28 March 1686 of the 6th Era, Whimsyshire village, Enua

  Once Antony and Charlotte were outside and in a place where they weren’t visible from any of the windows, Antony stretched, trying not to strain his muscles in the process. While the cottage Mrs Greeves resided in was perfectly human-sized, its traditionally low ceilings still gave Antony trouble. He almost hit his head on one of the doorframes on his way out.

  “You’re really not built for farmhouses.”

  “I am beginning to think I am not built for about half of present architecture unless it somehow caters to giants,” Antony grumpily replied, taking out his pocket watch. “If you can stomach another teleport, we might just make it to Lord Welz’s solicitor before the end of business hours.”

  “Actually, I’d prefer to announce the visit properly first. From my experience, people of his profession love order above all, and he might be just a tad more talkative if we show him proper respect,” she lifted her skirt slightly as she walked. “However, a teleport somewhere that’s not all muddy puddles with but a spot or two of solid road would be appreciated.”

  “Tell me about it,” he looked at his shoes with a mixture of pity and regret, then offered her his hand. “I’ll arrange it then. Dear Lady of Magic, I’m supposed to be on vacation, and yet I find myself doing the same things I am used to doing for Andrew.”

  “Ha. And I was hoping I’d be chasing after a thief, not risking my life fighting an incredibly dangerous ghost. Two ghosts, actually, one after the other,” Charlotte answered in kind. “I guess that was to be expected. I tend to end up in places where I am actually most needed.”

  “Life is never fair. The only thing we can do is try to wrap this up as quickly as possible so that we have at least a few days to ourselves,” he took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air. “This visit was worth it, though.”

  “I don’t deny that, but I cannot say that it made things clearer. If anything, I feel more confused than before.”

  Antony nodded. They walked down the winding garden path, past the neat flower beds with barely a leaf protruding from the soil, and towards the low wooden gate with a peacock of all things carved in the middle of it. In just a few weeks, this place would probably resemble one of those illustrations urging people to buy property in the countryside to get away from the hustle and bustle of the growing cities. Right now, with the grey skies above their heads hinting at rain and the mud under their feet threatening to ruin their clothes, the surroundings looked incredibly dull. Almost depressing.

  “I guess we can discard our theory that Lord Welz brought the thing from the Eastern Archipelago, unless of course his deployment was not the first time he visited the place,” he continued. “That, or the rules he established in the house have nothing to do with the artefact in question. Sadly that file had little information on the exact nature of the thing, and too bad you were forced to destroy it before it could be properly studied.

  “Honestly, as an expert on the Third Era I find it rather frustrating. It’s not similar to anything I’ve had the chance to handle, and I didn’t recognise it as belonging to any specific family of artefacts. Then I could’ve at least been able to guess at its true nature and initial purpose.”

  “You actually found the time to read it?”

  “I had plenty while you were dealing with Cardinal Whitesand. Perhaps I used a spell or two to stretch it somewhat,” Antony admitted, seeing Charlotte’s distrusting expression. “What I understood from it, the thing is activated by shining light at the stone from a very specific angle. And not just any light, but candlelight arranged in a specific formation. This would explain the candles scattered across Lord Welz’s table. But if he was the one controlling that ghoul, why did it attack him?”

  “We cannot be sure it was Lord Welz controlling it,” Charlotte reasoned. “Nor do we know why he tried to activate the artefact that night, if it was really him. The only thing I’m more or less certain of is that he was indeed meeting someone in the dead of the night.”

  “Someone important enough that Lord Welz put on his morning coat.”

  “But not buttoned it.”

  “How did you…”

  “The way the coat was sticking from under his body. Had it been buttoned at that point, that part would have behaved differently,” Charlotte pointed out. “So while he felt the need to put on his coat, it wasn’t an awfully formal meeting. Also, the puddle of blood was not underneath him, but next to him, and I almost stepped into it if it weren’t for your timely interference.”

  “So either someone adjusted his clothes and moved the body, or Mr Brook lied to us about the state of the crime scene,” Antony reasoned. “Or he simply remembered it wrong due to shock. Not everyday do you see your employer lying on the floor with their head missing. While this is most definitely odd, I’m more intrigued by the conflicting descriptions of the necklace.”

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  “To me it feels less conflicting,” Charlotte stopped, looking for a way to avoid yet another deep puddle. Antony sighed and waved his hand, making the thing evaporate. “Thank you. It could be that they both speak the truth. Just that they saw two completely different pieces of jewellery. Well, one jewel and one artefact disguised as a jewel.”

  “It does make sense. Mrs Greeves said that Lady Welz only wore the necklace once or twice, but never again. She also happens to be the only one in the household who’s worked for long enough to have seen the thing taken out of the safe.

