2nd day of Ransalacue, 5571A Dromdal Manor, Swan Street
Talantier, The Divided Lands
Qidarchios Sunleaf and Sebastian Sanders strolled amongst the dead topiaries in the Dromdal garden, which were so overgrown by weeds that their original shapes could no longer be distinguished.
"Perhaps the Dromdals could hire Bjorn as their gardener," Dark observed, an expression of mixed sadness and disgust on the young elf's face as he looked over at a long dried-out fountain, its unmaintained features eroded by time, weather and pollution until the exact race depicted by the humanoid carving at its center was likewise no longer apparent.
"Fine by me, if it takes him out of our hair," Seb growled, now examining an old coach, painted black, that was sitting near the dilapidated tool shed.
Dark frowned at this but said nothing. He felt the barbarian was being rather unfair, considering that Bjorn had already saved his life.
He held his tongue, however. Without the rest of the party around, the bard felt any kind of an argument with Sebastian had a fair chance of erupting into violence.
Seb was now peering into the interior of the carriage. Like most of the Dromdal possessions, it looked of high quality that had been tarnished, if not outright ruined, by age and neglect.
The elven bard joined him. "No horses kept here," Dark said, stating the obvious. "I'd guess this thing hasn't seen use in years. Poor Barnsworth must have to do a lot of walking."
Sebastian grunted. "You'd guess wrong."
Dark's eyebrows rose. In response, the barbarian pointed to the ground by the coach. The persistent breeze kept the grounds clearer of early autumn leaves than it might otherwise have been, but the dirt and weeds still seemed wholly unremarkable to the bard, so Seb indicated a section with one of his boots.
Even bending down, it still took Qidarchios almost a minute to see the faint wheel tracks.
Dark frowned again as he straightened up, but this time in curiosity. "Any guess as to how old these are?"
Sebastian took a deep breath as he considered. Dark could see the half-dragon's cloak move as Seb's wings shifted underneath it.
"Four or five days, I'd say."
"No idea you were so skilled in the ways of the wild," Qidarchios said, the compliment half-flattery and half genuine admiration.
The barbarian shrugged. "I'm Roos. We learn early how to surwive alone if we have to."
"Roos?" Dark was taken aback; he hadn't known that and faulted himself for his lack of observation, but in his defense the bard could always assuage himself by noting that Sebastian lacked many of the stereotypical Roos features by nature of his apparent reptilian heritage. The barbarian had no hair at all, and the bronze tint of his skin made any guesses as to the ethnicity of his human half impossible. A faint accent (Dark had caught his pronunciation of the word "survive") was the only evidence backing up Seb's claim.
Qidarchios noticed Sebastian staring at him and looked around for a change of subject. The fact that the coach was still in use was hardly anything sinister, so the elf turned his attention back to the exterior of Dromdal Manor.
That was when he noticed the broken window.
The bard pointed while moving to get a better view and Seb followed. The window was on the second floor of the mansion's south side, so it overlooked Swan Street. Like many of the house's windows, they were covered by heavy drapes but the wind has shifted slightly since their arrival and the gusts were now blowing the curtains about enough so that the cracked glass behind them could be discerned.
Qidarchios was about to ask Sebastian if he thought this was significant when a face suddenly appeared at the window, staring down at them.
The upper hallway was dark. Lumen's elven eyes could see just about enough to navigate but little more than that. Standing at the top of the stairs, Duskwind didn't dare use a light cantrip here, in case Lady Auralana or some other inhabitant of Dromdal House should happen by the foot of the stairs unexpectedly and see evidence of illumination where none should be. She had taken Caffrine's hand in hers to help guide her but the teenager had quickly yanked it away.
Lumen had sighed but said nothing.
Two doors were situated on the left side of the hallway, one on the right and one directly opposite them. To neither woman's surprise, all four of them were locked.
With a nod, Lumen indicated the latter door. It was far enough from the landing that she dared to use a cantrip. Lumen hummed a short hymn in eleven as she removed a leaf-shaped fastener from her hair and a white glow now emanated from the hairclip.
Caffrine stared at it for a moment and then removed a small packet from the inside lining of her cloak. She unrolled it to reveal what Lumen assumed were lockpicks, although the bard had never seen such things up close before.
