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News around Chatwin had it that there had been a crime, one of murder, in the big city of Narwell, about a day east of here. As fate would have it, as The Seekers prepared for their trip to the big city, the big city came to them.
A breathless Cassandra ran from house to house, dragging a discombobulated Andremar with her as she went. "They're here! They're here! Emissaries from Narwell! They're here. At the Inn. They're here."
And so the Seekers dropped their trip prep in favor of finding out exactly what this was all about.
Cassandra raced them all over to the Inn of the Shadows, where, true to her word, two obvious outsiders sat together at a table. On opposite sides of the table, next to the one the Seekers usually occupied on Fridays. The men were well dressed. Fine leathers, bright chain armor, long swords, very nice cloaks, and each had a leather satchel. As the Seekers approached them, they both rose. "Are you the ones we've heard off, the `Seekers?'"
The four acknowledged that they were. "The Inn keeper told us that there was a group of intelligent, not overly violent, individuals who sought answers to problems."
"That is correct," said Cassandra.
"Good, then please join us." Both men sat down. The Seekers did likewise.
"My name is Gadral. This is my, er, fellow, er traveler..." It was obvious that there was some animosity if his voice.
"I am Mimfred," said the other. "Gadral is right. We have traveled here together. We are not friends. Because of the unusual circumstances in the town of Narwell, the Council is unable to investigate the death of a citizen and wishes to hire totally independent investigators. We have heard of your skills. If you would be willing to come to Narwell, then we can proceed."
The Seekers said that they were indeed interested.
Gadral reached into his leather satchel. The satchel had a goose-quill symbol on it. "Here, if you please, read this."
Mimfred had been rummaging in his satchel and seemed disappointed that he had not gotten his paper out first. "Then you can read mine." His satchel had the symbol of a pen nib set in a wooden handle.
Gadral's page, written by hand, read:
"From the Honorable Council of the City of Narwell, Greetings!
"It is with great regret and reluctance that we, the representatives of the people of Narwell, have agreed to offer you employment in a matter concerning the well-being of our settlement and possibly the peace and tranquillity of all nearby lands.
"Some days ago, one Callery Frickard (penmaker) was viciously murdered by person or persons unknown. His death is such a mater of import that it may yet cause a civil disturbance likely to destroy Narwell unless the killer or killers are brought to justice. The town council, in its considered opinion, cannot involve itself directly with the investigation, for fear of wrongful accusations of partiality, and so earnestly entreats your cooperation and assistance at your earliest convenience."
Once this had been read, Mimfred pushed forth his document. "You will find this easier to read, no doubt," he added dryly. The quality and legibility of this text was much improved over Gadral's
"In earnest measure of our hope that you may help us in our difficulty, a sum of 1,000 gold pieces is offered for the arrest and proven guilt of the killer, or killers, of Callery Frickard. Their sum has been equally furnished by the Guild of Scribes, the Innmakers' Union, the Narwell Goose Breeders Association, the town paper manufactures, the Druids of the Dark Wood, and the council of Narwell. In addition, room and board will be provided for the duration of your investigation.
"Kindly accompany our trustworthy messengers, Gadral and Mimfred, and the exact details, so far as they are known to us, will be provided to you.
"Yours in anticipation of your acceptance,
"The City of Narwell."
Mimfred and Gadral sat back in their respective seats. Each wrapped his fine cloak around him. Again, Gadral's cloak was adorned with a goose-quill symbol sewn to the left collar; Mimfred's had the symbol of a pen nib set in a wooden handle.
Pirvan said, "O.K. let me just grab a few things, You know I think I'll bring along my pet this time." Pirvan exited the room, went to grab his supplies, saddle his horse and grab his hedge hog. Upon his return, he said, "Well guys I'm ready, but I'm telling you this now, I want to be in and out of the city as fast as possible, I don't really like cities, and don't want to talk about why, I will come in and help but I may have to leave now and again to settle my self." He will then mutter, "oh I do prefer wilderness over this." and then he will get ready to leave with the others.
"So how large is this place Gadral?"
Gadral answered, "Narwell is rather large. This little village of yours would fit in one tiny corner of Narwell. There are maybe 20,000 people living there. Many, many shops, Inns, very important people. Much of what you will have to contend with will be in just one area of the city, so that might help you deal with it." He seems sympathetic to the young man's concerns about going into a large city.
Cassandra said, "I bet there are plenty of, er, opportunities to make money in a city that size." There was a particular glint in her eyes.
Gadral thought for a moment, then he said. "Yes, but we have a good law enforcement group to maintain order."
Cassandra seemed a bit disappointed.
Pirvan asked his companions, "So how are we going to go about this guys?"
Gadral and Mimfred said that they would lead the way to Narwell, and would introduce the Seekers to the Council, if that was OK? "Anything else we can do, now, or along the way?"
Lwcynda said, "all right, I say we go with these gentlemen and then they introduce us to their Council and we find out what they want us to do."
The trip to Narwell was very safe and secure, taking the better part of the day. Along the way were encountered a few farmers, some peddlers, the occasional traveler, but nothing of any seeming significance. In fact, the ride would have been a very pleasant one, the weather being absolutely lovely, had it not been for the obvious tension between the two escorts, Gadral and Mimfred. They seemed in constant competition at every hoofbeat of the journey, which would be the better lead rider, which could better watch the rear, who could prepare a better lunch, who could closer predict what time Narwell would be sighted, how to greet passing travelers, whose horse was better kept, ...... and on and on and on.
While the Seekers found it very amusing, there was also cause to wonder, voiced eventually by Runt, not well schooled in discretion, "Hey, what up wit you two guys. You travel together, yet you really don't get along? Me and me friends here, we don't argue all the time. What's wrong with you two anyway?'
To which Gadral replied, "He's a pen nub," pointing at Mimfred.
To which Mimfred rejoined, "Goose ass," back at Gadral.
Runt's minute intellect was sated by this explanation, and eventually the city of Narwell was reached.
It was obvious from the first sighting that Narwell was far different from Chatwin. The town founders seemed to have security or defense in mind, as the fitted stone boundary wall was ringed by a wide moat. Twin drawbridges crossed the moat from the north and the south. It was the southern entrance to which the Seekers were being led, though Mimfred kept suggesting that `the north one would be better.'
As they neared the moat, however, the idea of peaceful serenity was slightly compromised, when the filth in the moat could be seen. It would not have been difficult for an attacking force to walk across the accumulation of crap which filled the moat, though they would have had difficulty dealing with the stench.
As the party passed over the bridge and entered the town proper, they saw a group of men and women, some 20' away, engaged in a loud fracas. Though none of them appeared to be armed, boots, fists, teeth, and fingernails were being used to good effect, with limbs thrashing about in all directions. A party of what looked to be militia types stood some ten feet away from the melee, apparently trying to decide on an/any action. Gadral and Mimfred seemed oblivious to this fracas, and attempted to lead the party around the disturbance.
Andremar advocates non intervention, suggesting that it's "uh, well... probably the uh, the local sport or um, or whatever. Uh, but perhaps, we could ask uh, um, ask the nice policeman, uh, the militia man what uh, what it's all about?"
Pirvan pointed out, "Now this is one of the reasons I hate cities, the authorities don't do a damn thing about anything, if this happened in Chatwin, which it wouldn't, it would be over almost as soon as it started."
Pirvan said to the escorts, "Well why are you ignoring this?"
Mimfred and Gadral look at Pirvan, at the crowd, at the militia men, and seem to be debating getting off their horses. Then they answered in unison, "If we get involved we'd start by slugging each other. We have escorted you here to try and get to the bottom of what is the cause."
"I hope we finish this fast, I don't know how long I'll last in a place like this."
Seeing the inaction on the part of both the escorts and the militia, Pirvan turned his horse towards the crowd, stopping about 15' away, and yelled, "What is wrong with you people? Why the hell are you fighting? This is supposed to be a great city not a brawling pit. I order you to stop this instant and tell me what the problem is."
The crowd was temporarily taken aback by this strange voice in their midst. They did, indeed, stop tussling, at least for the moment. His boldness was accompanied by a dismounting Cassandra who then approached the mob speaking in a calm manner. "Yes, please desist in your scuffles. My friends and I have been brought here by these two fine gentlemen," pointing to Mimfred and Gadral. Half the crowd cheered, "Gadral!" while the other half echoed, "Mimfred!" By now Cassandra has reached their midst, and eased her way within the, giving many a reassuring handshake and pat on the back, she continued. "So once we get settled in, I assure you we will find out just what happened to, what was his name again?" She almost had some of them smiling until this faux pas.
"Callery Frickard," Answered one voice.
"Yes, the goose lovers killed him!" shouted another.
"No t'wasn't us, it was the tree lovers." shouted another.
Before she knew it, Cassandra found herself engulfed in the mob as the tussling began again in earnest.
Seeing this, Pirvan gave the order to stop again, and though cautioned by Lwcynda, who turned to him and said, "Now Pirvan, don't get too rattled here. I don't think shooting arrows into a crowd is a very good idea. And truly we have no authority here. Perhaps just asking about what the problem is would be your best bet, if you really want to know what's going on. But I do think militia can handle this. No matter how good a shot you are with your bow, my experience shows that shooting into a mob can be more dangerous than helpful. Perhaps our two escorts know what's happening here?"
He backed away to 30' and readied his bow, preparing to fire an arrow into the middle of the crowd.
The militia saw the helpless woman in the crowd, and the fighter taking aim to rescue her, and finally set about getting involved. They moved around the mob, tossing bodies out of it, till there was little left but a rather dirty, roughed up, yet still calm and almost grinning Cassandra picking herself up off the ground.
"Thank you fine gentlemen," she said as she moved back to her horse. She seems to be clutching at her mid-section. "No, no need to help me, just must have caught a foot in the old bread basket," as she continues to her mount.
Mimfred and Gadral see that their party is back in order. Gadral said, "Well now that you've got a taste of Narwell, we best be off to an inn.
As they rode on, Pirvan noted, "I do hate cities."
Not long after, the Four were guided to the Two Castles Inn. Here they were introduced to Mern Grundel, the dwarven innkeeper.
"Ah," he said, "come to solve our little problem have yee. Well, I wish yee luck. Yer gonna need it. Now as far as I've been told, Your rooms and meals are paid for. But, it you breaks anything, or causes any trouble, well, that will cost you."
