| |
––––––––
WOLFLOCK TOSSED AND turned all night as he slept on the clues before him. What had Officer Tand shown Lija? How did that tie in with her disappearance? Why was Captain Estivan keeping things secret from his own team? Why had Lija’s stepmother come looking for her husband here?
The questions bounced around in his head. Every time he thought he came close to an answer, another question cut across it. He felt grateful to see the dawn light driving the shadows of night away on the other buildings he could see through the window.
He rolled over to see Mothy snoring in his peculiar sleep contortion act. Wolflock sat up and brushed his hair with his fingers. His toiletries were back at the Raven’s Burrow Mountain Tours, and he didn’t want to use anyone else’s brush or comb, even if Gretah had laid them out on the dresser for him and Mothy. He tidied himself up and put his shoes on before clicking his fingers by Mothy’s face. He just kept snoring.
“Mothy. Mothy wake up,” he sang. Mothy snored louder in response.
With a smirk, he clapped his hands by Mothy’s ear.
“Huh wha!?”
And instantly regretted his decision.
Mothy threw out his arms and legs like a scrambling deer, whacking Wolflock in the face twice and landing a heel to his gut, sending him reeling backwards onto his plush bed.
“Lockie?” Mothy slurred as he unwound his limbs from the blankets and sat on the edge of his bed. He scratched his fine, mousy hair and wiped his eyes. “S’wrong?”
“I wanted to tell you what I heard last night,” coughed Wolflock. “Now I’m less inclined...” He rubbed his jaw as he looked daggers at his friend.
“Oh? I was bone tired last night. Couldn’t keep my eyes open. What’dya find out?”
Wolflock told him of Gretah and Tand’s exchange before the sound of a bell called them down to breakfast. Mothy pouted after he heard Wolflock had gone without him, but his mood changed when he saw the beautiful breakfast laid out for them across a dark wood table with individual green cushioned seats that matched the heavy green drapes. Fresh bread, boiled eggs, toasted seed muffins, porridge with dried fruit, and stewed root vegetables with salt and Northern spices tantalised them into their seats. The aromatic cacophony of smells made the boys' bellies rumble as they started piling their plates.
Mothy immediately started shovelling food, but Wolflock looked around to see where their host may be. Gretah pushed a delicate chair into the room with a frail, pale-looking woman who seemed nothing like Ms Vuori.
“Ms Ingur Vuori, I presume. It is a pleasure to finally meet our host.”
He gave Mothy a kick under the table, so he’d display some manners.
“Thanks for letting us stay,” Mothy smiled through a mouth full of bread.
Ms Ingur eyed them from her emaciated sockets. Her thin form was shawled in a dark black wool blanket and her brittle, decorated fingers wrapped around a ceramic cup like a heavily jewelled crow’s foot.
“Please forgive my lady but her coughing fit yesterday as left her without a voice,” Gretah soothed, and poured them all some fresh spiced tea.
“Where is Ms Vuori?” Wolflock asked as he watched the strange, spindly figure move towards the porridge like a praying mantis.
“She said she wasn’t hungry, so she’s just writing in the study to get the word out about Miss Lija’s disappearance.”
“She’d better come back soon,” Ms Ingur rasped as she prepared her spoon full of porridge, her opulent rings clinking on the metal. “Who else will bring my medicine?”
Gretah pressed her lips tightly together for a moment and they sat in an awkward silence.
“Ms Ingur, she didn’t run away. She’s gone missing.”
Ms Ingur hissed. “Oh tosh. She’s just at her father’s, hiding away. Insolent child won’t even care for her poor sick aunt. But that’s what you get from an Antrum. No Yule presents for her this year. Her mother is no better-”
“Oh!” Gretah gasped, fishing a note from her pocket. “I forgot to give you this. It was delivered this morning from Officer Tand. Oh, Ms Vuori!”
The poor handmaid squeaked as the Antrum woman dragged her feet into the dining room and took a seat midway between her stepsister and the boys. Her bloodshot crimson eyes looked up at Gretah with a weary sadness.
“Did you say they’ve sent word?”
“Umm... yes, ma’am. Officer Tand and Captain Estivan have set off for Mr Dalur’s abode. They say not to worry about following until they have more information,” Gretah recited for the room.
Wolflock thought she was being quite foolish. Ms Vuori had to unseal the note, which meant that Gretah shouldn’t have been able to read it yet, and she had sealed it with a stamp and wax from the back postage room. He thought about highlighting it, but he didn’t want to reveal her and Officer Tand without something to gain from it.
“We have to go. Have you got your things?” Ms Vuori jumped up, inhaling a muffin and apple juice from the table as she looked at the boys.
Wolflock nodded and drained the rest of his soup, but Ms Ingur wailed and fell back into her seat. All eyes turned to the woman as Gretah rushed to her side, but she continued moaning as if she were in great pain. Wolflock watched Ms Vuori’s face. With each wail her steely resolve chipped down until she bit her lips
“Ingur? What’s the matter?” she asked the obligatory question.
