Hey everyone. Been rather occupied this week, and by that, I mean, playing Pokemon Scarlet - so addictive.
Also been binging on some stuff on my list of old shows to binge on, and something weird happened when watching Buffy on Hulu. During one of the commercials, an option came up that asked if I wanted to watch the show with a larger variety of sponsors. Seriously? Do these folks actually believe we're listening to the commercials? Ugh, that's capitalism for you.
Anyway, at least as a fanfic writer I don't need sponsors - for now, at least I am sure they are working on that. Enjoy.
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Shadowchasers
Blue Blood
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Chapter Eight
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Negotiations
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"...and ever since then," said Sonya, "I'm not legally allowed to set foot in the state of Oklahoma - which is fine by me because nobody in human history has ever said 'I want to go to Oklahoma'."
"What about -" asked Hank.
"...unless you're talking about Rodgers and Hammerstein, maybe then."
St. Cuthbert's House was planning its thrice weekly soup kitchen, a task that became easier for them when Francis and then Maddie started to room at the House, and easier still when Red, Nichole, Sonya and Hank came to town. Jenya had never outright stated they'd have to help, but it was expected for anyone rooming at such a place. Thus, the Shadowchasers had commandeered the kitchen, not just to volunteer, but to plan the investigation Francis had proposed.
Currently, Hank's conversation with Sonya was occurring while she and Maddie were making sandwiches (peanut butter and jelly) at the station near the oven, while Hank was using the oven to make toast while using two large crock pots on the stove over it. Francis was finishing washing the breakfast dishes, and Red Feather was cutting up vegetables - alone, every Shadowchaser was wary of getting near her when she had a knife.
"Here, taste this," said Hank to Sonya, "I need an honest opinion."
What he was offering seemed like some sort of bechamel with ground beef, so she shrugged and took it, only to wince as she tried it.
"Tastes like shit, huh?" he asked.
"Well, it… wouldn't say it's that bad."
"Well, that's an improvement then - seeing as it's S.O.S. Could you hand me the garlic powder over there?"
Sonya laughed. "S.O.S.? You're making chipped beef on toast? Don't think this can make 'Shit on a Shingle' appetizing."
"It's only 'Shit on a Shingle' when you only put a small amount of effort into it. When you're more resourceful, you can make it more like Something on a Shingle, Same Old Stuff, or possibly even Stew on a Shingle."
"And if you put no effort into it at all?"
"Then you get what they call Save Our Stomachs. Not to mention a lot of angry folks who want to throw it at you."
Nichole had the relatively easy job of "errand girl" here, gathering whatever her colleagues needed from the pantry. She had volunteered a lot at the House in Chicago, and was no stranger to washing dishes or cooking with quantity (as opposed to quality) in mind, she was used to doing it with running water and an electric stove. Contrary to what you see in movie period pieces, a hand-operated pump and wood burning stove are not easy to use, though Red and Hank were more accustomed to both.
The pantry did have an icebox of sorts, a large metal foot locker that had a chill metal cast on it, which either Jenya or Gregory would have to renew every two days. They had mentioned the brown mold powered cold storage at the Lucky Monkey; while Jenya found the idea interesting, she doubted the House could afford such a thing - those spores were expensive and difficult to cultivate.
While gathering ingredients, she saw a lot of things that were odd, unappetizing, and obsolete. Cooking lard (sounded disgusting, but likely not any worse than the stuff a McED's used in their deep fryer), preserved fruit, dried fruit, sun-dried tomatoes (those she liked), buttermilk (Sour!), molasses, lots of potatoes, bouillon cubes (her mother kept those in her kitchen, but never seemed to use them for anything), and one canned food she recognized quickly, Spam (Worst of all, she thought.)
Still, no matter where she was or when it was, this was the same situation, having to feed so many with a very limited budget; it was hard to be charitable when you yourself depended on donations to do so. Even the story of the Good Samaritan suggested it would have been harder to help that unfortunate Israelite had he not had money.
She was so lost in thought when she stepped out of the pantry with her arms full, she didn't see Maddie crouched over, cleaning up an egg that had dropped on the floor. Right in her path.
"INCOMING!" shouted Hank. As Nichole tripped over Maddie with a slight shriek, he and Red Feather dove and tumbled towards her, Red grabbing the glass jars of preserves and molasses and carton of milk she dropped, while Hank caught Nichole.
Nichole chuckled and blushed a little. "Nice catch," she said. "Thanks." As Hank helped her up, she added, "Guess it's true what they say, the kitchen can be the most dangerous part of the house."
"My mother always said it was the bathroom." Maddie pulled herself off the floor and tossed the rag she had been using in the hamper. "Course, she didn't let me be in the kitchen when she was cooking. I'd ask when dinner was ready and she'd give me the, '20 minutes if you help, 10 if you don't' routine."
"For me the most dangerous room was the hall closet," Sonya offered. "But that's mainly because we found a homeless gully dwarf living there." Not noticing that everyone was looking at her strangely (as they often did), she added, "My sister thought he was her imaginary friend."
