“I hate this quarter.” Elsha griped, wiping sweat from her brow.
“Of course you do.” Kint replied.
Two men passed them on the cobbled road. They were caked in tanning powders and dripping with lace.
“These merchants.” She grimaced. “They just don’t understand what it means to be rich.”
“Right.” Kint replied, distracted by suffocating humidity.
He ran a hand through slick hair, glancing up at the Shrouded orange sun.
“I mean…” She started again, “Look at these things.”
Elsha gestured to the massive homes around them.
Everything was Mage Forged. Whether forged stone, or grown wood, all the buildings were brutal and blockish like they’d been designed by a child.
A frown etched his partner's face.
“They need to learn the difference between surface area and substance.”
“Right.” Kint huffed.
He was considering whether to remove his cloak, its insides were already slick with sweat. Which meant his shirt was probably transparent.
Best to keep the cloak on.
“I mean, come on…” She groaned, pointing to a Grown Wood house.
Kint looked up, and had to smile.
It was a treehouse. Nothing more than a thick wood rectangle shoved into a stout tree. A rope ladder hung down to the lawn for entry and exit.
‘Designed by children’ indeed.
“It’s just up ahead.”
Kint pointed to a white stone mansion a few houses down.
“Clarette Syfone said that homes like these break the spirit of the Second and Third Tenets.” Elsha commented, “I tend to agree… I doubt the hands that built them had a callous on them.”
Kint snorted a laugh.
“You disagree?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I get my gospel from the Prophet.” Kint replied, “Not some Syfone puff.”
“Hmph.” Elsha’s brows knit together. “I didn’t take you for a believer.”
The aged Inspector grimaced.
“We’re here.” He grunted.
They turned to stand in front of a tall black iron gate.
Behind it, the blood orange sun rose over an expansive home.
A young man strode to meet them. Silvery moats of fog parted as he moved to open the gate.
The boy had thick red hair and wore the black and purple uniform of an Apprentice Inspector.
“I’ll meet you inside.” Elsha muttered, shouldering past the young man as the barrier swung wide.
“Payter.” Kint greeted.
The young man was looking over his shoulder, watching Elsha enter the building.
“Did I do something to offend her?” He asked.
“She’s fickle.” Kint soothed. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”
The Apprentice frowned, then schooled himself to attention, bowing to his senior.
“Inspector Kint.” He started, straightening up. “I have initial findings to report.”
“Go ahead.” Kint grinned, enjoying the open ambition in the young man's eyes.
“I arrived at the Syfeeli residence roughly two hours ago, responding to a public disturbance message. I made several requests for entry, which went unanswered. I was about to leave, when I heard a disturbance inside, so I let myself in.”
Kint raised an eyebrow. He didn’t think the boy was the type ‘let himself in’.
“The lower level was empty so I proceeded upstairs. Where I found Mr. Syfeeli and…” He hesitated, face going pale. “... the victim.”
“How bad is it, son?” Kint probed.
The young man grimaced, clearing his throat.
“The husband was standing over a dining table, unresponsive. His wife– Mrs. Syfeeli was on the table. She’d… .” The Apprentice swallowed. “She’d been stabbed… several times.”
Kint frowned. That wasn’t a good sign.
“Did he seem touched, to you?” The Inspector asked.
The boy flinched at the word.
“I… I wouldn’t know about… any of that.” He stammered.
“Did he attack you?” Kint pressed.
“No. He didn’t seem dangerous. Just broken.” The boy noted. “I tied him to a bedpost inside.”
Kint nodded.
“Do the neighbors know anything?” He asked, looking around.
“Just that there’s a body.” The young man replied, color returning. “And that Inspectors were on the way.”
The Inspector frowned.
This wasn’t good. Things like this didn’t happen in District 13, especially not in the Merchant’s Quarter. Even worse, a description like what Payter had just given would smell of Rot to most citizens.
He needed to solve this quickly, lest it draw unwanted attention.
Kint sighed.
“Tell the Mayor we’ll have this sewn up by noon.” He stated.
The boy gave him a skeptical look, not moving.
The wizened Inspector raised an eyebrow.
“Go.” He said, with a sharper tone.
Kint watched, as the silhouette of the Apprentice Inspector faded into the distant fog.
He put a hand to his forehead, rubbing sweat from his brow.
Turning back to the house, he gritted his teeth.
He did not want to do what he was about to do. It had been years since the last time he’d resorted to this. But, there was no choice really. Things could get messy without it… They already were.
Kint sighed.
He needed assistance.
“No use crying about it.” He grumbled.
The weary Inspector took a deep breath in, filling his lungs with humid air.
He closed his eyes.
As the air left his chest, it carried away his emotions.
His biases, assumptions, corrupting context. It all evaporated, released from his lungs, till there nothing remained.
He was in The Silent State.