“Oh, no. It’s just that I hurt all over, dear sister. The doctor only gave you a half dose of the medicine, I’m sure.”
She groaned again as the others looked on. Wolflock could have sworn he saw her smirk.
After a few tense moments, Ms Vuori asked, “What would you like me to do about that?”
Ms Ingur’s thin lips curled in snarl. “I don’t want you to do anything about it! I just want to sit here in agony and wait for the darkness to take me.”
“Ingy, my daughter is missing-”
“Don’t ‘Ingy’ me! This is just an excuse you’ve made up, so you won’t have to see me. How long will she be ‘missing’ for, huh? A week? A month? All Winter? I’ll just have to wait for medication, will I?”
Ms Vuori’s lip quivered, but Wolflock had had enough.
“I mean you can always use the duplicates we have extra receipts for. Or ask your maid to collect them. Ah, but that won’t do, will it, Ms Ingur?”
The crotchety woman’s lip curled in disgust as Wolflock spoke.
“No, of course not. You’re after all of your stepsister’s undivided attention in order to bring her life down to the state yours is in. You hide your medication and your addiction while doctor hopping to get a new pity party wherever you go. The worse off you make yourself, the more attention she has to provide your imagined ills without realising that it’s due to her love of her work that you’re able to afford any of this in the first place. Well, I’m terribly sorry, but we have to tend to real problems and we’re in a rush.”
“Ingy? Is that true? We saw the two receipts at Dr Växtadlare’s. Is it true you’ve been spending our time on things you didn’t need?” Ms Vuori breathed.
Ms Ingur writhed in her seat like a naughty child caught stealing candy. “Get out. You don’t love me. You never do anything for me. I hate you.”
Ms Vuori walked by her sister and looked down on her with terrible pity. “I love you. Because I love you, I won’t feed this. I’m going to find my daughter.” And, with that, she flew from the room.
“And we’re done,” Wolflock grinned as he rose from the table, only having half finished his bowl of soup. “Gretah, please help us with our departure. We must away to the Dalurs with great haste.”
Ms Ingur blinked, unable to stammer out an argument as Wolflock grabbed Mothy by the shirt collar and hauled him out after Gretah, who smiled as she left the room. Mothy scooped up a napkin of breakfast muffins and waved as he was dragged away.
“Is she always that awful?” Wolflock asked as they caught up to her.
“Only when she’s ill,” the handmaid whispered.
“When is she well?”
She didn’t answer.
“She’ll regret her words if Lija is found in a poor state.”
Gretah pressed her lips again. “Ms Vuori hasn’t sent gifts to her family for more than five years now.”
“She really doesn’t like her sister and niece that much?” Wolflock asked as they came to the front door.
“She resents their good health and fortune. She thinks it’s because of their heritage that they somehow stole it from her.” Gretah whispered. “She’s the only person in town who does though. Please find Miss Lija. I’m terribly worried about her.”
“I’m sure we will. Lockie is the best finder of lost things I know,” said Mothy through a mouthful of muffin.
As they walked into the early morning air, they saw Ms Vuori give a stack of letters to the errand boy who had brought Theod around for them.
“We’re ready to go.”
“Good, good. I’ll take you to Uskoton’s.” She gave one resolute nod before stepping into the buggy and gripping the seat rail with white knuckles.
She’s either nervous or outraged, Wolflock thought as he followed Mothy up.
“Did you sleep well, Theod?”
The little horse whinnied as he kicked off at a trot. “Oh yes, Mr Mothy. The other ponies in the stable work for the neighbours, and we stayed up all night talking. It was delightful.”
Wolflock smirked to himself, thinking that, if the other horses complained, it would all come back to Ingur.
The Dalur’s manor house was nestled away in the blocks at the base of the mountain to the West. Perfectly manicured gardens and flowerbeds surrounded the house, unlike the majority of other houses and townhouses, which had the occasional tree planted along the path surrounded by decorative fencing. The excessive attendants to a wealthy household was something Wolflock could identify very quickly. A good dozen staff trapezed like a line of ants down the path from the Dalur residence. Servants carried all kinds of boxes and blanket wrapped trinkets, loading them on to wagons.
“What’s going on?” Wolflock frowned at Ms Vuori.
“I can see why she snuck over here to see her father,” Mothy said as he helped Ms Vuori down from the carriage. “This place looks like a lot of fun for a child.”
Ms Vuori heaved a sigh. “He’d have you believe it was my selfishness that stopped Lija from being able to come here. I may have loved him dearly, and I was terribly mad at him, but I did it for her safety. Mrs Dalur hates both of us and I needed to protect my daughter. When I confronted his wife about it, she said that it was the duty of a parent to discipline children. I would never strike Lija. She’s a clever and trusting child because of that. She’s utterly fearless. She knows she can trust me to talk to her about what is right and wrong, and striking someone else is always wrong! Especially someone smaller than you.”
Wolflock didn’t know if he agreed with her or not, but Mothy nodded along as if her teachings were wise, so there had to be some merit to them. He stepped out of the buggy and walked down the long driveway as Mothy helped Ms Vuori down.