As this pronouncement sunk in, Gadral and Mimfred bid their leave. "We have to deliver our report to the Council. Then, no doubt, we will be back bearing another letter from your employers."
Mern set about showing the Seekers to their rooms.
Andremar suggested a wee bit of tavern crawling, simply to try and suss out the conflicting versions of the great mystery. Starting with the bar downstairs... He also suggested that its likely that the two factions wouldn't share pubs, so "we should spread out perhaps.... In twos maybe?"
"Uh, Cassie and I perhaps? We're a masterful, uh, a um, a quite uh, quite decent team..."
Cassandra said, "Yes, that might be fun. And I just happen to have some extra coins," reaching into her pockets and producing numerous coppers, a few silvers, and two golds, "That happened to find their way into my purse. Always willing to do my bit for the local economy."
A quick quizzing of Mern, the Landlord, garnered the names of three main taverns in Narwell, "at least the kind you folk would be interested in." And, as per Andremar's astute supposition, two of them had clear leanings.
"If it's the quill people you hanker to mingle with, then the Tavern on the Green, pretty much next door to this place, will tickle yer fancy. Now the `nubbers,' they gather about two blocks up and halfway along on the right at the Tavern on the Brown. Both fair establishments, little chance for trouble, `lest of course you bring up the other group in a positive way. "
Cassandra continued, "Well, Andremar, how about you and I try the farther one, The Brown? Give us a better chance to get more of a feel for the city. Lwcynda, you can either go to the Green, or stay here. Don't know if we should unleash Pirvan on the unsuspecting populace, knowing how his dislike of cities makes him rather quick on the draw. And, since our two guides said they'll be back, we best not be more than two hours."
So saying, Cassandra and Andremar headed out, hung a left, saw The Green, situated on a large green space, next door; the `Magic Wand' across the street; other more mundane and standard shops along the way. Following Mern's directions the two companions found themselves halfway down a muddy street, lined with drab brown wooden shops, standing outside the aptly labeled `Tavern on the Brown.'
"Tavern on the Mud would be more like it," quipped Cassandra. "might as well head in." Taking a few steps down, Andremar and Cassandra found themselves in a drab and darkish hole of a place. Bare would tables lined the room. A somewhat ornate bar lined the far wall. The ten or so patrons were simple dressed, seemingly unarmed or armored, seated in groups of two or three at various tables. There was plenty or free space.
"The Inn of the Towers this isn't," Cassandra continued.
"No, er, I guess, er, it is, ah, not," agreed the mage.
"Well, Andremar, you got us here. Now shall we mingle, eavesdrop, or dance?"
"Uh, I might start by, uh... well, perhaps I'll um, approach the bar, and, and uh, er.... mmmm... I'll order and ah, I'll ask if, if there's any um, any places I should um, I should avoid in this uh, luverly city?"
Perhaps this might elicit a response of the slightly controversial nature, in which case Andremar will follow it down... "What's wrong with them???" type question.
So, following his plan, Andremar and Cassandra ordered drinks, chatted up the bar keep, a dwarf, and the customers.
From this, the two friends are informed that the one place to avoid is the Tavern on the Green, the home of "those scriblin', goose lovin', tree huggers"
Meanwhile, Lwcynda decided to visit said Tavern on the Green, with Runt in tow.
"Me can't wait to see the sights!" It's hard to keep a goblin down on the farm, after he's seen Narwell.
There she learned of these peoples' abject dislike of those "inky, pulp heads over ta the Brown"
As Andremar and Cassandra pursue their line of questioning, and Lwcynda satiated her vast need for knowledge.
And Pirvan, back at the Inn, asked, "I would like to see my room now if you please, Quickly." Pirvan looked around at all the people with his hand on the hilt of his long sword. Finding no one else in the establishment, save his companions, he was escorted to his room. There he took stock of the place, giving a careful listen. He found his room to be quite soundproof. So, still apprehensive, but at least not overtly disturbed, he proceeded to settle, somewhat uncomfortably in his private room, to wait till the others returned with their report.
After the agreed upon two hours had expired, Andremar and Cassandra, slightly tipsy, and Lwcynda, sober as the proverbial judge, returned, and compared notes. Sifting through the various claims and counter claims, they agreed upon the following scenario for what had transpired in Narwell to this point.
Callery Frickard was a respected penmaker, with a shop on Mercantile Street. Deciding that goose quills, though cheap, had certain inherent disadvantages. He reasoned that if pens could be made more trustworthy, more people would buy them. Goose quills could be phased out, with the loss of repeat customers offset by the upsurge in first time buyers. He developed the idea of a metal pen nib. Unfortunately, it was here that `reason' left Narwell.
The first to call for the abolition of his new metal nib was the Guild of Scribes, who prophesied mass unemployment among its membership, not to mention faulty penmanship among the populace.
The Inkmakers Union saw a benefit, as demand for their product would increase, so more profits, more taxes for the town, and possibly extra jobs would result.
Naturally the Goose Breeders Association did not go along. They would be the first to suffer if goose quills became a thing of the past. Even the scribes weren't as threatened in their view; they could adopt the new instrument. But what about the goose market? Or the egg sellers among the breeders wives?
The paper manufacturers came out in support of the Inkmakers and Callery's metal-nibbed pen. Universal literacy, they proclaimed, was a right of all, especially when paper products had limited use at present. This new pen would open a vast market for paper. And, then the lumber yards would also improve. The woods, either southern Gnarley or eastern Welkwood could be cleared, and the land be settled.
The Druids of both woods got wind of this talk and decided a firm "no" was their official line. Deforestation meant a loss of wildlife. What about land further down stream as the river rose? Fewer trees meant floods, calamities, compensation claims from wet villagers, and worse: irate druids.
The town council was divided, and saw no solution to the situation created by Frickard's pen. A definite split occurred in the town. Those who favored Frickard's pen clashed in the streets with those who opposed it. Trouble flared further when protests turned into a riot, and the warehouse of the Inkmakers Union was vandalized. Then a number of geese were wantonly slaughtered outside Narwell. Finally, the crunch came when Callery Frickard was found murdered in his bed above his Mercantile Street shop.
"With accusations flying hot and heavy, and no one trusting anyone, the council had no choice to send of for an independent party, `to find which one of them goose lovers killed poor Callery.'"
"A uh, trip to the um, mmm, the crime scene is always, uh, well, a good uh, it's a good idea. I suggest we uh, pay a visit to the shop, and um, find out uh, well, you know, uh, the name of uh, the first person on uh, um.... first person on the scene..."
Lwcynda agreed with Andremar, "I also think we should look at the crime scene. Maybe we can find out whether Callery had any personal enemies; also who are the heads of each of these factions, especially the goose people."
This rather perceptive conversation was interrupted by the return of Gadral and Mimfred. "We come with an official missive from the council." They handed over another parchment. It read:
[the first part was written in goose quill]
Worthy Adventurers!
Thank you for coming to our assistance in our hour of need., It is with embarrassment and chagrin that we must apologize for the spectacle that greeted you on your arrival. But we must also point out the urgency with which you must now fulfill your task. By your own experience, you can see how volatile the situation is, and how delicately the search for the killer or killers of Callery Frickard must be conducted.
But another complication has been added to the problem. A group of citizens, discontent with the hiring of `outsiders' to conduct the investigation, has formed an illegal group calling itself the Committee for Public Recrimination, which hopes to discredit you by solving the murder before you do.[here the writing became metal-nibbed pen] Their ham-fisted way of making inquiries is likely to cause the factions to erupt in even more fighting, and perhaps even destroy the town.
With this added difficulty, we feel it necessary to discourage you from meeting with us officially, as many now see our council- wrongly- as anything but impartial in this investigation. Gadral and Mimfred will remain our messengers, and you may contact the council, as an official body, through them.
We wish you luck in your endeavors.
Signed and sealed the Council of Narwell
"Figures," said Cassandra, "like we really wanted to see them anyway."
In the envelope, there was also a key, labeled `#3 Mercantile Street.'
"This key is to....?"
"Callery's shop," answered Mimfred.
"Mercantile Street is in the new northeast corner." Gadral added.
"New?"
"Yes, a few years ago there was a terrible fire. Something to do with an alleged kidnapping. Some `heroes' of sorts, trying to rescue the victim, supposedly the infamous Ren 'O the Blade no less, thought that fire was the best way. Lost one of their own in the blaze. They eventually performed some restitution-did a favor for a local lord and he paid to have that section rebuilt."
"We were thinking to start with Callery's shop," said Lwcynda, "so that key will come in handy."
"Good, we will accompany you, show you where the place is," said Gadral.
"Yes, that way we'll be around if you need to contact us, or report to the council," added Mimfred.
By now the time of day had reached 7PM. It was getting dusky, twilight outside, so supper and a good night's rest seemed in order.
After a very tasty breakfast, the Seekers, guided by Gadral and Mimfred, found themselves in the new northeast corner of Narwell, on Mercantile Street, so named because each building was a craft shop of some sort. The Seekers stood before the front door to #3, "Callery Frickard, Pens." The frontage was about 40', the door to the west of center, a large window to the right. Above, three second story windows looked over them, and there were alleyways on either side of the building . The time was 10AM.
Lwcynda looked around and said, "Cassandra, do you want to look around out here before we go in? If so, please do so and when you are done I suggest we enter, otherwise, how about we go in?"
Cassandra said, "Yes, Lwcynda, a good look before entry is always wise." The young rogue set about examining first the door, then peered in through the front window. "Seems secure and empty. Think I'll make a quick look down the alleys."
As Cassandra set about her job, Lwcynda turned to Mimfred and Gadral. "By the way, is this where Callery's body was found? Who found him and at what time of day was he found?"
"Yes it is," Gadral answered. "He was found dead in his bed. His room is on the second floor of this building. He was found by Jordan, his young apprentice. When the lad appeared for work one morning., the front door was closed but not locked."
"But," interrupted Mimfred, "that was not unusual. Callery did not bother to lock his door. What was there to steal? When Jordan entered, he set about his normal routine. When his employer did not rise by noon, he went upstairs to wake him. And, well, poor Callery was beyond any normal waking. Jordan rushed out calling for help. Some members of the militia responded to his call. Not much they could do but carry out the body. You might want to talk with Jordan. We could arrange it."
Lwcynda continued, "I see. Also, did he have any ritual habits like going for walks at a particular time of day or going to the pub for lunch at a certain time, for example. Any habits that you know of? Any friends?"
