Chapter 8: Rude |
Be wary of giving small men large tasks
- Uther Morrow in a letter to Vaughn Morrow
Solomon wanted to check on the results of his first attempt at magic first thing the following morning, but had no way to do so without drawing tremendous suspicion to himself. He was at least grateful that there had been no screaming nor had there been any indication that the bowl and spell reagents had been found.
As he was finishing his eggs there was a knock on his door.
“Come in,” he said and Melissa stepped inside with her hands behind her back.
“My lord. Mayor Neiman has sent word that he intends to call upon you in the early afternoon as you requested.”
He nodded. “Thank you Melissa. Tell his messenger that will be fine.”
“Oh. The messenger already left.”
Solomon frowned at that, grabbing the walking stick he’d left leaning on his desk and tapping it on the ground. The mayor assumed that he would be able to see him without confirming with him. Either he had an inflated sense of himself or his messenger did.
She curtsied and left the room.
“Wait,” he said as she was nearly gone and she turned back around.
“The maid, Felicity, has she still been having trouble?”
“Earlier in the week she did, but not as bad as that one night. Last night I didn’t hear a peep though, and my room is right next to hers.”
“Good to hear. You may go.”
She curtsied again and left.
Solomon smiled. It worked. That, or Melissa was lying to him to protect Felicity from punishment for nightmares. He believed it was the former, since he’d not given Melissa a reason to think he’d do the latter. He felt ecstatic, but resisted his immediate urge to go through his uncle's Volk Magic grimoire to find another spell to try. He would take his time and be certain of what he was doing. Victor may have left a trail for the Union with his actions and if he did then anything Solomon did increased the risk that he’d be swept up in it. Based on the hints he’d found throughout the home, he doubted his Uncle was just an eccentric with a hobby.
Solomon got up, leaving his plate to be picked up, and threw on his purple vest and black coat for the day. He eyed one of his uncle’s green vests, but while the color was lovely, he wasn’t quite as wide around as his uncle had been. Perhaps with some tailoring… He shook his head. It would be a foolish waste of time at this point.
He made his way to the library and worked on the pile of paper and spines until, finally, he managed to get through it all. There was no sign of the occult or any hints of magic across any of it. In the process of reviewing everything he’d also managed to get everything into orderly piles, clearing the floor. The damage to the library was extensive, but he was hopeful that Barnabus would be up to repairing and replacing it.
He walked out to find Felicity and Nelda, who curtsied at him as he reached them.
“I have just finished going through the ruins of my Uncle’s library. Nothing salvageable. Please see that the piles of trash I’ve placed inside are taken care of, and once they are, have Barnabus and his brother start to inspect it to see what can be done for its repair.”
“Yes Lord,” said Nelda. Felicity stayed silent, but seemed a bit steadier and her eyes managed to actually meet his for a moment without showing fear. He was glad. He’d have to remove the mandrake from beneath her bed the next morning to make sure its effects didn’t turn from pleasant dreams to nightmares, but he hoped two nights of good sleep would do her good.
He was reading through the volk magic grimoire again when there was a knock on his door which he’d locked. He locked the book away, then opened it to see Melissa on the other side of the door.
“The mayor has arrived, my lord.”
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“Is he at the door?”
“No. He barged inside and made his way directly to the sitting room. He requested tea and sandwiches that are being prepared now.”
Solomon didn’t hide his displeasure as he went to grab his walking stick and coat. It seemed it wasn’t the messenger that was the impertinent one. He made it to the sitting room to find Mayor Neiman already seated being handed a cup of tea by Selina. He was a broad man with dark hair and eyes wearing a bright blue suit made of materials nearly as fine as Solomon’s own. There were rings of silver and gold on his hands, and he had kept his hat on.
Solomon resisted smacking the man across the face.
“Mr. Morrow,” said the Mayor half-standing and reaching out a hand to shake.
Solomon reached toward it and the man reached out and grabbed his hand awkwardly drawing him toward him and putting him off balance.
“Good to meet you,” said the churlish man.
“I’m sure,” replied Solomon, taking a seat across from the man at an angle, a cup of tea the way he preferred it already set to his right. He took a sip, and watched the man. Was he deliberately attempting to put him off guard and pressure him, or was he simply an ass? He placed his cup down. He supposed one didn’t preclude the other.