On the white stone front porch stood a finely dressed, thin woman with lines around her lips that made her mouth look like a drawn purse. Her dusty brown hair was swept back into a loose bun decorated with pearls and her long black dress frilled around her thin long neck.
At first, Wolflock noticed that she looked over the workers carrying out boxes and furniture with a smile of relief, but, as she saw the three of them approaching, her lips pulled in like drawstrings and she looked down her hooked nose with hooded eyes.
“Mrs Dalur, I presume,” Wolflock jogged to the top of the stairs ahead of them and bowed politely. As he drew nearer, he smelt a familiar flowery smell.
She sniffed stiffly. “That is correct.”
“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Councillor Felen. We’re here for a meeting with yourself, Mr Dalur, and my client, Ms Vuori. I believe we are on time.”
Mrs Dalur’s nose twitched, and she refused to look at Ms Vuori. Mothy and Ms Vuori blinked at Wolflock in surprise, but they stayed silent and let him lead.
“I... But... I wasn’t inform- I mean, of course I knew about this meeting. Let me show you to the parlour.”
Wolflock smiled and let her show them to what would have once been a beautifully decorated room, but was now covered in white cloth and marks from where the old paintings had been taken off the wall.
“I’ll fetch Mr Dalur. Please wait here.”
They took seats on the covered sofas and felt the dry warmth from the fireplace. Wolflock glanced into it and noticed a crumpled page sitting just out of the heat by the back wall. He took up the tongs and fished it out before it could burn anymore.
Dear Kiipei
I hope this finds you and Lija in a better mood. I have had an upheaval of the home and I will send this letter with some house staff to help look for Lija until I can be there.
Yours Always,
Uskoton
Wolflock grinned, thrusting the note in front of Ms Vuori and Mothy.
“I’ve always wanted to impersonate a lawyer before,” he said as he smiled ear to ear.
“I’m all for a bit of sneaking and mischief, but why didn’t you count me in?” Mothy asked.
“I could see as we walked up the stairs that she was going to have us thrown out, but Mrs Dalur is an arrogant woman. From what I’d heard of her, and how she conducts herself, she wouldn’t have wanted the household and staff to know that her husband had not kept her informed of the goings on. But it was not such a far-fetched story that he would do such a thing, as we’ve seen by his dishonesty to his wife, mother of his child, and business partner. So, she was forced to play along to save face, especially in front of the woman who she feels not only stole the heart of her husband, but also had a child with him. She doesn’t have any children, does she?”
Wolflock spoke as he casually examined the items left in the room. The mantel had been cleared, as had the shelves and drawers, but a small porcelain container of hand cream sat next to one of the armchairs. He opened it and sniffed it. Chamomile, comfrey, and lavender honey. He recognised the blend from the Arain province in West Grothener.
“Not that I know of, but why does that even matter? People are allowed to adopt and have surrogate children. Isn’t that encouraged where you come from? It certainly is here in Mystentine,” Ms Vuori hissed in a whisper.
“I believe it may be part of her Troston upbringing. They believe that the worth of a woman is in her appearance, her ability to produce male offspring and her subservience to the men in her life.”
Mothy nodded solemnly but Ms Vuori looked horrified.
“I never knew. I just thought she was bitter and hated me for her husband’s sake.”
“Kiipei!”
A tall gentleman with a short cut beard appeared at the door. Ms Vuori looked up and got to her feet, hands clutched at her chest. The man rushed in breathlessly, taking Ms Vuori’s hands.
“Tell me you have news! I was going to join you and the others shortly, but things have been so busy here and I knew Silluvun would-”
“Stop. Stop.” Ms Vuori gripped his hands back. “What are you talking about?”
“I... I sent Silluvun and the others to help you search. They’ve been gone for the last two days. You told me you were all looking high and low for her.”
“You haven’t sent me anything. Or anyone. These two boys and the locals are all who have helped.”
“But my staff haven’t been here for days! They must have been with you!”
“You’re not making any sense. Now sit down and answer these boys’ questions.” Ms Vuori pulled her hands out of his and folded her arms tightly as Mr Dalur sat down, looking crestfallen.
Mrs Dalur returned and lurked at the door.
“Sir, where were you the night before last?” Wolflock began.
“Who are these boys, Kiipei? Why have you brought them here? We’re wasting time not looking for Lija,” he protested.
Ms Vuori looked him dead in the eye. “Answer the question, Uskoton.”
“I was here with Ameiloe.” He nodded to his wife, who kept glancing through the windows to the front gate. “We... We had a lot to talk about.”
Ms Vuori eyed him with suspicion, but she stayed silent.
Her silence was enough to make him sweat. “It was... I just... She...”
“She? She! I’m your wife!” Mrs Dalur fumed, stomping away. As she disappeared from view, she screamed.
Wolflock could tell it was one of the utmost frustration, but Mr Dalur ran to the distress call. What Wolflock didn’t expect was to hear other voices mingling with the calamity in the entrance hall. The boys raced from the room to see Captain Estivan grappling with Mr Dalur and Officer Tand standing between the couple. Even Chestir was with them, scribbling notes on a clipboard. He had jumped back, holding the clipboard up as a shield under his thick glasses.
