A Path to Coldness of Heart

Chapter Eighteen:

Year 1017 AFE:

Distracting Darkness

I nger told Nathan Wolf, “This is ugly beyond anything I can grasp.” She reread the brief report. Eleven years old. Tortured. Raped repeatedly. Discarded in an alleyway near the Western Gate, probably still breathing at the time. She had not been found for days. No one had been looking.

Wolf said, “I nearly puked, Majesty. I will spare you the full ugliness. I won’t spare you a demand that we do everything we can to find the monster who did that to her.”

“Do you have a personal interest, Nathan?”

“No, Majesty. What we know comes courtesy of the sorcerer’s lame efforts. Her name was Phyletia Plens. She was the adopted daughter of Herald and Janna Bors. They identified the body. They say that her real parents had a chance encounter during the excitement back when. Phyletia was not a happy child. She ran away sometimes. This time she didn’t come back.”

Inger made a growling sound. This was more information than she wanted. “Nathan!”

“Majesty, more than anything else… We could reap the whirlwind if we don’t protect the children.”

“Yes.” Inger had a child of her own.

What she did not understand was why Nathan Wolf, unmarried and childless, was emotionally engaged. She asked.

“Majesty, I can’t explain. I don’t have the words. I just know that whoever did that to Phyletia Plens was a soul uglier than a savan dalage.” His intensity pleased Inger, though its foundation remained obscure.

She asked again.

“I doesn’t matter. All we can do for her, now, is mourn her. But another girl is missing. Hanna Isodor. She disappeared just before Plens turned up. She’s the same age, similar background, same physical description.” Inger started to speak. Nathan gave her no room. “Also missing is a Carrie Depar, almost thirteen, different physical description. She’s been gone five days. She told friends she was going to run away with her boyfriend. They didn’t know who the boyfriend was.”

“This could change everything even though it has no strategic significance.”

Nobody in the provinces gave a rat’s ass whether the Queen protected Vorgreberg’s children but Vorgrebergers certainly did. Protection was the reason kings and nobles existed. The protected worked hard to produce surpluses in kind and coin to support a warrior class meant to defend them from predators external and internal.

In most kingdoms, much of the time, that mutual obligation was under stress, humans being the despicable beasts they became given any opportunity. But what was happening here was the nightmare that lurked in every parent’s heart.

There was no denying it. The Boogerman walked among them. Angered, Inger summoned Josiah Gales, Babeltausque, and Doctor Wachtel to join her and Wolf. She seated them and Wolf at a table her husband had used when he wanted his henchmen to brainstorm. “We have to handle this fast. I don’t know how but we have got to find the man who tortured the Plens girl. If we don’t we’ll lose Vorgreberg, too.

I’ve had an inventory run. It revealed two things. First, the servants have been stealing from us. Second, we should begin eating the horses to save their grain for a possible siege. Which we might withstand for as much as six days.”

Colonel Gales coughed, meant as a signal. It was heavy, liquid, and disturbing. He remained far from recovered.

The Queen stopped jabbering. “Josiah?”

“Cleave to the problem at hand. Don’t look into the gloom just yet.” “Of course. Gentlemen. We have a monster among us. How do we find him? Babeltausque?”

The sorcerer shifted uneasily. Gales and Wolf looked at him like they dared him to open his mouth. Both had been in Greyfells service a long time.

Inger had heard rumors, too. “Well? Wouldn’t you understand this kind of mind better than anybody?”

Babeltausque asked, “Is there the remotest chance that your cousin has been getting out at night?”

That was well-played. Inger would relive her experiences as a comely lass in a household where wickedness was routine and Dane of Greyfells was one of the more wicked players.

Gales and Wolf kept on eyeing him darkly.

He tapped into his courage. “Torture isn’t what moves me. I never harmed anyone. I only love them till they break my heart.” Gales and Wolf donned contemptuous smiles.

Inger seemed appalled.

What a screw up. He had used the present tense.

What mad, self-destructive force compelled him to indict himself that way? Was he so conflicted that he would set himself up to be convicted of another’s monstrous behavior?

Wachtel looked eager to get that word out. He might betray himself in his haste.

“All of you, listen. I did not harm Phyletia Plens. I didn’t know her.

She is nothing to me. Was nothing, in that way. Look for someone else.

As Her Majesty noted, there may be no hunter better than I. Doctor, sit.

Relax. We’ll be here a while. Tell us, has this happened before?” The old man took his time. Finally, he nodded. “Sadly, you are correct. There have been similar incidents, the most recent before your arrival. Things were more confused back then. No one had attention to spare for an anonymous child who probably brought it on herself.”