In this altered state, Kint was in complete control. Every thought had a purpose, every action a direction. He needed only to bind himself to an objective. A driving force. A mission within which the will of the Silent State could manifest.
What happened here?
A simple question.
But, that was all he needed.
He opened his eyes. The world flooded in, information filled his mind, data collected through every sensory input.
It was all filtered through the sieve of his objective.
The Silent State quickly parsed what was necessary.
Overgrown hedges. Poorly cut grass. A spiderweb in the corner of a first floor window.
A story began to build in his mind.
Kint walked down the entryway to the door.
He turned the bronze handle, pushing inside.
Dust puffed around him, making him cough.
There was a stairway in front, a ball room to his left.
His eyes narrowed.
He stepped into the ballroom. Massive windows stretched across either side. Dark orange light beamed into the room from the back, cutting through a flurry of dust.
Shades facing the street, none on the back windows.
Kint knelt to the floor, sweeping his fingers across the surface.
Scuff marks on the wood. Months worth of dust.
Kint stood, rubbing the dust from his fingers.
The foundation was setting in his mind.
He moved to the entrance, ascending the stairs.
Square outlines on the walls where paintings once hung.
He crested the second floor.
There was an open door to his right, the sun's light leaking into the dark hall.
He entered the room.
There was a long dining table in the center, its lacquered surface shone with the glow of midday sun.
The victim's body rested in the center of the table, but he ignored it for now.
Almost no furniture.
He noticed.
But, shapes in the dust where furniture used to be.
The picture in his mind was becoming clearer. Disparate parts of the story coming together.
Kint approached the victim.
As he stood over her, he paused.
There was a door beside him. A rhythmic clatter coming from the other side.
His teeth clenched slightly.
He’d deal with that later.
Back to the body.
The victims feet dangled off the near side of the table, head tilted off the other. Long raven hair spilled to the floor like a waterfall.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Pools of blood glistened in the orange light.
A large kitchen knife protruded from the womans chest, her hands were cupped around it, covering the severity of the wounds.
Kint moved the hands aside, leaning in to get a better look at the injuries.
The hands were placed over the wounds.
The knife was caked in blood, rammed into the table with incredible force. That single stab was enough to kill the woman, and likely pin her to the table. But, the killer had not stopped there.
Stab wounds covered the woman’s torso. Slits cut into her from shoulders to waist. Blood soaked through her elegant blue dress.
The majority of the damage was to the chest. The knife had been driven in countless times creating a bowl of blood, bones, and viscera.
This is passion, intense passion. Maybe insanity…
But, Rot?
He needed more information.
Kint lifted one of the victims hands, inspecting it.
The appendage was surprisingly clean, only light bruising around the wrist.
He reached for the other, pulling it up.
There was a deep crimson gash on her palm where she’d grabbed the knife.
The Inspector looked down. There was a pool of blood on the table below her elbow.
She grabbed the knife, trying to stop the first stab. The wounds spilled blood down her arm to the table.
His eyes narrowed. There was another smaller pool of blood separate from the others. He stared at it, calculating. Carefully, he picked up the victim's left hand by the wrist, extending the arm. He laid it gently on the dark red pool.
She didn’t die like this. He rearranged the body after. Covering up what he’d done.
A bit of tension faded from his shoulders.
There was remorse in those actions, making Rot less likely.
Kint stepped back, nodding to himself.
He was satisfied with the story. It didn’t involve Sin or Rot. Just hard times, a failing marriage, and actions taken in the heat of passion.
There was no need to look further. No need to drag things out.
This case would be off his plate by end of day.
Except…
Kint’s eyes shifted to the door and the rhythmic clattering beyond.
The husband would be there.
He had his story. He was sure it wouldn’t be Rot.
He stepped closer to the door.
The sound grew clearer. A high pitched gingling of metal on metal.
Long forgotten memories itched at his mind.
He moved closer.
There was another sound
He put his ear to the door.
Words… The same ones over and over.
Kint reached for the handle. The brass cold in his hand.
He needed to be sure.
He opened the door.
The room was dark.
A king bed with a canopied wooden frame occupied most of the space. Orange light peaked through heavy shades at the opposite end.
The rattling of chains was clear now. Like a thousand silver coins tumbling over and over.
Kint stepped inside.
The air was humid. It swirled around him as he moved, carrying the metallic taste of blood to his lips. The smell of sweat and body odor were prominent.
He maneuvered around the bed.
The chains echoed through the room, harmonizing a steady rasping chorus.
“I have to free her.”
The husband was crouched in front of the bed. His arms were chained above his head, shackles secured to a thick bedpost.
Sweat poured down the man's bare back. His body pulled against the bonds as he swayed to the beat of his incessant chant.
“I have to free her.”
Sweat dripped to the floor as the chains halted his momentum.