“Stay back, boys.” Officer Tand threw her hand out to stop them.
“Why are you restraining him?” Wolflock pointed at Captain Estivan.
“We heard a woman scream and saw her running.” Tand gestured between them.
For a moment Wolflock saw relief cross Mrs Dalur’s face again, but he didn’t like that seeing her husband apprehended made her pleased.
“I think you’ll find she screamed before her husband entered the room. Captain Estivan, what brings you here?”
He let go of Mr Dalur, who indignantly straightened his suit jacket and waited for the explanation.
“New evidence has come to light that Miss Lija’s disappearance is directly related to your estate, Mr Dalur. We’ll need you to cease your departure until we’ve conducted our investigation of your premises.”
“Wait, what?” Mr Dalur and Wolflock said simultaneously.
Mrs Dalur gasped, falling to her knees.
“What departure?” Ms Vuori trembled in the doorway.
“If you two and Ms Vuori wish to stay and discuss matters with the Dalurs, be my guest, but stay out of the way of my team.”
Five blue clad Guards marched in and, as Captain Estivan designated tasks to them, Wolflock grabbed Mothy’s arm and brought him into a huddle with Ms Vuori.
“Mrs Dalur is hiding something. There is evidence here that we need, and that this rabble are going to miss.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Mothy looked over the troop. “They look capable to me.”
“Mothy, they’re rookies. They’re still wearing training bands on their arms. They don’t know what they’re supposed to be looking for.”
“And we’re not rookies,” Mothy grinned.
“Exactly. We need to be able to search the house without the Dalurs interfering. Ms Vuori, can you create a long enough distraction for us? We’ll give you a signal when we’ve found what we need.”
“Do you think Lija is here?” she spoke with a severe note in her voice.
Wolflock shook his head imperceptibly to the rest of the room. “I do not know. I know that there is more at play here than we first realised. Give us time and we’ll give you answers.”
With a resolute nod, Ms Vuori rose to her average height with the commanding energy of someone thrice her size.
“Uskoton, what do they mean by ‘departure’?”
Mr Dalur paled, leaving Mrs Dalur on the floor as he moved to soothe the mother of his child. “It’s nothing. Nothing at all to be worried about. I wasn’t going to leave until we found Lija-”
“You said we were leaving tonight!” spat Mrs Dalur.
“Tonight?” shrieked Ms Vuori. “While our child is missing?”
“No-no, I-your-you see...” he stammered.
As Wolflock and Mothy slunk away to the stairs going up to the private rooms, he saw Mr Dalur for the man he really was. A complete, flip-flopping, people pleaser to the utmost degree. His desperation and boredom likely led him into the arms of many partners, but the two who could hold sway over him were the two who had a lifelong bond. Marriage and child.
It gave Wolflock a chill to think someone could be so mercilessly attached to another human. It certainly wasn’t for him.
“Now,” Mothy grinned as they found themselves in a cloth covered hallway, “we’re not rookies, so we know what we’re looking for. But, just so we’re on the same page, what are we looking for?”
Wolflock smirked. “If the behaviour from downstairs is anything to go by, we’re looking for Mrs Dalur’s luggage that she intends to carry on her person, or a very special looking trunk. Something you’d put evidence in that could destroy your life but also gives you life. Perhaps something that hints to a family member, a religious leader or a secret lover.”
“How do you figure that?” Mothy asked as he started flicking through the books left on a shelf in the study.
“She is set on leaving town. She also looked happy when her husband was being apprehended. She’s not the smartest of women, but she’s cunning. She has reasons for leaving town in a hurry and I doubt it’s because she’s hiding Lija anywhere here. She wants to get away from everything about her husband.”
“Ah. You know, it’s a typical Troston thing for the women to not be able to do anything without their husbands’ permission. If he was locked up, he wouldn’t be able to delay her leaving. She must really dislike him.”
“Why the sudden need to leave though?” Wolflock scanned the white room as he looked for anything inconspicuous and personal. “They had discussed it on the evening Lija disappeared. No doubt we’ll find the house staff can all confirm they were here.” Suddenly the image of Lija sitting on the crates in the warehouse on the night of her disappearance was altered in his mind. Saraesh hadn’t seen Mr Dalur talking with his daughter. She’d seen another man talking to her. To sit close enough to be comfortable with the person wasn’t something a smart child would do with a stranger. She knew them. Lija knew the person who abducted her. But how could they have done it without alerting Saraesh?
Wolflock moved into the master bedroom and saw two piles of the luggage being kept aside for the Dalurs personal carriage. “Mothy, come and help me look through these, would you?”
“Oh, excellent. You found them. Good investigating, Lockie. You’ll be two steps above a rookie in no time,” Mothy chuckled as he began sifting through Mr Dalur’s items. “He sure loves his daughter. Pictures, paintings, her sketches. It looks like he kept everything she ever made. I wonder, though...”