Working swiftly, the half-elf chose two of the instruments and then maneuvered them into the keyhole of the door. The bard couldn't see clearly but it looked like the rogue was using one tool to move the tumblers of the lock up and down and the other to try and trip the locking mechanism.
With a soft click, barely audible even to her ears, the lock opened. Lumen was thankful the door made almost no noise as they slowly pushed it inwards; apparently Barnsworth kept all the door hinges well-oiled.
Probably to avoid the wrath of his employer, the moon elf thought sourly.
This was the room of a young girl. Perhaps Caffrine's age, thought Lumen. A frilly, canopy bed, dresser and vanity mirror and a partially ajar door leading into a walk-in closet were the rooms most distinguishing features. The décor was all done in muted tones of lavender and pink.
There was no sign of dust or disuse, which was somewhat puzzling given the lack of children known to be currently residing in Dromdal Manor, but a peek into the closet quickly solved the conundrum.
It was packed with fine outfits, all expensive but demure in style and all sized for an adult woman. The wedding dress hanging amongst them was more than enough to convince the two women that this was the bedroom of Ceseli Dromdal-Andronovich. No doubt it had been her childhood room, and she had returned to live here after the murder of her husband and only means of support four weeks ago by the Swan Street Slicer.
Illumenatta felt uncomfortable here. There seemed no practical reason to her for them to snoop around Ceseli's personal belongings but Caffrine was already going through the dresser drawers and the leaflets on the dresser top, which consisted mostly of playbills for various plays and other exhibitions currently going on here in Talantier.
Lumen could only hope with all her heart that Caffrine didn't steal anything. She would hate for that speech she had given to the samurai Saito Takahashi just over a bell ago about how Caffrine would only use her thieving skills for worthy causes going forward would not be revealed as utter naivety on her part.
Illumenatta suddenly realized that she had turned away from Caffrine, supposedly to look at the locked shutters on the west wall but in reality as a sad attempt to cloak herself in ignorance as to any larcenies the teenager might be committing.
She turned back to see Caffrine reading a pack of letters that she had evidently discovered in one of the drawers. The half-elf lifted her head slowly to stare at Lumen. If she suspected any of Illumenatta's inner thoughts, the rogue gave no indication. Her expression was grim as she replaced the letters.
"Nothing here," Caffrine said quietly. "Those shutter locks are good quality- no one's climbing up the wall and getting in here without being noticed. Let's go."
"What were those papers?" Lumen asked as they closed and relocked the door.
Caffrine hesitated a moment before replying and when she did, her voice was somewhat hoarser than Lumen had heard it before.
"Love letters from her husband," she said, in a tone that left no doubt in Illumenatta's mind that the teenager was wishing she hadn't read them.
Lumen knew before Caffrine had even begun to pick the lock on the right-hand door that it would yield to the bedroom of Lady Auralana Dromdal.
The twin smells of dog and perfume had told her that.
An ornate canopied bed: much larger than the one they'd seen in Ceseli's room, stacked high with silk and lace-covered pillows, took up almost a quarter of this huge room, which Lumen estimated at forty by eighty feet and featured shuttered windows on both the east and west walls. There was a fireplace on the northern wall, unlit but with a plentiful supply of firewood stacked nearby. An antique vanity (again, of masterwork craftsmanship) and several lacquered selves were also prominently displayed.
By the bed was a large animal cage, empty and unlocked, whose bottom was covered by a single stained, overstuffed pillow.
"Baron's home," muttered Caffrine.
"Considering how she treats him, it might be Barnsworth's," Lumen couldn't help but put in, her tone grim.
Caffrine gave her a tight smile but said nothing.
Humming, Lumen cast a second light cantrip on a silver piece from her belt pouch and tossed the still-glowing hairclip to the half-elf. The sheer size of this room put it out of any single light source's radius.
The moon elf examined the shelves. Most held small, faded portraits of Auralana in her youth, brittle ribbons, dried flowers and other bric-a-brac. A number of flyers and playbills, perilously close to crumbling to dust from sheer age, indicated a number of singing performances by Auralana and indicated she had been quite the ingenue in her time.