"And you let him stay because…?" asked Maddie
"He was a lot more courteous than her actual imaginary friend. Come to think of it, that one might have been a flumph…"
Nichole changed the subject. "So, what's our next step?"
Francis grabbed a dish towel and started to dry his hands. "First thing we have to do is find out just who our mad bomber is." Next to the sink was a stack of handwritten notes, which he had compiled two nights before, some clipped together with paperclips. "Which means some old-fashioned detective work is in order."
"If you thought he was 'mad', you should have seen Cammy."
"Well, Maddie, that's why I need you to go see if Rinaldo or Zhent have found anything." He gave her one of the sets of papers. "If not, see if they have any records on it that the public is allowed to access to.
"Red, I need you to go scope out that jail. From the outside if at all possible. See if you can find anything amiss in the bombed-out area." Red nodded as he gave her the notes. "Just please don't pick any fights, the last thing we need is to get you out of there."
"Everyone else, we need to do a check of his targets." He gave the other notes to Sonya, Nichole, and Hank. "I need you three to check out the Civics Office, the courthouse, and Jacob's smithy - I'll be going to do the same at Colfer, I have to do something there anyway. Just see if they're willing to answer these questions, we have to see if there's any common threads.
"Oh, and Hank, Nichole? Don't forget, we're meeting with the Lord Governor at seven o'clock this evening."
"Wouldn't miss it for the world," said Hank, though it seemed he wasn't quite as enthusiastic as he seemed. "Where are we meeting them, anyway?"
"The Ace of Swords. Havan told me it's not quite as fancy as the Cabaret Arcana but it's still pretty high class, so wear something nice. Oh, and one more thing…"
He explained as thoroughly as he could about the ominous warning he had received from Hester - while mentioning the Gold Moon Coalition, which it seemed none of them had ever heard of.
"Maybe I could try to contact the boss later," said Maddie, "it does sound better than 'Ebon Triad', at least."
"Well," added Hank, "I know one thing I could bring that might help without drawing much attention."
"Uhm, Francis?" Nichole had been leafing through the notes he had given her, stating he wanted her to go to the Courthouse. "Mind if I trade with Sonya here? Uhm, I have to go to Lava Ridge anyway, I promised someone I'd get them a… pastrami sandwich…"
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Nichole had sounded nervous and embarrassed when she made that request, and for good reason - she knew it sounded, well, dumb. Still, Sonya was okay with the trade, asking Nichole to bring her a grilled cheese with bacon while she was there.
Dr. Cassandra Lindman was an inmate of the prison underneath Shadowchaser Headquarters. A member of Morganna's Kin, she was their leading expert in the Far Realm - though it's unlikely this was ever a popular or competitive field of research. What was supposed to be a simple observational experiment was upgraded into a participative one, resulting in unforeseen repercussions.
(In layman's terms, she was unwillingly drawn into a realm of ultimate madness while trying to study from a distance, and was trapped there for a week. By the time she escaped, her sanity had been almost completely destroyed.)
Cassandra now languished in prison, kept in a straightjacket and often under sedation, but it seems her experiment was, ironically, a success. While her rantings were hard to determine, they seemed accurate in gauging or predicting the activities of beings with natural affinity to the Far Realm, including beholders.
She had known Jalal had come to her needing information on a beholder before he had even asked her, and knew he was inquiring about Cauldron. She called it a Shackled City, and said many ominous things about eyes and having to shackle yourself in order to escape. But she had also told him to tell Nichole to get her a pastrami sandwich. Jalal didn't know what that meant, but he told Nichole anyway, and she sure knew.
Gregory had taken her to Pittsburgh only a few months before she had officially been initiated into the Shadowchasers. The city was one of the few places on Earth where the Shadowchasers were not allowed. Three crime syndicates - Neo-Doma, Dark Obsidian, and X-Twilight - ruled the place, and while they rarely had kind words for each other, one of the few things they cooperated with was keeping Jalal's men out. And they weren't fond of St. Cuthbert's church either.
Not to say the Shadowchasers had no allies there. The De Factos did what they could to covertly fulfill Jalal's cause, keeping to the shadows in ways that would impress the most stealthy of Shadowkind, and had ways to help their allies from out of town in any way they could. So long as you could find them.
Finding them was all a matter of knowing where to look.
After they had done what they could to prepare the food, place it in the oven to keep it warm, and put all the cooking utensils away, Nichole was off, heading for Lava Ridge and the store that Cassandra claimed was important. She had no idea why, of course, but then, she couldn't afford to ignore it.
Carnegie's Cafe. Looks like this is the right place.
This quaint delicatessen on Lava Ridge had the right name at least - most of the safehouses in Pittsburgh were properties that were either formerly owned by Carnegie, or currently owned by a family he had trusted. None of the places actually in Pittsburgh were so obvious with their names, but then, this was not Pittsburgh. If one of them trusted you and you needed help, they would tell you where to go and what to order - "pastrami on pumpernickel bread with horseradish" was one of the code words.
