It does not look like I am going to finish this chapter before the quiz will end! Somehow this was the hardest part to write ever, and one of the most disturbing. It is like struggling against the very string current. Well, I hope at least it is interesting to read. Sigh. As always – please any grammar, typos etc that you notice – let me know!
The Road to Hell is paved with Good Intentions.
“Why, your worship!” he grinned like a jovial toad, giggling involuntarily as if at some hilarious joke, and sneaked a quick look at Anomen, “why would you of all people be interested in these?”
I learned about guril berries and their use, all right. That did not bring me any closer to the solution of the riddle. Minsc and Vicky talked with the boy Faraji, who had found one of the latest bodies. But the child was too young and too frightened to tell them anything useful, even though Minsc won his trust with the hamster trick. All that the youngster said was that the old lady living across the street from him was a witch, and therefore the murders must be her doing. It turned out she was indeed a local hedgewizard, practicing her craft without a license. But there was nothing wrong with her fundamentally, and after purchasing few cheap potions Viconia dismissed her as a suspect.
“She would not have had a nerve for it, jabress,” the elf grinned at me languidly showing the row of pearly-white teeth. “I looked her in the eye - she is just an old faern, scared half to death that somebody would betray her to the magistrate. Your surface females rarely have any spine in them.”
“Most likely you are right, Viconia, “ I said tiredly dismissing her jibe, “I may be prejudiced, but something tells me this is a man's work.”
“Yet we found something interesting for you, jabress!” the priestess said triumphantly pulling her backpack from under the table.
What she extricated out of it was a square piece of rough hide, the size of a standard folio and at least two fingers thick. It looked weird - hairless, and dull gray but wrinkled. It was well processed, and flexible enough to be worked into a shield cover or a piece of armor. I got an impression that this was a sample to be presented to a customer or at a trade show. One of its corners was marred with rusty brown substance that soaked into the leather and dried inside it. From the moment I saw it I had no doubt about the nature of that stain.
“Where did you get it?” I asked curiously, “it is not a…”
“No, jabress.” Viconia answered quickly. “This is not a rivvin hide, if that's what you meant,” she scowled at my dark glance. “And to stop your next question – yes, I have seen worked humanoid skin, although I had never had a taste for those kind of 'souvenirs'! Neither it looks like an orc pelt or a piece of dragon hide. I have no idea what beast was flayed to produce this bit. We got it from an old rivvil, who had found it on the site of the latest murder.”
“Let me see it Vicky, “ the gnome interfered suddenly. “I think I can tell you what it is! Speak of the devil, your worship! It is a piece of elephant hide, or I am hairless halfling!”
“Are you sure?” I inquired simply, trying to keep excitement out of my voice.
“Well, I never saw it prepared like this but yes, I am pretty positive that's what it is, since I have seen Beeloo's favorite pet often enough when he brought her out of her pen for cleaning.” He took sniff at the leather. “Eek! It reeks of blood, but still there is a smell of tannin about it. It was processed not so long ago.”
“Blast the fiend who had slaughtered an innocent elephant on top of his other crimes!” Minsc said doubtfully. “Err, even little Boo is shaking with anger at such an outrage, right?”
I gave him a blank stare for his trouble and he shifted uncomfortably. Viconia giggled.
“A processed piece of an exotic hide, and a smell of guril,” I said after a short pause, “any interesting ideas citizens?”
“A piece of hide would surely point to an armorer or a cobbler,“ Anomen said suddenly, turning hot pink.
I gave him an appreciating stare. Whatever were his shortcomings, at least he could use his head for something other than wearing a helmet, (on rare occasions, anyway).
“All right, friends. I am calling it a night,” I suggested tiredly. “Tomorrow we will continue the investigation.”
…
Tomorrow morning came bright and sunny, which was unusual to put it mild for the Athkatlan winter. After days of ice-cold drizzle that alone was enough to put me in a better mood. The first thing I noticed when I descended for breakfast was Anomen, who was lingering by the kitchen door with suspiciously determined expression.
“I asked the cook to prepare some warm milk with spices,” he offered timidly. “Would you care to share your meal with me, my lady? I want to offer my apologies.”