Wolflock opened Mrs Dalur’s boxes and suitcases, finding masses of plain jewellery, bland clothes, and the entire set of the Troston bibles along with various prayer books. “What are you wondering?”
“What is in between a rookie and a master? You always hear about being one or the other. But what is in the middle of all that? You don’t just wake up one day after being a rookie for years and suddenly, ‘poof’, master.”
“You can be an apprentice, a journey folk, an adept, an expert-”
Mothy laughed. “Ah. Hazzim always said to watch out for experts. They’re not just a drip under pressure.”
Wolflock gave him a short laugh out of courtesy, not really understanding, but his eyes were fixed on the lid of the suitcase he’d opened. There was less space in it than the outside suggested, but he couldn’t see how the wooden underside could be altered.
“Huh... a secret compartment.”
“I didn’t know that was a level. I can’t wait to reach ‘secret compartment’ level.”
“Mothy, come look at this. What do you make of it? Does it look like anything you’ve seen before?”
Mothy ran across the room and came to a halt before the suitcase, skidding on his knees over the carpet. “What have you got for me?”
He ran his fingers all over the case, trying to cram his short nails into the edges and tugging on the belts glued to the inside like the ribs of a ship. “Oh? What’s this? Lockie, look! It’s that funny writing.”
Wolflock saw Mothy pull down the tag for the company who crafted the case and, underneath, was another Corlesian pictograph code. After a few moments of deciphering it, Wolflock spoke words that made Mothy grip his shirt reflexively.
“In the name of our one Lord and Saviour, may my sins be only His to judge and may my soul follow his path. For His light is the only light in which we may eternally follow.” Wolflock made a face of disgust. “It sounds like a warped prayer from the Temple of Light.”
“Yeah... but the Temple of Light don’t stone you to death if you walk in the darkness. They also don’t dictate what darkness is to the point where you’re walking on a tightrope that keeps moving.” Mothy kept his grip on Wolflock’s shirt.
“It has a spot at the end of it that’s blank. What’s that word the Trostons use in their prayers?”
Mothy shrank back, his face darkening with disgust. “Ahlwanye.”
Wolflock jerked his hand away as the code burned red hot and the lid of the case sprung open with tiny sparks.
“Knock, knock, little deputies,” came a soft voice from the door. Chestir knocked and slipped into the room, smiling nervously.
Both boys sat up like rabbits, alert with wide eyes.
“Oh, don’t mind me. I just didn’t want to... you know. The ladies. Oof, am I right?” he laughed. Neither of the boys returned his awkward joke. “Did you find anything? Goodness knows the captain is pulling at straws, ahah.”
“I’m not sure, yet. But maybe.”
“Oh, well, perhaps I can help a bit?”
Wolflock frowned, sensing Chestir’s brittle energy and the stench of tobacco. It had the kind of interfering incompetence that required twice as much effort to negate than if it hadn’t been there at all.
“Sure. The more help the faster we can find Lija.” Mothy smiled at the lanky man.
Wolflock scrunched up his face in distaste, giving Mothy a clear signal that he was responsible for the incompetent clerk.
“This is exciting,” the older man tittered, rubbing his hands together. “It’s like real detective work.”
“It is real detective work,” Wolflock snipped.
“Oh, yes. Of course. Forgive me.” Chestir raised his hands in apology and bowed his head. Wolflock noticed, for the first time, how thick his hair was. The chestnut strands that bobbed around his face and ears were as thick as Theod’s mane.
Not wanting to give the man any more attention, he turned to the now open suitcase. Bundles of envelopes lay scattered in the top of the case, as well as bejewelled necklaces, men’s rings and a portrait of a tall, thin, dark-haired man holding a happy Mrs Dalur. The surrounding image showed an orange lit stone church with other couples in modest dress. The mountain through the tall, thin window suggested they were in Mystentine when it was painted. The artist’s name in the lower right corner stood out in white paint: Vicar Gorj T.T. Maroskov
The amount of detail in the small painting was phenomenal. Every tiny inch felt saturated with the care and delicacy of a professional, but the shape of the people in the background overpowered the couple in the foreground. Wolflock also noticed that Ms Dalur was the only feminine-looking woman. All of the others were painted to be misshapen, yet the men were glowing with power and radiance.
“Not very well hidden, was it?” Chestir laughed, as if he had been the one to discover it.
“No,” Wolflock grumbled as he positioned the frame on its corner and pushed. “We’re just smarter.”
He squashed it, cracking the wood out of the nails enough to take out the painting and examine the back. Mothy took in a sharp breath as he watched Wolflock destroy property, but didn’t say a word as his friend showed him the back.
“Exactly as you asked, Lady Dalur. May yours and Eric’s sins be safe with me as mine are with you. Gorj.”
“A tall, dark haired, thin man,” Mothy stared at the picture, but refused to touch it. “Do you think Mrs Dalur wanted to get rid of her stepdaughter?”
“Oh no,” Chestir shook his head as he fiddled with the broken parts of the frame. “Mrs Dalur is a very polite woman. I don’t think she has a bad bone in her body.”
“Know her well, do you?” Wolflock rolled his eyes.
