty powerless, unless it found one of the crystals."

     "And every known crystal has been destroyed by the Temple."

     "But what if there were an unknown source of these crystals? Where did they even come from, anyway? Originally, I mean ... before the Temple started confiscating and destroying them?"

     "Supposedly the raw materials were simply found in caverns and deposits alongside regular quartz crystals, like amethyst, citrine, onyx and clear quartz."

     "If they're so common, , how in the world does the temple expect to eradicate all of them?"

     "To start, they're not that common. They're found with common crystals, but very rarely. Also, the raw crystals have to be identified and then treated. And there are supposed to be special rituals or processes that need to be done before their power is usable."

     "What sort of processes?"

     "That, unfortunately, I can't tell you. The secrets of fashioning witch crystals are lost. Most of those who knew them were put to Trial by the Holy Inquisitors. Anyone else who might know anything about that surely wouldn't discuss it publicly. They would keep the secret, or be in hiding somewhere far from Palonias."

     "The Temple seems to think there are witches hiding in every cupboard and wood shed."

     "I suspect that's just in the interests of job security," she laughed.

     "You're probably right about that," he agreed. "Listen, is there anything else you can tell me about that Dvergar?"

     "Yes. When he got deep into his research, he took off his coat. Under that he wore a grubby vest with no shirt. He had a tattoo on his arm. It was a face of some kind: sort of an oval with rectangular eyes and mouth. The eyes had long lines under them, like tear streaks or something – like the face was crying. Or maybe it was supposed to be an actor's mask. Whatever it was, something about it made my flesh creep."

     "Could you draw it for me?"

     "I'm no artist, but it was a fairly simple depiction. Just a moment." She went across the room to a supply cabinet which she opened and retrieved a pen, a bottle of ink and a scrap of parchment. She returned and drew a copy of the tattoo. "It was maybe not exactly like that, but it's pretty close. If you show it to anyone who's seen the tattoo, they'll make the connection."

     "Very good. Thank you, Zaria."

     "You're welcome Captain. I have one favor to ask you, though."

     "I can't promise anything, but ask away."

     "If you find out anything more about this case, and especially anything about the Teuthanurae, will you let me know?"

     "Gladly."