The Blood Debt Chronicles

The Case of the Missing Mummy

Chapter the Seventeenth or A Thorough Search of the Sewers and what was Found There

            Cat pocketed the potion from Dravan. It was certainly her goal not to drink it. Firstly, because if she needed to drink it then she was almost dead, something she had become far too familiar with to over the course of the day. Villainous servants, cobras, ghouls… the payoff had better be worth it. She wasn’t convinced it was.

            The nobles retreated through the passage they had entered carrying the two bags of stolen goods. It wasn’t everything that had been stolen from the Pickering’s house, the headdress had gone through the hole with the serpentman and the sarcophagus, but it was the bulk of the goods. It was just as well, she wasn’t interested in advertising her skills in front of the toffs. When she could no longer hear their inane prattle, she turned to the first door in the hallway. How much money would be worth risking my life? She took out a set of beat up, worn down picks and began the dual task of disarming a trap and unlocking a door.

            A curious warmth radiated from the door. The air of the sewer, in general, was warm in comparison to the air of London. Dravan, or any learned man, would have been able to tell Cat that the warmth came from tiny organisms breaking down typically dead, or to be more precise “mostly” dead, things and the organic refuse which coated the walls and floated in the channel and rendering them into a more basic form the byproduct of which was heat. Then they would have launched into a more complete description that Cat would have tuned out. All Cat needed to remember was that rot made things warm. It’s how she knew when wounds went bad too.

            This door however, was warmer still. Not hot though. Just warm. She noted the oddity, but didn’t let it interfere with her work. Doors don’t pick themselves.

            Lord Farcical gave me two pounds today, she thought fiddling with the lock. That was more money than she had ever seen in her life, let alone held. It was so much; she couldn’t think how to spend it. Get better picks, first off. Her picks were cast offs that she had found in the sewers. It didn’t matter how much she cared for them, they had been used and abused before they had come to her hand.

            With a faint click, the last tumbler fell into place. Gingerly, she twisted the handle and pushed it in. As the door opened, a chorus of a thousand hisses reached her. She blanched, tremellose[1] and scrambled to grab the door, but she could no longer reach the handle. The door had opened over a pit. Fearfully, she looked over the edge and saw… darkness. The pit was deep, so deep that there was nothing but shadows and the echo of serpents slithering over one another.

            “Bloody hell.” She cursed backing up when she realized she couldn’t close the door. “I’ll be a nick ninny[2] before I’ll go there again.”

            Cat had seen enough of reptiles of all kinds for a long while. Well, except for that pretty lizard that found George. But she was much more agreeable than these snakes! The heat she had felt was coming from the room; something was keeping the area warm. However, the longer the door was open the more the room equalized with the hall. Soon enough, the hissing sounds quieted.

            For a moment, Cat considered trying to peek inside or somehow hook the door closed, but after the briefest of consideration she gave up on that notion. The snakes didn’t seem to be able to get out and that was good enough for her. It did creep her out to turn her back to the door though.

            She knew that because the next room was across from the snake pit. A shiver rolled up her body when she heard the serpents shift. She concentrated on the door in front of her and pushed it open.

            Torches flared into life as the door swung open. A single metal table stood in the center of the room. Cat stepped into the room hesitantly. The naked body of adult woman had been carefully arranged on the table. Symbols that swam and twisted in her sight had been carved onto the woman. Enough blood had flowed from them for Cat to know the woman had been alive when she had been carved up.

            Cat backed out of the room. Magic wasn’t something she wanted to interfere with. Not demon magic especially. She knew enough from Dravan to know that if a caster wasn’t using his own blood, he was using someone else’s. That’s an awful lot of pain they took out of that poor girl. She didn’t finish checking the room before she closed the door. Dravan could deal with that mess.

            The other doors led to a storage room; which held primarily foodstuffs which she hoped to come back and loot at her convenience, two empty chambers meant for ritual slaughtering, and a long room with many beds. The beds had clean linen sheets and smelled of exotic, but pleasant, spices. Twice in one day that I wished I had a better head for letters and figures. I should really learn. It was an unpleasant thought.

            She checked their things, but there was nothing of interest. Just changes of clothes and one or two pouches of coins. She pocketed the purses and left.

            Finally, she came back to the large chamber with the iron braziers and woven baskets. A few baskets still hung suspended and hissed unpleasantly. There was enough light from the flames of the braziers for Cat to be able to search the room thoroughly. A few trinkets had escaped the sacks and rolled away. She pocketed them.

            In her search, she noticed a stone slab that seemed loose. After many long minutes spent trying to move it, she leaned against the wall only to have a brick collapse inward. A grating sound followed and the questionable stone slab slid backward, revealing an oubliette. The light of the room stretched down into the hole.

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            Three women and a young boy scurried away from the light. The sound of heavy sobs reached Cat. “Oi!” Cat called down, “Yous prisoners?”

            One of the women stepped into the light, “You don’t talk like one of those dark foreigners. Are you British?”

            “Is the queen British?” Cat replied snarkily.

            “Be a good lad and let a rope down before those heathens come back for us.”

            Cat looked around the room, “Can’t do that, I’ma fraid. There’s no ropes round and I’m not big enough to haul you up if’n there was. But, good news, me and me mates killed the blokes so I’ll fetch some bobbers and we’ll get you out right quick.”

            The exclamations and lamentations were heartbreaking, but there was nothing Cat could do. She honestly couldn’t help them escape. She had neither had the rope nor strength to get them out.