“Anonymous?” Babeltausque asked.

“She turned out to be Ellie Wood, a runaway, in flight from an abusive father. There was another one, seven or eight years ago, named Tefe Black, thirteen and pregnant by her father or one of her brothers. It would have been a marvelous scandal if there hadn’t been a war on.”

Babeltausque nodded. “Their deaths touched you.”

“They were children. Nobody loved them. They were tormented by their own kin first, then a monster consumed them. No one cared. No one but me. And I was powerless. Not even Michael would take it on.” Tears filled the old man’s eyes. The others were amazed. Babeltausque said, “Black isn’t a common surname, is it? It sounds Itaskian. Right? Mr. Wolf, didn’t we run into that surname somewhere recently?”

Wolf looked blank. “I don’t think so.”

“The butcher. In the shop where the Heltkler girl left the beer.”

“His name was Black? I don’t recall that.”

“Maybe I didn’t mention it. Neighborhood gossip says Haida Heltkler was an abuse victim.”

“The butcher?”

“Maybe too obvious. He wouldn’t destroy the girl physically. He would be feeding a different need. He would be the unwanted lover.

Someone else would be the punisher. Someone close to the butcher.

Let’s find out if Tefe Black was related. If so, we’ll look for the man Black’s girls ran to… Doctor?”

Wachtel seemed to be choking.

…

“That isn’t particularly subtle,” Nepanthe observed, watching over Varthlokkur’s shoulder. “You said you don’t want people remembering you.”

The Unborn was making a night progress over Sedlmayr. “This is the time when little plots will come to life. Radeachar will discourage them.”

“What will you do about what’s happening in Vorgreberg?” She meant the girl-killer.

He sighed. He did care. He was appalled. But there were only so many hours and no way everyone could be saved. There were bigger issues. And those people were not idiots. They could manage if they wanted.

“And tell me this, husband. How can you eavesdrop in Castle Krief but not on Haroun or Mist?”

“We lived in Castle Krief. I know every inch. Every inch remembers me. And I bespelled the place before we left.” And he could eavesdrop on Mist, when conditions were right. But Mist insisted on making it difficult now that she knew it could be done.

The truth was more technical but that was the gist.

“The baby-killer.”

Exasperated, “What would you have me do?”

“Something. Good men do nothing.”

He counted silently.

Nepanthe said, “The Star Rider will be there till the end of time. Meantime, the monster has hold of another girl.”

“I understand.” Surrendering to the will of the wife.

The villain should not be hard to find. A divination at the body dump… “I’d have to go there. I can’t manage the time dives from here.”

Fright flashed across Nepanthe’s face. “Really? You’re not just saying that so I’ll ask you to back off?”

“No. I have to be there to catch the necessary personal resonances.”

Nepanthe freed one of her classic sighs. “What must be, must be. Go.”

“You insist?”

“I do.”

“I’ll set Scalza’s scrying bowl so you can watch.” That lacked any facility for listening in. He did some this and that while mumbling about it being a good thing that Radeachar did not have much character. The monster had gotten flung all over creation lately, with little respite.

He had the Unknown show itself blatantly, then called it back to Fangdred.

…

Ozora Mundwiller glared at Kristen. She scowled at Dahl Haas. “That thing is going house to house, staring in windows!”

Dahl said, “The wizard wants it understood that he’s watching.”

The old woman seemed inclined to lay the blame at their feet. “We’ve always known that. Why the sudden close-ups?”

Kristen said, “Neither of us knows Varthlokkur well enough to fathom his thinking. If I was to guess, though, the intent is to panic somebody into thinking that the wizard is onto them.”

“Somebody in Sedlmayr.”

Dahl nodded. “Would that be a first?”

“No. But it would be someone skilled at not getting noticed.”

Aral Dantice came to all three minds. And Aral had disappeared.

Ozora announced, “I have regained my composure. I will assume the Unborn’s behavior to be a message. I’ll ask questions. If there is anything going on I will expose it. Bight? Where is that boy?”

Haas said, “He’s got a new crush.”

“That Blodgett chit? He’s not supposed to let Kristen out of his sight.”

“She would be the one,” Kristen said, amused. “She may be just a wee bit more pliable than I am.”

“I’ll ply…”

Haas added, “She seems like a nice kid. Down to earth. For her age.”

“But an orphan,” Ozora grumbled. Styling. It was no secret she actually liked Bertie Blodgett. The girl made her laugh. “Living on the charity of the enThal family. Where did she come from, anyway? Those people…!”

Old family animosities were at work there. Ozora was too old and set to let them slide. She was, surprisingly, still flexible enough not to issue anti-fraternization decrees on that basis alone.

