Palimpsest

For how many seasons she (Allmother) carved the symbols into her own flesh, the accounts disagree. Some say three years. Some say seven. The river people, who were there, say only: long enough.

All accounts agree that the symbols never answered her. Not once in all that time. She continued anyway.

This is the part historians call evidence of determination. It has always seemed to us something more unsettling: that she continued without any reason to believe it would work.

— Chronicle of the First Age. Ledger Archives, Marialis branch. Transcriber unknown.

Chapter 4 A Study in Red

Kaelin was out of breath, but she had managed to squeeze Koreth’s corpse into the elevator. She closed the elevator hatch and placed the folding screen back in front of it. She walked over to the mirror and adjusted her clothes. The tear in her skirt stood out painfully to her, but there was nothing she could do—she would have to hope people didn’t notice. She took a deep breath.

“You can do this.”

She looked around the room one last time. She had to be sure it looked normal. She opened the door, stepped out into the corridor, and locked it behind her.

There were still people crying and speaking heatedly in the hallway. It looked as if every door was open. She began walking through the crowd. Without making eye contact with anyone, she moved toward the stairs.

“Kaelin,” a voice called from behind just as she was about to turn the corner.

It was Mayra, but she couldn’t talk to her this time. She ignored her and started down the stairs. She was trying so hard not to draw attention that the carpeted steps felt as if they were saving her life.

When she reached the lower corridor, she saw that things weren’t any different there. While the girls tried to calm one another, some of the guests were arguing among themselves about what it could have been.

The stairs at the end of the corridor opened onto the wide staircase that led down to the entrance hall. But Kaelin didn’t need to go that far. Her eyes immediately found the second door from the end on the left. When she saw it was closed, she felt slightly relieved and began walking toward it. A dark-haired girl in a blue dress noticed her and seemed about to call out, but Kaelin pretended to look the other way and slipped past quickly.

“That was close.”

When she reached the door, she glanced around and tested the handle. It was locked. Kaelin let out another deep breath and whispered, “Yes!”

This room was directly beneath Kaelin’s own, and the elevator passed through here before descending to the basement. Kaelin remembered that the girl who used this room had been sick for two days, but she didn’t know whether she had come in today. She’d been forced to gamble—and the fact that the door was locked confirmed she’d been right.

Kaelin didn’t have a key, but she had worked here long enough to learn that she didn’t need one.

◈ ◈ ◈

As Tarr’en approached the red-carpeted stairs that led up to the upper corridors, a panel mounted on the wall between the two rising staircases caught his attention. He had noticed it when he first entered, but when he looked at it closely now, he realized there were extremely interesting things about it.

A large rectangular relief panel, as tall as a man, nearly filled the empty space between the staircases. At first glance it looked like an ancient stone wall carving, but up close it was clearly bronze. It had a dark wooden frame, but the wood was only polished—there was no decoration. The panel was lit from above by two small lanterns.

On it were the silhouettes of five people. It was impossible to say for certain, but all of them looked like women. One was clearly an elf, another clearly a dwarf. Another, broader and heavier-built, looked like an orc. The other two resembled humans. Their clothing wasn’t carved with much detail, but from how simply they were dressed, it was obvious they weren’t upper class. They stood around a round table, each with one hand placed upon it. The table looked completely ordinary, except its edges were worked in a golden color, like a ring of gold.

At the bottom of the panel, there was a line of text engraved in relief:

What was seen was divided.

What was carried was shared.

What was shared was sealed.

“Interesting,” Tarr’en said. He didn’t particularly like the figures on the relief, but after reading the text, the whole panel felt unsettling to him. Certain words especially made him tense. It was as if there were a manifesto right in front of him—yet he couldn’t tell who had written it or what voice it belonged to.

“Mr. Rowe!”

Rhoren’s large hand came down on Tarr’en’s shoulder and yanked him back into reality. Tarr’en immediately remembered where he was and, without changing his expression, looked at Rhoren’s hand on his shoulder.

Rhoren grew irritated because Tarr’en was looking at his hand instead of his face—as if he’d contaminated him. Finally he pulled his hand away and said in a calm but judgmental tone, “I thought we were in a hurry.”

Without replying, Tarr’en adjusted his coat and continued up the stairs on silent, light steps.

