A week had passed since the Infernomicon of Caravigg had been tossed into the Well of Many Worlds.
Nora had spent it doing very little. She’d made a conscious decision to try and reconnect with her Patron a little; part of her felt guilty for just how busy she’d been in recent months, and another part was concerned about just what its reaction might be if she neglected it for too long.
Merlin had been working, mostly, but had taken an evening off a few days in to visit his parents. He’d stayed for a roast dinner, but left after his Dad began – unsuccessfully as always – trying to convince him to trade in his scooter for a ‘real vehicle’.
Ursa did a variety of things in her week off that she couldn’t stop running over in her mind, culminating in her lunch meeting yesterday. She’d text Alkahest since then, but he hadn’t yet replied.
Hey, so, I just wanted to uh, maybe check in, make sure I hadn’t um, overstepped? If I went too far/made things awkward, just let me know and I can, uh back off I guess? I don’t wanna make you feel weird, I really like you. 😳 😳 😳
She tried not to read into it.
⁂
Nora awoke from a bout of near-restless sleep. She could already tell what had woken her; someone outside was playing drum and bass at psychological torture volume.
She shambled across to the window, hoping that she could perhaps spot the perpetrator and maybe throw a brick at them. There was nobody outside.
What she did see, though, was the silver wire coming from her chest. It was vibrating, just slightly, like a recently-strummed guitar string. It seemed to move in time with the music.
‘It’s in my head?’ she said, unable to hear herself over the music.
Well, if some arcane force was forcing her to listen to its Soundcloud, she should at least do so on a full stomach. Two slices of white bread went into the toaster.
When Nora took them out, there was a crackle of static from the wire, and suddenly she was holding two pieces of artisanal French toast, complete with powdered sugar.
Carefully, Nora placed them on the kitchen counter.
There wasn’t time for this. She was going to be late.
She left the toast and set out for the Caliber Institute, the drum and bass following her like a, well, a cloud of sound.
⁂
Merlin looked up from his laptop as Nora sat across from him. She placed two bottles of expensive, exaggerated-health-benefit vitamin water on the table for him to inspect.
She’d bought them not a minute ago, intending to try and flush out the caffeine in her system, as if that might somehow free her from the breakbeats. Unfortunately, in much the same way as the toast, the water in the bottles had shimmered when she picked them up. Not that she told Merlin.
‘Drink one of those,’ she said.
Merlin eyed her, then the bottles. ‘Why?’
‘There’s nothing wrong with them. I just bought them over there, you probably saw.’
‘Yes, but why?’
‘I’m being nice.’
Without breaking eye contact, Merlin unscrewed the lid of one of the waters. He took a tentative sip.
They should have sent a poet.
‘Good god,’ said Merlin, eyes abulge. It was the cleanest, tastiest, most refreshing sip of water he’d ever had the good fortune to drink. Merlin’s life was now neatly split into two distinct parts; the time after this sip of water, and the dark times. He was a changed man. ‘What is in this?!’
Poetry. They should have sent a poet!!
‘It’s just water, Merlin; I don’t know.’ Whatever it was, it affected any food or drink she touched and transformed it into a culinary masterpiece fit for a thousand Fieri.
There was some laughter from the door as Cepheus and Emva entered. Nora barely heard it over the musing and music in her head, and Merlin had already gotten up to buy a few waters of his own.
He wouldn’t end up drinking them right away, instead choosing to save them for when he most needed that transcendent refreshment.
This is called “dramatic irony”.
‘What are you two grinning at?’ asked Merlin of Emva, sitting back down with six bottles of Vitamin Water. ‘Also, have you tried this water?’
‘Oh, someone sent a big load of flowers!’ said Emva. ‘It’s cute. Gonna take whoever the lucky person is quite a while to eat them all!’
Cepheus glanced at his wife, perhaps to try and gauge if she was joking. When he couldn’t figure it out, he too turned to Merlin.
‘Oh man,’ he said. ‘I can’t believe you drink that swill! You know it’s just tap water, right?’