My eyebrows went up. It was the first time in my life that somebody remembered what I liked for my morning drink. He picked up a table that could only sit the two of us, and was unconditionally polite and chivalrous through the whole breakfast, thus securing my forgiveness of yesterday's episode. I nearly choked when he admitted to rising with the sun, and going to the locale Helm's shrine in penitence for his rudeness. Knowing how seriously he took his religion, I was rather touched. Something fundamental was changing in him in the wake of his sister's death. I could never have imagined him doing that mere two weeks ago. Still, he did not understand that I was only mad at him because of the way he disparaged Rosie.
Viconia gave us an amused stare when she finally conceded to wake up and join the company. I felt irritated. This ridiculous game between the three of us started to chafe on my nerves. I wondered briefly, what Yoshimo and Valygar were doing this fine morning, and blushed catching myself at being rather unconcerned about it. Therefore, I immediately asked for the writing utensils, and arranged for the innkeeper's nephew to be sent to the Adventurer's Mart with a ciphered epistle.
“Minsc, would you care to go down to the Aegisfield's office, deliver my note to him and bring back an answer?” I asked after finishing my second letter. “Viconia, since you already know the hedgewitch, I want you to go back and discreetly ask her about guril. Watch her reaction. It is rather important to find out if she uses it in her potions.”
The priestess scowled at me, but accepted an errand, muttering something to the extent of 'Xun izil dos phuul quarthen, lueth dro.' (Do what you are ordered and live.)
“Oh, just drop it, Viconia. I am not trying to humiliate you. This whole business stinks of dark magic. And we had already met one elderly lady selling potions, who turned out to be a shapeshifter!”
“Jan, I want you to find the local herb merchant and obtain a sample of this peculiar plant. I want Rosie to have a sniff at it. Anomen, can you please find her, and convince her to come to the Five Flagons with you?” He blinked. “Oh, come on, use your charm. I need to talk to her again, and have her examine Jan's samples.” I turned back to the gnome. “By the way, old chap, can you ask the herb man to give you some similar smelling substances? We need a clean test. I will see you all back here at about noon time.”
“And what is it that you are going to do this fine morning, your worship? “ Jan inquired with a smile.
“Oh, I am going down to the temple of Ilmather's morgue.” I said. They stared at me without understanding. “I need to see the bodies,” I explained simply. “I cannot continue from this point without seeing the main evidence”
“Are you sure you up to the task, lass?” the little wizard asked carefully.
“Oh, I'll survive,“ I shrugged, “I saw Rakshasa's handiwork, remember?”
“I am going with you,” the young Helmite said suddenly, “please,” he gave me a pleading stare, “since you are doing it to find the murderer of my sister the least I can do is to share this experience!”
I looked at him in silence for a moment, then nodded in compliance and turned to the little wizard. “Jan, would you mind finding a young woman named Rose Bouquet after you are done with your purchases?”
The Ilmatheri priest led us across the temple grounds into a smaller stone structure covered in flaking yellow paint. It was gravely cold inside, and the moment I stepped in a familiar stench of formalin and decaying flesh assaulted my nostrils. I stumbled as the memories of Irenicus' prison invaded my mind.
Flicker… a gloved hand is caressing my face leaving behind the familiar stench…flicker… and the hot-red blade is searing the soles of my feet filling the chamber with nauseating smell of burned meat…flicker… Khalid's dissected body is sprawled on the stone slab…flicker… I think I fainted for a second. Embarrassing, but the sense of smell is indeed the strongest catalyst of memories that I know.
Anomen caught me in his hands and for once I was grateful for his fussy chivalry that made him insist on staying two steps ahead of me, and offering me his hand. Falling head first on these slimy steps would not have been fun. Yet I dismissed his suggestion to turn back, and we followed the silent Ilmatheri all the way down the spiraling stone stairway, into the spacious bitter cold chamber, lighted only by the blue flames of a single brazier.
There were too many of them in that 'special' corner. Almost half a dozen. The quiet priest assured us these were the victims of the 'Skinner' from the last ten days. They had already buried as many over the previous month.
“He is getting greedy, “ I uttered looking at the expanse of purple-blue muscle tissue, and terrible blackened faces frozen in eternal grimaces of pain.
