Infernal Investigations

Gregory woke to the sound of music.

He’d fallen asleep after Malvia had left, letting tiredness claim him while the Muse’s magic continued to work healing his body. Now someone was playing a pleasant melody, one that wormed inside his brain and had brought him back awake.

It was coming from where Alice’s bed was, and Gregory opened his eyes just a crack.

A slim, dark-haired man sat between their beds, strumming on a lute. Gregory tensed just a little, but didn’t make any movement to let the newcomer know he’d woken up. He didn’t know him, and he knew close to everyone inside the temple. Rugged, worn coat, clean-shaven, tired, weathered hands that looked far older than his face.

The bard finished his tune, then turned towards Alice, hand reaching inside his coat.

“Do anything to her and you die.”

The bard froze, then slowly turned to face Gregory, eyeing the finger pointing at his face. “Pardon me?”

“If you move I’ll drive a bolt of celestial magic right through your eye,” Gregory bluffed. Right now, he couldn’t channel anything. “What were you trying to do?”

“Hold on,” the other bard said, handsome face reddening. “I will have you know I was not attempting to lift anything, do anything untoward against her, anything like that!”

Gregory could see what he held in his hand now, a clay disk only a few inches in diameter.

“Planting evidence?” Gregory ventured. The side of the disk had what looked like a drawing of Halspus, hand clasped around a pitchfork raised with the dawning sun against a devil.

The other bard scoffed. “The nerve of accusing me of this. I assure you, brother, I am not a criminal. I merely keep them company at times.”

Gregory opened his mouth then closed it. “I guess I can’t hold that against you. I’m in the same situation. Who are you? I’ve never seen you at the temple before.” The other bard came to the side of his bed, keeping just out of easy lunging distance. “I don’t come to the temple too often. This one, anyway. I split my time pretty equally between any of the ones around. As for who I am, here’s my card!”

The other bard pulled out a small piece of stiff paper, and Gregory reached out to take it with a puzzled frown.

Larek Tristan, Bard and Performer Extraordinaire

Spectacular music, amazing support, reliable, safe, very difficult not to get along with

1135 Wylroad, Garretsville

“The address isn’t accurate,” Larek admitted as Gregory read. “I did live there for a time, but unfortunately I ran into the eventual problems that every genuine artist encounters where no one recognizes my brilliance!”

“Rent issues?” Gregory asked, raising an eyebrow.

“As always,” Larek answered with a cheerful grin.

“My condolences,” Gregory said, then turned his tone harsh. “Now, what were you trying to do to her?”

The other bard sighed, then reached inside his pocket, tossing over a small carved trinket.

Gregory caught it, feeling the warmth from the small disk of wood, images carved into it. Halspus and Tildae. “Magic?”

“Just a trinket I picked up,” Larek said. “Have the other priests look at it, it’s just a minor defensive item I’ve picked up in my travels. A bit of luck, a bit of shielding. Both of you look like you could have used either.”

“Sure,” Gregory admitted, looking over the disc. “Hard to believe when you’re giving an Infernal a magic item stamped with both Halspus’ and Tildae’s symbols.”

The other bard smirked. “Hey, if you wanna call for someone to hold me until that gets confirmed, sure, but back when people made those they weren’t so much worried about Infernals as they were actual devils. Invoking those two would be for protection, specifically from devils, which I heard you two might need. And trust me, while I’m sure I’ll inevitably get kicked out once again, no one would let me in if I had a history of anything untoward towards our fellow bards and guests.”

No point asking where he’d heard about the devil attack from. They were in a temple full of bards; gossip might as well be the official form of communication here. And by now the entire city probably knew something was happening involving devils.

“They can only stop people they’ve heard of,” Gregory said cautiously.

“And if I wanted you dead, there would be easier ways than slipping you enchanted items,” Larek said with an easy grin. “Enchanted items that you can have checked, too.”

“I suppose,” Gregory replied, still examining the disk.

