(For background, see The Linhir Ripper - Epilogue 1. Xan's Humble Chronicler)
The squad of gray-cloaked Gondorian knights stood in the Civilian Records Chamber at Pelargir, slowly sorting through logs and records, seeking something less than a needle in what seemed like a few dozen haystacks. Outside the wide open double doors, a gaggle of clerks and accountants watched nervously. No reassurance by the Pale Kestrels had allayed their fear that all this was going to be blamed on one of them, some detail missed, some fact unrecorded. They were used to being scapegoated by the military establishment, or so they kept telling one another.
A booming voice roared through the passage and caused them to scatter. “Keep this door CLEAR. You are all a fire hazard!” Kraddock, Captain of Elendil’s Vanguard moved through the space his order had created. Several of the clerks nearly fainted upon seeing him, his one good eye gleaming with what they were certain must be murderous rage. He turned and snarled at those who had been too terrified to move “BACK, or I will find you a sword and a real job to do, ya ink-stained PARASITES!”
This time one DID faint, and his fellows dragged him away from the insane knight, fanning the poor man desperately with a desk blotter.
Kraddock nodded to himself, stepping into the Chamber to face a petite woman in the gray and crimson mail of the Pale Kestrels, a company of Minas Tirith Knights popularly known as the Doves. Once the term had been an insult, referring to the fact they were often assigned duties in law enforcement and peacekeeping, but they had long since embraced it as an honor.
The woman saluted, her brown hair in a neat bun and the base of her neck, “Captain, we had been informed you would be taking command of this investigation for the Steward. I am Lyra, Squad Leader of the Scout Corps, Pale Kestrels.” She saluted again.
Kraddock nodded. “So they gave this to the Scouts did they? Interesting. What have you found so far?
The woman cleared her throat, still at attention, though her caramel brown eyes went a bit dark. “Before I report Sir, word has reached us….I was sorry to hear about Executor Caine. I served with him in Harlond, Sir. He was a good man and a credit to his Company, his House and the White City.”
The Captain paused, looking the young officer up and down. “Harlond eh? Things got a bit nasty in Harlond, so you must have gumption. As for Septimal Caine being a good man, yes, you would be just his type.”
Lyra blushed. “CAPTAIN! I have no idea what you are implying.”
Kraddock, turned away and looked at the gathered logs. “Yes you do. Now report, Squad Leader. At ease.”
Lyra blushed even more brightly, and shot a glance at the three knights under her command to make sure they were focused on their work. She relaxed her posture. “Yes…my report. Four days previous a wagon was intercepted at the Inner Gate of the Civilian Port by a…” she consulted a form. “Guardsman Faron, a local man, third year. No hope for promotion but no black marks either, intended to be married his squad mates said…”
“Yes yes, everyone has a story….how did he die?” Kraddock had ridden without pause from Linhir and was in no fine mood. He still had the body of his friend to take home, once he had prepared a brief for the Steward on this matter.
Lyra looked down. “Yes Sir, sorry Sir. He died, along with 25 other Guardsmen of what the healers say was a fast acting Pox that invaded their lungs, suffocating them within minutes of it being contracted.”
He nodded. “Then why isn’t the entire town dead of it?”
The Squad Leader consulted her papers again. “The healers say the spores which caused the pox had a very brief life span, once they were touched by the air. They originated from a plant in the hand of this Faron, Sir, a blooming weed common in Agarnaith they said. Only they said it is typically noxious but harmless. This one, so they said, was of a strange color which would indicate a mutation…or it had been bred for this purpose Sir.”
Kraddock nodded. “I suspect the latter, more dark deeds of Shadow. And do we know how the Guardsman came to be holding a deadly flower from Mordor?”
Lyra nodded. “Several surviving Guardsmen say he was speaking to an old woman, and she had given it to him before she departed.”
“And this would be the woman who arrived in the stolen wagon full of corpses, Dove? The one who called herself Mother Ynnabeth?” Kraddock already knew the answer in his bones, but had to ask.
Lyra nodded sharply. “Yes Sir, she then departed on a foreign sloop, the Nightbreed. However we have yet to find it’s arrival papers, we are still searching. I suspect some bribery of the Dockmaster may have been involved.”
Kraddock sighed and sat, stretching his aching shoulders. “I suspect as much as well…this Dockmaster…?”
Lyra saluted, though why at that moment she wasn’t sure. “In custody and being questioned Sir.” She stayed at attention.
“Good…I will ask him a few questions myself presently. We will find out what we wish to know….umm…Squad Leader? I assume by your posture you have something more to say I won’t like.”
