Feargus

Before leaving Leberecht, I met with Marta. It was a real treat, too. She and Michael were so much alike, but I also noticed commonalities between her and Rhian. She called me the Bamboozler, and at first, she was tight-lipped about whether or not she'd seen Strauss. Seems they'd bonded fairly quickly. But after reading the letter from Councilwoman Faust, she had no choice but to spill. I learned he'd gone straight to the museum where she'd caught him trying to break into a Vonsinfonie trunk with the key. We had a good chuckle.

Short story: she thought highly of Strauss, showed him to the keyhole in the mountain where they found a book written in Symphonic as well as various other Vonsinfonie artifacts, and they left through a secret door in a false fireplace triggered by the keys on the piano. She told me they hadn't been able to find a way back in once the door tripped shut, and that there wasn't another keyhole on the outside. But I reckoned they'd missed something.

And no, I hadn't tried sleeping with Marta. She looked too much like Michael.

After leaving the city, Feargus Finlay wanted to go and scope out the exit and the pressure plate Marta had described, but Jack Finnegan had lost track of Strauss, so the curiosity would have to wait. The mountain wasn't going anywhere, whereas he was.

I caught up with the wagon at about the three-quarter mark to Oskari, though I didn't announce myself. The guided part of the tour was over, and the rest was up to Strauss while I watched from the shadows. He was safe, and that's what mattered for now, so I hurried ahead to the village. I was looking forward to seeing V.

Oskari was a sleepy village, but when I arrived that evening, it was a virtual graveyard. Nobody at all moved between buildings, and most of the lights within the homes were doused. Ivana's replacement window still hadn't arrived, but with the weather taking a turn, it seemed she'd secured a canvas around the hole in the wall. The sign said CLOSED, but I sneaked around back and knocked the special knock anyhow. There was no answer.

Councilwoman Faust had been gone for a few days by the time I arrived at Alexander's. The good news is, I found V at his place. The bad news is, there was a fair bit of bad news. We gathered around in Alexander's office.

"My sister is escalating this time," he explained. "She's convinced something feels off."

"What does that even mean?"

"What you need to understand about Lidia," Ivana explained, "is that even though she's over four centuries old, she's still a sixteen year old girl at the core. We've all tried with her—Zacharias, myself, Alexander for centuries…"

"It's the same story every time," Alexander continued. "She begins by murdering the family in our childhood home. Her methods therein can vary, but if there's a young boy, she'll leave him alive. If there's a teenage girl, she will turn her. She then kidnaps two sets of people: old mustachioed men with twisted proclivities, and a group of townspeople."

What was I even hearing?

"She tends to time it all around the arrival of a new group of Partisans," Alexander continued. "This time, she appears to be quickening the pattern to force Palisade's hand. Zelda's gone back in part to secure the reinforcements, though it may be a week or two."

"Rhian?"

Alexander nodded.

The idea of another few weeks without Rhian was a gut-punch, but knowing they were working on getting her over was enough. I knew I wouldn't be able to tell her anything that wasn't Faust or Kelly approved, but it wouldn't be the first time. Even when we were working together, there were certain things I couldn't tell her. We were used to it.

"She'll be deploying a warrior called Michael as well," Alexander said.

"No joke? Rhian'll love that. Don't get to work together often."

Alexander lit his pipe with his fingers. "Good. It'll begin as it always does. They'll be tasked with investigating the deaths and disappearances around the village. Zelda wishes to know the steps they take and how they ultimately choose to deal with the threat. Sending Partisans to cull the herd or die trying is the natural order of your organization, and in each group, Zelda and her allies have been looking for the correct combination of people to lead their initiative on the outside."

"Why not Rhydian's lot?"

Alexander shook his head. "If I had to guess, they're too rigid in their own ways—too driven now by their own motivations. I suspect Zelda and her allies are looking for a fresh-faced group of trail-blazers."

"This is the first time she sends an infiltrator, though," Ivana added. "I think she's betting big on your friends."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

As she ought to. My mates were pretty great.

"So, what now, then?" I asked.

"Keep an eye on Andrei Strauss, try not to die, and, well," Alexander looked between me and Ivana, "I'm sure the two of you will find something to do."

Quick recap: at this point, eight people had gone missing from the village of Oskari, and two—a woman and her child—were dead. Among those missing, was the husband and the son of the dead woman. Much as I loved a good murder mystery, this one wasn't mine to solve, and besides, I already knew the plot.