“Take the other one if you’re going to keep that one,” Larek said, flipping a second disk Gregory’s way. “No need to keep only one of the set.”

Gregory caught the second, taking a look. Same symbols.

“Thanks for your possible charity,” Gregory said. “What are you doing here?”

Larek started playing his lute, a mournful tune as he sighed theatrically.

“An orc got very angry and kicked a friend and me out of our lodgings for the night,” Larek said. “It’s all Taiva’s fault, she was the one who kept on pestering the Infernal. A foolish idea, I told her, but she really doesn’t listen very well when she gets some insane scheme.”

“That sounds very familiar,” Gregory said lightly, relaxing just a little even as he kept his guard up. He only had this man’s word that he was a fellow bard.

“Ah, a fellow victim of a party’s insane schemes?” Larek asked. “It’s most improper, isn’t it? We bards are the ones who are supposed to have the zany schemes, not everyone else. Well, except maybe the rogue. Which Taiva is, to my eternal annoyance.”

“I’m dealing with something similar,” Gregory admitted. “Less zany, though. More…concerning. And bloody.”

“Yeah, I’ve been through some of those as well,” Larek said lightly, continuing to play. Gregory sank a little more into the bed as the soft tune continued. “Some people, well; you know that they are trying the best they can and you help guide them; you agree their methods are the best for the problem; or you hope you realize you shouldn’t be around them before they blacken your soul too much. I can’t speak to which of those your friend is, but for me, it’s nothing that bad this time. I'm just going to hang around here until someone remembers most of my peers don’t like me being here.”

“You have a place to stay?” Gregory asked. “I can talk about letting you spend the night here, surely whatever you did wasn’t-”

“No, but it doesn’t matter that much,” Larek said. “I like being on the move. Staying cooped up in one spot gets boring after a while. Returning to a haunt and revisiting old friends is nice until it’s been weeks and you get reminded why there’s only some people I’d want to spend my entire life around. And outside, well, new places to go, new sights to see, new people to share my songs with!”

“Glad someone is having fun,” Gregory said. “Right now I’m worried that bloody friend I mentioned earlier and the Muse might end up fighting. Veravaein loves his theater so much, and my friend is so prickly she might-I shouldn’t be saying this.”

“Telling a stranger your private worries and doubts does seem foolish,” Larek said. “I want to let you know I fully agree with that. Also, yeah, don’t mention it around the Muse. No offense intended, I think he’s a little funny in the head. Too much time around us, maybe. Although maybe he’s always been strange. He certainly was when I first met him.”

“What happened when you first met him?” Gregory asked. “I threw a chair at him.”

“I tried to eat him,” Larek said, then smirked. “Okay, bite him, really. Turns out he’s poisonous. That was an embarrassing and painful evening. And he and everyone else who saw it has never acted the same around me since. I got a full lecture about the toxicity of mushrooms from a friend right after. In my defense, I’ve enjoyed mushrooms in many caves and tunnels across the entire island and well beyond.”

“Been around a fair bit?” Gregory asked. Mind you, the underground could just be beneath the city itself in the dwarven tunnels, but the other things he’d said indicated he was well-traveled.

“Whenever I’m not here,” Larek said. “Which is easily nine days out of ten. And this is the place I’m at the most often. I’ve been to a thousand places easily, and almost none of them twice.”

“The quintessential wandering bard,” Gregory said. “The ideal. I wonder why there aren’t as many chasing that ideal as before? So many of us just go around performing at venues, or going on the Delves or overseas. No one just travels around the country anymore. I haven’t really done anything except socialize, play music, and needle my father.”

He’d wanted to go outside the city at times, had gone but never for longer than a week. There was always something reeling him back to Avernon each time. Some entanglement or connection stopping him. But for everyone else, well, the Initiates perhaps needed more time in the temple, but maybe one out of every five bards he knew inside the temple were ever out of the city on a regular basis.

