World between Worlds

  The World between Worlds always both unsettled and fascinated her every single time she entered it, and she never could decide what about it was the most eye-catching. Perhaps it was the dull sun that, as if it were painted by a small child, simply hung in the middle of the sky no matter the actual time of the day, casting no light. Or the jagged lines that ran across the terrain, distorting the shapes of things. Or the dead trees that were more like caricatures of themselves, their branches losing their natural curvatures and twists. Or, maybe, the invisible light that illuminated everything, giving the landscape its characteristic black-and-white, yet shadowless appearance.

  No, it was probably what this world did to the living. For a bit, she observed the shapeless pillars of black smoke moving about. Second to that was the way this place somehow inexplicably manipulated time. Sometimes barely a minute would pass in the real world compared to the hours she could spend exploring this expanse. Other times, the world stopped completely, suspended in animation. And then there were times when no changes occurred.

  “If only I could freely decide between the three,” she sighed.

  Judging by the way the shadowy figures in front of her moved, today she had moderate luck. Maybe an extra minute or two, but no more than that. She looked at where Mr Placek and Antony were standing. Soon, they’ll notice her absence.

  “Better not lose time,” she said to no one in particular, cursing herself for not warning Antony beforehand that she might wander off and that there was no need to worry about her.

  Charlotte turned around and returned to the small alley they had come through. She ran her fingers along the black wall, completely devoid of any defining features, feeling that darkness try to grab her, but instantly retreat, recognising her for what she really was.

  The true owner of this place.

  “How interesting,” Charlotte murmured, stopping in front of the deep scratch in the wall she had noticed previously. Here, she had no more doubts about who or what left it, as it was giving an unmistakable greenish shimmer. She carefully touched it, feeling the now familiar energy of the ghoul that had attacked her a day ago.

  At that point, a ghostly cat came through the wall and started playing with the hem of her skirt, briefly distracting her. Then, full of curiosity, followed after her.

  “So this thing materialised over here,” she said thoughtfully, looking at the dead wall in front of her, then turning to her new companion. “And then went for the poor Nightmare Poet’s throat. But… Why? And why did they move him?”

  She closed her eyes, summoning her staff, and stood still, waiting. The bell swayed, moved by a wind that could not be felt, but made no sound. The outcome did not surprise her in the slightest. She turned around and calmly walked back towards Butter Street, leaving large puddles of frost with every single step she took. More shimmering cats and a large dog appeared, following her in a flock like the royal guard attending to their queen, their eyes sharp, ears perked, and claws and teeth ready. Charlotte couldn’t help but chuckle at this display of affection.

  A step. Then another. Then three more. The bell on the staff suddenly chimed. A quiet sound that reverberated in the still and silent air akin to the main bell in a cathedral, giving her confirmation that the state the manor was in was, indeed, tied to Lord Welz’s murder.

  For now, the changes in the mana flows were so miniscule that the World between Worlds was the only place where she would have been able to feel them. And the only place where she could deal with them without risking causing harm to those around her, or attracting the wrong kind of attention.

  Charlotte looked at her escort, who all now sat down in a line in front of her, waiting expectantly.

  “I’ll clear the path for you,” she addressed them, “but it’s for you to decide what you want to do.”

  She lifted her staff in the air, and then all but slammed it into the ground. Frost rapidly spread from the point of impact, turning the black-and-white landscape into a shimmering palace of eternal winter. A ray of light shot into the firmament, and something, a dome invisible to the eye, cracked, its pieces slowly and gracefully gliding to the ground akin to oddly shaped snowflakes.

  Charlotte watched the dog and a fair few cats slowly dissolve into the air, while some still remained. One of them stood up, walked up to her and rubbed its body against her skirt, purring happily, then walked to a nearby tree and skillfully climbed it, lazily stretching on one of the lower hanging branches.

  She looked around once more, making sure that her intervention had the desired effect without causing any additional disturbances.

  “Perfect. Now to,” she stopped in her tracks as a somewhat unsettling feeling washed over her. There was something in that alleyway that she had noticed, but failed to pay proper attention to. Charlotte frowned, trying to catch that thought by the tail. That scratch looked weird. As if… She hurriedly turned around and walked right into the house, the dark portal of the door posing no obstacle.

  She actively disliked entering dwellings within this space. Memories of those long departed still clung to the floors, the carpets, the furniture. They were especially thick around things that had been in the household for the longest time, such as works of art or especially sturdy wardrobes.

  Here, at least, there were still relatively few, and they shrunk away from her, as if recognising that she was in a hurry.

  Nothing on the ground floor.

  She briskly ascended the stairs and walked along a narrow corridor, having a quick look into the rooms along both sides. From what she could discern, this house wasn’t being used by a single family. More like every room on the first floor was being rented to a group of people. A dwelling for a family of maybe eight was now home to probably twenty, if not thirty.

  Nothing so far.