“Sorry to hear about your Uncle,” the mayor said, breaking the silence.
“Thank you,” replied Solomon. “I was surprised that I missed you at your office.”
“Sorry about that, had some personal business to take care of.”
Solomon had a cutting retort for that, but hesitated. He could push this man out by rights if he wanted to. Any power any mayor had flowed from the noble in charge of the land, which was him. It would be foolish to rush into it though. The man was confident for a reason. He may have the guard thoroughly under his control or perhaps some goons. Nobility and titles were valuable currency in Drakthiss, but Solomon had only women and a cripple at his call for the moment. He needed to take his time with this. He wouldn’t appear meek, but he wouldn’t antagonize the man either.
“Did you bring the books I requested?”
“Yep. Right here.” He reached into the seat next to him and handed Solomon a stack of three books. At the same moment, Nelda arrived with a sandwich for the man which he tore into immediately.
“You’ll be able to tell that money to your uncle never slowed, and all that’s been paid toward him has kept being deposited since he died, so that’s available to you as well.” The man spoke through a mouthful of food.
Solomon took that moment to leaf through the books. Each one represented a year of expenses. Every year the expenses went up, as did the taxes to support the expenses. The increases all varied between five and ten percent per year. He knew immediately that the books were faked. Several of the months matched exactly, many of the expenses made no sense for a town that size, and he’d seen and felt the roads upon riding in so he knew the extra money that was being made through taxation wasn’t going to upkeep as it should. The one thing that stayed consistent was the money being paid to his Uncle which now went to him.
“Thank you,” said Solomon neutrally. “Would you stay for another cup of tea and a couple of questions?”
“Gladly. As long as I can get another sandwich from one of your lovely maids.”
Solomon ignored the comment, nodding to Nelda to prepare him another one, and jumped into the questions. The sooner he got the answers he needed the sooner he could get the man to leave.
“There was a mine here in the town some time ago. One that yielded large amounts of manarite. I couldn’t find any distinct reasons why it was closed?”
“Well,” started the man before pausing to slurp his tea. “The mine was good for us for a long time. My father worked it when he was young in fact. Unfortunately, the yields started to be less and less no matter how hard they worked. It didn’t quite run dry, but after the accident the noble, the former owner of this manor, not a Morrow, but someone else I can’t remember, decided it wasn’t worth it to run anymore. There was some talk from the old folks about missing it, and young folk wanting it opened to have a steady job, but once the curse of the black woods started all that talk died out.”
“Curse?”
“Oh yeah, it’s just a superstition really. Started just a few years ago. People see creepy things in there all the time. Too long of shadows and vines overgrowing paths too quickly. A few people went missing. Now only a few trappers and hunters ever go in there.”
“Have you called the Union?” Solomon needed to know the answer to that for multiple reasons.
“No. Even if it's real, as long as average folks stay away they’re fine.”
An infuriating response from a man who was responsible for all of it, but it did mean that Solomon didn’t need to worry about a Union presence he was unaware of.
“Do you think there’s any connection to the disappearances?” he asked.
The mayor laughed, a few crumbs dribbling from his chin onto the floor. “No, no. Those are just runaways. A lot of young girls these days would rather risk the road to the city than stay in a town like Moonfallow.”
“And the increased guard patrols?”
“Just to make the common folk feel more comfortable.”
You are a fool and you are one of those common folk, thought Solomon, but he didn’t voice it.
“Well. I appreciate you making the trip,” said Solomon, standing.
The Mayor took his time finishing his tea and stood as well. “Hopefully you won’t call on me too often. Running a town is hard work.”
“Of course,” replied Solomon. “I’ll walk you out.”
The Mayor stood. He was nearly Solomon’s height, but not quite. When they were nearly to the door the mayor leaned toward him conspiratorially. “A young man like you up here with all these pretty young things. You seem like a smart man, mister Morrow.”
Melissa opened the door and the mayor took a step out.
“Have a safe trip back,” said Solomon as the door was closed. As it sealed his neutral expression dropped to a scowl. “What a vile man.”
“Yes, my lord,” replied Melissa with a matching expression.