“Well, sometimes a father needs a good needling,” Larek replied lightly, laughing a little. Gregory joined in politely, but it was fake, and Larek could tell from how quickly he stopped, expression growing more serious.

“In terms of why no one travels around Anglea itself being the wandering Bard?” Larek asked. “They exist, it’s just these days catching a train to another town isn’t really the same, is it? And taking the long way, well, to tell you the truth, the empire has tamed nearly everything. The only parts that haven’t are small, little enclaves powerful enough to keep some autonomy from the empire. They don’t like visitors that much. The world is shrinking, so you either adjust, go chasing its boundaries, wherever that might be. For some, that’s down below in the delves. For some, that’s going where they haven’t filled in the maps yet.”

Larek leaned back, his tune growing livelier. “Not that you don’t have those making their living in those places that have been explored either. Quite a few love traveling around those small villages and towns.“

“And just staying in the city?” Gregory asked. “Not travelling, just sitting where you have privilege?”

Because that is part of what it came down to. No one in the temple had ever said a word, but everyone knew Gregory’s lineage, knew that he didn’t need a place to perform like they did, along with all the other benefits of his family name. Up until the last month.

“I think the freedom of being a bard is that there’s no one true way of being a bard,” Larek said. “Even the music side, well, I can’t say I don’t enjoy a good tune, but I’ve had the pleasure of knowing quite a few untalented people on that side who did the rest well enough. Why Avernon has so many bards who never leave? Might as well ask why Avernon has so many people who never leave, or the other cities. Sometimes being a bard means staying in one place for a while. Sometimes it doesn’t. Our leadership is fairly lax for a reason, and it’s up to you to figure out where you want to go and what you want to do. Long as you remain a bard in heart and in actions, I don’t think there’s any way that we should consider the best. Feeling lost?”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Gregory chuckled pathetically. “More than you could know. I had a guide, but it was ripped from me so suddenly that…did you ever hear Tarver’s music before?”

“I’ve heard it a fair number of times,” Larek said, his playing returning to a gentle, melancholy melody.

“I used to hear the music all the time, you know,” Gregory said quietly. “Helping me, guiding me. Warning me when I needed it, and sometimes when I didn’t. And then, when it was all over, it went quiet, and I never heard it again. It was when my brother disappeared, and that’s when I wondered if that was my failing.”

Larek was completely quiet as he leaned forward in his chair. “Have you told anyone?”

“No one,” Gregory admitted. “Even when I was confessing nearly everything about that tumultuous period of my life, I still held that back. If I tell anyone in the temple…I know they won’t eject me from the church or anything like that, but what if it’s a warning or a sign of disfavor?”

“It’s not,” Larek said flatly. “One of these days I’m going to punch Songmaster Delvin.” Gregory stilled. That was…ill-advised to put it mildly. Punching the head representative of Tarver’s faith in the mortal realms.

“Not literally,” Larek quickly clarified. “Trust me, it would not go well for me if I did. Wouldn’t be the first time I threatened to do it without him knowing…or even with him knowing, with some of the people I said it to. But not hearing the music anymore isn’t some sign of disfavor, and that’s not hidden knowledge. Most people just don’t need hints all the time on what to do.”

“In some ways, the Songmaster is too much like the old ways,” Larek said, plucking the strings of his lute, expression gone contemplative. “If you get what I mean. I agree with some of them, so that’s the only hint I’m providing. Anyway, I should be off. Elven hearing and all means I hear the vault doors opening, and today has been enough. I’ve already been tossed out of one place already.”

“The muse would not toss you out,” Gregory protested.

“Well, it would be awkward at best,” Larek said. “The emotions between mushroom angel and the person who tried to eat mushroom angel are a complicated thing to dissect, especially when one literally tried to do that to the other. If you ever do go on an old-fashioned adventure, bring proper rations for at least a month. It’ll save you some embarrassment.”

“Sure,” Gregory said, although he was certain he would never need that advice, even if he wanted to try leaving the city.

