62 - What Do We Know

  “Right! Now, down to business,” Jink declared, waving a hand to a passing server and swirling his finger around above the table when he had the man’s attention. The spotted catfolk server nodded and slid through the crowd toward the bar. “What do you know of the baleful hunter you are preparing to hunt?”

  “Not much. All I have is the quest,” Joe replied, sharing the notification with Jink.

  “Well then. As the dedicated locals on hand, it looks like it is up to Onhur’s voice and myself to fill in the gaps.” He nudged Mazsy, sitting at his side, before beginning his exposition. “It began back in Coldrains when the Hunter’s Moon rose a bloody red,” the elf began, only to be interrupted by Joe.

  “It was actually red?” he blurted. On Earth, the full moon in October was also called the Hunter’s Moon. It was the description of color that had caught him off guard.

  “Yes, a terrible omen. We usually hope for an amber moon to suggest a winter without hardship. A red full moon is rarely a good sign, but in autumn, it is particularly ominous.”

  “Sorry to keep derailing your explanation, but does the moon actually change colors here?”

  “Of course. On the three nights of the full moon, it shifts from white to various shades. The vibrancy and hue can give hints to what the coming days hold. There are classes devoted to reading and capitalizing on the full moon’s revelatory rainments.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Joe continued to press. “The whole world can’t get the same prophecy color. Everywhere can’t be having the same problems or good fortune at the same time.”

  “That’s not how it works, Joe,” Mazsy interjected. “The moon was red for us here in Peregrine Bay. That doesn’t mean that it was red everywhere.”

  “It was an icy blue where I was in the north, suggesting a cold winter was coming,” Hah’roo added.

  “Are we good now, sir? Am I free to continue once more?” the verbose rogue inquired, to which Joe responded with a nod. “The reason for the foreboding moon was discovered when a body was found murdered and mutilated in a horrific manner. The woman’s skin had been peeled off and then resewn back around her body. We found out later the ritualist had placed under the freed flesh several dark talismans tied to tufts of bestial hair. An investigation was begun, but the killer had cloaked itself well. The city watch could divine nothing from the corpse or the site.”

  Jink sighed deeply and polished off his drink. Almost as if by magic, the feline server appeared at that moment, delivering another round for everyone. The catman was gone again before Joe managed to express a quick thank you to him.

  “It was far from over,” Jink lamented, scooping up his new beverage as if he had planned the exchange with such flawless timing. Joe looked over his shoulder toward the bar and realized the flamboyant scoundrel might have done exactly that. “Over each of the remaining nights of the full moon, two more such maltreated bodies joined the initial victim. Each found in a different quarter of the city.”

  “Every church was called upon to help find this monster,” the priestess added. “Yet the Hundred Gods could tell us nothing. Whoever is doing these terrible things has a powerful {Mask} ability. Cloaking abilities as powerful as yours and the Night Skinner’s are not unheard of, Joe, but they are not common either. Nothing we did gave us any hint who had done these horrible things.”

  “To remedy this lack of progress, Peregrine Bay hired trackers and mystics of all types. Yet again, not a trace of the killer was uncovered. The city was terrified. More so when the butchery began again on the next full moon. And the one after. Over these last seven nightmarish months, the Night Skinner has claimed twenty-one victims. Traps were laid and failed. The city was packed with troops lent by Eaglespire, and yet the murderer still found a way to enact its diabolic slaughter.”

  “Do you know why it is performing these killings? Maybe there is a clue there?” Joe asked the two locals. Jink answered.

  “Occultists have studied the remains and returned with dire warnings. The killer seeks to ascend beyond the limits of its pattern. It is attempting to become a demigod, a being to rival the great monstrosities of this world.”

  Joe looked from face to face, hoping someone would put that into context for him. Unsurprisingly, it was the huntress who did so. “A demigod is a being free from the intervention of the gods. It is typically as powerful as creatures like archdevils, royal fey, great dragons, primordial demons, elder abominations, and such,” she breathed the dire words before making a query of her own. “Do they have an idea how many more victims it needs to complete its transformation?”

  “Not that I’ve heard,” Mazsy replied.

  “Nor have I,” added Jink. “The best theories I have heard are that Skinner must complete the cycle, finishing a year from whence he began, but even then, the experts admit they are but guessing.”

  “So, then what the heck can I do?” Joe bleated. “You have had the resources of a whole city … whole kingdom… on this for seven months, and yet I’m supposed to be able to just pull the answer out of thin air. … or go to jail. How is this a fair quest?”

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “It is fair because of the quest, not in spite of it, my new felonious friend. You have something that no one else has had so far. You have a direct edict from the One Above to find and stop the Night Skinner. Do you have any idea how much augmentation such a mandate from the Keeper of Fates adds?”

  “That really makes a difference?”

  “Oh, very much so. There is one being that no one can shield themselves from, and that is She Who Guides Us. That impetus in the hand of, say a true oracle, could pierce the cloak of one of Ce’kret’s Master of Masques.”

  “Nobody else has had a quest for the Night Skinner before now?” Joe asked, sliding the dregs of his beer to the side and taking hold of the fresh tankard.

  Mazsy shrugged her shoulders and gave a small head-shake. “If someone had, we surely would have heard of it. That is the kind of news the corner criers would be shouting out at the top of their lungs. The whole city has been praying for something, anything to stop the Night Skinner.”

  “So, should we go see one of Onhur’s diviners now that I have the quest?”