One of the vanity drawers was locked as well. Lumen was about to ask Caffrine to open it when she heard the half-elf's voice.
"Check this out."
Lumen crossed to the northwest corner of the room, where Caffrine was examining a pair of double doors. Given their position, the bard assumed at first that they were the doors to a walk-in closet but quickly realized that wasn't the case.
The two doors, which went from floor to ceiling, were sliding doors; Lumen could see the tracks on both top and bottom in which they rested. Furthermore, although the wood was engraved with intricate floral designs, there were no keyholes on either side at all.
"Odd," Lumen said, frowning.
"There's an identical set of doors in the dining room," said Caffrine, looking down at her feet. "And if I'm guessing right, we're directly above them."
Duskwind tilted her head at the half-elf. "Some kind of shaft, you're thinking? Like a dumbwaiter?"
"But big enough for a person," the rogue responded. "Makes sense; that fancy wheeled chair of hers isn't going to get her up and down those stairs." The teenager looked thoughtful. "These walls are thick," she mused.
"I'm guessing it has something to do with this," Lumen said.
Caffrine looked over. Illumenatta was standing on the right side of the shaft, pointing at a lever set into the wall at about three feet height.
The half-elf squatted down and examined it. There were no markings on the wall, but the slot that the lever rested in had two spaces set off to one side like the gears of a cog.
"This must summon it," she said in almost a whisper. "Some kind of pulley and counterweight system. Damn clever engineering. Gnomish, I'd wager."
"You think it might be a weak spot?"
Caffrine considered as she stood back up, seeming to remember exactly why they were up here snooping around in the first place.
"Doubtful," she said, running her hands through her hair. "Of course, I'd like to know if this thing stops anywhere besides the dining room."
Lumen frowned. "I know this place has to have an attic, but the ceiling there would be way too low to support that thing," she said gesturing at the sliding doors.
Now Caffrine frowned as well.
"No way a house this size doesn't have a basement," she said, before pausing and taking a deep breath- and subsequently wrinkling her nose from the unpleasant combination of aromas. "Come on, let's get out of here."
Lumen had begun to follow the thief before she remembered about the locked vanity drawer.
"Wait," she said.
The two women stared at the opened drawer.
Slowly, Lumen reached in, moved aside the wigs and small vanity mirror and picked up a small leather belt, about two feet long, that contained twelve small vials, about one ounce each. Each vial rested in its own carrying loop.
Ten of the vials were empty, but two contained a dark red liquid.
Caffrine's breath caught in her throat. She was about to ask Illumenatta if that liquid might be blood when she heard the bard humming again.
After a few moments, Lumen to stare directly into Caffrine's eyes.
"These are potions. Transmutive."
Caffrine licked her lips. "I don't know anything about magic. What does that mean?"
"Could mean a lot of things," Lumen replied, gently returning the belt to the drawer. "In general, transmutive magic involves changing either the form or characteristics of the recipient. "Larger, smaller, smarter, dumber; could be almost anything that-"
The moon elf broke off. There was no denying the covetous look she was seeing in the teenager's eyes as she stared at the vials.
Lumen slammed the drawer shut as loudly as she dared.
The rogue gave her distant cousin a hard glare- less from the lost opportunity to pilfer the potions than from Lumen's obvious knowledge that she, Caffrine, had been tempted by them. Without a word, Caffrine turned and strode out of the room, Lumen hurrying to keep up.
The left-hand door furthest from Ceseli's room led into what seemed a guest bedroom. Unlike the other rooms they had seen, dust was heavy here; hardly surprising, as Lumen was sure the Dromdals hadn't hosted any overnight visitors in a long time.
The vanity drawers were all empty, and the single bed unremarkable, but Lumen watched as Caffrine knelt down and pulled out a leather-bound tome from underneath it.
The bard wondered how Caffrine had known almost instinctively to check under the bed, and then decided that was not a question that was likely to get a positive, or useful, response.
"Scrapbook," the teenager murmured, laying it on the bed and opening it up.