            “I’ll be back in a jiff.” She almost left the pit open, but then she considered the snakes and wondered if maybe there were more that they hadn’t killed. We missed the serpentman and their head priest… it could be bad to let ‘em know we found their sacrifices. She slid the stone back into place and headed out of the sewers to Lady MacNeal’s. Dravan said that’s where he would be and the lady would call the coppers. Dravan would probably forget to send the rescue.

            She didn’t stop by the Pickering’s house, but instead took the sewers to a drain she knew was closest to the lady’s house. She had been running through the sewers long enough to know that she would be more suspicious running through the noble’s lands covered in uliginous[3] things than popping out at the right moment. Not to mention that the bobbers would be especially vigilant and irritating because of the theft, which meant that they would pick up anyone who looked out of place.

            Cat crept out of the sewer drain. Her hair was matted and filthy, her clothes were wet with things she didn’t want to think too closely on. I’m going to be stuffed in a bath before I can even give a report.

            Cat walked through the door to the kitchen, bracing herself for a cleaning. She was not disappointed.

            “What” Cook began, “in the name of the Divine’s good hand is that stench.”

            Cat shifted nervously and cleared her throat, “That would be me, ma’m. The lady had me track some fellows that snuck through the sewers.”

            Cook’s mouth opened and closed. White fury paled even her lips. “And you brought that stink into my kitchen? Without even trying to wash any of it off?”

            “I… ah… Lord Dravan… he asked me to come…” But she knew she couldn’t save herself. There was no excuse good enough to foul Cook’s kitchen.

            “Mary!” Cook shouted. “Master Dravan and Lady MacNeal are not yet here. You have time to be made presentable.”

            Mary appeared as if she had been just around the corner. “Yes, Cook?” Wary eyes took in Cat’s appearance. Mary’s nose wrinkled in distaste.

            “Cat is not seeing her ladyship looking or smelling like that. Clean him, we’ll burn the clothes.”

            Cat squeaked. “Wait! Master Dravan asked me to bring him some things! You can’t burn all me clothes!”

            Cook ignored Cat, “Tend to it.”

            Mary grimaced, took Cat by the arm, doing her best to touch Cat the least amount possible, and hauled her off to be bathed.

            When Cat emerged from her second bath of the day, she was pink as a new born and felt like she had lost a layer of skin. It was likely that she had. Mary had scrubbed her hard. The water had been filled and drained five times before it was no longer a fetid brown. Mary would have kept at it, however, except that they were summoned.

            “You still reek, but I suppose you’ll do.”

            Based on the way she was looking at Cat, Cat knew that she disagreed. “I really should attend them…” Cat whimpered, trying to get away.

            Mary let her.

            Cat tripped over her feet escaping into the drawing room where Lady MacNeal, Master Dravan and Lord Farcical were addressing the night’s events. Mr. Taurus was standing at attention in the corner of the room, ready to serve or add information. Dravan must have magicked their dirt away… Cat thought glumly. They had all changed their clothes, but had not been subjected to the thorough cleaning Cat had. Yet, they appeared to be clean and coifed.

            “Ah, Cat.” Dravan said when Cat entered the room, “What did you find for me?”

            Cat removed the trinkets she had found, while explaining about the rooms and the prisoners.

            “What kind of marks were carved on the woman?” Dravan asked standing.

            “Uh… twisty ones. They seemed to be slippery and I couldn’t quite focus on them.” She said apologetically.

            Dravan cursed. “Sorry, Adeline. But this is bad. Someone is at the very least consorting with demons, though they never stop there. If they haven’t summoned one, they will be soon. I’ll need to report this to the Academy.”

            “Of course, Dravan. Thank you for coming when I asked.”

            He nodded.

            Cat stopped him, “You need to get the prisoners.”

            “Of course, someone needs to get them.” His eyes slid to Lord Farcical.

            “But Master Dravan, they’ve seen some of the magick that has happened. Couldn’t they be of use to you?” Something terrible occurred to her, “What if they’ve been ensorcelled?”

            Dravan swore again. “Yes, damn. John, if you wouldn’t mind coming with me back into the sewer? I’ll need to leave things with you after we pull the poor waifs out of that hole.” No one was convinced that he cared about the trapped people. Dravan cared deeply for those he cared about. The survivors weren’t on his list. “Mr. Taurus, retrieve the police and bring some rope with you.”

            Mr. Taurus bowed and left. He was once again in clean livery and would be recognized as a footman of Lady MacNeal. The bobbers would listen to him. Master Dravan and Lord Farcical followed after him.

            Once it was just Cat and Lady Adeline, the lady began her own line of questions. Cat recounted her every move after she arrived at the Pickering’s house. When Cat talked about the battle and its aftermaths she remembered. “Oh! Lady! I forgot. When I followed the serpentman, I went into what I assumed was either his or the ogre’s rooms. I found a satchel. There was… there were… letters or papers or such inside.”

            “Really?”

            Cat pulled the satchel out and handed it over. “I didn’t read it, or look past seeing there were markings on it.”

            Adeline nodded absentmindedly. She pulled out the papers and began leafing through them, scanning them briefly. From one moment to the next she froze and all the color drained from her. Her hand began shaking and she sent the papers down carefully.

            “What is it lady?” Cat moved to her side.

            “My… my… son.” Lady Adeline whispered, choking on the word “son”. “I always thought… but this is confirmation that he and Edward were murdered.”

[1] Shaking like jelly

[2] A simpleton

[3] Growing in muddy, oozy, or swampy places