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Philadelphia.
Jalal knew he'd have to cover all the bases in his investigation, but this was the part of it he had been delaying until the end.
Few criminals the Shadowchasers had dealt with in their long history were so proficient that they had two different Ideligible Imprints. In an odd way, that might have disqualified Malakkus Khun as a suspect, as Francis said the beholder he had seen only had one, but since Khun had an underling who was also a beholder, who also had the mark, it would have been folly not to look into them. The Calespin Amuk incident of 1938 was one of the darkest days in Shadowchaser history; while they had ended Khun's bootlegging operation, it was a pyrrhic Viktory in every way.
"Well, here we are," said the leader of the Shadowchasers.
"The House of Brick?" asked Dolores. "Class."
The bar and nightclub in front of them was indeed made of brick, as it had once been a storage warehouse for a brickyard. Brogni Masonstern was from a clan that had been hit hard by the great depression, and he supported his family by running a clay pit and brickyard. Not that such work was disgraceful or undignified, but it wasn't very grandiose either, and dwarves, well, dwarves were known for their pride.
Khun thus saw an opportunity by offering him (through an intermediary) a partnership that involved converting his warehouse into a speakeasy, with Khun supplying the smuggled, low-quality liquor and Brogni selling it at inflated prices. It was against Brogni' better judgment that he accepted. It seemed like a mutually beneficial arrangement, especially since dwarves fought tooth and nail to prevent - and then overturn - Prohibition. Until, that is, he found out his "partner" was a beholder. While it's hard to find a Shadowkind that would willingly work with an eye tyrant, dwarves hate them with a passion. In fact, a beholder as a common enemy is one of the few reasons a duergar would consider a truce with mountain dwarves.
Thus, Brogni was the one who tipped the Shadowchasers off to Khun's attempt at ambushing them, a warning that prevented the Calespin Amuk incident from being even deadlier than it was. Prohibition was repealed, and since then, the House of Brick operated as a legitimate tavern and eventually nightclub. While Jalal offered Brogni witness protection, the dwarf refused - again, he had a lot of pride.
The House of Brick didn't have many customers at the moment, as it was still early, and most of the patrons there now were other dwarves. There was already some entertainment, a dwarven woman playing a lute while singing a somber melody, with a male beside her providing backup tone with a squeezebox. Jalal and Dolores nonchalantly sat down at a table in a corner.
"So, what do we do now?"
'Well," said Jalal, "in an hour or so, we can -"
"Ello, guvnor! What can I get ye?"
The cheery barmaid was another dwarven woman, younger than the one on the stage, somewhat plump (yet not more than a typical dwarf lady), dimples on her cheeks, and orange hair tied in bun pigtails.
"No… gasped Jalal. "Saulie?"
The dwarf girl gave a shriek of surprise, dropping the pad and pencil she was about to use.
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The deli seemed like most such places in Cauldron, a quaint sandwich shop with a warm and inviting atmosphere, like the Coy Nixie, except it had a service counter for takeout orders. There was a long line in front of her, but all the better. Waiting in line let her concentrate on another important factor, the menu. A small blackboard behind the counter where the specials were written:
Pirate Gumbo 2 Sovereigns
Steel Cut Oatmeal 5 Sovereigns
Almond Cake Torte 7 Sovereigns
Penguin's Laddu 11 Sovereigns
Chop Suey with Ketchup 6 Sovereigns
Rye Whiskey 9 Sovereigns
AHA! she thought.
The De-Factos hadn't survived as long as they had for being stupid. If a customer or recruit who knew one of the passwords was caught by someone who knew of the safehouses' existence, there was a very good chance one of the three gangs would learn it - they had methods of gaining information that went beyond typical interrogation. On the other hand, it wouldn't be strange if someone came into a deli actually intending to buy a pastrami sandwich. Thus, there were always two passwords, the first being the order and the second being the name of the person whose order you were picking up. A contact never told the beneficiary what the second password was, they'd have to figure it out by using the menu.
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Given all the trouble the city guard had been causing them (and how hard it was for the Shadowchasers to deal with the authorities in general) Maddie expected a long wait before she was allowed to talk to anyone, if she was allowed at all. To her incredible surprise, however, she was wrong. After simply talking to the clerk in the front hall, it only took four minutes before she was granted an audience with Rinaldo.
Of course, she was a little nervous when the clerk brought her to the records room where Rinaldo was waiting, a large, stuffy, basement that was very low on aesthetic or decoration, situated past a checkpoint with dozens of armed guards. At least, she doubted this wasn't the type of place they'd bring a suspect.
"Have a seat," said the Sergeant motioning to a wooden table with some chairs.
"I thought all the good mausoleums were in Europe," she mused.
"Try being down here for eight hours going over all these arrest records," growled Rinaldo. He slammed a file down on the table in front of her. "Is this the man you saw?"
"Oh yes, that's him." And it certainly was. The grainy photo taken with an old fashioned camera was unmistakably of the man who had sprung Cammy out of jail, and would have been a perfect match if it included the hat.