  “Mr Brook, on the other hand, seems to have no interest in all those shiny gemstones. A very practical man. More into science and doing his job as well as possible, though I still cannot believe he wouldn’t invest in a good quill. Even if he wanted to be an alchemist, thirty odd years of experience as a secretary should have taught him a thing or two.”

  “I… actually have a theory about that,” Charlotte said slowly, “but I want to confirm that with Lord Welz’s solicitor before I make any judgement.”

  “I’m intrigued, but I won’t push you further. Either way, it doesn’t seem like Mr Brook and Mrs Greeves interacted much. She is what I would call a professional housekeeper. A bit nosy, perhaps, but who’s without fault. She knows her place, and knows very well that a personal secretary is one step above her. Note how she had nothing specific to say about him.”

  “I noticed that, too,” Charlotte agreed. “Continuing your line of thought, it is wholly possible that Mr Brook saw what he believed was a jewel inside the safe and simply concluded it was the famed family heirloom everyone had been talking about. He cannot distinguish between gold, silver, and platinum. Going by his tone, he wasn’t even sure that the precious stone he saw was a ruby and not something else with a similar colour. Yes, that makes a lot of sense.

  “Obviously if he and Mrs Greeves only interacted with each other when there were some issues needed to be solved, the topic of ‘what did that necklace look like’ never came up.”

  “You know what else is strange?” Antony abruptly stopped as a new thought struck him. “According to the testimonies, the Northern Star was the only piece of jewellery kept in that safe.”

  “You’re right, but while it is incredibly suspicious in this context, knowing what we know, it can be explained logically. Lord Welz is a widower. His only daughter is an adult who moved out of the house over a decade ago, if I understand it correctly, and she refuses to talk to her father due to some argument between him and her husband. What other jewellery would he keep in that safe, apart from a precious heirloom that’s more a relic than something to be worn?”

  “A fair point,” Antony conceded. “So now we need to understand when exactly one necklace turned into another. You think that mysterious Mr Dr’lain could be of help?”

  “He’s as good a chance as any,” she shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe their quarrel is entirely unrelated, who knows. I’ve seen enough deranged souls return from the Eastern Archipelago to last three lifetimes. Either way, before contacting him I’d suggest we talk to Mr Fincke. We already have an appointment with him tomorrow.”

  “I can ask Mr Placek to look into it a bit,” Antony suggested. “We’d need an address, and… We don’t even know if the man is still alive.”

  “It would be prudent to establish that first, yes,” Charlotte chuckled. “I can talk to the departed, but it’s quite a hassle.”

  “Provided the departed has a mouth or happens to be a ghost, I take it, and our killer was very careful to not provide the law enforcement with such an opportunity.”

  “It solidifies my belief that Lord Welz knew him and his spirit would have instantly pointed a finger at him. The murder itself might have been an unfortunate accident, but what followed definitely had some thought put into it.”

  “Apart from framing Mr Brook.”

  “Framing Mr Brook included. Actually…”

  “What is it?”

  “Just a thought for now,” she shook her head.

  “You’re becoming more and more cryptic by the minute.”

  “Sorry, I don’t mean to. I have no evidence to back up this claim, but what if the one who committed the crime knew that Mr Brook was in hot water and would inevitably try to flee?”

  “That’s a bit too far-fetched, no?”

  Charlotte raised her finger, “Why keep Mr Brook alive? Even if we suppose for a moment that what he said is true and he went to bed, the culprit couldn’t be sure that Lord Welz hadn’t told his secretary that there would be a private meeting later in the night. He also couldn’t be sure that Mr Brook didn’t wake up due to the commotion, or because he heard a door open and close somewhere, for example.”

  “For one, there was a snow storm raging outside. Any weird noise would have been attributed to it. Two, the killer wouldn’t have known there was anyone else in the house unless Lord Welz specifically told them so, and that’s even more far-fetched than your assumption. What the culprit could have known was that Lord Welz gave everyone a day off.”

  “You have a point, but…”

  “I’m not trying to dismiss you outright. I suggest we talk to him again,” Antony proposed. “Perhaps he’d be willing to spill a name or two.”

  “You know, I enjoy working with you,” she sighed, raising her head and staring into the vast expanse of the sky, still endless even despite the low clouds. “You don’t put up with my silliness.”

  “I just know the price of a mistake for making a wrong assumption and don’t want you to pay for it. Now shall we? I just remembered there was a lovely coffee house that I wanted to show you.”

  “If the name means there’s coffee to be had, I’m all for it.”

  Antony chuckled, “That’s exactly why.”