Also that he knew far too many people by now who talked about biting into still-living people.

“Don’t worry too much about when it ended, I’d say,” Larek continued, stopping his lute-strumming and slinging it across his back. “It’s probably just when you finally stopped needing as much guidance.”

“I need guidance now more than ever!” Gregory protested. “A guiding hand over not knowing what to do.”

“I think you’re thinking of this the wrong way,” Larek said, getting up from his stool. “Being guided, that’s good when you’re just starting out, but bards, no matter whatever else they are, are supposed to be free spirits. In my opinion, at least. Worrying about making the wrong choice, agonizing over it? Is exactly why those guiding notes were stopped instead of letting it continue and your dependence grow. When do you really need a warning? They come back, but a constant guide, well, no bard should need that, Gregory.”

Gregory was quiet, digesting that as Larek moved towards the exit of the infirmary.

“Sorry to run,” Larek said. “But I hear someone coming, so I think I’ll find a quiet storeroom to hole up in before I get kicked out. Someone has stopped all the trains for now, so catching a ride out of the city is going to take longer than normal.”

Gregory frowned. “What?”

But Larek had already left out one set of doors, and on the other side of the infirmary, another set was opening.

Filing the train comment away for later, Gregory turned towards the other doors, preparing a greeting that suddenly died in his throat.

Malvia was smiling. It would be reassuring if the corners weren’t twitching. Her hair was blasted back from her face, still all there but equally stained with soot and blue liquid he could only hope wasn’t blood. Her entire coat was splattered with the substance, easily over half of it covered. Parts of her skin were so thickly coated you couldn’t see anything but the gore.

More of it dripped off along with something a lot thicker and stringy, splattering against the infirmary floor.

Gregory stared, mind trying to comprehend what he was looking at.

The only thing guarding the Vault was one perfectly placid Muse who made you go through some serious musical exercises! Occasionally he would spar or do another competition if you wanted to try him at other things! There shouldn’t be anything for her to kill down there!

“Gregory,” Malvia said, tone far too light. Oh Tarver, when she opened her mouth he could see the blue coating her teeth and something stuck between them. “Good, at least one of you was up. I’d hate to run without talking to one of you. A left-behind message would be far too impersonal.”

Gregory stared, then tried to close his mouth. The trial was musical! If there even was a trial, Verivaein most of the time hinted he just wanted booze and to tell a story! Or just be mildly impressed by a challenge of some kind! His mind kept getting stuck on that because Malvia turning into some bloody fight to the death with a monster should be impossible!

“Malvia, what happened?” Gregory croaked out. “What the hells did you do down there?”

Malvia winced. “It's a bit of a long story. Tomorrow perhaps? I did get the holy water we need. I already have a long evening ahead of me, and I hope a longer rest afterward.”

“A glorious victory is what was achieved!” The Muse Vervaein trumpeted, coming into the infirmary, a pair of nervous-looking initiates behind him. Darien and Lisa, both trying not to look at the gore-soaked Malvia, and Gregory couldn’t really blame them. “It was a most glorious time, was it not, Miss Harrow! You must come again where we can do something else. I assure you will not encounter such joys anywhere else.”

“Muse Verivaein,” Malvia said cheerfully. “While I am quite happy always to encounter the chance to do new things, including what you were so delightfully ready to show me in the vaults. I regret to inform you that the same trend is making me wonder if you do, in fact, taste like fried cave mushroom.”

Everyone stared at the politely smiling Infernal, and Gregory was struck with a sudden feeling of utter empathy for everyone around him.

The Muse’s mushroom stalk bent over a few times in an approximation of a nod. “Yes, that does seem to be a common reaction. Perhaps a little less murderous and cannibalistic in most people who take the trials.” “Yes, well I imagine they might have found some of it slightly more amusing than I did,” Malvia said, expression growing more strained as she talked. “Possibly even fun, minus the parts where it was very painful.”