Later, Dahl teased Kristen, “You got too old for Bight.”

“What you mean is, too sophisticated.”

“And too taken.”

“That could be changed. I see the way you look at that Bertie.”

“Can I help it if I’m not dead yet? A man is a man. I never do anything but look.”

Kristen did not take that in the spirit in which it was offered.

…

“I don’t have the skills to divine the past!” Babeltausque declared, not for the first time. “I’m not really a necromancer. The spirits I command can’t look back, either. We need to find something of the villain’s and trace that. Or just keep on working the neighborhood where the girls grew up. We’ll find something eventually.”

Nathan Wolf asked, “Does it have to be something that belonged to the villain? We do have the dead girl.”

“That might work,” Babeltausque conceded, irked that it had taken a layman to suggest what should have been obvious to him.

So far working the neighborhood had produced only rumors, ugly stories, and malicious finger-pointing. Few local girls reached their wedding days untouched by family or neighbors. People considered it part of growing up.

But nobody sanctioned what had been done to Phyletia Plens. They pretended to cooperate, speculated freely, and strained muscles in their eagerness to point fingers.

The butcher was a magnet. Neighbors wondered if he had not killed Haida Heltkler and blended her into his sausages.

Still fighting that cough, Josiah Gales said, “We could put Black to the question. That would get to the facts.”

Inger said, “Do arrest him. What is all that noise?”

A grand racket had developed elsewhere in the castle.

“A mob?” Babeltausque asked, suddenly frightened. Wasn’t it too soon for that kind of trouble?

Inger said, “Nathan, find out what’s happening. And bring the doctor when you come back.”

As the door closed, Babeltausque said, “Black isn’t our killer but he does know something about the girls who lived in his house.”

Possibly. One girl later murdered and another now missing. Significantly, though, the other victims and missing girls had lived within a short distance of Black’s shop.

Inger said, “I want the doctor because I have a notion worse than running girls through a meat grinder. Which, you’ll recall, did not happen to Phyletia Plens. What we do have is the monster’s seed that he spilled into Phyletia. Babeltausque, you and the doctor will…”

The door opened. A man stepped inside.

Inger finally exhaled. “Varthlokkur!”

“I am not happy to be here. My wife insists that I help stop what’s been happening.”

Babeltausque withstood the wizard’s stare. “It isn’t me.”

“True. But you do know what became of one missing girl.”

Babeltausque inclined his head. “She isn’t missing. She’s hiding.”

Oh, he hated to confess. He did not want to suffer the disapprobation he would face now. But he would not grant the wizard a blackmail hold.

“I see. Consensual.”

“Entirely.”

The wizard surveyed the others. “One disappearance solved already. Tell me about the others.”

Wolf and Wachtel arrived while Babeltausque was confessing. The doctor looked older than his incredible age. He was pale and grim. His hands trembled.

Wolf said, “I sent men to fetch Black. Meantime, we have a small mystery, brought to my attention while I was out. There, by the way, is the cause of the excitement.” He nodded at Varthlokkur.

“What is the mystery?”

“We have ghosts in the cemetery.”

“That seems the most likely place to find them.”

“Absolutely, but for the fact that nobody ever saw any until, a while back, a Siluro family squatting in Fiana’s mausoleum were evicted by ghosts who then vanished when the Unborn appeared.”

Everyone looked at Varthlokkur, who said, “I have no idea. Maybe I should go see. Now. I’ve heard from Her Majesty and my fellow wizard. Suppose you speak next, Colonel Gales?”

“Not much to tell. I was a prisoner. They turned me loose. I’ve been trying to regain my health. My experience doesn’t connect with the matter at hand.”

“The Heltkler girl was associated with your captors.”

Gales shrugged. “I never saw a girl. I saw one man. He brought food and made sure I didn’t try to get away. I was drugged most of the time. Those times when my head did clear I was too sick to act.”

“Nathan Wolf. I know little about you.”

Wolf shivered, told what he could. The wizard did not interrupt. He tolerated repetition of information already given. He was sniffing for previously undetected connections.

“Excellent. You are a skilled observer. Is it possible that the Heltkler girl disappeared into the same fog as the men who kidnapped Colonel Gales?”

Babeltausque opened his mouth, then shut it. That possibility had not occurred to him. His hungers, fears, and preconceptions, fueled by the hysteria stirred by Phyletia’s dark fate, had shoved political possibilities right out of his head.

He was not alone.

Josiah Gales gave up a cough that was a small confession of embarrassment.

Babeltausque said, “So. A plausible explanation for what happened to another girl. Does that take the load off Arnulf Black? She might have run to escape him instead of us.”