Merlin suppressed the flash of rage at Cepheus’ insulting his new beverage of choice way of life. ‘Well, suit yourself,’ he said, flatly.
His phone beeped. So did Nora’s.
Over at her desk, Ursa stared in near-terror at the mass of flora before her. The receptionist had brought it up with a big smile on their face, and when she opened the card, it simply read ‘You know who it is. You didn’t “overstep”, don’t worry.’
Ursa knew who it was.
As it turned out, the flowers weren’t flowers at all; they were in fact chocolates painted to look floral and perched on stems. This, paired with Emva’s earlier comment, is a similar kind of irony to before but not quite the same.
Ursa’s phone beeped too. Unfortunately, it wasn’t from who she hoped it was; it was a meeting request (mandatory) from Director Brynner.
⁂
The last time the three of them had been to the Director’s office, he’d been ousted from his desk by an Ancient Dragon. Pleasantly, that wasn’t the case on this occasion.
Instead, Laniakea stood by the window, somehow making direct eye contact with all three of them at once.
‘Ah, you’re here,’ said Brynner, from his mahogany barricade. ‘Obviously you’ve met Laniakea already, but she–‘
‘I have come to acknowledge the work you performed,’ said Laniakea. She sounded furious, but then, her baseline mood appeared to be “constant seething rage”, making her difficult to read.
‘While you did not retrieve my book–‘
The three grew tense.
‘–You did successfully root out the traitor in my company. It was not the result I had hoped for, but I can recognise your talent.’
The three relaxed, but only slightly, in much the way one might upon learning they get to go second in Russian Roulette.
Not one of them wanted to actually respond, though.
Bryyner attempted to fill the silence, only for the Dragon to pounce with anpther interruption.
‘So what Laniakea is proposing–‘
‘What I have come to propose is a business arrangement. Should I require the services of the Caliber Institute in future, it will be the three of you whom shall assist.’
‘Oh,’ said Nora, when the others didn’t. ‘That’s… very…’
She trailed off when she saw Brynner nodding quite vigorously.
The Dragon nodded too, in more of a “task complete” fashion. ‘There is one more thing also,’ she said, marching up to Ursa in particular.
‘You tried to stop me reaching my former assistant when I discovered her culpability in what transpired. You stood in my way.’
Ursa had gone totally still, staring at Laniakea’s feet. This had the added benefit of positioning her hair buns like a deimatic display of eyespots, though that turned out to be unnecessary.
Laniakea continued. ‘I realise now that if you had been able to stop me, then Minette would not have gotten away. You were wise to counsel temperance. Therefore: the next time I raise my hand to strike you… you have my permission to move.’
Now Ursa looked up, mostly due to shock. ‘Or… you could, you know… not hit me?’ she said, aghast.
The Dragon seemed to consider this. ‘Hmm. Temperance, indeed.’
She turned to leave, only to find Merlin in her path. ‘There was one other thing, actually,’ he said, not a trickle of intimidation in his voice. ‘During our investigation, we came across a rather odd man calling himself “Stiletto Benevolent”, who was apparently looking into the same business. Apparently, he’d been hired anonymously. You don’t happen to know anything about him, do you?’
‘What? No. I have not encountered this “Benevolent” man. Rest assured, if he continues to intrude upon my business, he will be swiftly… removed.’
So, that was a dead end as far as Laniakea was concerned. She promptly declared her departure, and was gone before she’d finished said announcement.
The Director, though, had absolutely winced at the mention of the name “Stiletto”. Nora, accustomed to working around Brynner, had picked up on his cringing even over the pounding sub-bassline in her head.
She strolled up to his desk, taking care not to walk in time with her cranial music. ‘Right, out with it. How do you know this Stiletto guy?’
Brynner had been mid–sigh-of-relief at Laniakea’s withdrawal (an affectation given his lack of lung). ‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,’ he said, not meeting Nora’s eye.
‘Really? You practically shot out of your chair at the mention of his name. Is he someone we should be worried about?’