Gadral began, "Nothing about him stood out. Spent much of his time in his shop, like a typical craftsman."
"But," Mimfred interjected, "he did enjoy the occasional drink, and would hit a tavern sometimes."
"Now as for friends," Gadral took back the conversation, "he was known by most members of the Mercantile Street community. NO special friends. One curiosity about him was that he did not like the idea of confined spaces. He'd walk hundreds of yards out of the way to avoid taking shortcuts. He would not walk down an alley."
"No, no special friends. Just enemies," Mimfred insisted, "Those in the anti-Frickard campaign hated him. One of them must have killed him to prevent the production of his metal tipped nibs."
"Now just a minute," Gadral retorted, "there is no evidence, no evidence I say, that any of us, er, those who saw his invention for the threat to our economy had anything to do with his death. "
There voices had raised gradually as they got more heated in the topic. Cassandra returned to the front of the building. "Glad to see you two are still getting along. Nothing amiss around the sides or back. Other windows, but all are on the upper floor. They seem closed."
Lwcynda relaxed, "Oh here I go again asking too many questions. Andremar or Pirvan do you have any questions for these gentlemen?"
Pirvan leaned his back against the wall, his hand on the hilt of his sword ready for any trouble looking a bit nervous.
As Cassandra took the key and unlocked the door, Pirvan took another quick look around. The other entered carefully. Once Pirvan saw this, and thinking it clear he started pacing near the door, "How long must we be in this city?" Pirvan looked down at his hands and notices he's shaking a little my god I'm shaking!" "I have to calm down I must." Pirvan looked to his nearest companion and asks, "How long is this going to take? I think I'm going to leave the city for a short while when we are done."
Cassandra attempted to offer comfort. "Remember, my friend, that the quicker we conclude our business here, we have that nice outdoor trip to the Welkwood. Try to keep the image of green woods in your heart and mind."
This seemed to placate the shaky Bold One, for the moment at least. It gave them all a chance to survey the large room they found themselves in. The room was 15' x 40', with a long counter opposite the front door. The counter ran to within 8' of both side walls. A long window of paned glass looked out onto the street. A curtain hung at the one end of the back wall, some 15' from the front door. There was a second door on the back wall at the other end of the room. Cassandra examined the floor. "There is a light coating of dusk here. I doubt anyone has been in here for about a week. "
From the doorway, all could see many quills and bottles of colored inks displayed on the counter.
"Let's try not to kick the dust up too much as we move about," suggested Cassandra, as she stepped lightly towards the center of the counter.
The other began to follow suit. That is except for Pirvan. He had bent to examine the floor, said, "Hey, look at ....." but suddenly he stood straight up, looked around in distress, and darted to the front corner, past the window, curled into a ball and started sobbing, muttering something like, "tight, tight, air, air...."
As Runt tried to approach him, he drew his sword and yelled, "No stay away from me keep away, "
Runt began to sob, "Pirvan, Pirvan, me Runt, me you friend. No kill! No kill!" "Uh, well... could we perhaps, uh, ask the name, uh, or names of um, of, uh, of the taverns, uh, that our uh, victim used to... uh, mmm used to frequent?"
Andremar also suggested that an interview with the apprentice would be a good idea..
Mimfred and Gadral said that could be arranged for this afternoon. "We'll see that Jordan comes to the Inn."
Andremar asked the two guides what the actual cause of death was?
"Not that I saw the body," said Gadral, "but those who did said that a crossbow bolt did him in."
"Yes," continued Mimfred, "Drilled to his bed he was. You can see the murder scene for yourselves. His bedroom is upstairs." He pointed at the curtains which were directly across from the front door.
As Andremar viewed the many quills and bottles of colored inks displayed on the counter, he noted "Uh, this was um, wasn't an act of passion, I suspect... I mean, the uh, the shop is still in mmmm, still in fine condition."
Andremar then carefully moved towards the back door. Trying to disturb the floor as little as possible, he moved behind the counter, past the curtains, and over to the far door which was opposite the window. "It's, er, um locked," he declared.
Pirvan kept his sword out, swinging at Runt who stood the closest, but not reaching out to actually thrust at him. "No, no stay away your not going to get me again, stay away."
Cassandra moved quickly behind Runt, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck, and dragging him well beyond harm's way. "He needs room. Probably claustrophobic. I know he didn't really want to come to the city. Something about confinement. Let's let him have some space."
Pirvan still crouched in the front corner, near the end of the front window, but well away from the front door.
Cassandra said to the guides, "You'll have to excuse our friend. He's not a big fan of cities." The two men stood dumbfounded.
By now, much of the dust in this area had been disturbed, what with the fighter's flight to the corner, Runt's attempt at calming, And Cassandra's move to save the goblin. Cassandra noticed the actual floor for the first time. "What the heck? Look. There's a yellow line drawn here on the floor. Heads from the front wall right into the center of the counter."
Andremar said, "Like this yellow `X' on this door?" For indeed there was one, though no one had paid it much heed till now. "And, Cassie, er, your line, um continues, ah, beyond the counter, right into, er, this wall."
"As if to divide this room in half," concluded Cassandra.
Mimfred and Gadral examined the yellow lines. Mimfred put his finger to it. He rubbed the yellow material between his fingers. "I think I've seen this stuff before. Now, where was it?" looking at Gadral as he spoke.
Gadral thought, "Think we saw it when they rebuilt the northeast of the city?"
"Yes," agreed Mimfred, inspired by this. "They used it to mark the sites where new contraction, or in those building which weren't total write-offs, renovations were going to be made."
Cassandra asked, "But why would Callery be dividing this room into two. If his invention was bringing more business, wouldn't he need more space?"
No one had an answer.
Andremar, still in the corner by the locked door, cleared his throat. "Er, be that as it, uh, may, there is still this, um, locked door."
Cassandra continued to wonder about the line, but had no solution. She moved over to her friend and examined the lock. "Nothing overly special about it." She kneeled down and squinted one eye through the keyhole. " Locked from the inside with the key in the hole. Anyone got any cloth or paper?"
Mimfred produced the document which had drawn the Seekers to Narwell. Unrolling it, Cassandra slipped it under the door, leaving a couple of inches on her side. Then she took a small wire from within her vest, and gently pushed it through the keyhole, till .... plop.
The sound of something falling on the other side of the door, the parchment lurched slightly. Carefully, she drew the paper back, the key riding atop it. "Read it in a book once," she confessed. She then put the key in the lock and opened the door.
This room was 10` wide and 50` deep. There were no windows, just a door along the north/left wall about 45` away. The key could be seen in the lock. A small oil-burning stove with a kettle on top sat in the southwest corner. Halfway along towards were a small table and two wooden chairs. The floor was dusty with no obvious footprints.
"Hmmm... Could there be um... anything in this division which, uh, which would suggest uh, a relation to the uh, division of the town? Pens vs Quills uh, sort of um, sort of thing?"
The others mused on this possibility. Neither Mimfred nor Gadral had heard anything about this possibility, but that did not mean it was not a possibility.
Andremar continued with a careful inspection of the room, looking for anything out of place.
"Here, um, on the floor, er, another, um yellow mark," pointed out the mage. Sure enough just inside the room, covered by the dust was a chalk arrow pointing to the right, exterior wall.
"A door perhaps?" suggested Cassandra.
Lwcynda wasn't really sure what she wanted to do, so she advanced towards the table and began a careful look for papers, correspondence, etc. that might be around. She found that the stove was stone cold, the kettle which sat atop it was full but the water scummy. A teacup upended on a saucer, rested on the table. Otherwise the room seemed bare.
Then she said, "Maybe Callery was going to share his place with the Quillers and see if a compromise could be reached so he drew this line and `X' to separate the 2 areas, but still wanted to work things out. But obviously someone else didn't want to work things out."
Turning to the two gentlemen she asked, "Did his apprentice find any papers lying around when he found the body? Who is the head of the opposition and can we meet with him or her? Who was the last person to see Callery alive?"
Mimfred and Gadral answered, "Whatever was here should still be here. Jordan, the apprentice, found the body, the body was removed, and little else was done here, waiting for an impartial investigatory force, that is you people. Don't know who was the last to see him alive."
"Me do," said Runt.
"Care to enlighten us?" asked Cassandra.
The little one grinned, "The killer last to see him."
Cassandra resisted the urged to strangle the little guy. "Guess we really need to talk to this apprentice."
"Cassandra," asked Lwcynda, "do you think you might be able to examine the table and stove for 'secret' things?"
"Certainly." The rogue set about the task, giving both a thorough going over. "Sorry, but they seem to be very normal." Then she motioned to the door on the left wall. "By the way, that door there has the key in the lock on this side. Guess Callery liked to lock himself in here."
Lwcynda's intellect seemed to be a little strained right now.
Andremar took this break to ask about the body , "Was the crossbow bolt uh, still in um, in his head?"
Mimfred looked at Gadral, then answered, "Yes, it was. You will be able to see the murder scene once we get upstairs."
"That is correct," Gadral confirmed, "pinned him to the headboard it did."
From the way both men raised their eyes and gestured, the others gathered that the bedroom was directly above them. As their collective attention was drawn to the ceiling/floor above them .... Cassandra `shushed' them. In a whisper, "Hear that?" All ears strained ......, hearing footfalls, then nodded in agreement. Cassandra continued in a whisper, "There is definitely someone up there."
Andremar wiggled his magic missile mental muscles as usual, then whispered that perhaps Pirvan should lead the way up stairs. "Though we should be a bit tactful as it may be the apprentice and it wouldn't be a good idea to beat him up. On second thought, perhaps it might be better if Cassie snuck up and had a peek?"
Lwcynda whispered, "I'll be right behind you Cassandra." Lwcynda prepared her command as the went up to confront the intruder.
Cassandra welcomed the opportunity to do some sneaking, and with Pirvan still cowering, she led the way past the curtains. Just behind the curtains was a wide wooden staircase heading up to the second floor. To the right of the staircase was a large workroom. Not that they had time to examine it, but the spacious room contained benches, a pile of sacking, and a large work bench covered with a variety of stuff. A door, presumably leading in to the stove room, was at the far right.
Cassandra tested each step as she ascended, followed by Lwcynda and Andremar, who were three steps behind her. Mimfred and Gadral stayed a few steps behind them, so as not to allow their chain mail to give the game away. Runt stayed behind to keep an eye on Pirvan.