“Yes,” the Muse said, sounding slightly apologetic. “However, most who do it generally do not try solving it by detonating one of their arms. Truly, you embody the spirit of Grisha!”

She’d what?

Malvia’s eye twitched just a little bit. “I suppose by straight comparison that is true enough. Pardon me for asking, good…sir?”

“Sir.”

“Good sir, if I might inquire, are you acquainted with a fey of a particularly vulpine nature?”

The Muse hummed absent-mindedly. “I don’t believe so.”

“Well, it was worth asking. Could I have some words with Gregory in private before we arrange the details regarding the holy water?” “Of course,” the Muse said, turning around, Lisa and Darien both eagerly heading out already.

“Oh, also, Muse?” Malvia asked, causing the mushroom stalk to stop and whirl around.

“Yes?”

Malvia smiled demurely, mouth just open enough to display gore-streaked teeth. “Just a request sir. Never call anything I do cannibalistic? If you wouldn’t mind?”

The Muse’s mushroom stalk bent over again. “Of course. Perish the thought of ever trying it again. Lisa, Darien, let us give them some space.”

The three of them left, the door shut behind them, and Gregory tried to say something only for Malvia to hold up a finger, head cocked to the side.

“Well,” she said after at least twenty seconds. “Either they’re very good at keeping quiet or the Muse is listening in instead of any of your fellow bards. Or they have someone who can hold their breath remarkably well.”

“Or no one is listening at all,” Gregory said, which got an amused look from her.

“Gregory,” she said patiently. “I’m willing to not be a completely paranoid mess from time to time, but please. Two unfamiliar Infernals, both of whom the Muse can definitely tell are diabolists. Then you add what I did in those vaults, well.... trust me, someone is listening.”

“What did you do?” Gregory whispered, in utter disbelief. The most violence that had ever happened down there is when he threw the chair at the muse during their meeting!

Malvia’s expression flickered, embarrassed now as a trickle of what Gregory would continue to pretend was not blood trickled down her cheek. “Look, I know I promised to do better, but in my defense I wasn’t given much of a choice.”

“A choice to do what?” “Look, I am terribly sorry. And the Muse said he would get it fixed.”

“Malvia, actually tell me what you did!” “I did the trial,” she told Gregory, seemingly mildly off put by his vehemence. “Frankly, I’m rather insulted everyone who goes down there has to take it, it seems extremely violent for a bardic temple.” “It’s a musical trial!” Gregory said.

“Uh, yes, it is,” Malvia said, leaning in closer. “You didn’t hit your head did you? I’ll mention it to the Muse. I’ll finish my business with him, then I’ll need to leave soon. If you and Alice do get capable of leaving bed, stay here instead of heading anywhere? Please? At least until tomorrow, I can have Captain Malstein or one of my relatives come get you.”

She paused. “Preferably the former, I’m not sure if being her relative dulls or sharpens Diwei’s antipathy to Infernals.”

Gregory decided to abandon the questions about the Vault for now. “What do we do next, then?”

“Next, you and Alice catch up on your rest,” Malvia said firmly. “And if you say a word about needing to come protect me, I will gag you.”

“Trust me, I think I’ve long known who the most dangerous person between the two of us is,” Gregory said. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have people guarding your back, Malvia.”

“I’ve found some people,” Malvia replied. “Now, don’t worry about it. I’ve come back from worse than this, and will continue to. You, however, need to get some rest so you don’t overstrain yourself until you are healed.”

Gregory didn’t bother objecting. She was right in the end, even if it felt wrong to let her wander into this with the most trustworthy person at her side being Malstein.

“Someone who was here earlier mentioned the trains being stopped going in or out of the city,” Gregory said. “Did you hear anything about that.”

Malvia froze, frowning.

“I did not, although I’ve spent most of today busy,” she said. “Maybe someone finally decided to take things seriously. Another thing to look into after tonight.”

Malvia called for those who had left to come back in, which they did minus the Muse.