  When just three more doors remained, she finally found what she was searching for.

  “Someone’s going to have a few choice words to say about this,” she sighed, examining the body on the floor in front of her.

  No, not a body just yet. Somehow still alive, just gravely wounded. Charlotte rushed out of the house.

  ******

  Agnes lowered her hand, sighing with relief.

  “I don’t know how you found him, or how you even got the idea that there could be another victim. But I will praise your Lady tonight for giving you guidance,” she turned to Charlotte. “He’ll live just fine thanks to you.”

  “No secret in that,” Charlotte replied levelly. “I noticed a set of footsteps in the alleyway and a deep scratch in the wall, similar to how you have described the wound Lord Welz had suffered. I thought that perhaps Mr Kivi, being a Nightmare Poet, and a very experienced one, was on a surveillance mission. He noticed something in this house, and decided to see what was going on. My guess would be, he used a spell or two, which alerted our assailant.

  “He was most likely killed in that very alleyway. The culprit did a good job of cleaning the crime scene, but still missed some blood specks on one of the walls.”

  “Why didn’t they come back to finish the job?” Mr Placek asked dubiously.

  “Possibly afraid that Mr Kivi had time to send a distress signal, or someone heard the racket,” Lady Roderica Sayles, a burly lizardfolk who was in charge of the Nightmare Poets presently working on the scene, proposed. “It’s also possible that they simply had no means to return to the room without being noticed. Besides, look at that wound. I’m really surprised he managed to hold on for this long.”

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  “He was using healing magic on himself before he passed out,” Agnes replied. “It’s not as terrible as it looks.”

  “For you, anything that’s not a dismembered corpse is not as terrible as it looks,” Lady Sayles grinned, baring rows of exceptionally sharp white teeth.

  “Even those can be brought back to life if I get all the pieces and the person has some unfinished business,” Agnes scoffed in return, getting up.

  “Any idea who the man is?”

  “According to his neighbours and the papers we found in the room, a certain Mr Ryan Dr’lain,” Mr Placek looked at Antony.

  The latter was standing some distance away in the corridor, leaning on the wall with his arms crossed on his chest. While he tried to retain a respectable appearance, he knew full well that most people in that room had probably seen him and Charlotte argue. At least they didn’t hear what they said to each other.

  He hoped they did not.

  “Is this the same Mr Dr’lain you inquired about yesterday?”

  “Hopefully we’ll find out once he comes to his senses,” Antony tried to make his voice sound bored. “I take it you didn’t have time to look into it?”

  “Only having one evening? Do I look like a magician to you?”

  “I don’t look like one, either, yet you expect me to be able to tell you a number of things just by looking at the crime scene.”

  “Stop arguing, you two. I have no doubt he’s the man we were looking for. There are some faces one does not forget.”

  All of them turned to look at Charlotte. She walked up to the crude bed Mr Dr’lain was lying on and gently tapped him on the shoulder with the crooked part of her staff, whispering something. The man stirred and slowly opened his eyes.

  “What… Where,” his voice was hoarse, and movements somewhat erratic.

  “Good morning, Mr Dr’lain. If a bit after midday can still be called morning, of course.”

  Hearing her voice, he sat bolt upright, blinked a couple of times, then hurriedly said, “Am I… No, you’re you. Please, you must stop that thing before it’s too late.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m trying to do. And why don’t you start by explaining who you really are. Preferably before those two gentlemen eat me alive for not telling them you and I are acquainted,” she cast a glance at Mr Placek and Antony. The latter had moved a bit closer to the doorway to see what was happening in the room, but still feigned disinterest.

  “Oh,” he suddenly winced and fell back onto the pillow. “That thing got me good. Zacharias Dreamfellow, former officer of Her Majesty’s Royal Knights, now a private detective. Would prefer it if you continue calling me Dr’lain if that’s all the same to you.

  “I was deployed to the Eastern Archipelago some thirty odd years ago, where I met Lady Dawntreader. Cape Hope massacre.”

  Antony saw Mr Placek raise his eyebrow in confusion, then accusingly look at Antony. All he could do was shrug, vaguely gesturing that omitting the title was Charlotte’s decision.

  “I dug his sorry soul from underneath a pile of corpses,” Charlotte helpfully added.

  “And now you saved him again,” Agnes patted Charlotte on the back, almost making her lose balance. “With a little help from yours truly. You’re one lucky sylph, Mr Dr’lain.”

  “I have no doubts about that.”

  “Do you know who attacked you?”

  This is weird, Antony paused, concentrating. There was something odd about the way she suddenly asked that question. Obviously, they had worked together for a few days, so he could not claim he knew how she usually conducted investigations. But up until now, she never interrupted a witness. Even with Mr Brook, she waited for him to stop shouting. And whenever she decided to forgo the pleasantries, she outright said so and apologised for the fact. But here, she wasn’t giving the poor man even a moment to recuperate.