‘Y- Uh.. you know, the… One thing I should…’ Brynner began, but withered under Nora’s scrutiny. ‘Alright, yes. Yes, I’m well aware of Stiletto Benevolent. He’s a former employee of the Institute.’
Nora tilted her head, Ursa joining her side. ‘”Former”?’ asked the Changeling.
‘Yes. Always a bit of an odd one. Conspiracy theorist. Mild case of mythomania, I believe; that’s how he snapped and ended up in our employ. He was in fact, uh, let go.’
This was the first any of them had heard of the Caliber Institute giving anyone the sack.
Merlin, still in his seat, raised a questioning hand. ‘So is he some sort of… rival of the Institute? Bitter about being fired? Was he attempting to undermine our investigation?’
‘What was he fired for?’ added Ursa.
‘For pursuing his own conspiracies rather than actually working in the Institute’s interests.’ Brynner turned to Merlin. ‘I don’t believe he will have been. If he said that he didn’t know whose payroll he was on, I’d assume that someone involved with the case had him looking into it?’
‘That’s why I brought it up with Laniakea,’ said Merlin. ‘But if it wasn’t her, then who? Mr. Pyrite? Maybe the Fae? It’s going to bite us in the ass if we don’t get an answer.’
‘Well, since we kept the mastermind’s identity from Laniakea, we avoided the Dragons going to war,’ said Nora. ‘Is there someone out there that would benefit from knowing what really happened? An enemy of Mr. Pyrite? Or, uh…’
She trailed off, pinching the bridge of her nose.
‘I’m sorry, could I maybe head home?’ she asked of Brynner. ‘I think I need to take a nap.’ She didn’t mention the music.
‘Helton, it’s your first day back after a week to recuperate. I’d prefer it if you could, uh, stick around until at least the debriefing paperwork is completely signed off?’
‘It looks serious,’ said Ursa. ‘She’s practically swaying on her feet. And we’ve been through a lot, what with the world nearly ending, and we just had another stressful meeting with an Ancient Dragon that you really should have warned us about on our way up here instead of just surprising us with it. Wouldn’t it make more sense to have a gradual return-to-work if it’s necessary? Which it clearly is?’
Brynner seemed to look from the rapid movements of Ursa’s mouth to the constellations of bruises and plasters on her face.
‘Alright,’ he relented. ‘Will that be all?’
‘…Actually,’ said Ursa. ‘There was one other thing. I was hoping I could arrange a meeting with yourself sometime soon?’
‘Oh? For what reason?’
Ursa glanced at the others. ‘It’s… private.’
‘I see. Well, I can have something with Cepheus–‘
‘No. It has to be with your personally, Director.’
Brynner regarded her again. This time, he didn’t look at the bruises.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I have an opening in my schedule tomorrow morning.’
⁂
After grunting out a goodbye to Nora, who staggered off into oncoming traffic, Merlin got to work looking into what he could find of Stiletto Benevolent. The man had an Amulet of Proof Against Detection and Location, but that didn’t block more traditional means of tracking someone down. It’d just take a bit of work.
He minimised the tabs in which he’d been researching arcane tattoo artists, and opened up the local police records, taking another sip of that wonderful, glorious Vitamin Water. He figured a Private Eye would have some sort of agreement with the actual law enforcement; even an informal one would have mention of his name in emails or whatever.
As it turned out, the police did mention Stiletto quite a few times – and not at all favourably. He’d been arrested no less than eight times, but never convicted for anything. The cops had his current office address on record. Merlin made a note.
⁂
A desklength or so away, Ursa chewed on one of her “flowers” and fretted about her meeting. She’d need to write up some cuecards or something. At least she’d already gotten something to wear.
‘Whatcha up to?’ said a voice at her elbow.
‘Augh!’ said Ursa, turning to see Emva’s grinning face. ‘Um, I was just trying to think!’
‘Oh, really?’ said Emva, conversationally. She was looking at the flowers. ‘I was just wondering if there was anything I could help with?’