“Oh, no, not really. I just know of her. She’s very charitable, and Mr Dalur hasn’t been such a problem for the local ladies since she’s been in town.”
“Charitable to the local Troston church.” Wolflock rolled up the painting and put it in his pocket. “Let’s see if she did want to rid herself of Lija, shall we?”
He dug through the bundles of letters and the scattered notes for more information. The letters were all addressed to “my light” and “my love”, with one stack from her sister in Corl.
“Look at this.” Wolflock stacked the letters in front of Mothy. “For every letter he sent her, she wrote three or four back. They’re all the same words, but they look like three different people’s handwriting. She’s been practising forgery.”
“Forgery! Well, I never!” Chestir gasped, picking up the letters and turning them this way and that.
Mothy nodded, impressed. “Who has she been forging?”
“We have letters from who I can assume is Eric, the dark-haired man in the painting. He encourages her to write in Mr Dalur’s hand, Ms Vuori’s and Lija’s. She even has a couple in Miss Ingur’s hand.”
He pulled out another letter in a new hand that read,
Dearest Mrs Dalur,
I wish to thank you for procuring your husband’s generous contribution to our church. I hope , now you have his heart in your hand, that you will secure its regularity and we will prosper in the name of the one true Lord. You may now sit in the second pew. Please dismiss my previous urgings to bring Mr Dalur into our flock. I see, now, that his vicarious worship through you is sufficient.
In regard to your questions about annulment, I cannot perform such a sanction here. I beseech you that a loveless marriage is far greater in the eyes of our Lord than a second one, for that second betrothal will always be seen as a betrayal to the first. In your case, though, I can say that, due to the nature of your incompatibility with your husband, to produce a son and his lack of faith, I will ask you to pray on it and send my recommendation to Corl.
Please seek the word of the Wise and Mighty Lord through prayers with Vicar Gorj about his desired course for you.
Ahlwanye,
Father Jymes
“Wait...” Mothy frowned as he read over Wolflock’s shoulder. “What is ‘annulment’, and did he give his blessing for it or not?”
Wolflock sneered. “It means she wanted to get a priest to say her marriage with Mr Dalur never happened and wasn’t real. The funny thing is, the priest didn’t want to have her annul it because she’s been using Dalur’s money to fund the church. This dark-haired man doesn’t have the same level of wealth as her current husband. Greedy monsters. See if you can find the most recent responses from the dark-haired man.”
They sifted through the letters with swift hands, adding to the piles of Mrs Dalur’s responses in her own hand, in other people’s hand, and the letters she received. Mothy realised the task he’d given himself as Chestir constantly put letters in the wrong piles and tried to grab them from the suitcase to help. He was irritatingly immune to Wolflock’s death stare and continued to snatch up envelopes. He even put them back in the wrong envelopes. It soon became a competition between the two of them to see who could go through the letters faster.
“Best keep up the pace. Those ladies might finish their row any moment now.”
Mothy accepted the charge of correcting Chestir’s mistakes as he was the one to welcome him to their investigation.
Wolflock snorted. “Yes. Any moment now.”
Chestir stopped his paper onslaught and cocked his head to the side with a wry smile. “Did you do something to rile them up?”
“Aha!” Wolflock found a letter dated the day before Lija’s disappearance.
Mothy continued to fix his pile of papers before lifting another letter and flicking it open with the exact same “Aha!”. After glancing at it, his jaw dropped. “Oh my gosh it is.”
“Is what?”
“I was just making fun of you but this one is dated the same.”
Chestir cocked his head the other way, his smile flattening, “Is this all detective work is? Looking at papers and exclaiming?”
“Two letters sent in a day. Now that is curious. And risky.” Wolflock flattened his on the floor as he sat next to Mothy.
To my love,
I can bear it no longer. Our Almighty has set a task between us that is too powerful for me. My only wish is to maintain your honour, but I cannot deny my passion for you anymore. Therefore, with the grace of our priest, I beseech you: Run to Corl and annul your marriage with your husband. I know you have been discussing it with Father Jymes. I will meet you there the very next day and we shall be blessed with dozens of beautiful sons as the Lord wishes it.
Please respond with all haste. I am packed and ready to follow you at a moment. I cannot bear another Winter without you in my bed.
Your true love.
The letter was unsigned. In fact, none of the letters in that hand were signed. The handwriting remained calm and controlled, standing in neat, parallel lines with the slightest hint of a right-hand slope. He then read the second correspondence she had that day.
––––––––
MY LOVE,
I cannot delay. I will leave tomorrow with or without you. If I don’t find you in Corl, I’ll know your answer. You cannot use the disruption the child brings as an excuse. If you do not love me, say and I will be done. Why not send the child to the meeting spot she finds your husband at every night he is not home? That will give you the time you need to convince him to go to Corl.
My love for you will not allow me to delay this any longer. I hope, with all my heart, I will see you in Corl.
Your true love
“Really upped the pressure, didn’t he?” Mothy scoffed.
Chestir leaned over, craning his neck to read them as well, but Wolflock folded them and moved to put them in his breast pocket.