Lumen peered over Caffrine's shoulder. This book seemed to be dedicated to Ceseli, from her infancy until recent days. There was a notice announcing the birth of Ceseli Dromdal, notes and leaflets about her being a dancer, although those seemed to stop after the age of fifteen or so.
The book had very obviously been compiled by Lord Dromdal; there was hardly any mention anything in any of the materials about Auralana; clearly the head of House Dromdal doted on his daughter as fiercely as her mother had browbeaten her.
A wave of anger, unusual for Lumen (except for her waves of resentment mixed with self-pity she had recently experienced before her departure from Evistar), swept over the moon elf. She stood up and deliberately looked away from the scrapbook.
"Nothing useful in there, Caffrine," she spoke over her shoulder at the teenager. "Put it back."
"Listen to this last letter," Caffrine said, the half-elf either having not heard or, more likely, ignoring the bard's instructions. "Dated three weeks ago."
Ceseli,
My heart is torn asunder for you as only a father's can be, my dearest daughter. No one should ever have to bear such a tragedy as has befallen you. I know a half-fortnight of joy will never make up for the years of grief I know awaits you now, my treasure. You have lost not only the love of a good and true man, but the freedom I knew you had been waiting for- and deservedly so- long before you even dared to confess it to me.
For all the meager comfort it may be, my beloved daughter, I will be here for you as long as the gods will permit it. I will have to take another business trip soon, but I will do my utmost to make sure that another one will not be necessary for many years- no matter the cost.
Know this, my precious one. I am sorry beyond words for all the misery you have suffered, both before and now after your wedding, and I am sorry too that I was- and am- not strong enough of a man to have prevented that. I am sorry for all the years of your life that should have been spent in joy and not heartache. I am sorry for the circumstances that have brought us to this moment, and I am sorry for the conditions in which both you and I now dwell- a fate which you at least, should have escaped by now.
But most of all, my dearest Ceseli, I am so very sorry I ever brought your mother that damn dog.
Lumen didn't register Caffrine returning the scrapbook to its hiding place, or anything else for that matter. The elf's attentions were entirely focused inward.
Baron? Did Lady Dromdal use him to terrorize Ceseli? Is she still doing it? I feel for that woman- without my music, I wouldn't want to face that beast even armed, and she's clearly no warrior.
"Lumen."
Caffrine's voice sounded muffled, as if the bard was hearing it from a great distance.
"For the gold, I have no problem protecting Ceseli from Peck; even if he is the Slicer, which I have my doubts about, but not for all the coin in Talantier am I putting myself between a straight razor and that human hag. I'd-"
The sharp snap of the window drapes brought Lumen's full attention back to the present. A fierce gust had just revealed to the two women that the glass in the south window had been shattered.
Lumen strode over to the window and peered out.
Dark and Sebastian, standing in the garden, looked back at them. The high elf had evidently already been looking up at this window, for he seemed momentarily startled. Then, a sheepish grin on his face, he waved at Lumen.
Lumen smiled and waved back. He really was cute, she thought again, and then wondered if they had found anything interesting out there.
The church bells of Talantier tolled out seven times.
Lumen saw Seb and Dark glance to their left, and her fellow bard pointed that way. Carefully leaning out the window, taking care to avoid the broken glass, Illumenatta saw a horse-drawn passenger couch turn onto Swan Street and head towards the Dromdal house.
The bard and the barbarian were already bolting towards the front door.
"The dinner guests are arriving," Lumen told Caffrine. "We need to get downstairs!"
Several minutes earlier, downstairs in the living room, Oliver Athraite had felt like he was close to snapping.
Since this whole split-up-and-search scheme had been the damn samurai's idea, the transmuter had been happy to let Takahashi bear the brunt of getting Auralana to show them the living room- which she had actually agreed to rather readily- and then to distract her for as long as possible.
A roaring fire was going in the fireplace. Although Oliver didn't feel a chill, Lady Dromdal kept insisting the house was eternally drafty and had maneuvered her wheeled chair so that she was close to the flames. She sat there now, stroking the small, long-haired show dog she called Sachi which never seemed to leave her lap. There was little else in this room besides some sofas and end tables, all of ancient but excellent craftsmanship.