“I have to free her.”
He was stripped down to his briefs, blood oozing from his chafed knees.
Kint crouched in front of the man, getting a closer look.
Mr. Syfeeli had a pale face and sunken bloodshot eyes. It was clear that he was in poor health. The smell of drink was apparent.
Kint narrowed his eyes.
Was this madness?
Or was it an act.
“I have to free her.… I have to free her.”
The merchant stared straight ahead, eyes devoid of emotion.
“I have to free her. I have to free her.”
The chorus came again and again.
“You seem to have lost your clothes, friend.” Kint began.
“Have to free her. I have to free her.”
“Probably for the best.” He continued. “You made a real mess out there.”
“I have to free her. I have to free her.”
Kint reached out, swiping two fingers across the man’s forearm, paving a pale line through skin dyed red with blood.
“I know you didn’t mean to do it.” He noted.
“I have to free her. I have to free her.”
“The way you placed her arms. Removing your cloths.”
“I have to free her.”
“Your guilt is plain as day, friend.”
The chorus continued.
Kint sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Why was he doing this?
If the man was intent on acting like a fool, why not let him?
What did he care?
“I get it…” Kint continued, trying another angle. “Wives are demanding… And a beauty like yours...”
The Inspector shook his head.
“I can only imagine.”
There was a change in the man’s movements.
“Keeping them happy is a tough task.”
Kint looked down at his hands, rubbing them together.
“You move mountains to make their dreams come true… and then when they do come true, it’s never enough, is it?”
“I have to…”
The man stammered a bit.
“I have to free her.”
“That’s what you did here… isn’t it, Mr. Syfeeli. Made dreams a reality.”
Kint looked around, taking in the splendor of the home.
“I… I have to free her.”
The swaying slowed further.
“You built her a beautiful house, filled it with beautiful things, threw parties with drink and dancing.”
“I have to free her.”
“But things changed…” Kint frowned. “Didn’t they, Mr. Syfeeli?”
There was a subtle flinch around the man's eyes.
“You had to sell the paintings, the furniture… even the drapes.”
Kint shook his head.
“How embarrassing that must have been for her.” He mused.
“I have to free her…”
“To be trapped in a prison of your shame.”
“I have to free her… I had to…”
“Because you couldn’t do your basic duty… and provide.”
“I had to… I…”
The gears in Mr. Syfeeli’s mind were jammed.
He was stuck.
Kint could see anger twitching at the corner of his eyes.
“You had to end it…” The Inspecter soothed. “It was the best thing for everyone. The best thing for her especially.”
“I… I…”
“You had to set her free.” Kint whispered.
The man opened his mouth, but no words left his cracked lips.
Kint smiled.
He could feel he was pushing up against something. Breaking through.
Those hollow eyes were ever so close to sanity.
But then it was gone.
“I have to free her. I have to free her.”
The chanting began again, the swaying restarted.
Kint sighed, sitting back on his heels.
He was so close. So close to certainty.
But this man's act, if it was an act, was well practiced.
Kint stood, striding to the door, peeking his head around. There was no one nearby.
He moved back to the Mr. Syfeeli with purpose. Crouching in front of the man.
He needed to know, there could be no doubts when it came to Rot.
He closed his eyes, bringing the intense concentration of the Silent State tight around him.
In the stillness of his mind, there was a light.
His well of power.
With a tempting glow from deep within, it called to him. Begging him to touch it. To plum its depths. To tap into it’s glorious energy.
He did.
Reaching out, he took hold of the power.
An exhilarating heat flooded his chest, traversing well hewn channels into his eyes.
He opened them.
Glowing a deep purple, they vibrated with power, shrouded in Wave Energy.
His gift of Dowsing, finally released.
He saw the world in radiant color. The Deeper truth laid bare.
Magic, in all its shapes and forms, was painted across his vision in ways Apostles could only dream of.
Everything that was touched by magic, he could see its aura. The Mage Grown bed glowed green, the walls emanated a translucent white, the glass of the windows had a yellow hue, The Shroud itself… he could feel it...spiraling its wispy tendrils around the house, searching for a way in.
The energy greeted him like an old friend… A dangerous friend. One that could get him into trouble if he wasn’t careful.
As good as it felt, Kint lessened his energy output, feeling the drain on his well of power slow. Unlike Elsha, he did not have the power to waste. He was only a Shaper level Mage.
He sharpened his focus to just the room in front of him.
The world stilled as he surveyed the space.
Several faint glows caught his eye. The wood floors were a dim green, the stone ceilings and walls were white, and there was something else… A thick translucent energy coated the room. It could be nothing. Just residual magic from the Shroud.
But…
Kint steeled himself. He knew he was avoiding what he needed to look at…
He gritted his teeth.
The room was still, silent.
