Next morning, Guelder, Jaethal and the field team set out north on a twofold mission. They were to meet Valerie’s old paladin mentor and deter or dissuade or otherwise discourage him from reclaiming his mentee. He was waiting for Valerie's answer at Levetonsk (as Oleg's trading post was renamed, now that it was being developed into a border town between Brevoy and Nightvale).

But first of all, they had to verify the half-blood’s statement about the dagger. Not that there was much to verify about it. He'd claimed to have found it in a boar carcass near the Old Sycamore, but his story stank worse than carrion rotting in the sun. When Jaethal had died, the dagger had been in its sheath, safely attached to her belt. When she'd been reanimated by her goddess, she'd found a scythe lying by her side, and hadn't even noticed until much later that the dagger was missing. She'd supposed Urgathoa herself had taken it, the last keepsake she'd still had from her journey along the Path of Pleasure, replacing it with a new weapon for the Path of Undeath. So, unless this Enneo was a messenger of Urgathoa, a necromancer who'd performed the will of the goddess on Jaethal (which he most probably wasn't), he must have been her murderer. Yet, for some reason, the young baroness was too disturbed to sense he was lying through his teeth.

It took the better part of the day for them to reach the Old Sycamore. Guelder made a quick detour to the ancient tree to check on her kobold and mite friends, graciously allowing Valerie and Jaethal to wait outside, in case they didn't want to relive their humiliating experiences with the little pests. While she was under the roots of the ancient tree, Jaethal found the boar carcass, exactly at the spot mentioned by Enneo. It wasn't even hard. She only had to follow the stench and the flies.

"I wonder how anyone can kill a boar with a single dagger," mused Linzi, staring at the bloated carrion. "Without getting mangled, that is. If they survived, why did they leave the dagger in? And if they didn't, what happened to their corpse?"

"And why go to all this trouble, when you can just take it out with arrows?" wondered Hazel.

"Indeed," said Guelder. She knelt down beside the carcass and ran her fingers along its side, flushing a cloud of flies. "And this is exactly what happened. Two entry wounds between the ribs, probably from arrows, the fletching broken off... and that is all. I see no dagger wound."

She rose and swept the dust off her knees.

"See?" exclaimed Jaethal. "I told you he was lying!"

"Also," said Hazel, "he sells nothing but elven wares, which makes me think he came from Kyonin. From the south, through Pitax or Mivon. Whatever was he doing at the Old Sycamore, northeast from Tuskdale? Selling elven boots to the mites to sleep in?"

Jaethal shook her head.

"This is an elaborate charade to send me a message. One I currently have trouble deciphering, and this bothers me to no end."

She swung her scythe to vent her frustration and slashed open the boar's belly. Startled by the sudden movement, Guelder backed away in a hurry, just in time to save her clothing and boots from spillage. Pangur sneezed in disgust as the boar's stinky bowels burst out of the body, along with their content.

Jaethal tried to break the stench down to its components, and as she looked at Guelder, she could tell the baroness was doing the same.

"Water plants and stomach acid," said Jaethal. "It must have been feeding at one of the rivers. Either the Thorn or the Shrike."

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"Duckweed," said Guelder. "There is some stuck in his coat, too. The Thorn has a backwater fully overgrown with it. Let us continue the investigation there."

"I'm sorry," butted in Valerie, "but what can a hog's trail tell us about Jaethal's death?"

Of course she couldn't. Jaethal explained it to her, slowly, so that she could understand.

"This is not a real investigation. We are not searching for my murderer. We are trying to figure out what my murderer wants to tell me. He obviously wants us to track the boar back to the Thorn, where we will find the next clue. Or a trap. This is why I am starting to think I should have been allowed to nudge him to relay his message directly."

Unfortunately, Guelder was too immersed in thought to take notice of the jab.

"Can't we leave this for tomorrow?" piped up Linzi. "It's almost evening. How are you going to find the trail in the dark?"

"By scent, obviously," said Guelder. "I understand your worries, Linzi, but I would prefer getting to the bottom of this as soon as possible. Also, if we set up camp for the night, that will not be here."

Linzi shuddered and nodded quickly. None of them was entirely comfortable using the campsite haunted by that empowered will-o'-wisp, not even after they had kicked its skull into oblivion some time ago. If it had to do with the fey, as Guelder suspected, it could have respawned already.

They slowly crossed the meadow towards the setting sun, the grass reaching up to their chests (or in case of Linzi and Harrim, swallowing them completely), with Hazel at the lead as long as there was sufficient light to see the trail. Guelder fell into step beside Jaethal.

"Tell me about that dagger," she said. "I assume it has a history."

Jaethal cast a suspicious glance at her. The way she struggled to form the words suggested this was not mere curiosity on her part.

"Besides being an item of high-level craftsmanship, Throe has emotional value to me. I received it from my mentor, as an acknowledgement of my acceptance of the faith. This is what I used in the rituals I performed to enhance my senses and my experience of pleasure."

Guelder almost succeeded in perfectly keeping her composure. Jaethal had already shared with her some details about those rituals involving useless relatives. Just enough to dissuade the faint-hearted from asking further questions.

"I see," said the baroness, forcing herself to keep the conversation going. "A unique treasure."

"Actually, no. It had an exact counterpart, Dormition, which remained in my mentor's possession."

"Who was he, if I may ask?"

Jaethal hadn't heard from her mentor for two decades. She wasn't even sure if he was still alive. There was probably no harm in sharing a thing or two about him. Yet, the slight quaver in Guelder's voice warned her to be cautious.

"He was an amazing person, child. He knew everything about how to experience pleasure to the fullest, and as he was a devout believer of the Pallid Princess, no adverse effects could take hold of him. He was lustful and devious, a generous host of parties, a knowledgeable researcher of the faith and a patient teacher of novices like myself. Without him, I would not be what I am today."

The baroness was apparently afraid to inquire into further details. In the meantime, Hazel returned from their scouting.

"The trail ends at the backwater," they said. "There are wild boars wallowing in the mud. Perhaps the friends of the dead one."

"Thanks, Hazel," said Guelder. "We shall proceed northwards along the river. Pangur and I will take over the scouting from here."