‘Well, I actually did want to try and track down Adagio, you know, the Angel I mentioned last time we spoke? I wanted to give her a thank-you gift.’
Ursa finally followed Emva’s gaze. ‘You’re welcome to have one if you want, Emva,’ she said.
Emva had already stuffed one into her mouth, along with part of the stem. ‘I could make you a thing,’ she said through cocoa-teeth. ‘It’d only work once, but if you’ve already met the Angel it’d definitely work proper.’
‘Oh. Are you sure? Thank you!’
A few minutes later, and three chocolates poorer, Ursa waved a little brass compass-thing in Merlin’s face. ‘Hey, I’m going to track down Adagio. Do you want to come? Or should we wait for Nora?’
Merlin hesitated before shutting his laptop.
‘Can we get coffee on the way?’
⁂
Nora awoke. She’d stumbled back home and collapsed onto her mattress, barely having the wherewithal to take off her shoes. Nevertheless, she’d carefully put her watch on its charger by the bed. It had never run out of battery, being powered by an unfathomable arcane entity, but it always seemed the respectful thing to do.
She looked blearily around the room, realising she’d been out for a bout an hour and a half. Blessedly, though, the drum and bass had halted. The silver wire in her chest no longer seemed to carry a charge.
Good. So what were her options?
She could head back to work. Check in with the others. Do paperwork.
Or… she could capitalise on time alone. There was something she’d been wanting to do all week, and this way she knew Merlin and Ursa would be over at the Institute.
She seized the opportunity, kicking her shoes back on. In her haste she neglected to grab her watch from its charger.
⁂
The compass’ needle had finally begun to veer to one side. Ursa and Merlin were presumably closing in on their target.
Merlin frowned into the contents of his cup. ‘You know,’ he mused, ‘This would taste better if it wasn’t in a travel cup. And maybe if I’d gotten cold brew instead? And if it was clear instead of brown, and had vitamins in…’
‘Will you stop going on about that water? I think we’re at the place.’
Ursa squinted at the greasy spoon diner that the compass pointed to. She couldn’t see any Angels through the window, but it was quite possible Adagio was hiding in the back. She hefted the muffin basket she’d bought. It had seemed prudent to splash out on a heavier one.
Inside the diner, Emva’s compass spun to aim them at the back corner – and indeed, a woman with sunset-sky–flavoured hair could be seen chatting away to a companion concealed by the booth they were in. Though Adagio faced the door, she was much too engrossed to notice Ursa and Merlin’s approach. Her brow was furrowed, and she hadn’t even touched her bacon sarnie.
‘Adagio, hi!’ said Ursa, proffering her douceur basket. ‘Sorry to interrupt, and sorry to have tracked you down like this, but it was just really important to me to come and say thanks for all the help you gave us with the, uh, apocalypse business! So, here!’
Adagio blinked a few times, but took the gift happily enough. ‘It’s really no problem, I mean, it’s only fair after the misunderstanding in the cinema, you know…? Ooh, banana oat…’
She held a muffin out to her cohort. ‘You want one…?’
Ursa turned to flash a warm smile at Adagio’s friend, but her smile flickered rictus when she realised who it was.
Laniakea glared up at her from behind a plate streaked with blueberry gore. A pie crust crumb had somehow ended up on her shoulder.
Ursa realised she was babbling. ‘Ah, Laniakea, it’s you, what a funny coincidence seeing you again, especially after this morning; anyway, we didn’t mean to interrupt your lunch, after all, it’s the most important meal of the day if you don’t include breakfast, right? So we’ll just be on our way and we’ll get out of your hair; thanks again Adagio, I hope you enjoy the muffins–‘
At this point she cleared the doors and allowed herself to breathe again.
‘Well, that was unexpected,’ said Merlin. It seemed he’d gotten outside before Ursa had.
‘No, no, it’s probably a good thing!!’ said Ursa. ‘If they’re reconnecting, that can only be a good thing, right?!’