The wily rogue gained the second level, and waved her companions up. The five of them stood at the top of the stairs in a large living room, maybe 50' x 70' in all. Some light came in through the window in the rear wall. A small cupboard stood beside it. A fireplace was set into the far right wall, with two armchairs flanking it, and a brightly colored couch facing it. To the right of the chairs, were two doors. One led beyond the fireplace wall, the other towards the front of the building. Cassandra asked Mimfred, "What's the room behind the fireplace? That is where I think the footfalls were."
Mimfred hesitated, gulped, then answered, "Callery's bedroom."
Gadral also seemed hesitant, "The murder room."
"Well, we've faced spirits before," winked the thief as she made her way to this door. Putting her ear to it, she listened, then drew her friends closer. "Sound like more than one to me, and they're not doing much to be quiet." The others, now 10' from this door could hear the murmur of voices, (though not what was being said), and things being moved about.
Lwcynda said, "Well all right, I'm ready to command one to sleep and I'm sure Andremar has his missiles ready. Shall we surprise them quickly and go in? Cassandra, want to check whether the door is locked so we don't end up just knocking ourselves out and let them get away?"
Cassandra singled that the door was not locked. They all gathered behind the wily rogue as she quietly opened the door. Various sets of eyes peered through the crack provided by her deft fingers. The room was, indeed, a bedroom. The foot of the bed could be made out, though it heads towards the farthest wall. Just across from the door was a open window, the top of a ladder resting on its sill. Four intruders could be seen, three men and one woman, none of them was wearing armor. One had a screwdriver in hand, but was using his freehand to thumb through works on the books shelf. The woman was rummaging through the papers on the desk. The other two men appeared to be moving the bed, a crowbar lay at the feet of one of them.
Seeing that surprise was on their side, the Seekers moved towards subdual. Andremar switched to a sleep spell, concentrating on the two near the bed. Lwcynda commanded the other man to take a nap, and Cassie moved to the window, blocking the female's escape, while Mimfred and Gadral grabbed her. Within moments, it was over. The bed had been shifted slightly, but the headboard and mattress, stained with blood remained as a gruesome reminder of Callery's death. Both guides hesitated, almost bolted, then regained their composure. They held the woman firmly. Andremar's two men slept soundly, while Lwcynda's began to come about. Seeing how badly outnumbered he was, he just sat on the floor where he had slumped.
"Uh, well, friends, shall we um... question the fella? Hmmm... ***haarummmgh*** What uh, what are you and um, and your sleepy companions uh, doing here? Uh, don't you uh, mmmm don't you know it's an offense to uh, to cross a police line?"
The waking man responded, "I am Silas Philbin, scribe. My friends and I are members of the Committee for Public Recrimination. We are here to investigate the murder of Callery Frickard. I cannot understand the fuss that was made about Mr. Frickard's new invention. I am willing to write with whatever works. "
By now the other two fellows were waking from their slumber. They groggily raised themselves to the bed and listened as Lwcynda took over.
Lwcynda, agreed, "Yes, explain to us why you have broken into this house. As you must know this is the site of a crime scene and you have no business here!! Who are you??--Names, who do you work for? Are you these quill or nib guys?? What are you looking for? Did you kill Callery? Are you trying to cover-up your tracks or are you simply looking for something you left behind the night you kill Callery? Speak now before we call the militia in!! You lady, you explain now!" Lwcynda was obviously hoping that a good scare would get the truth out of them.
The female member spoke calmly and clearly. "There is no need for such excitement and, certainly no need for the militia. I think, since I do not recognize you, oh, except for those two," pointing at Mimfred and Gadral, "that our interests are actually similar. I am Janet Morellian. I am a clerk at the paper company. The gentleman there," pointing to the man sitting on the left of the bed, "is Undle Parwicker. He is a member of the Inkmakers' Union. Their warehouse was damaged in all the extra fuss over Callery's death. I fear the same could happen at my place of work."
"What about him," asked Cassandra.
The remaining silent member spoke. "I am Karl Geldimple. My goose farm was raided and my geese were slaughtered. The economic loss was tremendous." He seemed rather sad at this moment.
"So, what is it you want here, then?"
"Here," said Silas, handing over a piece of paper.
The Seekers took the paper.
Committee for Public Recriminations List of Demands
Janet waited until it seemed the demands had been read before she said, "We do not think the Town Council gives a damn about this matter."
"Well, We're certainly uh, willing to um, to conduct the investigation... we uh, we are in fact, already uh, already doing so... Perhaps we could pool our uh, our um, our knowledge? Have your uh, investigations come to anything?"
The four of them looked at each other somewhat sheepishly. Janet spoke for them all when she offered, "No, nothing. You interrupted us before we got a chance to look around."
Lwcynda had calmed down by now and said, "Can you tell us who Callery's greatest opposition was? As my friend has said, we are already trying to look into the matter of Callery's death. We can certainly use your help if you are willing to share some information with us."
Silas offered, "No one in particular that we can figure. Everybody just started hating everybody."
It was at this point that Mimfred interrupted, directing his speech to the Seekers. "It is my duty to inform you that this so-called committee has been outlawed by the Council."
"That is correct," said Gadral. "By rights, they should be turned over to the authorities."
Karl stood up. "Fine. If that's the way your council wants it. Fine. But if you turn us in, what reward will you be getting?"
Neither Mimfred nor Gadral were forthcoming with an answer.
"That's what I thought you'd say. Cause there ain't no reward for us, is there?"
The two fighters had to admit that there was not.
Undle had been silent, till now. "We came here to help. But we're not about to co-operate with any outsiders. This is a town matter, and it should stay a town matter. If our council wasn't so danged incompetent, and self-involved in this thing, well.." he turned to his companions. "I say we vamoose outta here." The other three nodded in agreement, and prepared to leave by the window.
Janet spoke to Lwcynda. "Feel free to search all you want. This building is yours. But we'll be on our way. Unless you intend to use force to stop us."
The four unarmed members of the Committee for Public Recriminations made to move towards the open window.
Lwcynda said, " All right, but perhaps you might tell us how we can reach you if we need to speak with you?"
The three men stepped out through the window onto the ladder. Janet, the last to leave, said, "OH don't worry. We'll be around. We intend to get to the bottom of this first." And then she was gone.
Lwcynda said to her companions, "Well, since we're already up here we might as well continue our search up here and then go back and finish downstairs. What do you all say?"
They seemed to agree.
The room was obviously a bedroom, about 15' wide, and 30' long, with the back of a chimney from the previous room clearly visible. The bed was stripped bare, but the bloodstained mattress was till intact. A large, roundish stain about 2' down from the headboard lay as mute evidence of the violence committed here. The bed was off to an angle, having been moved by the committee members.
A bookcase in the southeast corner held many volumes.
Cassandra busied herself with the bed. "They must have been moving for a reason," she reasoned.
Mimfred and Gadral stood watch, one in the doorway, the other checking out the open window.
Lwcynda and Andremar moved over to have a look at what was on the bookshelves. The bookcase contained several tomes on penmaking and the art of calligraphy. A round stone paperweight held down some papers which the two of them examined. Most of the papers were formal printed bills of sale and receipts from purchases made recently from the Goose Breeders' Association. Lwcynda's interest was waning, till Andremar said, "Er, wait. What do you, um, make of this one?" He held out a hand-written note which read "Records 9-12." It appeared to be written using a goose quill pen.
As they pondered their find, Cassandra emerged from under the bed. "The old loose board under the bed hiding place. Some of these are too easy." She was holding an iron strongbox which was locked. Moving over to the window to allow the natural light to fall in the lock mechanism, she began working a wire into the lock. In about half a minute, she had the lock open. Inside were a couple of hundred silvers, "No gold, no gems, no keys, nothing. Just a couple of hundred silvers." The wily rogue was crest fallen. "When I say too easy, I should know better, shouldn't I?"
As the three pondered the significance of the note, Runt entered the room. "Sorry, I try stop him, but he no listen. Pirvan, he run out door, Say he hate seety. Say he haf to leave."
Lwcynda asked, "Well what could this mean -- Records 9-12? Do you two gentlemen have any ideas? Maybe there is a ledger or something around here. Cassandra do you want to look at this bookcase and see if it's hiding a secret room or something?"
Cassandra examined the bookcase, but found nothing unusual. "That's an exterior wall. So there couldn't be a room. And the case is screwed in."
Gadral and Mimfred pondered Lwcynda's question.
Mimfred said, "No ledger that we know of. Not sure if he kept one."
Gadral offered, "Records? There is a Records Office in town. Maybe that's your records."
"Uh, well, I'm um, sure our friend Pirvan will uh, will be able to find our um, Inn if necessary. Hmmm... well... I might have a look about for uh, for any um... correspondence in the room. I uh, I find letters are um, often illuminating..."
A thorough search of the bedroom revealed nothing further of a personal nature. "Where to next," wondered Cassandra aloud, as she moved towards the bedroom doorway, as if to exit the room. "Wait a minute. I think I hear something downstairs."
Righto... "Uh, shall we uh, go see what uh, what the racket is?"
Cassandra was already at the top of the stairs and about to head down.
Lwcynda took one last look around. "Well let's take this paper with us and head down stairs and then maybe to the records office. Anything else we should look at before we go?" Seeing nothing else of interest, she, too, made her way out of the bedroom, across the sitting room, and down the stairs.
"Hey, wait me! wait me," cried Runt moving quickly behind her. Gadral and Mimfred followed suit.
Cassandra had reached the bottom of the staircase. She continued through the curtain and to the front door. "Yeah, sound like something's up outside." So saying, she yanked open the front door, only to stop short before exiting. The others piled up quickly behind her.
There in front of Frickard's establishment was a crowd of about 25 people, men and women. On the front step lay a wreath. Three of the crowd had their backs to the door, the others were looking at them, listening to what was being said, and now were directing their gaze to Cassandra and the others.
"Callery was a fine man, and noble man. His only crime was to be foresightful in his thinking, in his vision-" The speaker slowed gradually, bothered by the sound of the door opening, then distracted as the crowd was looking past him.
Turning, and taking in Cassandra, in her dark togs as she was, pointing, "Thief!"
Another added, "Murderer!"
The crowd moved as one towards the open doorway. Cassandra moved as one in hasty retreat, knocking Andremar to the side of safety, and grabbing Lwcynda out of the direct line of action.
"You two do something," she called to Mimfred and Gadral.