"Ferid Momoe," muttered the sergeant. "Arrested five years ago on charges of grave robbing and trespassing. I wasn't involved in the case, but he's not exactly the type I would suspect of mass murder and terrorism."
"Grave robbing?"
"I would have called it 'defiling of sacred grounds and looting of ancient ruins for unapproved purposes,' but that does seem to fall under grave robbing. Specifically, he was caught stealing from the Soul Pillars and there was reason to believe that the time he was caught was not the first time."
"Uh, Soul Pillars?"
"That's what the ophidia call the place, and it is off limits. None of them know - or will say - just what the deal is with the place, but while I don't trust them at the best of times, if they are scared to go there, we sure don't want civilians going in with dreams of finding ancient treasure. Not even sure what he truly wanted from it."
Maddie looked at the mug shot closely. The arrest had been made five years ago on August 5th.
She tapped her Dual Disk - someone could definitely use that information.
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"Here you go. Enjoy."
Sonya looked at the huge stacks of files that the clerk piled on the desk in front of her. This was going to take a while.
Francis had known it would be a long shot that Judge Kopru was available to talk to, and it seemed that was a valid concern. His schedule was completely booked for the day; his assistant was willing to spare a few minutes, but when Sonya asked if she knew anyone who wanted to kill the man, she said she'd need far more than 'a few minutes' to list them all.
But Sonya was persistent, so the clerk was willing to let her review the records in their archive. It had better atmosphere and ventilation than the records room at the barracks, and while it wasn't exactly the biggest evidence vault Sonya had ever seen, it was huge. The files for the cases Kopru had presided over would likely have filled a large sized dictionary.
"Just how long has he been a judge?" Asked Sonya.
"In two months, it will be fifty years. These are only the open cases and the loose ones, which are cases that are considered solved but not permanently closed. And those are moved to the permanent archives after ten years. You would need permission from the Lord Governor to see those. Good luck. Oh, and if Uncle Clement shows up, just ignore him - we are not authorized to reopen his case."
That was a little unnerving, causing her to look over her shoulder before sitting at the desk. She looked at the huge stack, trying to decide whether to start with the oldest and work her way forward or vice versa.. and then the communication device on her Dual Disk started buzzing.
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The menu alone told Nichole, beyond any remaining doubt, that this was the right place. The Steel Cut Oatmeal, Penguin's Laddu, and Pirate Gumbo were all references to Pittsburg's major sports teams, Almond Cake Torte and Rye Whiskey were both popular in the city and while Chop Suey had no relevance to Pittsburgh, the emphasis on ketchup certainly did, as Heinz was one of the best-known companies founded there. Exactly why anyone from the De Factos set up shop here, she had no idea, but she certainly couldn't ask now. Important thing was, she recognized the code puzzle quickly.
Thus, she put the menu items in alphabetical order:
Almond Cake Torte: 7 Sovereigns
Chop Suey with Ketchup: 6 Sovereigns
Penguin's Laddu: 11 Sovereigns
Pirate Gumbo: 2 Sovereigns
Rye Whiskey: 9 Sovereigns
Steel Cut Oatmeal: 5 Sovereigns
...then took the price of each entree and matched it to the corresponding letter in the entree's name. Almond Cake Torte cost 7 Sovereigns, and the seventh letter of that name is "C". then the Chop Suey with Ketchup cost 5, and the fifth letter of that is "U". Continuing with each entree…
"Can I help you ma'am?" asked the cashier.
"Uh, hi!" she said. "Picking up an order for Mr. Cudgel, pastrami on pumpernickel bread with horseradish."
The cashier nodded. "Right away," he said with a smile.
Clever, she thought. Cuthbert of the Cudgel was one of St. Cuthbert's titles.
"Oh, and one grilled cheese with bacon!" she added quickly.
Ten minutes later, she exited the deli carrying three small bundles in her satchel, the pastrami sandwich (which she would likely eat later, as she doubted Cassandra truly wanted it and had no idea how she could send it to her if she did), Sonya's sandwich, and a parcel that clearly did not contain a sandwich. She was tempted to open it here and now, but she forced herself to wait.
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Hank was more fortunate than Sonya had been. While he had to wait twenty minutes for the Duke Pendergast to finish with a previous appointment, he was able to get an audience rather easily.
"Glad one of you mainlanders could stop by," he said "I never got around to giving proper thank you for dealing with that little, uhm, incident. We would have had an expensive and… messy problem on our hands had your friends not showed up when they did."
Right, I'll bet.
"Unfortunately I have no idea who the culprit could have been. I mean we have angry people in this place all the time, much like it was at the time."
"Maybe this would help?" Hank pushed the note papers towards him, detailing Ferid's description.
The Duke's expression turned from cheerful to annoyed as he read the description, but it quickly turned cheerful again.
"Oh Elaine?" The door opened slightly, the Duke's secretary poking her head in at the sound of her name. "Be a dear and cancel my one o'clock please."
