The Sorcerer's Scourge (10 page)

Griff looked up from his own pile of papers. “Way too many big words, Chuck. How about dumbing it down for the kid over there?”

“I understood every word of that, Mr. Griff,” Kyle replied sharply.

“What it means, Griff, is that the watchman is a twit, but a very orderly one,” Samone explained despite knowing that Griff understood exactly what the cleric said.

“Orderly or not, I still don’t see how looking at all these murder reports is going to help us find the vampires,” Griff said in frustration.

“Separate the ones with questionable causes of death. Bar brawls, spousal murders, and normal killings we don’t care about,” Samone replied.

“And how is that going to help? We already know there are vampires here.”

“But we don’t know how long they have been here or if they even live in the city. These reports will show whether or not the attack on the party was an isolated event or if it is a larger example of longer-term predation. At least that might let us know if we are wasting our time searching the city.”

Griff grunted in response. “Great, we might be able to narrow it down to the largest city in Valaria.”

Kyle broke his usual silence and spoke up. “Actually, Samone, I have been thinking on that and may have an idea.”

“Put you in a dress, troll you up and down the streets at night, and see what bites?” Griff asked.

“No,” the wizard replied.

“Well I can’t do it I have a beard, Chuck is too ugly, and I think Samone was born wearing her armor.”

“What was your idea, Kyle,” Samone asked, coming to the young man’s rescue.

Kyle cleared his throat. “I was thinking that with the detail with which Captain Bertrand has written these reports, it is possible to pin each suspicious killing on a map. I do not know a great deal about vampires, but I imagine they would avoid killing close to where they live. The area surrounding their lair is likely to be free of such murders.”

“Kyle, you are brilliant!” Samone exclaimed.

Kyle’s face turned red at the lovely Paladin’s praise. “Well, I don’t know about brilliant. It just seemed logical to me.”

All heads turned as Chief Inspector Collin walked into the room he let the holy order use to formulate their plans.

“Chief Inspector, good to see you. What’s the word on this Landrin person?” Samone asked.

Inspector Collin took off his hat as he entered, tucked it under an arm, and pulled out a sheet of parchment. “I found seventeen men by the name of Landrin. Two are out at sea, three on caravans, and two are old enough to be my grandfather. An innkeeper spoke of a bard that played in his establishment once by that name, but a mugger killed him some ten years or so ago. Of the remaining, most had solid alibis, and those who did not did not appear to be vampires, as far as I could tell. I did make them all step out into the sun and none burned if that is a reasonable test. I admit no great knowledge of such things.”

“It is a reasonable test, Inspector. Do you have a good map of the city? Kyle had a fantastic idea and I would like to put it to the test.”

“I have several in my office. I will get one immediately.”

About an hour later, the inspector and the Solarian’s Light were studying a large map tacked down onto a sheet of cork with several dozen pins sticking out if it.

“Anyone see a pattern?” Samone asked the group.

Collin shook his head. “Not really. It is not surprising that the vast majority are to the west and south in the poorer districts.”

“If we assume these few in the north and east are part of the circle, we have a hub just here where there are no murders whatsoever,” Kyle pointed out.

“Great, right in the middle of one of the wealthiest districts,” Griff grumbled. “How many doors do you think we can kick down before we get thrown in the dungeons? My bet is about two if we do it really fast.”

Samone looked at her big friend. “I guess that means we will just have to conduct our investigation tactfully.”

Griff curled his lip at the idea. “I hate tactful.”

The group of Solarian’s Light spent the rest of the day knocking on doors and speaking with the residents of the wealthy district. They met little resistance to their intrusion as nearly all had heard of or experienced firsthand that night of terror and were eager to help. They had visited at least two dozen stately manor homes and decided this would be the last one they would investigate before they retired for the night and renewed their search in the morning.

Samone rapped loudly on the door with a gauntleted fist and waited several minutes before someone opened it. An older man in formal livery looked at them inquisitively from just beyond the threshold.

“Good evening to you Mr.…,” Samone greeted the man and inquired of his name.

“Claudius, mistress,” the man supplied. “Was there something I could do for you?”

“We are investigating an attack that occurred the other night at a ball. May we come in?”

Claudius hesitated before opening the door wider and gesturing for the group to enter. They passed through the foyer and into a large parlor.

“I am afraid with the master and missus away I am not allowed to take you beyond the outer parlor. It is just myself and a few servants staying in the house at this time.”

“Where did the lord of the house go, if I may ask?” Samone inquired.