“Umm... I don’t mean to be a stickler for regulation, but... uh... shouldn’t I keep hold of those? As evidence?”
“Ha. No.” Wolflock looked him up and down, making a point of tucking the notes further into his pocket.
“I’ll just make a note of that and let the captain know you’re holding the evidence.”
Wolflock leaned forward with a sneer. “Good.” He then leaned back and turned to Mothy with a pleasant demeanour. “In answer to your question, Mothy, yes. He did put the pressure on her. She took the bait. She’s convinced Mr Dalur to leave, and I doubt he even knows why. This tall, dark-haired man from the picture has been wooing Mrs Dalur for years. Now, all of a sudden, he’s demanding she leave and annul her marriage in a city far away at the same time her stepdaughter goes missing and crime is on the rise in Mystentine.”
Wolflock pinched his chin in thought as Mothy shuffled the letters in neat stacks. “Mothy! That’s it!” Wolflock snapped his fingers. “Lija discovered the evidence she needed to find the other missing children in Captain Estivan’s closed off room. The dark-haired man was the same one that took Ms Vuori’s statement, and he made sure it was tucked into mountains of filing. She gave her statement to the man who orchestrated all of this. She saw the man who kidnapped her daughter!”
The boys sat for a few silent moments with the revelation. It made sense. But who was it? Mrs Dalur would know.
“Wowser! What a thrill. Here I was thinking Ms Vuori made the whole thing up to get us to hustle. There’s no proof of much of this, though, is there? I mean, it’s not like Captain Estivan has been really withholding that kind of information from us. He trusts his staff implicitly.”
The boys knew that wasn’t true. Captain Estivan hadn’t let Officer Tand know anything and she had to sneak Lija in to get any clues at all. They both took off at the same time, grabbing the damning piles of letters and ran down the stairs, leaving Chestir alone in the room.
“We have it!” he cried as he ran down the stairs. Mothy slid down the bannister and beat him to the ground.
“Have what?” Captain Estivan snapped. The women either side of him were spitting and hissing like vipers either side of him.
“Mrs Dalur knows where Lija is!” Mothy blurted out before Wolflock could say anything.
The room fell into a stunned silence and Wolflock grinned at his own genius. He gestured to the parlour.
“Ladies and gentlemen if you don’t mind taking a seat? This won’t take long.”
“This is not the time for games, boy,” Captain Estivan growled, standing by the door with Officer Tand.
“Mothy and I have discovered the truth. Mrs Dalur, if you would like to come clean, you will save me an explanation.”
“I don’t know where the,” she paused as if the word revulsed her, “child is.”
“No, but you know who has her. Excellent. I was hoping you wouldn’t take the fun of explaining what occurred. Well,” he put his nose in the air and paced with his hands behind his back the same way he’d seen lawyers do, “over a decade ago, Mr Dalur married the now Mrs Dalur in Corl. He then moved to Mystentine to start a business, but relationships with his wife and her family must have been growing tense, otherwise, he would have brought her with him. Ms Vuori conducted a relationship with him, believing him to be unattached which led to the child Lija, being born.
“Upon hearing of this affair and receiving Mr Dalur’s refusal to return to Corl, Mrs Dalur brought herself to Mystentine in order to attempt to restore her honour. This also forced his hand, and he had to confess his crimes of the heart to both parties, only being able to keep the one who felt obligated to remain with him through religious and legal practices. I’m correct, thus far?”
“You forgot he told Ms Vuori all this on her birthday,” Mothy snorted.
Ms Vuori and Mrs Dalur both directed their seething rage at Mr Dalur, who shrank back at the weight of his misdealings. Chestir trotted down the stairs with his arms full of the envelopes they’d sorted. He stopped outside the door, listening with an ignorant grin.
“Lija had recently been forbidden to visit this home due to Mrs Dalur injuring her, which was not the practice for raising children in the Vuori family.”
“You did what?” Mr Dalur gasped, looking up from his shoes. Chestir made a silent whistle and beelined for the front door.
“You speak as if you didn’t know. How else was one meant to rein in such a wilful girl?” she hissed, making him return his gaze back to his shoes.
“You don’t,” was all Ms Vuori said, silencing the room.
“But the love of a parent and child is powerful, and Mr Dalur wanted to remain in contact with his daughter. Hence the notes where a Corlesian code was written to name the time and place where they would meet. On the night Lija went missing, she received another note, just as she had in the past. But this was not written by Mr Dalur. Was it?”
Wolflock thrust the note found at the warehouses under Mr Dalur’s nose, who shook his head and trembled.
“I... I never sent her a note that evening... that was the evening...We...”
His eyes fell on his wife and his face began to grow red.
“You’ve moving back to Corl, are you not?”
He paused for a long time before he mumbled, “Yes.”
“You decided it two nights ago, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And have you been receiving correspondence from Ms Vuori over the last two days?”
“She said she was happy to be rid of us. That she would perhaps send updates about Lija’s life, but she would allow free and open correspondence to ease both of our suffering. That was what made me accept the decision in the end.”