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Saulie Masonstern was Brogni's granddaughter and had been 20 years old during the Calespin Amuck incident. To dwarves, that was the age one was considered barely older than a toddler. She had grown, and then some, her muscular arms and modest figure making her a beauty to her own people and likely most humans.
"Jalal Stormbringer, in the flesh!" She exclaimed, with the giddy admiration of a schoolgirl. "Just the person I… ah, never expected to serve here."
"It's been a busy… century, I suppose. You seem to be doing well."
"Workin' the old tavern pays the bills," she said nervously, "hopin' to enroll in school next year, college tuition ain't cheap."
Jalal, unfortunately, knew that tone, a cheerful facade of a young woman trying to hide depression. It was the tone of someone who had been trying to raise tuition money for years.
Looking her up and down, he noticed the blouse she was wearing was clean and in good condition, but old and sun faded. Had the Masonstern clan fallen on hard times? Did they even own this club now? Sadly, now wasn't the time to talk about that.
"Saulie, uh, we hoped to talk to your grandfather about something… is he -"
"He's dead."
"I'm… I'm sorry."
"Oh, it's okay, no worries, he'd been sick for a long time, it happens to… everyone, right?"
Again, she was trying - and failing - to hide a lot of hurt behind a forced smile.
Finally, Jalal simply said, "I'll, I'll have a stout lager."
"Irish coffee," added Dolores.
"Comin' up!" Saulie exclaimed.
She left to go fill the order, both Shadowchasers watching her. "We should leave," said Dolores softly.
Jalal nodded. "We will, just as soon as I apologize when she comes back."
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What was left of the cell block that Cammy had escaped from was deserted - which stood to reason, seeing as it now lay in ruins.
The blasts had not only destroyed the magically reinforced stone walls, they had pulverized some of it. Red Feather nervously strode into the ruin to survey the damage. She closed her eyes and shuddered at the nightmarish visions of what might have happened had they failed…
But the important thing was, they had not. It was clear to her that one thing this site did not have was information they could use, so it was pointless to -
"You there! FREEZE!"
"No," mouthed Red Feather, silently. She had seriously wanted to avoid being spotted, but it seemed it was too late now. She slowly put her hands in the air…
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"So, uhm, how is Meggan?" asked Nichole.
Old Jacob had been engrossed in his work when she came in and seemed far more stressed than she would ever expect of a man his size.
"Well, you know how it is," he said with a forced chuckle. "She's up all night, always sick, always needing me to go out and get yogurt or pickled eggs or fried dough… Really moody, if you know what I mean…" He put down the tongs he was using and wiped his brow, the perspiration clearly not all from working. "She was sobbing all night after you mainlanders left. I swear, if I catch whoever did this…"
"Easy, big guy, easy. That's what we're trying to find out."
Nichole related to him the description Maddie had given Rinaldo, that of a tall, thin man with blue, bloodshot eyes and a long, pointed nose. Jacob got even angrier as he listened.
"Oh yes, I remember him. As much as I'd want to forget."
He started to relate an incident that occurred seven months ago. It was the busiest time of the day when a man like that came in, claiming he was there to pick up an order - Jacob couldn't remember right now who the order was for, but he was in the middle of something and told him to wait. Meggan was in the room at the time watching him work as she often did; they didn't know she was pregnant at the time, but the signs were there, mostly her mood swings that made her irritable and agitated.
"He said something… inappropriate to her and hostile words were exchanged. I suppose I… overreacted a little. I might have even tried to apologize, but I never got his name and I never saw him again. But a bomb? Seriously?"
"Hostile words?" The high-pitched, annoying voice came from the forge. "You said you'd jam his head into the smelter!"
"Baern, shut it!"
The door to the forge opened, the small elemental sitting there with his legs crossed. "Wouldn't have blamed you if you did, though I doubt it would have hurt the dampblood much."
"What?" asked Nichole.
"I think it's what a fire elemental calls a fire genasi," answered Jacob.
"Not genasi, Jacob, he was a Jann. I grew up in the City of Brass and I know a Jann when I see one. Ask anyone who lives there, those sneaks are bad news."
"Whatever. A lot of the 'hostile words' came from him, come to think of it. I wouldn't have even remembered the incident if he didn't seem so… unusual."
"Yer bein' too kind Jacob, that guy was ugly! Like he fell off the ugly tree and hit every ugly branch on the way down!"
Jacob slammed the forge's door shut, turning the handle to latch it shut.
"Ugh… Now uhm, did you need anything else?"
"No, Jacob, I'm pretty sure that's enough. Thanks." Nichole gathered her things, and as she turned to leave, she added, "Meggan could not be in better hands."
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"Mr. Mills, I must say this is very unorthodox."
Francis had, fortunately, caught Dr. Flores during her lunch break. While she was glad to talk to her, her cheerful face turned to one of concern when he gave her the description of the bomber.
"It's not company policy to discuss the history of another student, especially with another student."
