Bright Shop, Shady Dealing
#9 of The World Over
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Hello everyone, here's Chapter 9 of The World Over. As well as Part 2 of 2 in my recent mystery arc. In case you missed part one, I titled it "One Too Late" and so you should read that one before you start this.
Again, no sex here. Sorry. I know, there's been a real drought lately, but I promise, cross my heart, that I'll make it up to you with a flood in the coming chapters... whenever those coming chapters may come out... ^_^;;
Anyway, I'd also like to say once again that this is my first experiment with any sort of mystery writing so some constructive criticism would be appreaciated for improvement. If you're reading expecting Sherlock Holmes... you should probably stop right now and read Sherlock Holmes instead.
And I know about my Final Fantasy addiction okay... so there's no need to bring it up.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy. Email me if you want to be added to my mailing list!
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Chapter 9
Bright Shop, Shady Dealing
On the one hand, Sara liked playing the part of an expert negotiator. On the other hand, she didn't enjoy actually going out and doing a job for people she didn't know. It got her a lot of respect, but no real satisfaction. That, and she felt almost like she was simply playing along in a game run by Varian, which, she knew by now, may or may not be for one's own good.
It had been a wonderfully relaxed and luxurious stay in the palace last night. A hot bath had been drawn for them both, a feast had been brought, bed had been made, fires stoked and needs waited upon. Sara even managed to sneak a goodnight kiss with Varian while no one else was looking. It had been wonderful.
So what happened?
Now that morning was here, everything seemed to gain the flavour of work.
Varian was in the barracks talking with Hans, the chief investigator. The Baron had last been seen in the wealthier district of Girard. He had a home about a kilometre from where he was reported to have disappeared. The mansion had been thoroughly searched. No sign of any activity, malicious or otherwise, had seemed to take place. What made this case strange however was that there was no motive for the kidnapping. There were no special shipments that were scheduled to come in through the port, nothing had been stowed illegally, something the captain and his guard had seen to checking first, and finally, no ransom note. It was as unprovoked as unexpected; no one saw it coming.
"Where might the kidnappers have gone into hiding?" asked Varian.
"We suspect that the best place to hide would be in the south end of the city. It's all slums; plenty of places to stow something, r someone. There's hundreds of unmarked and unregistered buildings there, it would be ideal for laying low," replied Hans.
"And I assume there have been searches there?"
"Continuously since it happened. We've doubled the patrols here and here and quadrupled them along the main arteries."
"A lot of manpower for such a small area," observed Varian, secretly thinking that it was the perfect excuse for the kidnappers to be somewhere else.
"Yes, but, what else can we do? It is the most likely place."
Varian got to thinking. There was something strange about the whereabouts. If one were to be a thief, would one flee to the place to be suspected first, regardless of the number of places to hide, or would one go to the place that would be suspected last? He was no real expert on this, but he felt that he had to ask at least.
"Hans, where would you, being a tactician, search last?" he asked frankly.
It somehow struck the investigator as odd that he should ask such a thing. He pondered for a moment, then said, "I personally would least suspect the commercial district. The marketplace."
"Why?"
"Too many people there. Too many witnesses. Too many ways to get caught."
Varian paused a second, his hand on his chin, he was really getting into this role.
"I'd like to start my search along this street today. If I go with Sara we can inconspicuously wander around as mere travellers. It shouldn't be difficult to avoid attention under such pretence. As far as I know, no one knows of our agreement except those in the castle."
Hans was quick in his response, "I'll allow it, for now Varian. But just remember that you're serving under my orders, so when I have something for you to investigate, I expect my orders to take priority, understood?"
"Yes, sir," said Varian, "I will collect Sara and begin as soon as possible."
"Just remember that you're my investigators, not shoppers. Gather some leads, ask questions, and report and findings to me."
"I will sir. I understand."
Hans nodded and let Varian go, then turning to his desk, sighed as another pile of papers was dropped off.