She bit her lip. “Yes Sir..well…a question you may not like Sir.”
The Captain adjusted his eyepatch and sighed again. “Then go ahead, might as well throw something else I don’t like on the pile. At ease.”
The young knight relaxed then paused, uncomfortable. “This old woman…there is scuttlebutt in the ranks sir that she was the one responsible for the death of Septimal…I mean…Executor Caine Sir….”
“And like a good investigator, you want confirmation?" Kraddock raised an eyebrow. "Well as far as I can tell, yes…she took him unawares, having been thought to be both harmless and restrained, and bashed his brains in from behind….and from that she went on to kill more Pelargir Guardsmen in one throw then has been seen in decades using a Pox crafted in Mordor, and sailed off free as you please, for parts unknown.”
Lyra gritted her teeth, eyes growing a bit liquid. “I…I mean…WE will bring her down Sir. I know we will…but there is one other thing.”
Kraddock rose. “Yes?”
“A woman sir, she asked to wait to speak to the Officer in Charge of the Investigation. She has been waiting more then a day Sir. She is..was.…Guardsman Faron’s intended, Sir.”
Kraddock groaned. “God save me from a weeping woman-child. Fine, but make sure she knows I am overdue to ride for Minas Tirith and have only a moment.”
Lyra looked over his shoulder and nodded to a guard at an inner door. He turned and led in a woman, strawberry red hair and wearing the white robes of one of the more pious healing orders, blue eyes framed with the silver tattoos of her order. Her hair was disheveled but she showed no sign of weeping, clutching a short staff tightly. Perhaps her tears had tried up already. She looked around and noted the unique figure of Captain Kraddock immediately.
The woman strode up to him. “You must be sent from the White City, you are no Kestrel. One of the Vanguard by your colors, are you not?”
Kraddock nodded, a bit taken aback by her forwardness. “I am Kraddock, Captain of the Vanguard and servant of the Fate of the Tree. I am sorry for your loss, Miss…?”
The young woman stood a bit straighter. “Prella, Initiate of the…well…now Dawn Matron of the Order of Solace, as my possible marriage is no longer of issue. I have heard, Captain, that you know the woman who killed my near-fiance?”
The one-eyed Captain just stared. “Well..umm…yes, Matron…but I am not sure that such topics are…”
The woman glared. “Fit for my ears? Codswallop. If I could identify Faron’s bloated, disfigured corpse I can speak of his murderer. I am after all a Matron of Solace…death and tragedy are no delicate mystery to me, Captain, any more then they are to you.”
Lyra tried not to chuckle at Kraddock’s obvious discomfort. She almost succeeded, but she swallowed it quickly.
Kraddock nodded slowly. “Well..yes..of course..Matron….the murderess is an elderly woman called Ynnabeth, but I have on good authority she is possessed by a fell servant of Shadow.”
Prella nodded slowly. “I see, then this is more than just finding an old madwoman and putting her down like the dog she is….”
The Captain swallowed hard. “Well..no…it is a most dangerous business…”
Prella nodded again. “I understand, Captain. Then I have more to learn about this servant of Shadow. In addition, I am in a pickle. I am sworn to an order which heals the sick and wounded, and as such I have taken oaths not to knowingly harm another living creature. That this servant is likely not actually alive is a loophole, but the old woman it dwells in most certainly IS alive and I can not harm her, despite her crimes….however…I have come upon an idea.”
Kraddock sat again. “I have no doubt that you have….you are…are all the Matrons of your Order like you?”
She shook her head. “No..I can’t say they are…but that is beside the point. I may not be able to harm this murderess, but I can heal and aid someone ELSE who has sworn no such oath as I have…and THEY can harm her for me…hopefully a great deal. Therefore I need your guidance, Sir Knight. Who would be most likely to wish to do harm to this foul servant of Shadow in my stead, in return for my arts?”
Kraddock smiled to himself. “I think I have the perfect solution for you, Holy Matron.” He raised his voice. “Guardsman! Prepare a wagon to escort the Dawn Matron of Solace to the Isle Tol Lochul.”
Lyra tilted her head as a Guardsman saluted and set to his task. “That is…is that not the home of Bark and Bite…I mean…the Sisters Xandilif and Xanderian, and their company?”
Kraddock smiled again. “It is indeed…Matron, when you arrive on Tol Lochul tell them you are a gift from Lil’ Sauron, then tell them all you have told me. I have no doubt they will find a use for you.”
Prella nodded and went to gather her things eagerly as Kraddock looked down at Lyra. “The matron is out of my hair, and I will have Three Graces owing me a favor. If that ain’t killin’ two birds with one stone, I don’t know what is.”