"Well, technically I'm not a student yet," he replied. Flores still didn't seem eager to discuss it, so he added, "He almost destroyed your life's work, you know. Anything you can simply say off the record?" Flores sighted heavily and shook her head. "Dr. Flores, I'm a Shadowchaser, keeping secrets is what we do best."
"Off the record then," she started.
She then went into detail about a student of that description who had attended Colfer about ten years ago. He stood out, not just due to his odd appearance, but because of his interests, both in archeology and history of magic.
"Usually, history classes at this school are only taken as electives. They tend to be rather… boring. Eventually though he also started to show interest in fields of magic that this academy doesn't teach. Including necromancy."
Ho boy, thought Francis. This again.
"He even started to inquire about schools that did. Looking for information about… Scholomance."
"WHAT?" This was not something he expected. He cleared his throat and repeated, calmer, "What?"
"Oh, you've heard of it? Not surprising, I guess."
Of course, he had. Anyone who dealt with Shadowkind criminals had at least reviewed the little information on that place there was. Most wizards claimed it didn't exist, much the same way the United States military claimed Area 51 didn't exist. It was a notorious school where black magic of all types, including necromancy, were taught. Legends stated that Dracula himself - not the current one, probably - was a student there, and that it was where many infamous liches had learned the process with which they became undead. Jalal would have loved to send the Gotthammers there to close it down, but no one exactly knew where it was. Possibly it wasn't even in the physical world, and could only be accessed from certain portals whose location could change.
"Now all that isn't exactly forbidden, even if it is discouraged, but eventually he was caught stealing books and even personal journals. That's why he was expelled."
"I… see…" said Francis. He had a few other questions he'd have liked to ask - a few dozen, but he didn't want to badger her further. "Thanks, I'll see you -"
"Next month?"
"Trust me, I'll be there front-row-center."
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"Uhm, Maddie," said Sonya, "I don't think phones are allowed in this place. Well, not sure if they have any phones here but-"
"This will just take a minute, did you find anything?"
Sonya went into slight detail, telling Maddie the scope of her task, given how many records she'd have to go through. "I might be here a long time."
"Really? I have something that might make it easier."
Listening to Maddie relate the date and name she found, Sonya skipped to the August and September records for five years ago.
"Huh, yeah, it's here… seems our friend Ferid managed to plea bargain the charge down to larceny and vandalism, and was given a year in jail plus probation. Wait, wait, there's a sidebar here…"
Kopru had written in the file, "I found it hard to believe simple greed could have inspired a man to do something so utterly foolish. Stealing from living ophidia nobility would likely have been safer. I'm tempted to impose a heavier sentence simply to teach him a lesson but given the condition he was in, I doubt any punishment I couldn't pose would be worse than what he has already undergone."
"Seems Ferid got in trouble for doing something really dumb. And now he's upset because he was caught."
Sonya looked up and around at the vast archive around her. A treasure trove of information that would likely have been burned to ashes had the plan succeeded. All this out of revenge against a judge who had given him a lenient sentence? Either he was just plain crazy or there was something more…
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"Uhm, where's Saulie?" Asked Jalal.
The waitress who had brought their drinks to the table was obviously not Saulie, and likely wasn't even of the same clan. She was older, her skin being more tanned and with black hair, plus a very different accent.
"She went on break," she said, "wanted me to give this to you, though."
Placing the drinks on the table, she put a folded note there, nodded, and left. Instinctively, Jalal reaches for it.
Jalal,
I know why you're here. I'd urge you to leave town and forget about Khun, but I know you'd never do that. Grandpa always said you were a stubborn bloke - he admired you for it.
Go to Laurel Hill at ten PM, I assume there's only one plot you'd ever have reason to visit. I'll be there.
Saulie
And a lipstick-print kiss was under it.
"Laurel Hill?" asked Dolores, "What -"
"- a cemetery. And yes, there's only one place there I'd ever visit…"
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"Bourbon?"
"No thank you," replied Hank. "I take it you recognize this fellow?"
"Regrettably, yes." The Duke poured the liquor into a shot glass, clearly more stressed and needing it right now than he did ten minutes ago. "A little over five years ago Mr. Momoe came here to apply for an exploratory permit for an area several miles east of here. He claimed he was doing so on behalf of the Requilary in Redgorge, but he wouldn't provide most of the necessary credentials. It wouldn't have exactly been a big deal for him to bring such credentials, but he was rather insistent that his permit be considered without them. Unfortunately, it would have been a big deal if we had. I couldn't have exactly approved of such an expedition to such a sensitive area on the fly. In fact, in hindsight, I'm not sure I could have approved it at all."
"Sensitive area?"
Pendergast went into slight detail, as best as he could, about the Soul Pillars that Rinaldo had mentioned to Maddie. Supposedly back before Cauldron was built, when the ophidia were the largest presence on the island, the Soul Pillars were the site of their largest enclave. After Suramar defeated the lord of the Demonskarr, they abandoned it, and would try their best to discourage or prevent anyone from entering.