Varian hurried as fast as his returned cane would allow. He was rather excited about being an investigator, even if he had no idea of how to go about it. More than that though, he felt useful for once. Despite comments to the contrary, he felt like a burden sometimes to Sara. Always walking slowly, finishing her sentences, being in the way when she wanted to have fun, generally being the voice of some reason; her conscience. Now it was his turn to shine, it was he that was going to be useful this time.
He found Sara deliberating over her choice of fish or eggs for breakfast in her room, told her of the situation and that he would buy her breakfast in the market in order to get her out of the castle.
They slipped out of the castle and made their way to the marketplace, to the one street that Varian had said he'd investigate first. He told Sara of their orders to question everyone as inconspicuously as possible and gave her a few decent pick up lines to start a conversation. He gave her a small amount of money for breakfast because everything he had said had been answered by her stomach before her mouth. When she had been sated in that respect, they began to sweep the area.
Varian very seldom asked questions of people because of his growing use of telepathy, which he used freely. It was only when he was inside a store or looking at wares at a booth that he vocalized his questions, mostly because he was afraid of someone outside overhearing him and spreading rumours. Being inside, away from so many ears, would help more than hinder him. He thought so at least.
After several hours however, both he and Sara were tired. They had found nothing, not even a stray thought regarding the Baron. People knew who he was of course, but it was surprising that very few people knew of his disappearance. Sara, it seemed, had found nothing but the same. "He's been kidnapped?" they would ask, "Yes," she would reply, to which the overwhelming response was, "The poor man."
"Hey Varian?" asked Sara that night.
"Hmm..."
"Can I change my job description?"
"To what?" he mused.
"I was thinking of something like 'the muscle.'"
She really wasn't enjoying working like this, whereas Varian loved every minute of it. He narrowed his eye and only answered with, "Ask Hans," knowing full well she wouldn't.
The next day he was briefed by Hans again and again there was nothing to report. Varian had added his findings, which were slim and mostly filled with introspection and comments about the knowledge of events by the people in the city itself and then submitted his proposal for a sweep of a new street. It was approved again for lack of any other suggestions.
The next day turned out much the same. The only thing they could do was pray. The Baron, if he was being ill treated, was running out of time; fast. It was on the fourth day of his searching that Hans decided to join them, if for no other reason than to get away from all the paperwork.
They decided on a meeting place and a time and split up. Varian would keep in constant contact with Sara through his telepathy and found he didn't need to with Hans, because the investigator was following him just out of sight. It was a little unnerving being tailed, but he was also becoming a suspect in the case because of the lack of leads he had produced in the past few days, not to mention his disregard for the likelihood of the Baron being in the slums.
Varian spent much of the day doing what he had been doing in the past. Walking and searching people's minds for any clue as to the Baron's whereabouts. To the investigator it looked as though Varian was simply dawdling, and he made sure to scrutinize every move the young wolf made.
"How could such a young man be an expert anything? It's not possible. I've been training to take over the Baron's job for over a decade and still haven't learned everything. And all he's done for the past 4 hours is walk around. We've paced up and down the street 6 times, been from one end of this district to the other. What is he thinking of?" Hans' thoughts continued like this throughout the day, and they were all perceived by Varian, who had no real trouble with them until it was suggested that he didn't know anything about what he was doing and that he was completely wrong in his investigation techniques. It was then that Varian was prepared to do anything to prove both his innocence and his gut feeling in the matter. The Baron was definitely not in the slums. Varian took one look at the map of the city and knew it. The slums backed onto open desert, and were virtually surrounded on every other side by city, much of which was patrolled regularly by guardsmen. Not only that, despite whatever the investigator had said, Varian had come into the city from the south, and knew perfectly well that the population density there far exceeded the marketplace even at peak times by as much as 5 to 1. There were more witnesses in the slums than any other place in the city. The marketplace was more to the west of the city, and it after several kilometres of some of the most deserted streets in Girard, it backed onto a sheer cliff, in which there were more underground tunnels than a Pharaoh's tomb. Perfect for a quick escape, while throwing off pursuers.