“He and the lady went to Brelland last week. We do not expect them to return for at least two more weeks.”

Samone used one of her more subtle holy powers to detect the presence of undead or beings of evil intent but sensed nothing. She looked at Charles who gave her a small shake of his head.

“Sorry to have disturbed you, Claudius,” Samone said and turned to leave.

The haunting melody of a viola resonated through the mansion. Samone stopped and cocked an ear.

“That is one of the servants,” Claudius supplied. “He enjoys the viola when he is not working and the master is away. Something about the acoustics of the house when no one is here.”

“He is very good. What is that tune called?”

Claudius listened a moment and replied, “I believe it is
The Nightingale and the Lark
.”

“It’s lovely. Good evening once again, Claudius.”

The party sat at a table in one of the nicer inns of the district. Each sipped at their preferred drinks while waiting for their meal. Nearby, a minstrel played a mandolin and sang for the crowd.

“This is getting us nowhere,” Samone complained. “We haven’t searched half the homes on the list and too many of the occupants fled after the attack for fear that someone is targeting the nobles.”

“We will get an early start on the morrow. If it turns up nothing, we will formulate a new plan,” Charles said in his baritone voice.

Samone turned to the singer and asked, “Do you know
The Nightingale and the Lark
?”

“A classic, milady, and a fine choice,” the bard returned with a smile and began to play.

Despite playing on a mandolin, the song translated to the instrument well and Samone found herself humming along as the food was served. The serving woman set the plates before the crew then set a package wrapped in a sheet of cloth next to Samone.

“What is this?” the paladin asked, looking at the parcel.

“A gentleman asked me to give it to you. He said he thought you might be looking for it,” the woman answered.

“What man?”

The serving woman looked around. “He seems to be gone now. I don’t know who he was. I didn’t recognize him.”

“What did he look like?” Samone asked.

“It was hard to tell. He wore a hooded cloak, but from what I could see, he was quite handsome. I am sure he will be calling on you again,” the woman said with a knowing smile.

Samone slowly removed the cloth from the object and stared.

“What is it, girl?” Griff asked.

“It’s a mask of some sort,” Samone replied.

Charles leaned over for a better look. “It looks like some kind of bird.”

“A lark!” Samone cried out.

“What’s the matter? You don’t like larks?” Griff asked at her sudden agitation.

“Inspector Collin said the man the vampire addressed wore the mask of a lark. This must be his!”

“Why would he give it to us? Is he taunting us?” Kyle asked.

Samone shook her head. “I think he wants us to find him.”

“Why would he want us to find him if he is involved in murder and vampires?” Griff asked.

Samone ignored Griff and spun back to the minstrel. “You, play
The Nightingale and the Lark
again.”

“Milady, I just played it. Surely, there is another song you wish to hear? I know dozens of them.”

“I wasn’t paying attention before, so please play it again!” Samone demanded impatiently.

The bard bent to his lute, began strumming out the tune and singing the song once again.

The nightingale sang alone in the park

When a beautiful tune touched her heart

She flitted and fluttered from tree to tree

Until she found the trilling lark

The nightingale and the lark sang in harmony

Always together upon their tree

Until one morn, the nightingale was alone

The lark was locked away in a nobleman’s home

The lark swore never again would he sing

Until the day that he could be free

“He’s the lark!” Samone shouted and received several stares from the other patrons.

“Who’s the lark?” Griff asked.

“Landrin! If he is part of this, he is an unwilling participant and wants to be found.”

“Then why not simply come to us? If he can get out and deliver a mask, why not just leave and inform the guard, or the church?” Kyle inquired of the group.

Brother Charles answered his question. “Vampires are capable of some very powerful compulsion magic. It is likely that he cannot. This Landrin must either have a very strong will, or he found a loophole in the vampire’s orders about revealing their existence.”

“What do we do now? We know who, but do we know where?”

“Yes, we do,” Samone replied. “That last house we visited I heard
The Nightingale and the Lark
being played. It must have been Landrin trying to give us a clue.”

Charles looked at Samone. “You do realize that if he has been turned, we will have to destroy him as well.”

Samone nodded. “I imagine he knows that as well and does not care. If he has enough volition to betray his master, he has enough humanity to prefer death to this undead existence he lives in now.”

“We’ll need to hit them in the daylight, and even then, it is a risky endeavor. Going into that house at night would be suicide,” Griff pointed out.

“Agreed,” Samone concurred. “We will prepare tonight and investigate further in the morning.”