"Later, we contacted the Requilary; they had never heard of him. No idea why anyone would want to go into that place via his own accord, unless he was looking for something with relevance to the Demonskarr itself, and I seriously can't think of any reason someone would want to go there!" He drained his glass and then added, "I mean, hanging yourself would have the same result and be far less painful."
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"I assure you," said Viktor, "that is not the way I usually ask a lady out."
"I should hope so," replied Red Feather.
Truthfully, she wondered whether Master Sergeant Drumar here (who she had known about five minutes before he insisted she call him Viktor) had actually made a request by asking her to lunch, or whether it was an unsubtle condition for him not to arrest her for trespassing. Still, he had only asked her to lunch, this small sidewalk Cafe seemed rather nice (in a very public area), and seeing as he was paying, there wasn't much for her to complain about. In fact, he saw a way to use this to her advantage.
"I have to wonder, what brings a lovely woman like you to a city like this? Cauldron is getting grimier and uglier by the day. Still, you know what they say about a diamond in the rough."
"Uh, yeah, so they say…" Red was rather nervous about all this and was relieved when he changed the subject.
"So, if I may ask, why were you there anyway?"
"I guess I was…curious." she answered, "everything that happened that day was so intense."
"May I help you?" asked the waiter.
"Oh, uh, the… French onion soup please, oh, and with potato wedges."
"Chef's salad. And make that a double side of potato wedges." The waiter nodded left, and Viktor continued the conversation. "I know, everyone is shaken. I was manning the checkpoint in that part of the compound that day, and if I had stayed there just five minutes longer before going to do my rounds outside…"
"Yes, a lot of people are going over hypothetical situations right now."
"The prisoners inside didn't have a chance, and we lost some good men in the attack. The worst part is, that horrible woman escaped. It's a mystery to me how she survived."
"Uh, why?" Red was confused, as it was pretty obvious Ferid had intended to break Cammy out.
"Well, I guess there's no danger in letting you know."
Viktor explained as best he could in a way that might have been easier with visual aids. The cell block was a long, wide hallway that extended 200 feet from the guard posts, with cells on two floors of each side, a checkpoint at the entrance closest to the door that led to the main complex and a guard post at the end, which had a well-fortified steel door that led to the outside. That was the guard post where Viktor and two of his less fortunate co-workers had been on duty, where he was before he had left to make rounds just five minutes before the bombs had gone off. Cammy had been in cell 4B, which was only about twenty feet from the checkpoint.
"The bombs had been placed about 80 feet from the guard station, near about four unoccupied cells. Had Cammy still been there when the bomb went off, she'd have been in no danger. The inmates in cells 3B and 5B, which flanked her cell, were injured, but they survived. But she wasn't in that cell at the time. For some reason, we got orders to move her to one of those unoccupied cells, about ten feet from the blast. Why she wasn't killed along with all the other poor devils in that explosion, I haven't a clue."
"Why… why was she moved?"
"No idea, and we'd like to know why. The order came from a Captain at the Barracks, who claimed the order had been delivered by a judge, who it seemed, went on vacation the day after the attack.
"All in all, no reason was given, and I've never seen an inmate sentenced to die and then moved to another cell just three hours before execution. Red Feather, I have ten years of experience here, it's enough seniority to be pretty well off, but not enough for me to start questioning the boss."
The waiter brought their order, but while the wedges looked and smelled delicious, Red didn't feel like eating right now. It was amazing how you could learn so much by accident.
As much as Cammy was against us, she thought, somebody else was even more against her.
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"Here's what we know…"
Francis, Red, Nichole, Sonya, and Maddie (Hank said he would join shortly) and all the acolytes were gathered around the largest table in the cathedral's refectory, the papers Francis had distributed spread out, with many additional notes scrawled on them. They had learned much, but again, now had far more to unravel.
"This Ferid Momoe person was a student at Culver, who had an obsessive interest in both archeology, history, and necromancy, with an additional interest in Scholomance. He was expelled for stealing books. And for some reason he also had his eye on this Soul Pillars place, which seems to be the type of archeology site that Lara Croft would delve into."
"My parents used to scare my brother and I with stories about that place when we were children," said Falma, "she said it was once an illithid laboratory, and the ophidia stole it from them, and then the flayers came to take it back."
"No, not illithids," said Malakar, "I think she meant psurlons - she used to confuse the two."
"Who -" asked Maddie.
"Psurlons," added Frances, "I heard Dugan mentioned those once. They're about six feet tall and look like lampreys with arms and legs that wear wizard robes. I think they live in the Astral Sea.
"Right," said Malakar, "so long as they live there, the psurlons only have to eat every 500 years, so they set up these not-so-abandoned facilities specifically for that purpose… hoping other folks will move in. There have been stories of people finding these places and settling in, converting them into towns that last for centuries until the true owners show up, and…" He shuddered a little.
"Don't think they'd be very eager to use that one again," said Sonya. "Ask any dragon or gargantua, ophidia are like Chinese food, eat a whole army of them and two years later, you're hungry again." As usual, everyone looked at her strangely, but this time she added, "That was a joke everyone!"