Varian had the upper hand here, and he knew it. The Baron was in the city as well; he merely needed to prove it. There was something far greater than shipping routes at stake. Something told Varian that this had happened because of him. Something sinister was trying to keep him specifically away from his travels. He couldn't prove this point however, but the thought remained in the back of his mind, and as he walked the streets, during some of the more boring times of the day, he would brood over the possibilities of such an event.
In any case, the constant chattering of Hans' thoughts was becoming annoying, and Varian saw only one alternative.
He took a left, and a right, and then several lefts, then turned to the west for a few streets, swerved into a back alley and came out into the middle of a densely populated street, where he stopped. He clutched his chest. Something was hurting him. He could feel an invisible grasp in breast, like something was squeezing down on his heart. The feeling left though, and was replaced with a far greater feeling. One of success. He waited until the investigator had caught up with him and waved him into the street.
Found out, the investigator slowly emerged from his place behind some crates in the alleyway.
"Alright, so I was following you. Can you blame me?"
"Do you want to know how I knew you were there?"
"I don't particularly care. I--"
"Pick a number between one and the highest number you know."
"I don't have time for--"
"Thirty-one."
The inspector looked stunned for a moment. As soon as Varian had asked him to choose a number his mind had unconsciously pulled up his favourite number.
"Now it's 1256."
The inspector wasn't quite catching on yet. Lucky guesses, that was all.
"Fifty-four thousand six-hundred eighty-one. Shall I repeat what you were saying to yourself as well?"
"Come with me boy," said the inspector, leading Varian back into the alley.
When they were out of sight Hans pushed Varian against the crates and spoke hoarsely against the boy's cheek. "So, a mind reader. What have you done with the Baron? Where is he? This is a farce isn't it? You and that girl, leading the investigation into dead ends. What for? What possible gain do you have for kidnapping?"
"I didn't kidnap anyone."
"Like hell you didn't! You haven't asked a single person today whether they know something or not. You've done nothing but pace up and down, up and down. You've been leading me on a wild goose chase, it that it? And then you try to loose me in the alleys. Trying to ditch me so you and your bitch can leave quietly, never to be heard of again?"
"Your breath stinks, get off."
"You'd really like to get back in that cell wouldn't you? Where is the Baron?" the inspector's voice was beginning to rise in volume, "Who are you working with?"
There was no winning this battle. Not yet. Varian then raised his cane and tugged on the inspector's arm. It came down, roughly and Varian said, "Follow me." He mentally called Sara to get to his position as fast as she could and then led the inspector across the street and into a small, and hospitable shop.
The door opened and they were greeted with unwelcoming glares and foul smirks. Four men and two women were sitting at a table in the back, while one man was standing in the front tending the counter. The place was an antique shop, bright and cheerful. Colourful decoration hung from the ceiling and bright lamps were lit against the walls. The place sold every sort of paraphernalia one might expect to find in an antique store. Against the back wall were rows of fine chairs, paintings sitting atop bright cushions. Against the right wall hung tapestries spaced by the hanging lamps and scattered all over the floor were mixed items. Some were on shelves about shoulder height, while others were simply laid out on the floor. Varian came to a chest in the centre of the room. A wooden, hand-carved, polished piece, that stood barely up to Varian's knee, but which was wide and long enough to easily fit two chairs side by side.
"This is a fine chest, may I ask of its value?" asked Varian of the shopkeeper.
"It's not for sale," answered the man, glancing at the people in the back, who began to shuffle forward into the main part of the store.
"That's too bad. It is a fine piece," he leaned in to open it but was thrown against the wall by a surreal force and pressed against the paintings.
"I said it's not for sale." The shopkeeper had his hand held out, something Varian took to mean that it was he controlling the force keeping him pinned up against the wall.
Seeing this the inspector turned to run, but was overtaken by two of the people that had moved into the shop from the back. The exits were blocked. The only thing left to do was surrender. The inspector was pushed back into the middle of the shop where he took a look at Varian pressed up against the wall, off the ground, he added, and then at the chest on the floor.
"Now, Varian," said the shopkeeper, becoming much more ferocious, his human frame seeming to gain power from an unknown source, "You should tell me how you found this place, or you can watch your partner here die. You have three seconds."