  If I didn't know better, I'd say she's in a hurry. Only where to?

  He looked at Agnes. She, too, was confused.

  “I am certain I know what attacked me,” Mr Dr’lain frantically shook his head, not bothered by Charlotte’s rude tone. “The thing looked awfully similar to the one you hunted down all those years ago.

  “I can guess why, too. Probably.”

  “Mind telling me everything you know? Starting with the ‘why’ bit,” Charlotte looked around, as if searching for something, but was unsuccessful. She thought for a moment, then walked over to a wall and leaned on it, similar to Antony, half closing her eyes.

  Something is definitely not right. Antony observed her with growing concern. Her behaviour was suddenly a trifle too erratic. Also, was she avoiding looking at the bright stripes of light on the floor?.. She definitely turned away from the window.

  “Alright. That one’s simple. My guess would be that someone tried to silence me because I knew about the Northern Star,” despite Agnes’ claims, it was clear that he was not feeling well. His breath was shallow as he spoke. “I am surprised it happened only now. But then again, when Lord Welz perished, I did my best to go into hiding.”

  “Maybe a bit more detail? I understand that you just suffered a horrendous injury, Mr Dr’lain, but I need names. Places. A timeline.”

  “Apologies. I cannot think straight,” he took another unsteady breath, then slowly explained, “Timeline first. Five or six years ago, I cannot remember when exactly, Lord Richard Upcher approached me with a request to investigate the death of his sister. Lady Margaret Welz, née Lady Margaret Upcher. He strongly believed that there was more to that story. That it wasn’t an illness that took her.

  “I asked him where the idea came from. He said he overheard Lord Welz say something weird during some social gathering. To Lord Upcher, it sounded almost like a confession,” Mr Dr’lain paused, wincing slightly, then continued, “I didn’t really believe him. The man had no evidence. But I was short on funds, so I took the job regardless. Thought it was easy money. Prove the lady died of natural causes. Give him peace of mind. Get paid. Make everyone happy.

  “Only that… It turned out that it wasn’t that simple. I started looking into it. Lady Welz’s symptoms didn’t match anything I could find in the medical encyclopedia. Her therapist was equally confused. According to him, she looked her age, but during the bouts of this mysterious malady her body behaved as if she were fifty years older. Other days, however, she seemed perfectly fine.”

  He fell silent, which prompted Agnes to administer a light healing spell.

  “Charlie, don’t overwork him.”

  “I understand.”

  “It’s fine. It’s my fault for ending up in this state. I continued to work on the case, tackling it from different angles. The answer came from a place I did not expect. I was stalking Lord Welz’s youngest, Lord Reginald Welz. He was gambling and boasting to his opponent that his father had a priceless necklace in his possession. The Northern Star. He claimed it was a ruby. His opponent argued back that could not be the case. The Northern Star was an emerald. They continued to argue, and as I listened, I slowly realised that the description of that ruby reminded me of something else entirely. Something I had seen in a cursed temple on the Eastern Archipelago. Then I remembered you saying that the artefact could somehow rob the living of their lifeforce. Lady Welz’s malady suddenly made sense.

  “In my worst moment of stupidity, I went to confront Lord Welz. We fought together in that campaign. We even kept in touch afterwards, when we returned to Enua.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Laughed at me, called me an idiot, and threw me out, of course.”

  “And what did you do then?”

  “Went to Lord Upcher, who told me to go to the Nightmare Poets. Which I did,” he looked at Lady Sayles somewhat accusingly. “My report was accepted with a promise of a follow-up. Only nothing ever followed. There weren’t any ghouls walking around Ledavia, either.

  “At some point, I even started to believe that I was mistaken in my assumptions. After all, so much time had passed. I thought I imagined things because I wanted to finally work on something that wasn’t catching an unfaithful husband or a scheming business partner. And then Lord Welz died. The moment I read the newspaper, I knew what it was, and… I felt genuine fear. For the first time since Cape Hope. So I ran, like a coward.

  “I’m sorry. I should have told someone else about it. But with the Nightmare Poets not reacting…”

  “I cannot blame you for trying to save yourself,” she said soothingly as she rubbed her temple. “Can you give me a list of people who were aware of all of this? Who could have attacked you, that is.”

  “I’ll need to think. There shouldn’t be many, but I might have been a bit too talkative after an extra pint or two.”

  “Then please pass all the relevant information to Lady Sayles, Mr Placek, and Cardinal Whitesand. I trust your judgement. Doubt you were attacked by that thing because you were investigating adultery allegations and the cheating wife or husband just happened to be in possession of that thing,” Charlotte turned to Antony, “Let’s go.”

  “Where to?”

  “We have a meeting with Mr Fincke, remember? Also, I think I need some fresh air. It’s incredibly stuffy here,” she made a step forward, but suddenly winced and cried out, as if she were in tremendous pain. Antony barely managed to catch her before she collapsed on the ground.