◈ ◈ ◈

Kaelin first checked her surroundings and made sure no one was watching her closely. Then she pulled the handle toward herself and lifted it upward. A click came from inside the door—the lock had opened.

Kaelin had seen this last year, when a girl had locked herself in her room. No one had a key to open her door, and they didn’t know what was happening inside. Mistress Vahl had come to handle it and sent everyone back to their rooms, but Kaelin had stayed near the stairs and kept watching from the corner out of curiosity. The woman had simply undone the lock and opened the door, then stepped inside.

Kaelin had wondered whether it had been a defect unique to that one door, and when she returned to her own room she had tried it on her own lock. The result was the same. This system existed on every door.

Kaelin had thought it was a useful and necessary system for Red Lantern houses. The girls who worked here could be psychologically fragile—and most importantly, what guests might do was unpredictable.

The lock was open, but now she needed to slip inside without drawing attention. She looked around, but she still hadn’t found the right moment. Then suddenly she began hearing footsteps behind her, and she heard a man’s voice. The stairs were carpeted, but the staircase was still wooden, and the beams could creak.

Kaelin knew someone was coming and that she couldn’t waste any more time. She steeled herself, quickly opened the door, and slipped inside. She closed it and leaned her back against it.

From behind the door, she could hear two men entering the corridor and speaking to people. A loud voice told them to stay calm and answer questions clearly. Another voice beside it said, “Send them to their rooms, Captain. I don’t want anyone underfoot.”

Kaelin knew she didn’t have much time. She rushed behind the partition in the corner and began pulling the elevator down. A short while later, the elevator descended, the corpse inside it coming down with it. When she opened the hatch, an arm immediately fell onto her. Almost screamed, but she held it in.

“Shit.”

The body had barely fit in here, and the moment the hatch opened, it had toppled outward. Kaelin was holding the corpse with all her strength. She couldn’t afford to make noise.

“Did you have to be this fat and dead?” she panted.

She was sweating again, but she managed to lower the body to the floor slowly. After dragging it by the feet to the bedside, she climbed onto the bed and, with all her strength, hauled him up onto it.

The corpse was on the bed, and Kaelin was lying right beside it. Out of exhaustion and tension, she had simply let herself collapse onto the mattress. The absurdity and weight of her situation was starting to get under her skin. She turned toward the corpse and said, “Come on, Judge, show some life—we did it.” But there was no smile on her face—only fatigue.

She stared up at the ceiling and took a deep breath.

“Get up, Kaelin. You need to get out of here as soon as possible.”

She sat up in bed and her eyes went straight to the door. Voices still came from outside. Leaving through the door seemed almost impossible. If the Wardens were here, they wouldn’t leave without searching the entire building—Kaelin knew that. The only way out was the elevator. If she went down to the basement through the elevator, escaping would be easier, but getting away without being seen would be almost impossible.

Only one way out remained.

As she sat up, her arm struck the empty goblet on the bedside table. The goblet tipped and began rolling toward the edge. She caught it right before it fell, but the sound had already happened.

◈ ◈ ◈

Tarr’en and Rhoren were questioning people in the corridor, asking them to explain what they had seen. Everyone’s story was different, but they all agreed that they had witnessed a war or a catastrophe. Tarr’en could see the web of connections in the corridor, but this was complete chaos—because he couldn’t see a center or a direction.

Turning to Rhoren, he said, “Captain, I don’t think we’ll get anything from here. Best to go up to the upper—”

Tarr’en suddenly fell silent. He turned his head toward a closed door. It was as if he had heard something. What was abnormal wasn’t the sound itself, but where it had come from. Even with chaos in the corridor, Tarr’en could still see the links—but this room had no connection to anyone or anything. It was like a blind spot.

He turned back to the girl Rhoren had been speaking to and pointed at the room.

“Whose room is that?”

The girl looked startled by the sudden question. “Ah… that’s Aneth’s room. But she’s been sick for a few days, so it’s empty and locked right now.”

“Interesting,” Tarr’en said. He turned back to the girl. “So no one has been going in or out of that room for the past few days?”

Hesitantly, the girl said, “Y-yes.”

Tarr’en abruptly walked straight through them and headed toward the door. “Captain,” he said as he walked, as if calling for a servant.