The man began counting; his thick lips curving into a wicked smile that creased his equally proportionate cheeks, making his eyes seem more terrible still.
"You're psychic too. You could tell me if you wanted to," said Varian in retort.
"For someone with your skill I'd expect something more from you. I may be able to force objects to move, but the mind still escapes me. I grow impatient, tell me how you found this place," he demanded.
Varian didn't argue. For one thing this man could kill everyone in this room in an instant, and for two, he really wanted to shove his innocence in the inspector's face, as vain as that was in the face of death.
"Things don't need thoughts to be detected. They merely need to exist. You're blocking thoughts from exiting that chest there, but I can feel the presence of something under the floor. That chest is the entrance to a cell."
The shopkeeper, coming out from around the counter, revealing his stubby legs and wide waist, covered, barely, by a thin grey shirt and brown pants held up by a long belt, held his hand in place, but closed his fingers slightly, causing Varian to gasp in pain. His limbs felt like they were being pulled from their sockets.
"You're a clever boy, model 000. I should have expected as much from you. I suppose there's one more thing I have to do before I leave here. First I'll kill your friend, then I'll kill you."
Varian had thought he meant the inspector, but then Sara burst through the door with an improvised weapon in her hands, something resembling a wood plank from a crate, and she too was thrust against the wall. She dropped the board and screamed as she felt her arm snap. It was broken, and a tear forced its way from her eye. Her mouth was held shut as she was pulled then from the wall, still in the same position and held in midair in the middle of the room.
The psychic then glared at Varian.
"If you have anything particularly important to say to her before she dies, say it now."
Varian's adrenaline was pumping beyond his comprehension, and for a moment he blacked out. Then something happened again that even the shopkeeper didn't expect. Varian changed back. His fur instantly shed, leaving his bare white skin naked to the light, the hideous scars emerging once more, and his second eye opened, revealing nothing but white. The grip on his body, and Sara's was lost and she fell to the floor, screaming in agony over her broken arm. The inspector crawled over to her and hoisted her into his lap as he watched with horrifying precision as every member of the gang was thrown and pressed against the wall at the back of the store.
The psychic had barely enough time to question what was going on before an energy of such magnitude pressed against him that his entire body felt like it was begin crushed under a boulder the size of a house. There was a scream, a brilliant flash of light, and then the shopkeeper was gone.
The unconscious body of Varian walked slowly over to the inspector, who was petrified with fear and knelt down in front of Sara. He reached for her arm, and stroked it along the broken bone, healing it instantly. She was no longer in pain, and began to focus on the being that was Varian possessed. His bad eye closed.
The room became normal again, and Varian fell to the floor.
It was many days later until Varian finally awoke from the dreamless state. But when he did, there were many faces, some familiar, some not, ready to greet him. Sara, of course, was the first to be recognized, and without knowing it he wrapped his arms around her in an embrace that squeezed tears from her eyes. Then there came the inspector-turned-page. He was sullen, and looked as though he had undergone many late night hours of paperwork in order to complete his report to the king, as well as a very long winded, and much deserved apology, which he delivered to Varian presently. At last there was a stranger at the foot of Varian's bed. A human man, the looks of whom could have been deceived with a king's. He was a handsome man, strong, in both build and character, donning a white dress shirt and coat, long white pants and a matching hat. The Baron himself had come to pay his debt of gratitude.
Varian and Sara had been awarded with their agreed tickets as well as many other gifts of thanks from both the Baron and his page, not the least of which was a significant lump sum of money and enough supplies to last their trip a good three weeks. Sara wasn't even sure her hover could handle the weight, which is why she had also been given a brand new one, much sturdier, with thrice the weight and speed capabilities.
Varian was caught up with the events that had transpired after he blacked out.
As it happened, he had opened his bad eye again, and had not only removed from combat the six other people in the store, but dome something to the other psychic that had made him disappear. The inspector had seen it all, but was unsure of the real reasons behind any of it. He explained that he had released the Baron from the cell under the chest, just like Varian had said, and then had he and Sara carried back to the castle. That was all five days ago.