‘No, I meant Laniakea eating in a greasy spoon.’
‘Oh.’
They actually laughed for a little bit.
⁂
Adagio watched them wander off outside the diner’s window; Merlin apparently suggesting a destination and the two heading toward that.
She leaned back in her seat and examined Laniakea’s search through the gift basket for the muffin with the highest sugar content.
‘You see,’ said the Angel, not unkindly. ‘This is why I’m the only one who’ll talk to you…’
Laniakea snorted. ‘They are cowards.’
‘No, you’re just intimidating. That’s what I’ve literally just been telling you… And hey, it isn’t fair to call someone names while you’re digging through a present they brought. Especially if it wasn’t addressed to you…’
‘I know this,’ said the Dragon. ‘She stood against me, do you know this?’
‘I’m glad she did, Lania… You need to learn that people won’t just give you whatever you want.’
Laniakea looked up, sharply. She wasn’t used to keeping her feelings on the inside. ‘You struck her too,’ she said, the green of her cheeks taking on a more chartreuse hue. ‘Are you glad of that?’
‘I told you about that… I thought she was another of your sycophants at the time. And I apologised.’
‘I admitted my… mistake to her today,’ said Laniakea, carefully.
‘That’s a start, I suppose…’ said Adagio. ‘Hey, you only get one of those, the rest are mine. And stop sulking.’
⁂
‘Mr. Pyrite will see you now.’
‘Thanks,’ said Nora, and strode through into the judge’s chamber.
‘Ah, if it isn’t Nora Helton,’ said Mr. Pyrite, wearing the friendly smile of a predator with no regard for the terror telegraphed by its fine-edged teeth.
‘Hello, Mr. Pyrite,’ said Nora. ‘I’m here to talk.’
‘Oh? I assumed you’d come to apologize for insulting me.’
‘I was under the impression that our keeping your involvement from Laniakea was apology enough.’
Mr. Pyrite’s expression grew bemused. ‘Come on, we both know that was as much for your benefit as mine. It’d be a hell of a mess to clean up after.’
Nora ignored this, and simply pressed on, sitting in a chair across from the desk. ‘The reason I’m here is because I want information, and if you can’t give it to me, I reckon you know someone who can.’
‘Really?’ The Dragon leaned forward on his desk. ‘You want to request my services after what happened when last you were here? What makes you think I’d deign to assist?’
Nora held up a wooden gavel, with “2 of 3” inscribed in the handle. Pyrite’s eyes did not grow wide, and did not narrow. He barely moved at all.
‘You know,’ he said, casually, ‘I could take that from you before you had time to rise from your seat? There’s a chance you’d lose your hand, though.’
‘Could you do it before I had time to set it alight?’ said Nora, tapping into the power lent from her Patron, intending to punctuate the threat with roll of flame between her fingers.
Only, no such flame appeared. She hadn’t brought her watch. Leaving it behind had been necessary, considering what she wanted to find out from here, but…
Sure, she could still use magic, but it was more limited without the Morris Worm coiled around her wrist – she couldn’t conjure a Fire Bolt. What if he–
‘Fine,’ said Mr. Pyrite, choosing not to call her bluff. ‘Fine. That was a gift, after all. Set it on the table and we’ll talk – I assume you’re the one that spirited it from my desk drawer?’
‘I found it,’ said Nora, and didn’t elaborate. ‘So, what I want to ask about is… do you know anything about entities that are both magical and digital in nature? Specifically, how to… protect yourself from them? A friend of mine is having some trouble.’
This will seem ironic later.
The Dragon didn’t blink as he reached over to retrieve his gavel. He didn’t reply until it was back in his hand. ‘Now,’ he said. ‘That is something unfortunately a little outside my personal wheelhouse. You want me to consult on occult jurisprudence, then we’re talking.’
‘Well if you can’t offer anything then–‘
‘Sit back down, Nora Helton.’
Nora did not, but Mr. Pyrite seemed unperturbed. He simply continued.
