CHAPTER 2.14 – MURDER MYSTERY

Thae’s first to break the silence, while Hugo’s still trying to corral his thoughts.  And as he attempts to herd his questions into themes, the half-elf’s sympathetic tone makes him feel like a pile of quizzical shit. 

“Oh Rian, that must have been terrible for you.”  Simple, covers every uneven segment of the man’s tale, brimming with kindness and concern.  Effective, too, as Rian looks like he might burst into tears as he gently places a mitt on the cleric’s shoulder, gives a clumsy squeeze.  And then…he apologises?  What the fuck?

It’s the acolyte’s turn to act abashed, head shaking.  “No, no…really, it was such a kindness.  Impeccable, really…”  A pause, his friend blushing.  “…It was…simply something of a surprise.”  Hugo isn’t the only one lost for context; Anuk’s staring at the pair, perfect eyebrows arched.  But she rallies, returns to business.

“If you didn’t kill daddy dearest, who did?”  Oof.  But they all fall into their standard roles.  Thae scans Rian’s face for shock.  The big man looks flummoxed, as if Anuk’s question’s novel to him.  And for Hugo, her shocking framing has rendered his own multitude of questions far more reasonable.  Besides, the drag of his own thoughts and recollections can be ignored while we all interrogate Rian’s.

Who seems to have little to offer.  “He must have had enemies, though, big man?”  Hugo spreads his hands as the woodsman turns to him.  “I mean, for that to have happened, he must’ve.  Right?”  He can feel Anuk nodding in his direction, kind of wishes her allyship was directed elsewhere in this moment.  Until she adds: “They used your cleaver, Rian.  Someone wanted you to take the blame.”

And for an instant, the four of them are united in the same slow nod.  Rian’s gaze is lost in the flicker of the campfire; even Thae’s expression’s thoughtful, any concern about impropriety dropped for the investigation.  Time to steer.  “Things tend to happen for a reason, even if we can’t see it from here.”  Now the big lad’s frowning into the flames.  He tries one of the standards: “Would your dad have been carrying a lot of money?”

Rian looks up, head already shaking.  “No.  I…I did most of the books.  For the shop.”  Gods, he wants to jump in, narrow the man’s focus, speed up the process, but he bites down.  Gives the big man time and a supportive smile.  “Wasn’t much coming in.”  He seems done at that.  Hugo’s about to speak when Rian animates again, guiltily.  “And…the drink, y’know?”  He waits several seconds more before responding.  “So: NOT robbery, then.  And they already had access to your house, or at least behind the counter of your shop, so pretty much double not-robbery.”

“If I may ask, did he inflame any grudges?”  Thae’s clear voice, still empathetic, but earnestly interrogating the notion.  But on second thought, it makes sense.  The acolyte must have seen, treated, the shocking results of disagreements turned violent.  Rian again more puzzled than offended.  “He didn’t really…”  Pause.  “I was usually dealing with our…the customers.”  Hugo hopes his attempt to stifle a smile isn’t obvious.  Of course you were, Rian, a natural shopkeeper, you.

He almost swallows his tongue when the big man looks him in the eye, flatly intones “I was the charm.”  The beard twitches as tension’s dispelled, the four of them united by the joke.  Hugo’s fucking joke.  But it’s unguarded, it’s joyous.  They could be any group of friends.  The topic might be grim; the news might be bad.  The mystery might be insoluble, but at least they’ve permission to explore it together.

Thae’s eyes are on him, and he grins back.  Broadcasts joy to his best remaining friend.  He’s still not certain how to tackle the truth of their meeting but feels in this moment that once he can broach the topic, it needn’t destroy them.  Even Anuk’s laugh seems easy, relaxed.  And Rian knows that he’s done well.

-x-

From the big man’s description, the Coalstretch, location of his family’s combined shop and home, had once marked the village’s outer limit.  Got its name from the predominant local trade at that time, Colliers literally clearing the trees on their doorsteps to make charcoal.  But with the settlement’s expansion to a town, the ‘Stretch had retained a similar demographic.  Almost no actual charcoal-makers by the time Rian came along, but his neighbours could expect long hours for low rewards like their forebears. 