“Pompous son of a bitch,” Rhoren muttered as he followed.

When Tarr’en reached the door, he took the handle and slowly lowered it. The door cracked open with a single click. It wasn’t locked.

Rhoren didn’t look particularly surprised when he saw the door open. He also didn’t understand what they were trying to do. Tarr’en released the handle of the half-open door and stepped aside. Without changing his blank expression, he said, “After you, Captain.” Rhoren stared at him for a moment as if cursing him silently, then opened the door and went inside.

The moment he entered, he saw the man lying on the bed. “That’s Judge Koreth. But what the hell is he doing here?” he said. Without a sound, Tarr’en walked toward the bed. He was examining the room carefully.

Rhoren approached the judge and called out, but got no response. He went closer, saw how pale he was, and immediately brought his ear to Koreth’s nose. “He’s not breathing!” His voice sounded panicked for the first time. “He’s dead!”

While Rhoren stood beside the corpse in shock, Tarr’en seemed to notice the carelessness in the corpse’s clothing. Leaning in, he saw that one button was missing. He said to Rhoren, “We need to take his clothes off.”

“Wh… What?” Rhoren stammered.

“Just do what I said,” Tarr’en replied, not taking his eyes off the body.

Rhoren began removing the corpse’s jacket slowly, grumbling at a volume Tarr’en could hear. Then he continued by unbuttoning the shirt. When the corpse’s chest was finally exposed, Rhoren couldn’t hide his shock. He instinctively stepped back from the body.

By profession and experience, there was almost nothing Rhoren hadn’t seen. He had dealt with cases like this before. The shock he felt was more than it should have been for someone like him. But it wasn’t the corpse—or the symbol burned into the chest—that frightened him. What truly shocked him was the feeling the symbol created inside him. Even though he was seeing it for the first time, he trembled as if he had just remembered a trauma he had lived through.

“So you were the weak link, Judge,” Tarr’en said, his blank expression showing a faint trace of anger. “But why, and how? Or…” He paused, then called out, “Captain,” but Rhoren was still staring at the symbol.

When no answer came, Tarr’en raised his head and looked at Rhoren. Seeing the way he was staring at the symbol, he muttered to himself, “Huh. This might be a first—but given that many years of service, it’s not impossible.”

After watching Rhoren for a brief moment, Tarr’en raised his voice slightly. “Captain!”

Rhoren snapped back to himself. When he realized where he was, a faint shame crept over him. Trying to straighten himself and return his expression to normal, he managed only, “What?”

“I want you to station men at every exit and make sure no one leaves this building until I’m finished,” Tarr’en said—this time looking directly into his eyes.

Rhoren was surprised because, for the first time, he saw a different expression on Tarr’en’s face. “The building is already under control. No one’s come in or out,” Rhoren snapped. He was tired of being spoken to as if he needed his job explained to him.

“I’m afraid you don’t have the authority or the knowledge to understand the seriousness of this situation, Captain,” Tarr’en said. The anger on his face had become unmistakable. “Do what I said and bring me today’s guest records.”

“What are the records for?” Rhoren asked, his tone softening slightly.

Tarr’en walked toward the center of the room. “Think, Captain,” he said after a brief pause, then continued. “We found the corpse of a judge in a room believed to be locked, and it has nothing to do with a natural death. On top of that, the owner of this room hasn’t been here for days. Yet the corpse looks like it died today.”

“There are two possible scenarios: either someone brought the judge here, killed him, and left—or the judge died elsewhere and was moved here.”

He turned to Rhoren from the middle of the room.

“In either case, someone knows about his death, and it’s highly likely they’re still in the building. We need those records to learn who used this room and whose guest the judge was.”

Rhoren looked at the corpse again, then began walking slowly toward the door. “I’ll request the records from Miss Vahl,” he said, and left the room.

Tarr’en looked at the corpse again, as if speaking to it. “This was supposed to be impossible—especially on this scale,” he said.

“Who broke the seal, Judge?” He wasn’t expecting an answer. “Don’t worry. I’ll find the security breach and do what’s necessary,” he added in a low voice.

…

At the same time, Kaelin—who had overheard everything—was now trembling, both hands covering her mouth as she tried not to make a sound.

She couldn’t hide in this elevator for long…