Then Illewyn spoke up. "I heard the place was one of those royal prisons they had. See, the ophidia used to have empires ruled by ophidian who claimed to be God Emperors who had divine powers, they were called abom… uh, aber…"
"Abominations?" asked Havan.
"Right, at least that's what other races called them. Something happened though and they went insane, so the ophidia built these luxury jail cells for them, giving them sacrifices to keep them from even wanting to escape. Maybe this one wasn't fed enough."
Ironically, that was the theory that made the most sense. It seemed these Soul Pillars were another place that everyone in Cauldron was wary of.
"At least we know why he targeted each location," said Francis. "Why he assumed they all were deserving of death is another thing entirely. All the targets seem sort of petty."
"Pretty sure he has a screw loose," said Nichole. "And Scholomance? You'd have to be a special sort of crazy to want to go there."
"Is it really that bad?" asked Maddie.
"Let me put it this way, start with Hogwarts."
The comment had come from Hank - he had changed his outfit significantly, switching to a black suit and tie, though still with his familiar hat.
"Nice," said Maddie.
"Thank you," he replied. "Now, like I said, start with Hogwarts, then picture all the alumni there as practitioners of the vilest of black magic, the type who don't study Defense of the Dark Arts, but the Dark Arts themselves."
Sonya raised an eyebrow to such a thought. "Even Ginny?"
"Especially Ginny. Replace kindly old Hagrid with King Snure and then replace McGonagall and Trelawney with Maleficent and Grimhilde. Dumbledore… Replace him with the Devil himself. Then you've got as close a facsimile you can get of Scholomance without seeing the place in person, and I sure would not want to do that without an army behind me."
"Point taken," said Red Feather. "Perhaps whatever Ferid saw down there is what drove him mad. Look at all this, sane people do not plant bombs under children's hospitals!"
"Terrorists do their best to spread terror, Red Feather," said Hank. "But I do agree, this man is off his rocker."
"We also found out just what sort of Shadow he is," added Nichole, "he's a Jann. Baern said so and didn't like him that much."
"That makes sense," said Falma with a long sigh. "Janni are almost universally hated among elementals."
"I suppose there's a reason for that?"
"Know how folks say an elemental being will always be a rival of the opposing element? Air opposes Earth, Water opposes Fire, so most folks claim that elementals regard anything to do with the opposing element as a hated enemy. While that makes sense, the assumption is very wrong, all elemental beings regard everything representing all three of the other elements to be hated enemies. Elementals are xenophobes at best and bigots at worst.
"The Jann have the worst of four worlds, they're composed of all four elements, making them outcasts in every elemental realm. Even among civilized races there, they have little to look forward to there except a life in the untouchable caste doing all the dirty and 'unclean' jobs that the snobs in charge refuse to do."
"Never accepted in their own world," muttered Nichole. "Where have I heard that before? It's a wonder any of them would live there."
"That's the problem, they have to. They cannot survive longer than two days in our world, and they have to go back to recharge their energy for another two days before they're able to come back. Some of them take advantage of that liability, working as smugglers, traffickers, black marketeers, illicit careers that require a lot of travel and gain them a lot of wealth from the authority figures they despise in the process."
"Makes sense in a… pragmatic sort of way I guess." Then Nichole realized something. "Wait a minute… Ferid was a student at Colfer? How do you take classes when you have to leave town every two days?"
"Very… precise scheduling, I suppose, but that is weird, you'd think someone would notice." Francis shook his head. "At least we know the who now. Finding out the how and why are going to be a lot harder." He changed the subject. "It's almost six. Nichole, we'd best get ready."
Nichole nodded. She wasn't looking forward to this private dinner party with the Lord Governor, which she assumed was due to some compulsion he had to occasionally impress the "hoi polloi". She didn't trust Lamour at all, but she did trust Hank and Francis enough as bodyguards.
"I've got somewhere to be at eight o'clock too, meeting someone for a late buffet."
"You found a date, Sonya?"
Sonya nodded. "Met him at the court records room, Clem is… Well, he's not the type that gets out much during the day…"
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One thing that Nichole absolutely hated about this sort of thing was dressing for it. She was never into any sort of extravagant formalwear and didn't even own much in the way of overly-fancy dresses. After considering what little options she had at the moment, she had changed into a sky-blue blouse and A-line skirt with flats; she would not wear heels, that was where she drew the line.
Too bad I wasn't able to -
Before she could finish that thought, she turned towards her bed in her small room, noticing the package the deli clerk had given her.
Too much of a temptation now, and she only had twenty minutes before they left. She sat down, looked over it once more, and now almost certain it was safe, slowly unwrapped it.
Seeing what was inside caused her to let out a small shriek, a combination of shock… and joy…
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What was in the package? Well, that is - for now - for me and Nichole to know, and you all to wait for.
Next chapter, "Blue Blood" continues, plus the B-plot with Jalal and Dolores as well. Too much to reveal right now, so be here when it does.