  “You could, but I mentioned a true oracle for a reason. There is one that resides within the city limits though apart from the lives of bay-folk.”

  The kitsune’s ears seemed to perk up as she peered at the elf with a look of dubious astonishment. “The Wellwatcher? She is a myth, Jink.”

  “Are you certain of that, my dear? Not only have I met her, but I have done her a good turn in the past. Not a true favor, but enough to trade an introduction on.” The tricky man leaned closer to the acolyte and asked in an elongated drawl, “Am I not telling the truth.”

  “Oh, my Onhur. You did! You met the Goldscale Naga of Narzan!” Joe and Hah’roo could not help but smile at the teenager’s glow of wonderment. She turned and blinked a few times at them. In a voice so low it was hard to hear over the din of the room, she gasped. “The nagas are one of the first races. Like dragons, they don’t die of old age. The Wellwatcher, if it's the same naga, is older than the coming of people. The stories about her say she is an immensely powerful prophet. You should go, Joe. Even if the quest would help our seers, what it would do for the oracle would be … I can’t even imagine it. She would see everything.”

  “How far is she, Jink,” Hah’roo asked in a voice as severe as a biting wind.

  “Ah, I see you have noted our three watchers,” the elf stated smugly. Before he could add more, he was cut off by the galeling woman.

  “There are five,” the spirit dancer hissed.

  “Really,” Jink trilled. “Good eyes, my dear.”

  “What are you two talking about?” Joe pressed. “There are people watching us?”

  “Yes, but I highly doubt they are here for us collectively, my friend. They are here for you.” The colorful man leaned lazily back in his chair, seemingly nonchalant, but Joe watched his eyes flick about, trying to locate the two men he had missed.

  “Two of them were in Heron’s Reef when we checked in with Azbekt’s people, Joe,” Hah’roo added. “They were working for Duke Amberwroth. It is a fairly safe bet the others are as well.”

  “But I’m protected by the quest, right?”

  “Whatever gave you that ludicrous notion,” Jink scoffed. “The quest opens doors, but it gives you no immunity from vengeance or even plain old mishap. Do not count on it shielding you, son.”

  Turning back to Hah’roo, he replied to her initial question. “It is not a short journey. We will have to cross much of the city. I know several back alley routes that would get us there but the trek would be measured in hours. Now, if you would like, I do have a trick that could get us there quickly and covertly.”

  “Which is?” Joe took the bait and prompted.

  “Hidden behind the buffoonery of classes I presented, one of my true classes is alchemically-based. This means I have several transmogrification elixirs I keep on hand for speedy getaways, not that I frequently need such a thing, of course,” he teased with a wink. “I think birds would be just the form to get us from here to there, leaving your pursuers baffled and behind.”

  “Transformation potions are not cheap, Jink,” Hah’roo countered. “I, for one, would not be willing to spend the hundreds of gold for such a shortcut, regardless of how effective it would be.”

  “A gift they would be, madam. Please. I would never be so crass as to fleece my comrades. I’m sure Ekwiti will happily reimburse me. I might not even gouge the big bull for the expenditure since I made them for far less than one would buy them.”

  Jink placed four small bottles on the table, each of them filled with a lemony yellow liquid.

  “Will you be accompanying us, young lady?” he asked Mazsy.

  She looked between the bottles and the people at the table, clearly torn. After a few seconds, her shoulders fell. “I can’t,” she muttered sadly. “Even though I was a member of the trial, I’m not officially part of the quest. Hah’roo and you were chosen by the court and accepted by the One Above. Joe’s best chance to pierce the Night Skinner’s mask is by having the quest undiluted by me.”

  “Then we should take our leave before the Duke’s men enforce their master’s displeasure.”

  Joe reached for one of the three bottles, the fourth having vanished, with him noticing only its disappearance.

  “These flying potions will make us look like birds?” Joe asked, looking at the yellow fluid.

  “Oh, much more than that, my good man. They will make us birds,” the man bragged. “I chose seabirds so that we may wing our way deeper into the city, untraceable to the thugs who draw close even as we speak.”

  Joe was about to look around, but Hah’roo’s hiss stopped him. He caught the meaning. Better to play it cool for a few more minutes.

  Jink dipped a bow over Masy’s hand as he stood up from the table

  Hah’roo clasped the acolyte’s forearm and whispered something Joe couldn’t hear to her. It must have been praise of some sort because the kitsune blushed again, but a look of pride kept her gaze locked with the galeling’s.

  As she turned to Joe, she reached up and brushed her hand across the side of his head. “Even though I can’t go with you, you do not need to go without Onhur.”

  Of course, he didn’t.

  “You take care, Joe,” she whispered into his ear as she hugged Joe. “I will never forget this day.”

  A deep, serene note sounded behind her words, like a monastery bell. Joe knew she was being completely sincere.

  “You saved my life, Maz. I will never forget you either,” he replied, squeezing back.

  He followed his two limber teammates toward the closest staircase to the balcony above. Joe envied how easily the duo slid through the press of people, but it was not so packed that Joe was worried about losing them. He was more worried about one of the Duke’s men grabbing him before he got to wherever the elf was headed.

  Upstairs, Jink was stopped at the door to a small private room. Joe caught up as Hah’roo glided into the chamber. He spared one last look into the chaotic taproom below, meeting Mazsy’s eyes. She nodded back at him as Joe felt a hand pull him back behind the closing door.

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