“I wrote to you once to tell you that Lija was missing. I received your one letter back,” Ms Vuori cried.
“That can’t be... I have notes in your writing!” he patted himself down and then turned to his wife. “I gave them all to Ameiloe to send to you to ease her worries. I... she said it made her feel more confident in our marriage to read my mail and take the care to send it.” He flung his hand out towards his wife, who stiffened and looked out of the window.
“And thus was the reason they never reached their destination,” Wolflock sneered. “Now, Mrs Dalur,” he placed both his hands on the arms of her chair and brought his nose inches from hers, “jealousy is a terrible thing to allow control over your heart and mind. Lying is just as bad.”
She stayed as still as a statue, but her nose wrinkled with disgust.
“She has been burning your outgoing letters.” Wolflock produced the letter he’d saved by the fire when they first sat in the parlour. “She is likely to have sent away your servants on completely unrelated business to maintain this façade. She has been forging the responses from Ms Vuori and, to top it all off, she was the one who forged the letter to Lija the night she went missing. We have all of her practice forgeries here.”
The room was pin drop silent. Everyone stared at Mrs Dalur.
“But... What proof do you have that I wrote any of those? You can’t bring so-called evidence in my house and tell these people it was I,” Mrs Dalur sniffed, staring down her nose at Wolflock.
“Your letters have the distinct scent of your perfume, as well as traces of the hand cream you use. A specific brand from Eastern Grothener if I’m not mistaken. Masters of creams and ointments.” Wolflock opened the lid of the hand cream on the side table by Mrs Dalur’s chair and indulged himself by massaging it into his own hands. “There is also the simple matter of the handwriting. It is so uncannily similar to yours, Mr Dalur, that it would have only been replicated by thorough and intense study. You may also note her complete and utter rage at writing the name of your daughter, as shown by the ferocity of which the pen was pressed into the paper. My only question is: Did you do it because you wanted to move on to this new Troston man? Who, I might add, seems to have dubious intentions as it is, let alone offering you no proof he will wed you once in Corl. Or did you do it because Mr Dalur loved his daughter more than he loved you?”
Tears started to stream down Mrs Dalur’s cheeks, but she kept her back as stiff as a board, whispering something so quietly Wolflock had to ask, “What was that?”
“I just wanted to go back home. I just needed her away for one night. But, if anyone found out that I was the one who sent her that letter, then of course he’d choose to stay here.”
“But... I thought you liked it in Mystentine. You always said you were happy as long as I was happy,” Mr Dalur pleaded.
“I LIED!” She shrieked, standing up so abruptly that Wolflock had to jump back. “I LIED! I HATE IT HERE! I HATE THIS HOUSE! I HATE THIS CITY! I HATE YOUR MISTRESS AND I HATE YOUR SPAWN! THIS CITY IS FILLED WITH SIN! EVEN THIS PITIFUL CHURCH HAS NO BEAUTY! I HAVE NOTHING!”
“You have me,” he protested weakly.
“YOU LEFT!” She fell to her knees in hysterics, sobbing into her hands. “You left for a woman who could give you a child, and I had to keep telling you it was fine. That I was fine. You broke my heart and my faith, and I still had to stay by your side. You even flaunted your spawn here in front of me. You gave her everything she asked for and I was left to collect dust with the furniture. I just wanted her away for one forsaken night so I could get you to take me back to Corl. Just one night and she still must rule over me! Oh he was right... he was so right...”
“Why not just tell Lija to stay home that night?” Mothy coaxed, holding Ms Vuori’s arm so she didn’t attack Mrs Dalur.
“That never worked. She’s the only thing he ever put above all else. And, if she heard I wanted to have a private night with him, she’d come around just to spite me... she’s done it before... he was right...”
“Who was right?” Wolflock asked and rested a hand on her shoulder as he knelt down too.
Mrs Dalur gasped. “No! I won’t say his name. I won’t let him get in trouble, too. He’s the only true believer in this town, and he’s been my only friend since I arrived. I won’t throw him to the dogs. Trostons like us are persecuted and ridiculed throughout the land, and we have to stand together.”
“Please, Mrs Dalur.” Mothy knelt with them and hugged her. The room sat in shock, but none so much as Wolflock, who thought his friend had become mad. “You have a chance to do the right thing. We will make sure Mr Dalur takes you back to Corl, but you need to do the right thing now and help us make sure Lija is safe. That will make amends for your transgressions and Mr Dalur will do everything he can to make amends for his.”
She sniffled and hiccupped into Mothy’s shoulder before melting into his tender arms and nodding.
“He...he...”
She dropped her shoulders and shook her head.
Wolflock and Mothy waited, but Captain Estivan stepped in. “Well, perhaps you’ll care more about the life of a child at the station. Mrs Ameiloe Dalur, you are under arrest for the kidnapping and conspiracy to kidnap Mis Lija Vuori. Officer Tand, escort this woman back to the headquarters.”
Officer Tand moved obediently, but Wolflock saw her biting her lip.
She’s not convinced Mrs Dalur will break under his interrogation... And neither am I.