‘There is someone that’s better-versed in technology than myself. I could put you in touch. But before that, there is the matter of the third gavel.’
‘I only have the one,’ lied Nora.
‘That’s not what I’ve been told.’
Nora eyed him, but blinked first. How did he know? He couldn’t have been scrying on the confrontation with Caravigg, not with Laniakea’s wards. Right?
She sighed, and made her way to one of the bookshelves at the room’s edge. There, she retrieved the 3-of-3 gavel and placed it carefully on a shelf before moving away, as if this were a hostage exchange. Which, technically, it was.
Then she went and sat back down. ‘Right, so who’s this tech person you–‘
She stopped as, in the corner of her eye, the gavel lifted into the air seemingly of its own accord, and floated its way over to Pyrite’s waiting hand. The invisible figure that had carried it to him faded into view shortly afterwards.
‘Meet my new P.A,’ said Mr. Pyrite.
Minette gave an apologetic grin, one that, had Nora seen it on their first meeting, might have avoided a whole lot of trouble.
‘Hi, Nora,’ said Minette. ‘Thanks for distracting Adagio so I could get away. Uh, I didn’t think she’d take me back to Laniakea, what with their breakup, but still.’
‘Minette’s quite a bit better with technology than myself,’ said Mr. Pyrite. ‘The spell she used to circumvent Laniakea’s wards, for example, making her only invisible to cameras? I was very impressed. I believe she might be of some help with whatever entity your friend might be dealing with.’
‘Not off the top of my head, though,’ added Minette. ‘Give me some time to look into it.’
Nora continued saying nothing. She could hear the other shoe whistling down through the air.
Mr. Pyrite clapped his hands together in an “I just remembered” gesture. ‘Now, Nora,’ he said. ‘You’ve returned my property, everything back its proper place. But that’s not all that needed clearing up, is it? I mean to say, we’ve properly addressed the matters proprietary, but there remain the matters propriety.
‘We are even on belongings, Nora Helton. We are not even on insults.’
There it was. ‘So what do you propose?’ asked Nora, with perhaps a mildly sardonic expression. ‘You want me to sign your book, is that it?’
‘That might go some way to mending our relationship.’
‘What happens if you have my “true name”, then? Are you going to own my soul or something?’
‘Nothing so nefarious,’ said Mr. Pyrite with a wounded little pout. ‘It simply means that you’re on equal terms with each of my other clients, and my other clients would know this.’
‘Alright, but that’s not an answer. What does signing my name do? Does it mean you could track my movements? Does it make it easier for you to kill me?’
The Dragon fixed his attention on her fully, and there was a near-imperceptible glittering of scales on his skin. The tattoos on his scalp almost seemed to glow. ‘Nora Helton. If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t need your true name to make that happen.’
Nora didn’t blink this time. ‘Alright, fine,’ she said. ‘May I, uh, borrow a pen?’
⁂
Stiletto Benevolent, read the card on the intercom. Private Eye (Allseeing).
As it had turned out, the address Merlin had found for the detective’s office had been a mere 3 minutes’ walk from the diner where they’d fled from Adagio and Laniakea. It only made sense to check it out.
Merlin stood on tiptoes to press the buzzer.
‘Hellooo?’ said Stiletto’s tinny voice through the speaker. He sounded like a 6 millimeter version of himself at the bottom of a tin of Pringles, but his vocal mannerisms were still easily recognisable.
‘Hello,’ said Merlin, failing to keep the growl from his tone. ‘It’s one of the people you blew up in an alley last week. Remember me?’
There was a pause, then: ‘…Oh, fuck. Uh, you’re through to Stiletto pizza, sorry, we aren’t taking orders right at this moment.’
The line went dead.
‘That fucker!’ said Merlin, reaching up again – but Ursa stopped him.
‘Let’s give it a minute,’ she said. ‘And then…’
She pressed the buzzer, briefly.
‘…Hellooo?’ said Stiletto’s voice, more cautiously this time.
‘Hi, my friend gave me your card – I was hoping I’d be able to hire you for, uh… something?’ said Ursa. She probably should have planned something.