He examined Mr. Syfeeli up and down, paying close attention to his head and chest…
His eyes narrowed.
For a moment, he felt there might be something… A resonance... He pushed deeper, spending more energy, draining his well.
His eyes strained…
But there was nothing.
Tension released from his neck and shoulders, a bead of sweat dripping from his brow.
He’d expended a quarter of his energy in the Dowsing, but he was glad he’d done it.
Kint sighed.
A simple answer.
He released the Silent State.
The thick vail of focus dropped from his eyes, the world returned to its normal shades.
He shook his head, gathering himself to stand.
Kint looked up, and froze.
Crimson eyes, stared into his own. Black slitted pupils carving nightmares deep into his soul.
A rictus smile split the once emotionless face of Mr. Syfeeli.
“There you are....” The creature whispered.
The voice was low and raspy. From a place deep within.
The air was still.
Kint was locked in place, afraid to look away from those eyes.
And that smile. It assaulted him with its hunger.
Kint stumbled back…
… and Syfeeli was on him.
Leaping forward, pulling the bedpost right off the bed.
His manacled hands latched onto Kints throat, throwing him backward to the ground. “You have to free her!” Screamed the man, “You have to save her!”
Kint was caught off guard, unnerved by the situation, mind reeling. The light at the corners of his eyes was already fading. The manic merchant straddled him, lifting him by the throat, and slamming him to the dark wood floor.
Kint’s eyes sparkled, his ears rang.
Again, the man pulled him up, throwing his head to the ground.
He gripped at Kint’s collar, bringing them face to face.
“You have to find her.” Syfeeli hissed.
Kint could barely hear through the ringing in his ears.
His vision blurred, as he was slammed to the floor once more.
“You have to–”
The man's screams cut off. A bright red orange flame seared around his neck. Kint’s head fell back again, released from the madman’s grip.
Syfeeli clutched at his own throat. His fingers singed as they touched Elsha’s flaming whip.
Kint could hear the man's skin splitting as he was ripped backwards, out the door. His partner reeling him in.
He rolled to his side, rubbing the back of his head.
“Kint!”
The Inspector got to his knees. Rubbing his eyes.
“Kint!”
He looked in the direction of the voice. Vision coming into focus.
Elsha was pulling on her Dominations Rod with both hands. Syfeeli strained hard against her efforts.
She gave him an exasperated look.
“Enjoying the show?”
Oh…Right.
Kint stumbled to his feet, barrelling out the door.
Elsha was pulled hard at the whip, ripping Syfeeli off his feet.
He squealed in rage and pain, hands struggling to gain purchase on the fiery coil.
Kint stumbled around the table and grabbed the screaming man by the shirt.
Rearing back, he socked Mr. Syfeeli in the face.
Blood splattered across the dark wood floor.
The man continued to struggle.
Kint hit him again and again and again.
He hit the man until blood from his knuckles was added to that of the murderer's face.
Syfeeli went limp.
The room was silent but for the heavy breathing of the two Inspectors.
The flaming whip uncoiled from the unconscious man’s neck, retracting back into Elsha’ domination stick.
Kint bent over the man, checking under his eyelids.
They were normal.
His partner let out a deep breath, shaking her head.
“Are you okay?” She asked.
“Yeah.” Kint replied, taking deep breaths of his own. “Yeah.”
They took another few seconds to catch their breath.
“There’s a wagon outside to take him.” Elsha commented.
“Perfect.” Kint said.
He was ready to be gone from this place.
“What did you say to him?” Elsha asked, confused.
“Nothing.” Kint replied, not meeting her eyes. “He just… attacked me.”
“Kint...” She pressed. “When I checked on him, he was near catatonic. You must have done something.”
“I did nothing, Elsha” Kint snapped. “One minute he was spouting gibberish, the next he was on me.”
She raised a skeptical eyebrow, but did not press the issue.
“Let’s just get this prick out of here.” He offered. “Shall we?”
The two Inspectors dragged the prisoner outside.
They threw him in the back of a locked carriage, two officers in Vorvan colors riding with him back to HQ.
They watched the carriage as it disappeared down the road, into the morning’s fog.
“Do you think we could have gotten a ride?” Elsha asked.
Kint cocked his head to one side.
“Probably.”
Elsha snorted a laugh.
They started walking.
They strode in silence for several minutes before Kint broke it.
“Thank you…” He grumbled, staring ahead. “For what you did back there.”
Elsha looked at Kint, expectant.
“You saved my life.” He admitted. “I won’t forget it.”
He looked up from the solemn stones below, to meet his partners eyes.
She was grinning.
“Took a lot for you to admit that, didn't it?” She poked.
“Don’t expect you’ll ever hear it again.” Kint growled.
He looked away, hiding his own grin.
A comfortable silence fell over the Inspectors. The steady sound of boots on cobblestones carrying them on to HQ.