They overcame their temporary hesitation, moved forward, hands on their weapons. The crowd was confused, and they recognized these two as townsfolk. Mimfred waved his left hand. "Calm down. Calm down I say."
Gadral added. "Stop this nonsense. Stop it. Your ruining your own good work."
Finally the speaker who had been interrupted regained his voice. "Why are you two consorting with them?"
Mimfred answered. "We are not consorting. We are guiding."
Gadral added. "These people are trying to solve the murder, not cause another one. Now move along and let them do their job."
The crowd mulled this over for a bit, and began to disperse.
"What was that all about?" asked Cassandra.
Mimfred looked to Gadral. Gadral answered. "They are friends of Callery Frickard. This wreath laying ceremony is in his memory. Guess I forgot about it." He looked rather sheepish in response.
Mimfred said, "Yes, you could have warned us. Oh well, now, where, ah, I said be off, there's nothing more here." There were still two men in the street in front of the shop. An elf, and Pirvan.
The bold fighter still seemed shaken as he approached his friends. " "I....I...I'm sorry for what happened earlier, I don't like cities they bring back things from my past that I don't want to remember, please let us hurry and get this done." Then he turned to the elf. "This gentleman has been looking for us. He grabbed me as I was running. His name is, .... er, I know you told it to me..."
The elf, dressed in forest type garb of mottled green and brown, studded leather, a long sword in scabbard, said formally, "Hello ladies and Gentlemen. I am Dristarian of the gray elves, and have come to aid you in your investigation of the murder here in Narwell, although I had originally planned to come to help with the 'curse' in The Downs, I decided to come now."
Dristarian looked from person to person (and goblin), waiting for a reply. "I have been previously informed by Gleeb Wert of the situation that the Downs are in and I volunteered to come and help"
Cassandra looked him up and down, "Doubt he has a pocket worth, oh, er, glad to meet you. These are the other Seekers, Lwcynda the Cleric, and my good friend Andremar, the greatest abjurer in these parts."
Dristarian could see the beautiful cleric in her flowing blue robes, her bright blue eyes, long black hair, and Andremar, in his robes, and tall pointy hat, slightly floppy, with stars and moons adorning it, a timepiece of sorts strapped to his wrist.
Runt the Goblin spoke, "Heem must beee good, him help Pirvan. Me like heem."
Cassandra allowed time for hello's then asked, "Now, where to. Oh, Andremar, what time is it?"
The mage consulted his sundial/hourglass. "Um, it's about, er, noon, I , er, guess."
"OK," said Cassandra, "still plenty of time left in this day. And, no doubt, plenty of others to bump into. So where shall we go now, and what will we do there?"
Drist looked to Cassandra, "Maybe we should ask some of the friends of Callery if he had any enemies and the such. That might give us a clue to who murdered him. Also, we might want to find out where the murderer could have gotten the weapon he used to kill Callery."
Cassandra brought Drist up to speed on the progress of their investigation to date, noting, "So far no one person stands out. Seems Callery's new pen nub had just about everyone upset one way or another. And cross bow bolts are a dime a dozen in a town this size."
Thinking for a few minutes, and listening to her growling stomach, Cassandra said. "Let us go back to the Inn. Perhaps some lunch is in order, then we can plan our afternoon. "
Once back at the Inn, Pirvan retired to his room, "Have to talk to Joe."
As the others headed into the dining area, Drist asked, "Who's Joe?"
Andremar answered, "Er, he's a little furry, um, creature, a `hedgehog. Our, ah, bold friend, er has him as, um, a pet."
Over lunch of sparrow sandwich and turnip soup, Cassandra brought up the subject of an itinerary for this afternoon. She said, "The way I see it, we have two leads. That slip of paper which Lwcynda has noted, concerning what we assume to be the Records Office. Then there is Callery's assistant, Jordan. We still mean to question him. So where to first, or whatever?"
Dristarian spoke. "I think we should talk to Jordan. He might have some valuable information about Callery that we could use. He might also know something about that note that Lwcynda has."
Andremar agreed. "True. And uh, we might um, get some uh, some basketball, mmm, basketball tips."
Cassandra looked in askance at the latter part of her friend's remark, "Surprised you'd be pippen' about that."
Lwcynda said, "all right, let's go see Jordan. Now where might we find him?"
Gadral and Mimfred were consulted, directions given, and by mid-afternoon, the Seekers, plus Drist, found themselves back in the shops district, further north than this morning. Here they found rows of what served as rooming houses or apartments. Most of the buildings were made of wood, poorly cared for, having both the potential to fall down, and/or burn up if the wind or a match came along.
"This one," pointed Lwcynda, identifying the number given by Mimfred and Gadral.
Walking up some rickety stairs, splintered and peeling, brought them into a vestibule, through which they progress to a floor with doors every six to eight feet. "Third one on the left."
A gentle, lady-like knock brought no reply. Cassandra, reverting back to her pre-weight loss temperament, gave the door a solid pounding. Shortly there was heard a squeaking of floorboards, followed by the sound of a lock being turned. The door opened six inches. A mopped head of brown hair, sleepy droopy eyes, looked out . "Yes?" a rather soft voice asked.
Cassandra spoke. "We have been hired by the Town council of Narwell to look into the circumstances of the death of your former employer Callery Frickard. Since you worked for him, we have come to make inquiries of you regarding him. May we come in?"
The boy stood silent, as if he did not hear the question.
"You are Jordan, aren't you?"
At the sound of his name, he flinched. "Yes, I am. I am. Yes, I was Callery's apprentice. Don't know what I'm gonna do now that he's gone. Look into his death? A far sight better than that useless Town Council, I hope." There was a growing firmness and assurance to his voice. "Yes, come in, all of you." He opened the door and moved away from it, "Though I don't know if you all will fit."
Looking in, they could see the tiny apartment. A single room, a mattress with blanket on the floor, a wooden chair, a small table with some crumbs upon it, a few plates and cups, some paper and pens, (quills and nubs), ink, proved to be the extent of Jordan's fortune. He offered his lone chair to his guests.
He sat on the floor near the bed. Dressed in an ink-stained shirt and pants, his fingers sort of blue, he looked up and asked, "So, how can I help you?"
"Uh, we um, we were wondering, uh, did mmm, did you happen to... to notice any unusual uh, behavior in um, in your master in the uh, the days before his death? And uh, what's the um, the significance of the ... the um... the yellow line at Callery's shop?"
Jordan wiped back the hair from his forehead and looked quizzically at Andremar. "Yellow line? What yellow line? The only color we ever used was blue, well, indigo really, and we didn't draw no lines with it. We used it fer the ink."
Pausing, hesitating, he continued, "Unusual? Well, he was arriving, er, I mean returning late most days. Like he'd be out when I got there, then come in like, ya' know? Usually he was in the shop each morning when I arrived, but lately, er, I mean, just before he died, no."
Drist said nothing. His suspicious were aroused when Jordan said, "Well, he was arriving, er, I mean returning..." and "Usually he was in the shop each morning when I arrived, but lately, er, I mean, just before he died, no." Drist silently listened to further conversations.
Lwcynda asked Jordan, "Do you know if Callery had any friends? Who would come to visit him at the shop? Did he have any family? Do you know where he came from or did he always live here? Did you ever overhear anyone threaten him? What kind of work did you do for him?"
Jordan thought before answering. "Friends? Until he came up with that metal nub, everyone was his friends. Can't think of anyone who didn't like Callery, or with whom he ever had a dispute. Now as fer family, I don't know for sure. I don't think he had any relatives, least not around here. Never heard him talk of any. I assume he was from Narwell; never had any reason to question him on that one. Now, me, I was his apprentice, so I did a little bit of everything. Cleaned up, ran errands, helped him with feathers, mix inks, you know, just about every aspect of the job, I had a small hand in. He thought I had promise, he did. And with the metal nub, his business could have taken a major step forward, and I could have gone with him." He paused to compose himself. "Now, he's gone, and I'm just an out of work apprentice to no one."
Lwcynda took a breath, waited for answers, before, naturally, she thought of more questions.
Cassandra sat off to the side, allowing the cleric to be her usual curious self, "Never know what she might find out," she mused to Dristarian.
"So, in other words, we still don't know much about Callery. He had no family here and no real enemies until he invented this 'nub.' We don't know where he went on his excursions and we don't know what this slip of paper means. Looks like we are getting no where in this investigation. Maybe after we go to the records office we should go talk to those opposed to this 'nub'. Sorry, but I'm at a loss as to what to do here anymore. Obviously we aren't asking the right people the right questions."
Cassandra interjected, "Actually, by eliminating possibilities we could be narrowing the field."
Lwcynda turned to Jordan and asked "Who in this town sells or uses yellow paint? Would you have any idea what this paper means?" She showed Jordan the paper with Records 9-12 written on it.
Drist thought for a moment. "Maybe we'll find out something at the Records Office. I suggest we get over there."
Jordan took the paper. "Yes, that would probably be a place to look. From what little Callery said, it was to the Records Office that he was going on those mornings."
Lwcynda turned to her companions and asks "Do any of you have other ideas?"
Since there were no other suggestions forthcoming, they got directions to the Records Office from Jordan and prepared to leave. Lwcynda put something in Jordan's hand. "For your troubles, those you've had, those we've caused, and those you'll face. Have faith."
The Seekers made their way to the Records Office. The sign outside read,
As it was about 3 PM, there wasn't much more to be done here on this day, so they returned to the Inn, where they enjoyed a restful afternoon, an delicious supper, wild boar with chestnut sauce, and a good night's sleep.
The Seekers had to wait a day, because, the 21st was Freeday, a day of no work.
But the next day, Starday, the Records Office, located along a main east to west street, about a quarter mile from the Inn, was quickly returned to. The Seekers entered the premises, found themselves in a small room with a few wooden chairs. Behind a highly polish mahogany counter sat a reasonably dressed fellow, who looked up as they entered. The counter had a flap in it. Behind the man, there was a door labeled, "Public Records."
The man seemed a bit surprised by the presence or size of the party. "May I help you?"
Cassandra said, "Yes, you may. We are the Seekers and we are seeking the truth in the case of Callery Frickard."
"You too?" the man asked.
"Too?" Responded Cassandra.
"Yes, some others..., er, here they are." He looked beyond the Seekers as the main door opened and in walked the members of the Committee for Public Recriminations.
Janet Morellian spoke. "The Committee. I believe we have a 9 o'clock appointment, Mr. Fillerman."