The town became richer as it grew, but his neighbourhood wasn’t a destination for travellers between the kingdom’s capital and second cities.  The road ran east to west across the eponymous bridges adjoining their island to the mainland.  Oakbridge’s huge coaching inn was centrally placed but might as well have been in a distant country for the range of Rian’s life.  The forest to the west of town, perhaps coincidentally the further end from the capital, was the boy’s playground and the extent of his experience.  Coalstretch, stuck at the north of the island, was well removed from any influx of trade or travellers’ coin benefitting the settlement. 

Donal certainly had more freedom than his son, went somewhere beyond the Stretch, but given the boy’s restrictions could just have disappeared to the inn.  Hugo and Anuk could attest to weekday teetotallers who transformed into rapacious drinkers the moment they dropped their own leash.  And so, who knew motive?  The man returning home from a 3-day drunk might have no recollection of any injury or insult provoking his violent murder.  Then again, the use of Rian’s implement spoke to something cooler blooded, more calculated.  But that in turn seemed to fly in the face of the assailant’s evident rage.

And, for all of their minds working together, the whole story lacked fundamental clarity.  Rian himself highlighted the naivety, the uncertainties in his account.  The account of a sheltered, suffocating child interpreted by his (arguably equally unsocialised) adult self.  Maybe more puzzling were the strange contradictions of tone and weird addenda, details which had no place.

While Rian had considered the ill fit of his parents’ personalities, they had (to Hugo’s satisfaction at least) established a sizeable age difference between the pair.  And while that painted an odd couple, it stood to reason that their personalities shouldn’t differ quite so completely.  Nice man loses young wife, alienates remaining family in his grief?  Possible, feasible, tragic.

That was easier to reconcile than the overweight, boring butcher transforming into nimble-footed marksman upon contact with ancient forest.  Who taught his son perfectly accented Dwarvish as a lilting cant for their hunting trips.  Sure, sure, it was effective for their purpose, but how did he come by it?  Worse, to Hugo’s mind, was that that Donal should have been brimming with interesting stories.  A fascinating background conspiring to such mixed talents.  And yet…everything Rian had to say of the man detailed a stuffy, self-absorbed bore.

It was unseemly.

They’d shared a laugh at his frustration, when that phrase spilled from Hugo’s lips.  But that felt fine.  They’d each left Thornwood under clouds, but their examination of Rian’s discomfort approaching Oakbridge had dispersed the friction.  Reminded them they had allies.  Were allies.  They were certainly no closer to untangling Rian’s mysteries; felt their questions had actually added some knots.  But to have done so together felt satisfying.

-x-

They even slept like a group, he thought, carefully adding wood to the banked fire.  Rian had dropped into sleep even more instantly than normal, apparently exhausted by extended dialogue.  No doubt churning up buried memories, difficult emotions.  Thae was positioned close to the man, as though to guard him from his dreams.  Possibly as some salve to their weird interaction from earlier, but Hugo couldn’t guess at that. 

It looked as comforting as it was comfortable.  He’d noticed Anuk’s soft eyes for the pair, had accidentally held his too long and worried he’d fucked up.  Instead, he received a smile – small, flitting like a rare insect, but definitively there.  And as if to confirm his notions, the girl had slipped in like Thae’s reflection.  He’d claimed first watch, felt way too immersed in speculation and guesswork, had intended to hand over next shift to his blonde friend.  He really wished, however, that he could show this to the woodsman.  Demonstrate what his clumsy openness had achieved.

He’d maybe like to thank Rian too.  For diverting him from his own bullshit.  For convincing him he needn’t push Thae away in anticipation he’d be unmasked as such a sinner.  If the big man could weather this trauma, such overwhelming loss, and still push on towards Oakbridge, then Hugo can certainly face the shit he’s avoiding.