Before leaving Alexander's, he handed me a quarrel of silver bolts.

Back at the Widow's Peak, Ivana and I made up for lost time, and then I showed her the calling card from the Captain's quarters.

She rolled her eyes. "Everleigh Gloom."

"Should I be worried?"

"Yes and no," Ivana answered. "She's powerful—like, infinitely more powerful than any of us, for reasons nobody understands. She's not trying to hurt you, though."

"I gathered that when she helped me."

"Yeah, she'll do that. Sometimes it works out, and sometimes not. That's what I mean by not trying to hurt you. Alexander and I have been the unfortunate victims of her chaos a few times. That's why we haven't brought her into the fold. She's unpredictable and she's made some… dramatic choices. Great spot she's got though, the Jaskar."

"Alexander did say the owner was strange."

"That's putting it gently."

"Is she really old?"

"No, that's what's even stranger. It's no secret the scope of the Anima's power is tied to their consumption and it widens as they age. In part, practise makes perfect. But there's a gradual growth as well. Everleigh's something like, fifty?"

"Just fifty?"

Ivana shrugged.

"Why wouldn't she introduce herself if she's trying to be helpful?"

"I don't know. Like I said, she's all over the place. It's hard to know where her head's really at. She isn't a big talker, either."

"What's with the music note?"

"She's a musician, but I'm not sure where she learned to play, or where she got her violin. She plays for rich clients sometimes, that's all I know."

"How did she get—what—turned, is it?"

"Yeah. I don't know. But she said she was turned here, and that her maker was dead. And then something about being in an eternal state of mourning because of it."

"What's she look like?"

"Strachan, incidentally. Pale as a Celestian's bottom, silver hair and big grey eyes—weirdly big. Burn scars down one side of her face—can't remember which. Always dresses in black and white."

"She was a Partisan?"

"She says not."

Call me crazy, but wasn't there another person I was recently thinking about that had grey eyes but wasn't a Partisan? If Vincent Delestade was Sebastian Vonsinfonie, and his eyes were like ours, I wondered if that explained the masks. And if his eyes were like ours, and her eyes were like his, so then—also, where would she have found a violin in Amalia? Nowhere. But Delphia? Everywhere. There was a connection there, I could feel it in my one warm foot. I really needed a new pair of socks.

Anyhow—it was then I realized I couldn't speak about certain things. Literally.

"What do you know about dried plums?" I asked. WHY?

"Dried plums?"

"I didn't mean dried plums," I said. "I meant, what do you know about turkey giblets?"

"I know a lot about turkey giblets. What are you asking?"

"I'm asking if you know anything about smoked salmon."

V turned her chair in toward me, giving me a good gander. "Are you okay?"

I reached across the desk for a scrap sheet of paper and readied the quill. "What do you know about pickled onions?" I wrote. WHY?

So, Avis Adler and her mates have a great sense of humour.

More than a few screws loose between them, but, aye, funny lasses.

Here's what I can tell you in hindsight: Sebastian Vonsinfonie was supposed to be dead, and for his protection, anyone who knew he was alive (Avis, Zacharias, and the Six) were keeping his secret. When I saw his portrait in the salon and outed him, I'd posed a threat to his security, so Avis and Matilda ensured I couldn't speak about him at all. Later, I tried several combinations of words and phrases, but I couldn't say brother or Zacharias Vonsinfonie either. After some trial and error, it seemed to be based on intent, so I could speak about music when it related to Everleigh, but if I were trying to speak about music as a clue leading into Zack or Sebastian, all I got was more food.

All I knew at the time: I couldn't talk about when I knew, whatever that was, but someone, whoever wrote the scrap in my undies, wanted me to find Sebastian.

"I think I must just be hungry." I laughed my behaviour off as I do.

"Oh, I get it. You're just here for the food."

"I mean, among other things."

V ruffled my hair, and we left the office to forage in the kitchen.

There'd be plenty of evenings like that one in the coming days. If you recall from Strauss's side of things, the village guard hummed and hawed for ages about how to investigate the missing people problem. And as we now know, Lidia was timing everything, biding her time for the new arrivals.

Aye, so it was boring for a bit while we waited for things to kick off.

Well, boring except for that one thing.

Oh, and that other thing.

♪ The fox returns. How long before he's standing at my door? ♪

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