The clerk agreed, "Right you are. Right this way." So saying, he lifted the flap in his counter and allowed them through.
"Wait a minute," protested Cassandra. "We were here first"
The last of the Committee, Silas. looked back over his shoulder, "That may well be, but George doesn't let anyone in without an appointment." He gave the rogue a sly smile, as he and the others disappeared behind the far door.
Moments later, George Fillerman emerged. "Sorry for the interruption. Now, how may I help you?"
Cassandra debated using her dagger, then thought the better of it. "We'd like to make an appointment."
Fillerman checked his log book, mumbling absentmindedly, "Hmm, let me see. No, no, ahhh. Here we go. How about 10 o'clock? Only an hour to wait."
Cassandra agreed and took a seat. "An hour. Should have brought my novel with me." In lieu of that, she took out a dagger and a whetstone and began lovingly sharpening the blade, occasionally glancing at George.
Drist sat down and also began sharpening both of his knives subconsciously. While still sharpening them, he pulled a small book out of his bag and began reading, every now and then, checking the blades.
Cassandra did her best to read along with Drist, being sure to not show interest. Each time he glanced up, her eyes were on her whet stone.
Andremar wondered if it would be indiscreet/impossible to somehow have a listen in to the conversation behind the door??? Perhaps a slight distraction may serve to allow someone to get closer.
He looked about for other doors, but saw only the one behind Fillerman, the one through which the committee members had passed.
Lwcynda thought for a moment and then nods at Andremar, as if reading his thoughts. She got up from her seat, walked over to Fillerman. In a quiet voice she began, "Well Mr. Fillerman, I see you are in authority here. You must indeed be a very trustworthy and important man to be in charge of all the city records." She smiled her most perfect smile at him and then continued .
Fillerman looked into the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen.
Lwcynda continued. "Tell me, how long have you been working at such an important job? You must be very knowledgeable about the workings of this city!" She waited a moment.
Fillerman nodded modestly. "Not much I don't know," he agreed.
"Being such an important person you must know everyone so please take no offense when I ask if you knew Callery Frickard very well. I understand that he often came here to see you and look at the records." She smiled again. "Perhaps you might tell me what it was that you and Callery talked about and what he was interested in researching here in the records office. I would love to hear what you have to say."
Fillerman was enthralled. "Yes, I remember Callery's visits. He came in quite often in the weeks before his death. Got here bright and early each day. Very diligent researcher. Spent his time in the births, marriages and deaths section . My guess is he was compiling a record of his family tree."
Lwcynda continued to speak quietly to Mr. Fillerman in an attempt to distract him. Finally, she tossed the bait. "Mr. Fillerman I am a little lost in this fair town. There is a building I was wondering about. If you would just come to the door with me for a moment I will point it out to you and perhaps you can enlighten me as to what it is. Please"
Fillerman was hooked. He glanced behind him for a moment, seeing that no commotion was coming from the rear room, he opened the flap and went to the doorway where he followed Lwcynda's gaze. "Now which building is it," he asked.
Cassandra, enthralled in Drist's book, did not budge. That is until Andremar's elbow found her ribs. Seizing the moment, she crept low, around the desk, and near the door. She listened as best she could, till she heard Lwcynda's voice, "Well, thank you, Mr. Fillerman. You have been very helpful. VERY helpful indeed." The wily thief made her way back.
Lwcynda and her new found paramour made their way back into the shop. Fillerman returned behind his counter. Cassandra whispered that only her friends could here. "They said something about wills and leases."
Before Lwcynda sat down she asked Fillerman, "How much longer before we can consult your records, kind Sir?"
"Not much longer. They should be finished soon, " he answered with a smile.
She sat down and waited.
Cassandra spoke. "By the way, Mr. Fillerman. My companions and I were wondering, did Callery file a will here?"
Fillerman replied that Callery had died "intestate, er, that is, without a will."
Left to ponder this, till the ever curious Lwcynda asked, "Tell me, Mr. Fillerman. Do you recall anyone else making regular trips here to consult the records. I mean, in the way that Callery did. Perhaps looking at the things which Callery did?"
Fillerman pondered this. "Maybe. I'll have to check my records. Oh," turning at the sound of the Committee members emerging from the back room, "find what you were looking for?" But their faces remained stone cold, giving no hint at to what they did or did not find. They left, casting smug smiles at the Seekers.
Fillerman turned his attention back to the Seekers. "Your turn. While you're in there, I'll check my logs, now that you mention it...."
He led the party into the back room. The room was a mass of papers, scrolls, and large tomes all organized on thick wooden shelves. Fillerman checked to make certain that the Committee had returned everything to the proper shelves. The shelves are clearly labeled by subject matter, `Wills', for instance.
"You should be able to find anything you need. Call me if you need help," Fillerman said as he left the Seekers to their task.
Cassandra said, "Guess `Wills' are out. Who wants to look where?"
Drist looked around the room, acknowledging and memorizing all of the labels. "Hmmm... maybe we should look for some kind of profile about everything Callery made and when he made it, although I don't know how that would help too much. We could also look for something about Jordan."
The Young elf walked over to one of the selves and started aimlessly looking though some scrolls, finding nothing useful. "This could take hours." Drist said, while looking at a scroll under the label "store owners"
There he found the lease on #3 Mercantile Street, the address of Callery's shop. It was a `freehold property,' meaning that Frickard was the sole owner. Jordan's name did not appear on the paper.
Lwcynda says, "Well Mr.Fillerman said something about Callery looking into the birth, marriage and death records as if he was compiling his family tree. Why don't we each take a section and try to see who his relatives are or were. Maybe we can figure out why he was interested in this. Maybe he was looking for a relative to help him with his new invention."
"What do you say? Anyone else have any ideas?"
"Now that you mention it, Lwcynda, I do have and idea. I'm not much for reading, so while you all check out what's here, I'll pop out and follow those Committee members. Don't like the way they looked at us. They may be on to something. Just want to see where they're heading. Meet you all back here in one hour." And with that, the dark clad rogue took her leave.
Drist put down the scroll and looked up. "I think you're right, Lwcynda. I'll look into the "birth" section." Drist walked over to a shelf and started looking through the records, hoping to find someone with the last name of "Frickard".
With Cassandra on her way, Andremar, Lwcynda and Drist began the laborious task of trying to follow Callery's tree. Runt amused himself unraveling scrolls and letting them roll back up. Time marched on.
An hour passed, and Cassandra returned. "Well that was a waist of time. Followed them, as they returned to each other's place of business, dropping one off each time. Retraced my steps, and they were still where they were left, so either they are incredibly shifty, or they just went back to work. How are things going here?"
Told what the others had searching for, and after Lwcynda pointed out what the name `Frickard' looked like, she joined in the hunt. Gradually, slowly, painstakingly, they traced Callery back four generations, to his great grand parents, from which the records went back no further.
Cassandra was ready to give up, but Lwcynda and Drist continued, now following a distant branch of the tree back down to the present.
"Look here," said Drist. He pointed proudly to a dead end line. "there are four names on this line. Two are dead, one is `emigrated', but this one, a `Donald Coldwater,' is apparently still alive and, I guess around here somewhere."
"Hmmm... shall we, uh, pay him a visit? I suppose a um, well, something like a uh, mmm address book wouldn't uh, well, there wouldn't be one at uh, at Callery's place?"
Otherwise, Andremar suggested, "We, um, enforce FOI, and, er, seek the, ah, address via records."
Cassandra turned up an eyebrow, "FOI?"
"Yes, er, Freedom of, um, Information. And, uh, if we tossed the name at um, at uh, well, should we mention the name to some errr... mmm, well some locals, perhaps we may find uh, we might discover if he's anything but an uh, ordinary citizen?"
"Well," countered the rogue, "FYI, NTSS."
A check of the address records turned up the listing "Donald Coldwater: #1 Colton Close."
Lwcynda said, "Well, that's something to work with. Callery seemed to own his shop and didn't leave a will. Of course maybe he was trying to find out who he could leave his shop to by tracing his family tree. Now if this guy Coldwater is a distant relative maybe he would have inherited the shop. Now that we know he lives in this town, let's ask Mr. Fillerman if he's ever heard of him. Maybe we should pay him a visit."
Drist rolled up the scroll and put it back. "I agree with Andremar, I'm sure at least SOME of the locals must know who and where he is." Drist walked out into the waiting room where Mr. Fillerman was. He and Runt took up a position near the front door, waiting for Lwcynda to finish with her questions.
Lwcynda will asked Mr. Fillerman "Do you know of a Donald Coldwater?"
Fillerman thought on this one for a while, "The name is vaguely familiar."
Lwcynda added the address, "The records say he lives at #1 Colton Close."
"Yes, Colton Close, now there's a mistake if ever there were one."
"What do you mean?"
Fillerman explained. "Colton Close was designed by former, and late, Councilor Colton. He envisaged a tight knit community setting, where a neighbor's help was just a door away. It might have worked, too, if that area of Narwell had any covered drains or sewers. Out regular street pattern allows for drainage. Colton Close, by contrast, is a septic tank with doors looking into it. The central squared trapped rubbish and dirty water, making the Close a slum where disease and premature death have become commonplace. Only the very dregs of town life live there now, and only because they have no means of escape."
"Sound charming," said Cassandra.
Fillerman was not amused. "Now that you refresh my memory, that Coldwater fellow has been in here. Maybe a month or two ago. Let me check." He opened the ledger and went back, page by page till ... "Here it is. Back in Reaping, two months ago. He looked at the births and deaths, according to my records at least."
Lwcynda then asked. "If a person dies without a will what happens to their property, money, belongings etc.?"
Fillerman said, "That's an easy one. Anyone dies without a will, a genealogical search is done, and everything he has is turned over to the nearest relative. Now, if there is no relative, or he cannot be contacted after a year's search and notice, the property reverts to the town."
After getting directions to the area known as Colton Close, "Head north along the central street, then turn left, west, till you reach the far corner of Narwell. Can't really miss it. The smell gives it away, " the party, Andremar, Cassandra, Drist, Lwcynda, and, of course Runt, were on their way.
Runt, who had heard the description of this district, was very enthusiastic about what might be found there. Gonna smeel jest like home, I bet!" The others were not as keen, but .....
Twenty minutes walking brought them to the aromas they sought. They saw a circular pattern of houses, with streets forming the spokes of wagon wheels all leading to a lowered center of this area.