After a special audience with the king himself and a congratulatory feast in their honour, it was time to leave.
A private ship was arranged for them. All they had to do was board it.
Little did they know however, that the "divide" as it was called, really was a divide. A crease in the world, so to speak. There was no water, no signs of anything of the like. There was simply an enormous chasm. A crater, the depths of which was unknown. It wasn't as wide as it was long, but it was the only way to get to the next continent, which left both Varian and Sara at a loss.
The Baron pulled them aside and explained how it worked.
"You see," he began, "Our continent, is much like a raised platform of sorts. Our land mass is far higher in altitude above sea level than other landmasses. It is almost as though we are on top a very high, and very wide mountain range. The continent you wish to get to is thousands of feet lower than ours in comparison. There is water at the bottom of the chasm, I assure you of that, but because of the divide, we can't exactly use sailing ships."
Varian and Sara paused, looked at each other. The Baron sighed.
"I suppose it would be better for you to see for yourselves. You'll be leaving in a little while anyway. Come."
The Baron had a carriage brought and they rode it all the way to the harbour. Still there were no ships, just a sheer cliff face leading down who knew how many feet? They were led down to the edge of the docks, and the Baron stopped. Thick clouds raged against the cliff, but somehow never once came above the ridge.
The dock itself was a very long and very thick, braced obviously, stone platform that jutted out from the town's edge and hung out over the divide for about 300 feet. It was built into the cliff face, so it was very sturdy, but Varian and Sara were still a little nervous about walking on it, only following because the Baron seemed to exude confidence in the creation.
A faint tinkling of bells could be heard from below. Sara was the first to hear them, and she began looking around. Varian, after a while, and after the bells became louder heard them too, and they both peered cautiously over the edge of the stone dock and into the abyss. The clouds swirled and seemed so close that they could touch them. The bells grew louder and after a few lingering moments Sara could faintly hear voices yelling and commands being issued, the creaking of wood and metal and rope and chains came next, and finally, a great mast began to grow from the clouds.
The two of them leapt back in shock as first the mast, and then a great white sail, laying flat like a canopy breached the cloud deck. They rose higher and higher until finally, all at once, the ship, the one the Baron called "The Vigilant" appeared. It floated on the clouds as easily as wood floats on water. But there was no water. The ship was thousands of feet above the water. The ship... the airship... was flying!
"We're going on that!?" yelled Sara.
"Yes," answered the Baron, "As a reward for saving my life, I have given orders to the Captain to ferry you, and Varian, across the divide to our neighbouring port. It will take only a few days to reach, The Vigilant is our fastest ship, and so by next week, you will arrive in Kaa. I believe it will be the best to start there on your journey across the Northern continent, they have a great many supply shops there."
"Is it safe?" asked Varian.
"Of course, Kaa is my hometown, I know it very well. There hasn't been trouble there for many years."
"The ship," Varian clarified.
"That too of course. It is my ship after all." It seemed to Varian and Sara that there was very little in this city that the Baron didn't own. If they didn't know any better, they would have suspected he was the real king.
"I have taken the liberty of having my men collect your things from the desert. You told me that you had a hover and several boxes of supplies. They will be here shortly. In the meantime, I will show you around the ship. It will be your home for the next few days."
The Baron was oozing confidence and pride in the airship, obviously still marvelling at its own magnificence. The two travellers followed him, somewhat cautiously onto the deck of the ship, which they felt might fall from the sky at any moment. They were a little better when they were inside, and they soon found themselves growing more and more eager to leave.
The Baron was very thorough, showing them everything from the bottom up and explaining every facet of the ship's history to them in brief intervals. It didn't seem long, but it was three hours later that their hover came aboard, as did their supplies, and the arrangements were made for them to leave. Sara and Varian said their goodbyes and watched the Baron leave the ship to stand on the docks waving back.
They were standing at the very tip of the ship, holding onto the ropes and railing.
Then the ship dislodged from the dock, and they both fell backwards onto the floor in shock.