‘Really?’ said Stiletto. ‘And you’re not here because of any explosions in any alleyways?’
‘Um. No? There were two people just here, but they, um. They left.’
Another pause. ‘…Oh thank goodness,’ said Stiletto. ‘Come on in!’
‘You’d think a detective would have better insight,’ remarked Merlin, as the door opened.
‘Honestly I’m surprised there wasn’t a camera.’
Inside, the corridors and walls had the sort of rickety feeling to them that says ‘Victorian boarding house’ rather than ‘offices’. Each door was identical, with no numbers or namecards to distinguish their contents. However, a little way in, one of the door frames had been carved to almost lacework by the sheer number of runes and sigils surrounding it.
‘That’s probably the place, huh?’ said Ursa.
Merlin practically kicked the door in.
Imagine the office of a private eye; not a real one, but one from television. The room looked like that, complete with filing cabinets, metal blinds, and sheets of paper everywhere.
The only real difference was that the calendar was instead an ‘I want to believe‘ poster.
‘Oh good lord it’s you,’ said Stiletto to the encroaching Gnome.
‘Hello Stiletto,’ Merlin replied. ‘We have a few questions we’d like you to answer.’
‘Really? Well, unfortunately, I was just on my way out, so…’
Merlin swept a stack of paper onto the floor, slamming his laptop on the table in its stead. He hit a key like a viper strike, and suddenly there was a blade of guttural shadow weaving around his arm.
He pointed this Shadow Blade at Stiletto, making an ‘Ah bah bah bah’ noise of warning. ‘Sit back down,’ he said.
‘So, Stiletto,’ said Ursa, having been left holding the straw that said Good Cop, ‘We’re hoping you might have found some info on whoever it was that hired you last week? You did say you’d look into it.’
‘I said it compelled me. That’s not the same.’
‘So you haven’t looked into it at all?’ said Merlin, his blade Damoclesian above Stiletto’s leg.
‘Well, I’ve looked a bit. But I haven’t found very much; it’s a wide net to cast,’ said the detective, staring at the blade. ‘That’s a remarkable spell, I must say. Would you mind showing me your formulae after this? I’m sure we could make an exchange.’
Both Merlin and Ursa watched Stiletto’s eye twitch as he tried to change the subject. He was a remarkably terrible liar.
‘Look, I don’t really want to cut your leg off,’ said Merlin, ‘Because chances are that’ll make your testimony less accurate. But if you continue to lie–‘
‘Oh, I can help with that,’ supplied Ursa, hoping to mitigate the need for Merlin’s nasty streak. He and Nora had a surprising amount in common, actually.
Ursa tapped out a little rhythm on the side of a desk, and everyone hearing it swayed along with the magic woven through. She cast Zone of Truth.
‘Right, so you know that I’m being totally honest here,’ said Merlin, leaning forward with his Shadow Blade. ‘If you dodge a question, or you refuse to answer? I’ve been looking for an excuse to test how sharp this spell is.’
Stiletto swallowed, not noticing how Merlin had stepped around a declaration that he’d really cut the man’s leg off. ‘Alright,’ he said. ‘Very well. I haven’t looked into it with much rigour, because I already have a suspicion of who it might be.’
‘Can you tell us, then?’ asked Ursa.
‘Well… I can, but usually when I talk about this, people laugh. Or I lose my job.’
‘I promise we won’t laugh. Or uh, fire you?’
‘I’m more worried about losing limbs in this case,’ said Stiletto. ‘But okay. Consider, if you will, that the only ones who even knew a crime had been committed at the time of my hiring were the victim and the perpetrator, yes? The victim, though, did not know of me, or I would have been given access to the scene of the crime. And the perpetrator, of course, would have no reason to hire an intellect such as mine. Why would they increase their chances of being caught?’
He waited for them to offer insights that he could then correct. Sadly, both Ursa and Merlin recognised his question as rhetorical.