Ceseli was present, but Athraite was finding it very difficult to talk to the young woman for two reasons.
One was that Auralana seemed intent on sucking up all the air in the room. Determined to be the focal point of all attention even as Takahashi made polite conversation, keeping their host as the center of all topics while sprinkling in a few exotic tidbits about his far-off home of Nippon, Lady Dromdal would look up and cut across Oliver whenever he tried to ask Ceseli a question, answering for her daughter. For Ceseli's part, although her dislike of this was painfully obvious, the younger Dromdal made no move to protest.
The second reason was that even taking her mother out of the equation, trying to talk to Ceseli made Oliver uncomfortable. This woman was his old enough to be his mother and while the mage could pile on the oily charm if he had to- a skill he'd picked up while trying to survive in Three Falls without a real job- he couldn't bring himself to do that to this sad-looking widow.
And for her part, Ceseli wasn't making it easier for him. The young noblewoman sat on the edge of one of the sofas, glancing morosely at the archway leading to the dining room whenever Athraite wasn't speaking to her.
An almost subsonic growl made Oliver turn his head to see Baron, sitting obediently by his owner's side, staring at him with an expression that showed not even a trace of friendliness.
A loud throat-clearing from Takahashi seemed to be a sign from the samurai that the wizard should be paying attention to him now.
"Lady Dromdal," said Saito, in a voice somewhat louder than he had been using before, "speaking with you has been delightful, but as I am here not only as your guest but as a hired employee of the government, I must turn my attention back to the matter at hand, uncomfortable as it might be. Lieutenant Anderson of the city guard claims the Swan Street Slicer is a mute, deranged halfling named Peck. Do you have any idea whom he might be after, and why?"
"Me, obviously," replied Auralana, as if the answer was self-evident, "since his other victims have also all been members of high society. I can only assume that he has some unknown vendetta against the upper crust and is working his way through our ranks. Of course, I suppose he could also be trying to finish the job he started in killing Ceseli's boor of a husband."
A strangled gasp came from Ceseli, and Oliver just caught a momentary, naked glance of purest loathing cross Ceseli's features as she glared at her mother, but by the time Auralana had turned her face away from Takahashi to look at her daughter, Ceseli's face was normal again, if perhaps a bit tighter and more thin-lipped than before.
"Indeed," said Takahashi after a moment, and Athraite could see that even the samurai was making a conscious effort to keep his tone level and polite, "but do you specifically have any enemies you're aware of, Lady Dromdal? Perhaps someone else is guiding this Peck in his choice of targets."
Auralana seemed to consider that before shrugging.
"I've had my share of rivals in my day of course; primarily jealous debutantes and ex-lovers, but I can't see any of them masterminding something as horrific as this. I've definitely never done anything to inspire the wrath of a twisted little halfling."
"Since these murders began," pressed Takahashi, "have you noticed anything suspicious or out of the ordinary here at this house?"
"Apart from your arrival," Auralana said primly, arching her eyebrows at him, "nothing at all."
The tolling of the church bells, while barely audible in this room with closed windows and a roaring fire, was still just loud enough to be heard by everyone.
"Those of noble birth are always quite prompt," Lady Dromdal informed Saito and Athraite in a tone that suggested that they needed reminding of such basic facts. "Our guests shall be arriving shortly."
And with a tap on Baron's head which set the mastiff to accompanying her, Lady Dromdal wheeled her chair towards the archway. Ceseli followed dutifully behind her mother, while the wizard and the samurai were out in front. Oliver desperately hoped that none of the others would be caught anywhere they shouldn't be.
Fortunately, Lumen and Caffrine were already back in the dining room. The door to the kitchen opened and Barnsworth entered, carrying five empty wine glasses perched somewhat precariously on top of a wooden serving tray. Bjorn, holding a wine bottle, was right behind the hobbit while Dark and Sebastian entered from the front hall. By the time Lady Dromdal reached the room, everyone was in place.
Of course, Barnsworth had been standing in their midst when the entire scheme had been discussed, so he certainly could have pointed suspicious entrances out to his employer had he been inclined to do so, but the elderly halfling's mind seemed to run on a limited track and he said nothing.
A knock came from the front door.