And when the time comes, trust that his friend will catch him.

-x-

His spirit’s willing but his flesh is weak.  He can feel the change in the darkness, the promise of dawn beginning to recolour the shadows.  They’d looked so comfy, he’d had to let them lie.  They’d wound up with the big man’s arms enfolding the half-elves.  The night had been chilly, but their forest guide had announced that it wouldn’t rain.  It never sounded like guesswork and even Hugo could imagine a few techniques which might improve one’s chances.  After all, he was sure he’d smelled more than one downpour coming in the time they’d spent in the forest.  And Rian had lived his life here, more reliant on the weather than Hugo’d ever needed to care.

An odd thought.  He wonders if this is how cults get started.  Corrects himself quickly, guiltily: scam cults.  Get some charismatic fucker – alright, Rian’s not the best choice there, but – a fucker with a skill, a big dose of luck.  Then do what Hugo thinks of, practices at, as their ‘woo’.  He knows the technique, just enough truth mixed in with performative half-lies.  Ephemeral, seemingly harmless distortions to lead the mark’s thoughts in the direction you’ve picked.  And then, assuming your luck holds and they want to please you enough, they’ll do exactly what you want.  Even embellish it, if the ‘please please me’ is sufficiently seductive.

He jerks, eyes flying open.  Panics briefly, shame biting down.  He’d been fucking lulling himself with the technique, the singsong tone to make others’ alertness lie down or play dead.  Shit, he thinks, he was self-inculcating.  At least the dawn hasn’t properly begun to break.  He can’t have drifted for more than a couple minutes.  Phew.

It’s only then that he notices Rian’s eyes are open, fixed on his.  Guilt returns, shame jostles back in.  This time bulkier, better armed.  But the big man’s smiling.  Realises he’s certain of that, no longer struggling to read emotions through all the tangled hair.  And suddenly, Hugo has to swallow a chuckle as his huge comrade tries soooo delicately to remove Thae’s arm, flung across his chest at some point in the night, without rousing the priest.

It seems to take minutes, but he feels a bead of energy drop into his pool of exhaustion as the woodsman extricates himself.  He manages it, finally, although neither of his companions seem thrilled for the reduction in warmth.  Anuk actually growls in her sleep, curls up like a cat.  Still, both remain asleep as the man pads towards the fire, almost burned down to nothing in the hour Hugo had been fighting sleep’s embrace.

“Grab a couple hours, Hugo.  You needn’t have…”  The man begins, the rumble of his whisper seeming to carry further than its volume should.  But it bubbles out of Hugo, in a guilty flow of dumbfounded recognition.  “I’m really sorry, big man.  I saw a greedy, no-name merchant and thought ‘this fucker could sink us.’”  He stalls as the man’s brow knits.  But his newfound read of Rian doesn’t indicate anger.  Instead it’s focus, concentration as though he’s feeling his way through…

…and he considers the story of life in Oakbridge.  And then the woods.  Rian’s working through unfamiliar terrain.  “Anyway, I had thought of it as a harmless lie that might protect us.  Protect you if you were catching blame for Dolf.”  The big man looks up, nods.  They’d covered that: Skinner was a blabbermouth.  But Hugo piles on.

“It’s weird having someone tell lies about you, and it’s weird having them relish it when the lie grows legs.”  He’d normally shrug here, try to pull a joke out of it, instead presents himself for whatever punishment he might have earned.  “You’d be a breath of fresh air to young Polly, I’m sure.”  A moment as the big guy again swallows the impact on the girl.  But he’s nodding.

“I’m not good at this” the man rumbles “but I trust you.”  Suddenly, Hugo’s throat constricts, the edges of his eyes prickle.  Few words, but from his tone, Rian was including Hugo individually as well as the group.  And with a sparkle in his eye.  Maybe the novelty of having multiple friends, all at once?

The big man smiles at him, doffs his shaggy head towards the sleepers.  “Bunk down.  We’ll let them lie for a bit.”