Fiction Vortex - August 2013 Page 18

  ~~~~~

  Magnus led the way out of the dockyards. The route he had chosen would take them through the old city district, an area characterized by rough brick buildings separated by hard packed dirt streets.

  “I don’t understand why so many people are attracted to this city,” Chara said pointing east toward a fishing settlement near the city walls.

  “It’s the ban against religious persecution,” Magnus said. “There are some brutal religions on the Middle Sea and they victimize the poor. Many of the people moving here have lost family members to the sacrificial knives. It doesn’t take many ...”

  The shrill sound of a whistle interrupted him. The noise echoed over the city from a nearby street. Instinctually his hand went to his sword and he took a step toward the sound before remembering his companions. He looked up to see both Gaius and Chara watching him expectantly.

  “What was that?” Gaius asked.

  “City guard,” Magnus replied.

  “Are you needed?”

  “No, probably not. It’s likely just a young guard who’s caught a pick pocket.”

  A second whistle started blowing, making him regret his words. The only reason two whistles would be blowing is if a second guard got to the scene and the two of them weren’t enough to handle it. Normally he would already be running toward the whistles, but he couldn’t right now; his orders were to escort the Lady Chara to the palace.

  “If you are needed captain,” Chara said, “then we can take a quick detour.”

  He didn’t need to be told twice. Magnus set off at a trot, just slow enough for Chara to keep up. By the time they arrived, there was already a small crowd gathered around the alley where the guards were blowing their whistles.

  Closer up Magnus could see the cause of the commotion. There was someone on the ground, and through the crowd he could see bare flesh and blood. The senior guard spotted him and a hole was quickly formed through the crowd.

  “Thank the gods you’re here, sir,” the senior guard said.

  The guards stopped blowing their whistles and stepped back as a sudden silence descended. Behind them in the street lay the dead and naked body of a woman — her skin  disfigured by dozens of cuts forming arcane symbols. There was a lot of blood, especially on the left leg near a deep wound in her thigh. A red flower had been placed in her mouth, its color a striking contrast to her pale dead flesh.

  “Sweet goddess,” Chara muttered.

  Damn it, he had forgotten about her. He was supposed to take her to the palace, not give her a tour of a murder scene. “I’m sorry ma’am. I shouldn’t have brought you ...”

  “Nonsense, Captain,” she interrupted. “I’m not some flower to be sheltered from the world. I am fine. We can wait until you are finished here.”

  Despite her words she looked a little green. It was obvious that she wasn’t accustomed to seeing dead bodies. If she was going to play at being tough, though, that was fine with Magnus, he had a job to do.

  “Anyone know her?” Magnus asked.

  “Delpha,” the senior guard said. “She’s a street priestess.”

  “Damn it!” Magnus said.

  “What’s a street priestess?” Chara asked quietly.

  “It’s a polite term for a prostitute,” Gaius replied.

  “File leader,” Magnus said addressing the senior guard. “Go to the temple and give them the news.”

  “Sir?” the man asked. There was fear in his eyes. The priestesses wouldn’t take the news well.

  “There’s no need Captain. We already know,” said a feminine figure in a pale blue hooded robe standing in the crowd. With delicate fingers the woman reached up and lowered her hood, revealing soft features framed with golden blond hair. Her strikingly blue eyes scanned the crime scene for a moment before settling on Magnus. The hint of a smile tugged at her full lips.

  The guards reacted as if a bear had suddenly appeared in the middle of the street. There were shocked sounds of alarm as they grabbed for the hilts of their weapons. With an act of will Magnus kept himself from activating the ring on his left hand. Rationally he knew she wouldn’t attack, but her sudden appearance had surprised him.

  “Greetings, Yasmin,” Magnus said.

  “Hello, Magnus,” she replied with a genuine smile, walking over to stand in front of him.

  “This is a crime scene, priestess. I have only just arrived and we have not yet begun our investigations.”

  “I understand,” she replied. “I am simply here to care for the soul of my sister in faith. I will not interfere.”

  She was lying. He could see it in her eyes. She wouldn’t interfere but she certainly hadn’t come for the sake of Delpha’s soul. He couldn’t just turn her away, though. As long as she didn’t interfere with him or break any laws she had every right to be at the scene. He could force her to back off until he had taken a good look at the body, but there was little point. She could be discreet when she wanted to be and a second set of eyes would be helpful. With a quiet sigh Magnus gestured for Yasmin to join him in examining the corpse.

  “Delpha, you poor dear, what did you get yourself involved in?” Yasmin asked. She then started to pray in a quiet voice. It wasn’t divine magic, or perhaps it was the most basic of divine magic; it was a prayer for the soul of the deceased woman. Despite everything that Yasmin could be accused of she was devout and truly cared about her faith.

  As Yasmin prayed, Magnus reached into the mouth of the dead body and removed the flower. It was a pomegranate blossom, which helped to explain some of the sloppier symbols etched into the woman’s flesh. Producing a copper coin, Yasmin placed it in the dead woman’s mouth, an offering to the ferryman that would take Delpha’s soul into the underworld. Her fingers lingered on the dead body’s lips. She pulled on them gently, revealing a dark blue discoloration. Leaning forward she turned Delpha’s head and brushed her hair away from her ears. The tips of the ears were the same color.

  Continuing to pray, Yasmin made eye contact with Magnus. He nodded that he understood. In return he pointed to the flesh around the hole in the woman’s thigh. It was puckered and swollen. He then traced his fingers down to one of the ritual cuts lower on the same leg. The skin around that cut showed no sign of swelling. Yasmin nodded in understanding, never pausing in her quiet prayer.

  With a few final words over the body Yasmin stood up and stepped back. “You will keep the temple informed, Captain?”

  “Absolutely, Priestess,” Magnus replied, “and if you learn anything you will tell the city guard?”

  “Absolutely,” she replied in the same tone.

  They were both lying. It was theatre for any listening ears. Yasmin of Aphrodite was running her own investigation.