Varthlokkur faced Wachtel. “Doctor? You have something?”

The old man shook. “I won’t be doing surgery much longer.”

Varthlokkur told him, “These people all know your secret. For my part, I don’t care what made you become political.”

“My physician’s oath. These invaders only mean to use the people of Kavelin like farm animals.”

“As may be, we have children to save. We have a monster to identify. Can you contribute to that cause?”

Wachtel talked about girls found dead in the past.

“Might there have been others?”

“Almost certainly.”

Nathan Wolf suggested, “There could have been dozens. Girls go missing all the time. Most run away. The ones we know about are the ones whose bodies were found.”

Varthlokkur said, “Youth sells. There are those who exploit that. With Her Majesty’s permission I’d like to interview people who operate houses of prostitution. Those who get stubborn can answer to Radeachar. Doctor. You still have Phyletia Plens?”

“I do. Preserved in collaboration with the sorcerer. I was sure we would get back to her eventually.”

“Excellent. You and I will examine her now. Babeltausque, please join us. I’ll need to see where she was found after I examine her remains.”

…

Word swept the city. Varthlokkur had returned. He was hunting a childkiller. Once he interviewed them Vorgreberg’s pimps and procurers stopped employing talents under fourteen. It took only one visit from the Unborn to drive the message home.

That monster became a permanent aerial phenomenon. Vorgrebergers were six parts terrified and the rest of a dozen thrilled. Every vanished daughter for thirty years past was one villain’s fault, suddenly. Tavern speculation concentrated on what might be the ugliest possible means of dealing with the beast.

There were no votes for quick or kind.

Inger told Josiah Gales, “We’re riding high today. If we found that money now we could really cash in.”

Gales was tired of hearing about a treasure he no longer believed existed. “Ask Varthlokkur to find it.”

“I did. He chuckled and said it will be no help if we do find it.”

…

A sense of unease descended on Sedlmayr, fed by the news that Varthlokkur had returned to Vorgreberg. The truth, that he had come to hunt a foul murderer, was disbelieved by many.

The road east filled with agents determined to learn the real story…

Babeltausque shuffled slowly along to see his Carrie Depar. No special hunger drove him. Something was wrong with him. He ought not to be tired of Carrie so soon, yet his infatuation had begun to fade. Because everyone disapproved? Why? She was damned near legal. Certainly older than he preferred.

Could it be fear? The mob would not stop to listen if he tried to explain that Carrie was with him by choice.

He knew that no one really listened even at the best of times. No one wanted to be reminded that they had failings of their own.

It was dark. A sliver of autumn moon drifted toward the western horizon. The air was brisk but not yet outright cold.

Something burred past Babeltausque. He thought it must be a big bug, yet experience made him dive into the ditch beside the road. That bug had to be a sling bullet.

There was water in the ditch. It was cold and rank.

A voice grumbled. Another, closer, said, “Nah. I think I missed.”

Babeltausque slithered forward, quietly as he could. The ditch would debouch into a wet weather creek just ahead. That passed through a culvert under the road. He should fit. Holed up, he could plan his counterattack.

He listened to them grumble as they searched. He did not recognize their voices. They did not know the terrain. They did not have a light by which to find his obvious trail.

This must be political. They must want to strip Inger of her most dangerous ally.

Babeltausque’s heartbeat settled some. He plied his sorcerer’s skills. He did not counterattack but, rather, marked the men with little spells that would betray them later, hoping they could be traced back to whoever sent them.

He waited for them to give up. That took another miserable half hour. He had time to reflect. He had become so predictable that enemies were able to set an ambush. That had to change. Then he thought about the geography between Castle Krief and Mist’s old mansion. There were other culverts. There was an abandoned well. There were several cesspools, including a dried up pit behind Mist’s mansion. There were improved springs, cisterns, and fish ponds. Few of those had been examined by treasure hunters. People figured that a Rebsamen don like Derel Prataxis would not hide anything in unpleasant places.

Babeltausque suspected that he and Nathan would be getting wet and filthy soon.

Tonight, though… Tonight was for Carrie.

The fire had returned.

…

Babeltausque inched toward the stairway down to his beloved. How bored was she? How much would she whine about being cooped up here with nothing to do but wait till he felt the need?

He had only a moment to realize that he was not alone. An exotic beauty emerged from broken wainscoting and rose in front of him, bits of broken wood sliding off her.

She was more surprised than he. That allowed him a running start. He hit the night with arms and legs flailing.

This was the first time he had seen that woman but he knew who she was.

He was too focused on covering ground to notice the Unborn descending behind him.