"Sure can see, um, the problem they, er, have with drainage."
As they made their way down one of the roads, the mud began to suck away at the footgear, and piles of refuse, garbage and human, er, droppings, littered the road and its sides.
"Not a nice place to visit, nor would I want to live there," said Cassandra.
Finally they reached the central area where the problems of mud, water, and garbage amplified. "There," pointed Drist with some relief, "#1 is right there."
There were six houses in this inner ring. Only the number, a metal plate, distinguished this house from any of the others. They were all one story, with front and back doors, one window in the front, about 15' wide and 20' long, fading gray wood. The front lawn was mud. No obvious signs of life were about.
Andremar suggested, "Maybe we uh, should wade up to Donald's neighbors place, #2, and knock... we might glean some, um, information if we claim to be looking for, er, Donald Coldwater."...
Lwcynda answered. "All right Andremar, that sounds like a good idea. Maybe we can learn something about him. Also we should check with Callery's neighbors. Maybe Coldwater paid Callery a visit if he discovered that he was related to him."
Drist walked eagerly towards the door with "#2" above it. "Well, what are we waiting for, then?" Drist reached the door quickly and waited for the others before knocking.
Cassandra yielded to her friends' expertise with questions and took up a position eyeing Coldwater's house. The others risked further sickness by making their way across the lawn of #2 Colton Close.
`Knock, knock, knock.' ..... `thump, thump, thump, thump,'-- `creak,' the door opened about a foot, a gray haired old lady stuck her head out. Her face was full and bulbous, her voice was soft. "Yes?"
"Hello. I am Lwcynda, and this is Andremar. That's Drist and Runt."
"Please to meet you all, but I already gave on All Hollow's Eve."
"No, er, Miss, um, Mam, you don't understand. We, uh, are looking for, um, someone."
"Well, their are four of you already. Do you really need more?"
"No, not any someone. Does a Donald Coldwater live around here?"
At this her face stiffened and she shut the door to a narrow gap. "That lunatic!" her voice, no longer soft, spat out, "he's my neighbor. What a nasty, sick individual. Throwing his filthy garbage all over the place, messing up my nice lawn. Him and his rotten, smelly hounds, always doing their business on my nice lawn. He lives over there!" pointing to #1 Colton Close, and then she shut the door completely. A series of bolts slammed home.
The four made their way back to Cassandra, who reported seeing no movement from #I Colton Close.
"Sounds like a real fun guy. Guess we go see him, unless you want to try another neighbor?" Said Lwcynda.
Drist looked towards #1 Colton Close. "I guess we should probably go to Coldwater's house now. Although we could go back to some of Callery's neighbors and talk to them, then come back here after." The elf coughed loudly, for the fumes were starting to bother him.
"Knock knock, " replied Andremar, as he headed for #1 Colton Close.
Cassandra followed along. "These people give me the creeps. And this district may well give us all the plague."
The mage knocked boldly on the front door of #1 Colton Close. "Knock, Knock," ... "Grrrrrrr, Grrrrrr," "squeak,"...."Woof, Woof, Ruff, Ruffff" ...
Over the growing growling, howling racket, Cassandra said, "Hey, I think I see-"
Before she could finish, a "Phizzt" was heard coming through the front wall. A bow bolt emerged narrowly missing Andremar.
"At least we know someone's home," said Cassandra.
"Uh, mmm... well, he's either, uh, trying to intimidate us, or.. or, he's a bad shot.... I'll ah, uh, mmm I'll assume the former..."
Andremar tired to think of something reassuring to say along the lines of "We bring you money".
"Oh dear, guess he really isn't a nice man."
"So his neighbor said," reminded Cassandra.
Lwcynda tried, "Oh Mr. Coldwater, we are only here to speak with you, not to hurt you." And as my friend says, we are willing to pay for a conversation with you."
Finally Andremar said, "We, er, bring you, um. money."
Lwcynda added, "As my friend says, we are willing to pay for a conversation with you." Lwcynda prepared a hold person spell in case she needed it.
Drist waited to see the reaction of Coldwater from what has already been said by the others.
A few moments of silence passed. Then the front door opened, far enough to see the teeth of a snarling black dog, about knee high, protruding, snarling, salivating, yet being restrained. Then, half a face, weathered, haggard, dark hair, peered around. A sharp voice said, "Money. Money? Why would you four, er, five counting that scummy green thing, be bringing the likes a me money?"
Drist stepped forward. "I am Dristarian, they..." Points to the rest of the group"...are Cassandra, Lwcynda, Andremar, and Runt. We need to ask you some questions concerning one of you relatives, Callery Frickard."
There was a slight pause, then, with the door open a tad wider, the dog pulled back slightly, "Callery Frickard? One of _my_relatives? I thought you said this had to do with money."
"It does, as long as you answer our questions." Drist shook his money pouch casually to add a bit more affect to the offer.
The man hesitated, then took a long look at the money pouch, fascinated by the sound the elf was making. The dog was told to "Sit."
To the elf he said slowly, "Well, I suppose a few questions is worth some of my time. How much are we talking, and what is it that you want to know."
Cassandra moved off to the side, the side from which the door was being opened, looking at the ground kicking nothing with her boot, as if she noticed something there. From this angle, she was able to take a quick peek inside.
Drist held a quick conference with the rest of the group. "How much should we give him?"
Lwcynda said to Drist "Well I'm not sure but these people seem really poor -- maybe 5 gold pieces would be a good amount, or is that too much?"
Cassandra took part in the huddle. "From what I could see, he's not got much in there, `cept another dog. Five should be good."
Since Drist had begun the negotiations, he carefully counted out five golds, and turned back to the man. "We offer you five pieces of gold."
The man was now fully visible, as he had craned his neck to try for a glimpse of the pro-offered booty. He stood about 5' 8" hunched over as he was, wearing dark gray pants and cloak. His face wore lines of age, with bushy gray eyebrows. He spoke slowly and pointedly. "Five golds. .... Five golds .... All right, five golds then. So what is it I might know that is worth five golds?" The black dog sat at his side, watching the transaction.
Drist took a deep breath and said "Well, first of all we need to know if you know anything about Callery Frickard, who we discovered is related to you. He was murdered a short while ago." Drist looked to the rest of the group, hoping that some of them have some good questions.
The man at the door hesitated, then, "To me? This Callery, er, Fricker was related to me?" His eyes began to look around. He took a quick glance back into his house. The dog at his side rose to all four paws and began a low growl. "Er, why would I, ah know anything about this fellow." A second dog, also growling, appeared at his side. "No, I don't think I ever even heard of him." Both dogs bared their teeth.
Perhaps because the man was speaking in a manner Andremar could appreciate, or perhaps because it was he who had elicited the cause of death from Mimfred and Gadral, it was the mage who remembered, and noted softly to his comrades, "Wasn't Callery, er, killed, by a, um, arrow-a bolt, er, I, ah, believe?"
Drist remembered the bolt that had been shot at Andremar when they first got here and then thought of how Coldwater hesitated when Drist asked about Callery and also how the dogs were preparing to attack after the mention of Callery. Drist compared the evidence and came to a conclusion. He whispered quietly to the rest of the group, "I think we might have our murderer here. I mean, notice how him and his dogs are acting now that I've mentioned Callery. What I'm worried about is what if he IS the murderer. What will we do about the dogs if they attack us?"
Cassandra began moving off to the right, hands moving towards her weapons, saying, "Don't believe `if' is the operative word here." It was obvious she was prepared to defend herself.
Lwcynda took a more forceful tact. "Well Mr. Coldwater, we have reason to believe that you did indeed know that you are related to Callery Frickard. Now if you would just come along with us we might be able to clear up any misunderstandings. You can leave your pets here." Somewhere she recalled that he had been seen at the Records Office. In case this forced the man's hand, she prepared a hold person.
To Cassandra she said, "Can you find that bolt he shot at us? We can compare it to the one that killed Callery and see if they are the same." Cassandra kept her concentration on the man for now.
Then, as the man had done little as yet, "So Please Mr. Coldwater, this won't take long and we can settle this whole matter."
Drist agreed and slowly moved his hand towards his long sword while trying to talk casually to Coldwater, "So your SURE you've never even heard about Callery? You must have heard something, even in this part of town." Drist recalled the info gained at the Records office. All while he was talking to Coldwater, he prepared to draw his longsword, and bow and arrow if necessary. Drist looked towards Andremar and Lwcynda, hoping that they were ready with spells.
It happened quickly, but no one seemed surprised. In fact, there was a sense of relief as ....
The man's right hand, the one that had been carefully concealed behind the door, came up revealing a loaded crossbow which he fired at Drist, hitting him in the left thigh. The dogs made a rush for Cassandra. She had time to fling a dagger at one of the onrushing animals, hitting it squarely in the chest. Just as the beast made their leap for the rogue's throat, her partner's sleep spell sent them to dreamland. The man was shutting the door in obvious retreat when Lwcynda's hold reached him, transforming him into a interior room ornament for the time being.
Cassandra took out her nylon rope and began to gently hog tie the hounds, i. e., truss three legs together, to prevent them from further activity. She removed her dagger from the injured one's chest. "It'll live," she declared.
Then she said thoughtfully, "Hope this guy is really Coldwater."
"Shall we uh, haul him, uh, haul him around to our um, our helpful neighbor???" said Andremar, "seems the easiest, er, way..."
Cassandra way relieved to hear the sound of her friends voice.
By now Runt had recovered from his `jog' and had found the bolt which had been fired earlier. "Me hurry find thees. Me mees big fight?" he said quite innocently.
Lwcynda looked around and first said to Drist, "I can heal you if you wish." She bound his wound and used her healing proficiency to ease the sting.
Then she said, "Good job Runt. I think I will adopt you. You can run with me every morning and we can thank Mayaheine for her good graces. What say you Runt? I have room in my cottage and would love for you to be a member of my household. You have proven yourself to be a trusted companion and I would like your company. So again, what do you say?" She blinked those crystal blue eyes at the 'runt'.
His green skin almost turned white. "Sure, mee goood runner. Meee like running." A huge smile crossed his face.
"Now that we have this somewhat under control we must believe that Mr. Coldwater was not a very nice man and he seemed to be lying to us. I think, since we are here, we should search this place and maybe we shall find some incriminating evidence that proves he knew that he was related to Callery -- maybe birth or death records or a family tree since he was seen at the Record Department. What do you all say -- shall we look around?"