‘They wouldn’t,’ continued Stiletto, a bit deflated. ‘So then, who else could have known? Only one who knew both the victim and perpetrator, and wanted to set them against one another, but couldn’t do so themselves. One who watched from the shadows, unwilling to reveal their identity. One who had seen the crime before it had been committed.’
‘Who?’ asked Ursa.
Stiletto had fully recovered his momentum now. ‘One who spins a web of malfeasance so deep in the shadows that few can see its saturnine threads. One whose invisible hands spin such a number of nefarious plates they interlock like clockwork in a great machine of evil purpose. One who lurks below the Middlemarch underworld, guiding each and every citizen to be inexorably potted in her byzantine schemes like Bugs Bunny with the magnet and the golf ball in Space Jam.
‘Her name is Lopodite, the Tenth Muse. The Muse of Crime.’
‘…Fuck off,’ said Ursa.
‘I’m being serious!’ Stiletto protested.
Merlin flashed off his Shadow Blade. ‘We know. That makes it worse.’
‘I have proof!’ the detective practically wailed. He produced a file from the cabinet, and threw it on the desk. ‘I found most of this while I still worked with the Caliber Institute. She’s involved in so many incidents in the last decade!’
He pointed from image to image as he spoke. It was really a shame he hadn’t set up a full-on conspiracy board with string and red circles. Merlin shook his head, but in doing so, he spotted a note about a curiously-built IKEA in the city.
‘The thing is, we believe you,’ said Ursa, slowly, interrupting Stiletto as he explained how Lopodite was the reason KFC kept their spices a secret. ‘We encountered something she was probably involved in. There was a statue of her and everything.’
Stiletto’s eyes went wide. ‘Then… you and I are allies, both standing against her Machiavellian manouvres. Should you require my services in future, I am but a phone call away.’
‘Uh. Okay. Could we get a phone number then?’
‘You already have mine. I wrote it on your card.’
‘Oh,’ said Ursa. ‘Yes. You did.’
‘I assumed that was how you found me here?’
‘…Yes. Yes it was,’ said Ursa. Apparently the Zone of Truth had worn off.
⁂
‘What do you mean you went to see Pyrite?!’ said Ursa, aghast.
It was the next day. Merlin, Nora, and Ursa had reconvened at Ursa’s desk, and were helping themselves to chocolate petals.
Nora fiddled with her watch. The strap felt a little tighter than normal. ‘Yeah, I took a nap and I was feeling a bit better, so I thought I’d save us a job.’
Ursa pouted. ‘I was hoping to rub his guilt into his smug face,’ she said. ‘Or actually maybe it’s best if I never see him again in my life?’
‘Did he make you sign his book?’ asked Merlin.
‘He wanted me to,’ said Nora, and didn’t elaborate.
Merlin nodded. ‘Well, we managed to track down Stiletto. He actually wants to work with us moving forward, if any more of this Lopodite business comes up…’
Nora was barely listening, though; still messing with her wrist. Her mind was locked on yesterday evening.
She’d returned home to find more than 60 waiting messages from her Patron.
‘You forgot me’
‘Nora you forgot your watch’
‘Where are you?’
‘I don’t know what to do if you’re not with me’
‘Get back here now’
‘We need to talk. Now’
‘I hope you’re having fun’
‘Who are you with?’
‘Come back soon, I’m all alone’
‘Fine, ignore me’
And so on and so on and so on.
Nora had panicked upon seeing them, but along with that, she’d felt guilty. She rushed to her computer and explained to the Morris Worm just how jangled she was, by way of apology; and verbal-diarrhoea’d about the drum and bass in her head, and the delicious food she’d conjured, and she was so, so sorry.
‘Oh, oh no!’ said the Morris Worm, brightly. ‘Well, you should probably head up to the lakes, then.’
‘What? Why? How do you know about…’ About what Adagio told me, she didn’t say. ‘What’s up at the lakes?’
‘The thing the wire’s connected to.’
‘And what thing is that?’
‘Me.’
Roll History 