“The holy water I requested is ready?” Malvia asked.

“It’s getting ready,” Lisa replied nervously. “It’s…well, it’s a lot of holy water to transfer from the tanks. And the Muse said you didn’t want them in water-skins?”

“I’d like sturdy containers for it,” Malvia said. “I will probably not be walking, but getting a carriage is difficult for reasons I don’t think need to be said. So wagon-suitable might be needed.”

“We could help carry it for you,” Darien asked cautiously.

“I’ve been ambushed on the road too many times to risk that, especially if my attention is split between keeping it safe and you alive,” Malvia said dismissively. “At least inside the wagon there’s less chance that it gets damaged. Unless they use explosives again, in which case-“

“How about you have Captain Malstein arrange for it to be picked up?” Gregory interrupted. “Or anyone else who won’t melt if you get some on you?”

Malvia paused. “Fair enough, although I hate leaving that to someone else. Would give me time to clean at least…then get covered in gore again, probably. But true, for safety’s sake, we should probably do that. Thank you, Gregory.”

Gregory nodded and kept listening, but as Malvia and the others continued talking logistics, he found it harder to keep from drifting off towards sleep. Asking for any way to come along would be pointless; neither Malvia nor probably anyone inside the Temple would permit it.

Eventually, the three of them left, and Gregory just lay there, not quite ready to close his eyes yet. He was just about to make that concession to the tired feeling in his bones when someone groaned next to him.

Somehow, between the music, the muse, and Malvia, Alice hadn’t woken up until now.

“Fuck, my head feels like it’s been used as a fucking ball,” Alice said, hand gingerly touching one of the more swollen parts of her head.

“It kind of was,” Gregory said quietly, mind flashing back to the devil repeatedly ramming it into the wall.

“I know,” Alice complained. “Lots of people moving about. Did I miss anything?”

“Malvia finished the trial,” Gregory said. “And apparently fought and killed something besides the Muse. When there’s nothing but the Muse in those Vaults. She detonated her arm, I think?”

“Oh hells,” Alice said, putting her head back on her pillow. “Malvia, just because you can grow new flesh doesn’t make your skeleton a good source of shrapnel!”

“She’s already left to make arrangements for the holy water,” Gregory said, then glared at a random part of the infirmary. “Since she isn’t here, maybe you could explain when you decided the trial should be some kind of monster?”

Verivaein faded into view, wings limp. “You knew I was there.”

“It was either that or observing Malvia waiting to make some grand revelation to either of us,” Gregory said drily. “Try it with people who aren’t familiar with her next. Now. What the fuck kind of trial do you give her?”

“First, only the kind of trial she naturally led herself into,” the Muse said, wings crossing. “She’d already passed when she decided to take things further. Very impressive young lady. Also, a very concerning young lady. You should invite her to the temple more often.”

Alice snorted. “Pretty sure the only reason she is here is because we are. And no offense, but I don’t particularly plan on ending up so beat up I’m back here.”

“Well, if you don’t plan on ever coming back either, I do insist you at least do the trial as well,” The Muse said, eyes focused on Alice.

“We already have the holy water we need, Veravaein,” Gregory said tiredly. “I do want to know what happened that results in Malvia butchering and eating something down in the vaults, but if there’s anything I want to do now it’s….can you leave the temple at all?”

“No,” the Muse said morosely. “Until the temple itself is threatened, I cannot intervene. And no, removing parts of the brickwork and taking them with you into a fight does not count. Nor does throwing the head of the temple between you and an enemy.”

Well, there went that idea.

“I get where he’s coming from,” Alice said. “The more people watching her back, the better.”

“And what would they be watching her back for?” The Muse asked, and neither Gregory nor Alice had an answer.

Gregory couldn’t even be sure that Veravaein knew about the plan involving Mourner Kelson, but it didn’t matter. The point stood. Involving others just meant the increasing likelihood someone they didn’t want to know would find out.

All they could do was wait and hope things turned out well.