She looked at her companions hoping they would agree. They did.
Before the hold wore off, the man was trussed up. The cross bow and his long sword, which he had not had a chance to get to, were both confiscated. Cassandra suggested that Drist take charge of the two dogs for now, "since you obviously know something about animals. Wouldn't mind keeping one of them as a pet, if we could get `em to calm down." Drist saw to carefully waking the dogs, then tethered them along the side of the house. "Keep an eye on them, Runt."
"OK, mee do. In fact, mee keep both eyes on dem."
The four entered the house. There were but two rooms. This first was a living room sparsely furnished with a worn sofa, small table, writing desk and chair, and a tattered brown rug. Cassandra made a quick scan, then headed to the rear room and poked her head in. "Kitchen, not much of note `cept a back door. Good thing he did not get out it. Chasing him through the muck and mud woulda been fun."
By now the captive was unheld. "Hey! What's the meaning of this? I demand you release me. I was merely defending my home against a band of intruders and wham! here I am. Let me go, I say. Let me go."
Lwcynda tried to calm the situation. "For the record, Sir, you are Donald Coldwater, are you not?"
"Yes, I am," he answered brusquely, "but there's no crime in that, now is there? What have I done to deserve this? I didn't even know this Firckard guy, much less that he's my distant cousin--"
All eyes turned at this phrase. He wondered aloud, "What? Now what?"
Andremar had neared the desk, preparing to give it a look through, "Who, er, exactly said anything, um, about, a distant, er cousin?"
Drist added, "That's right, all I said was `related to you.' I never said how. In fact, till this moment I didn't even realize how."
The subtlety of this was lost on Lwcynda, but she knew enough to trust Andremar's intelligence.
Coldwater covered. "Distant cousin, aunt's nephew, niece, once removed, what's the difference. I never knew the man."
Andremar proceed to search the desk. "If you never, um, knew the man, how come, er, you have, ah, this?" he asked holding up a parchment. Coldwater's face turned ashen as he found himself staring into a genealogical table, very similar to the one the Seekers had been able to draw up from their own research. "And, um, this. He held a second paper on which was drawn a large square with a series of smaller rectangles drawn within. It was labeled "#3 Mercantile Street: proposed changes."
By now Cassandra had moved to the desk, 'just in case there's something else.' "And in this drawer we have some metal-nibbed pens, and some yellow chalk."
Coldwater fell silent. Then, "This is an illegal search. You have no warrant. I haven't been read my rights. I want a lawyer."
None of this made any sense to the Seekers, but Coldwater seemed to hold store in it.
Suddenly footsteps could be heard sloughing neared. Then, "Ah, so here you are, harassing an innocent member of our community," said Silas Philbin, of the Committee for Public Recriminations.
"Yes, and robbing him to," added Janet Morellian, who was staring at the stuff in Cassandra's hands.
"And cruelty to animals," said Karl Geldimple, "cause whoever left them dogs out there, under control of a goblin, is breaking a city ordinance."
Cassandra tried, "Stealing? We're not stealing, we foun---"
But just then. "Ah hah! So here you are," said Gadral, "chasing after the Council's hired investigators."
"Yes," added Mimfred, "but why is everyone down here in this horrible section of the city."
"Hey, I'm the victim here. I know my rights. Untie me. This is my house. Let me go, I say, let me go!"
Drist coughed and tried to get out of this situation by saying, "Hold on a minute, we've just discovered who murdered Callery Frickard," pointing to Coldwater, "and we were searching his house for more proof."
This managed to bring a momentary calm to the proceedings.
"Him?" asked Gadral.
"The murderer?" stammered Mimfred.
"Who _is_ he?" they both demanded.
Drist took one of the parchments, the one with the genealogical family tree on it, and showed it to them. Then he continued, "When we were talking to him, he said that he had never heard of Callery, he then had his dogs attack us while he pulled out a crossbow and shot me. After we had him tied up, we searched his house for proof that he DID, in fact, know about Callery. We then found this parchment here, and this PROVES that he, Donald Coldwater, lied to us, and that he DID kill Callery!" Drist took a breath and waited for their reaction to the things he said.
The four members of the Committee and Gadral and Mimfred looked over the parchment, then over at Coldwater. An argument ensued, the gist of which was, "Just because he knew him, and seemed to be a distant relative, doesn't mean he killed anyone."
"But what about the crossbow?" pursued Cassandra.
"Er, yes, one was the, um, murder weapon."
"And he shot me," Drist reiterated.
Lwcynda jumped in. "Please calm down everyone. As I recall we were hired to discover the truth about Callery Frickard's death and we had the sanction of the Council to investigate. Well, that's exactly what we have been doing. We now have proof, as my companion has just said, that this man, Mr. Coldwater, indeed killed Callery. Not only do we have proof of his relation to Callery, but we also have evidence that he was at Callery's home. Look we have the yellow chalk used to draw those lines in Callery's house. We have taken one of his arrow bolts to compare with the one that killed Callery. We are sure that they will be identical. And in his drawer he has some of Callery's nibs or nubs or whatever they are called. We should now be allowed to present our evidence to the Council. I am also sure that if we speak with some of Callery's neighbors we will likely find someone saw this man enter or leave Callery's place sometime within the last month. Also, this man did attack us without provocation. We just wanted to speak with him and he shot at us with his crossbow."
The second piece of evidence was examined, and now six sets of eyes looked at Coldwater, still tied up on his couch. Cold, hard eyes looked in obvious disapproval, as the weight of the evidence dangled like a noose around his neck.
Finally Coldwater broke the silence. "You, you four do-gooders. You make me sick. You want the truth, well, you can't handle the truth. Sure I killed Callery. He didn't even know who I was, that I was even his relative. Shot with that bow. That's right I confess. Wanted his shop for my own. Was gonna turn it into apartments. Make some money, get out of this smelly stinky neighborhood. And, I would a got away with it, if it hadn't been for you four, ....., "
"And meee," burst Runt.
"And that mangy Goblin."
"Ruff, ruff," sounded Drist's dog.
"And a pup named Rukh," smiled Drist petting the dog and giving him a Rukhbie snack! At which point everyone laughed heartily.
Mimfred and Gadral took the prisoner into custody, along with the parchments, the bow and Coldwater's other weapons.
Cassandra asked, "What about his dogs?"
"We don't have a pound around here. Guess they'll have to fend for themselves."
"Any objection to our taking them?" There was none. She said to Drist, "You'll help me train `em, won't you?"
Mimfred and Gadral informed the Seekers that the standard parctice in Narwell was that a hearing would be held, "probably tomorrow at mid-morning, the 23rd of Reaping," and that they would be required to testify as to the finding of the documents. "But with all we have, and with Coldwater's admission, it is just a formality. Cousre, you'll all still be put up in the Two Castles Inn for at least three more nights. And feel free to visit our fair city, now that you have time to enjoy yourselves."
Cassandra said, "So to make sure we all understand, we're free to visit the city, just have to be, where exactly, at mid-morning on the 23rd?"
Mimfred said, "At the Baron's Keep. We'll come and get you."
Gadral added, "Yes, Baron Justin, also known as Lord Blaine, will hear the proceedings. "
"And then we get our reward?" she continued.
"Yes, that is the correct procedure. By the 24th, Moonday, this will be all wrapped up, you'll have what was promised you, and be on your way."
So, the Seekers found themselves with some time on their hands.
"What to do? What to do," mused Cassandra, as she flexed her fingers, then rolled a coin from each to the next, hand to hand, grinning ear to ear. "Maybe I'll pick, er, meet some of the locals."
Drist smiled at Cassandra, realizing what she meant, then petted Rukh. "Well, I plan to spend these days relaxing, maybe go bye some supplies I might need later on." Drist then bent down and took some rope from his bag to make a temporary leash of some sort for Rukh. While tying the rope he said, "If I'm correct, we are going to the Welkwood forest next, or did we have to go to that other town in The Downs first?"
Cassandra followed Drist's example, using her cord to make control leashes for the other two dogs. "Gonna have to come up with some names." Then, upon hearing Drist's question, "Yes, we are very likely off to the Welkwood. I figure we'll head back to Chatwin, you know, check up on things, dust the house, that sort of stuff."
"Like, er, you ever do, um, the dusting."
"And then we'll check in with those elves. There were three of them, as I recall, but can't say that I remember their names. Then, I guess we'll go where they suggest."
Lwcynda added, "I too wish to return to Chatwin. Have to teach Runt a thing or two before we head out again. And, I do believe I must put in some time worshipping. Haven't taken a good run in some time."
AT the hearing, in superior court, part 45, Baron Justin, Lord Blaine, presiding, Donald Coldwater was found guilty for the murder of Callery Frickard. The disposition of Callery Frickard's shop and his metal nubbed pen was left hanging for the time being. The Seekers were commended for the actions in the mattter, and given their promised reward. The spent the next couple of days visitng the big city of Narwell, at the Council's expense.
Lwcynda visited bookstores where she purchased books relating to cooking and diction. She was determined to teach Runt, now going by his goblin name Gork, to speak properly and learn gourmet cooking. Well, she did get Cassandra to shed twenty pounds, so... . She dragged the little guy out each morning for a run, or more of a puff and puke, as far as he was concerned.
Andremar decided to have a good look about the town, sampled some local ales, and look for his dream woman. He found a few, who were entirely interested in a shrimp like himself. He gave them all his phone, fax, and email, and promised to `keep in touch.'
He also found appropiate location to bang off a few practice magic missiles. He was aided in this endeavor by Lacey Signal, proprietor of the Golden Wand, the best magic shop this side of Dyvers or Greyhawk. Lacey had a field on the outskits of the city set aside for just such a purpose. By the time they were done, Andremar had mastered the color missile, a cross between a magic missile and a color spray. "Just wait, er, till I can, um cast three of these, ah, babies," says he.
"Don't know if the trees can take it," said Cassie.
Drist worked with the dogs, teaching the two new ones their new names, as selected by Cassandra, `Heckel and Jeckel' Go figure.
For her part Cassandra `just hung out,' `did nothing' or `just picked up a few things'- mostly after dark.
Just as the Seekers were getting ready to leave Narwell and head back to Chatwin, they heard that Jordan would be taking over Callery's shop.
"Wonder where he, um, got the, er, money for the, um, down payment?"
"Guess he just picked it up some where," Cassandra suggested.
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