Strangely enough, I did not feel scared or disgusted; the only feelings that filled my heart were pity and anger at whoever did this. His work was meticulous, as every one of the corpses was missing big squares of skin and underlying corium on their backs and bellies. The patches of flesh were peeled off with accurate precision of a professional, who could continue his job with steady hand on the still conscious, bound and gagged victim, trashing under his sharp knife. There were no stabbing wounds or cut throats, and the Ilmatheri confirmed impassively that all of them had died of shock and blood loss.
It reeked of some dark ritual, yet lacked the signs of exalted intemperance that is so often a sign of the religious zeal. I thought of the evil religions that required human sacrifice – loviatori, banites, even bhaalites. All of them would prefer to do a job like this in the confines of their temples, following the murder with a lot of fussy rituals and a ceremonial disposal of the corpse. This was too … workmanlike. Almost as if whoever was doing it was taking quiet pride in the precision of his strokes, and geometrical accuracy of the wounds.
“I've seen enough,” I said abruptly, waking up from my trance. “We need to hurry. I want to see the answer that Minsc should bring from Aegis.”
By the time we got back to the Five Flagons I recovered my wits. Anomen was grim and silent, his pale face contorted in a grimace of cold anger. I don't think I looked any better. We found our companions gathered in the main room around the fire. It felt like our visit to the Ilmather's temple only lasted a few minutes, but in reality the whole morning had passed and the sun was traveling down from its zenith point.
Jan was pacing impatiently in front of the fireplace. Upon seeing us enter he gave a cry and waved at me energetically. “We've got news for you!” he squeaked in a high pitch that marked his speech when he was greatly excited. “It was an oak bark, not guril! The girl had recognized it clearly!”
I noticed Rosie, who was hiding shyly behind Minsc' great bulk. Viconia was sprawled on a soft chair with her feet close to the fire. “The Cragmoon witch gave me the clue as well,” she nodded firmly. “Guril is rich in tannin.”
“Minsc,” I asked quickly, “the answer from lieutenant Aegis?”
“That lieutenant is a weird fellow!” Minsc boomed unhappily. “Boo says he is a stinker. First he is not there then he makes us wait for an hour! I gave him your note but he wont read it until I answer his questions. He wanted to know what you've been up to, lassie. I told him it was nothing, except somebody had murdered an elephant under his very nose, and he did not even know! But when he read your letter he jumped up like there was a wasp in his pants and run out!”
“Where did he go?” I asked urgently. “Did he tell you where exactly he was going?”
“Ah,” Minsc shrugged, “not really, but he yelled something like 'Hidesman' before he run out. Beats me if I know what he meant!”
“Rosie,” I asked the redheaded woman urgently, “does this ring a bell to you?”
“Did he mean Rejiek the Hidesman ?” she said warily. “that's the local tanner, he has a shop right at the waterfront.”
NOTES FROM SISTER OMPHALLA
Guril berries - a plant of guril, and especially its fruit is used in folk medicine as a base for a salve which supposedly can cure some intimate afflictions, caused by untidy love life.
Formalin - a water solution of formaldehyde, the simplest aldehyde. Often used for manufacturing of embalming fluids and as a preservative and disinfectant.
Corium - in humanoids, and the vertebrates generally, the skin consist of two layers, an outer nonsensitive and nonvascular epidermis, cuticle, or skarfskin, composed of cells which are constantly growing and multiplying in the deeper, and being thrown off in the superficial, layers; and an inner sensitive, and vascular dermis, cutis, corium, or true skin, composed mostly of connective tissue.
Tannin (or tannic acid) - An acid obtained from nutgalls as a yellow amorphous substance, having an astringent taste, and forming with ferric salts a bluish-black compound, which is the basis of common ink. Called also tannin, and gallotannic acid. By extension, any one of a series of astringent substances resembling tannin proper, widely diffused through the vegetable kingdom, as in oak bark, willow, guril, tea, coffee, etc.
Tanning -To convert (the skin of an animal) into leather, as by usual process of steeping it in an infusion of oak or some other bark, whereby it is impregnated with tannin, or tannic acid (which exists in several species of bark), and is thus rendered firm, durable, and in some degree impervious to water.
Mirror site - The Story of a Girl withou
