Why, the answer was obvious, of course!
It was there all along, whispering in the streets. They all said it, they all knew it! Shh! ... Just listen.
Hear the cries of the children and the howling of the dogs. They all crooned and barked! The Old Dog did it, the mean old hound! He strutted around as if he owned the place. He thinks he owns the city, he does! The lady of shadows says so herself!
Find who burned down my city, Vassiago. Find him and slay him. He had the audacity to shit on the carpet, now bring him outside to put down this miserable, flea-bitten mutt!
Absolutely, my Lady. We shall do as you wish. We shall bow low and brush our hair against the stone in the presence of your resplendence! Your magnificence is humbling.
Vassiago skipped and made his way out of Lady Shadowglade's tower to investigate the arson. Her conclusions made sense!
Since the disappearance of the Old Dog, that mangy mongrel of a man, so many things have gone amiss! So many things! Lady Shadowglade had said that the old man has slipped in his age. And Vassiago agreed! Crime has risen since he has been gone, and his people have run amok – pilfered, stolen, and murdered! Oh my, so many things. Yes. Lady Shadowglade had muttered and grumbled that the Old Dog burned down her Quarter in response to the death of his beloved captain!
And Vassiago heard all the whisperings, so loud in his ear. All of his little spiders and birds and spies spoke to him. Told him things. He had eyes all over the city, he did. From the Unquenched to the untouchables, he knew it all. These rumors have told him that Kia was in the web of the mother of spiders, Seralah of the Hidden Quarter. Seralah the prophet. He was not doing well in his task to fetch the idol. Oho! And these rumors must be true! What has become of Captain Stormcrow? We do not know! We do not!
But if Kia was captured in a net of his own, he could not have set fire to the Gilded Lily. Oh, no, perhaps his lovely Marquis, the lady of shadows, was wrong. ...
But perhaps not! These things must be investigated! They must be researched! They must be confirmed!
And she asked him, she asked her most trusted, beloved friend, Vassiago, to look into this. Of course he obliged, of course! All things for my lady, all things.
It was a beautiful day! The clouds were iron and stone and the city smelled like death and scorched wood. Ah, so much of the lady's once regal Quarter of flesh and desire was now in ruins. We could wander the smoldering wreckage for days and days and days and...
We pick and choose like cherries from a tree. We have found a burnt hand here, a gold piece there. All these streets and homes have crumbled as a result of the fire. Tsk tsk tsk! It must be rebuilt! Bigger, brighter, and shiner than before! They were so close together, these homes and businesses. Once the Lily exploded in flames like a beacon to the gods? Why, nearly three blocks were lost in tow! Sad, really. So so sad...
There were deaths of at least eight children that night. Eight! The reporters have said that many other men and women were injured. Oh, the Lady Shadowglade was so terribly upset, too. Just so terrible. Outraged, really. An outrage! Lost businesses means lost commerce! Lost gold and lost power! We can't have that! The guilty party must be brought to justice, and we have been chosen for the task!
Hmm. Hmm. We have arrived at the scene. Vassiago tip-toed and stepped around the walled-off burnt-down building. It was hollow, ruined, and smoldering. Guards were posted all around. It looked like a collapsed, black tooth. The guards were stern and brandished their weapons. Shoo, jester, shoo!
Tee hee... they do not know, Vassiago, do they? No, but they should! We are not a jester, we are not a fool. We do not make light and carry on with jokes and teases and silliness! Oh, goodness no. We are here to investigate and we tell them so. Did Vassiago amuse them? No? Well, that is because we are not here as a madcap or a harlequin.
And still they resisted. They threatened Vassiago with violence. A poor, poor sport they were, yes. And thus we investigated other things around the Gilded Lily that once was.
There was a large brass drum that once held the heated water for the brothel behind the building. It was old and fat, this brass barrel attached to the building by a large, branching pipe. It was blackened and charred, broken open from the fire. Water dribbled and drained down the street. The iron bolts were broken and scattered. It looked to Vassiago like an exploded bomb! Very interesting, very intriguing. The water pooled into the gutters was colored like an oil slick. Tainted waters!
We investigated, crouching low, our beak-like nose close to the dirt. Yes, yes, sometimes we get dirty for the jobs we do... hee hee hee! We noticed a swirling red discharge. We sniff sniff sniffed. Was this from the fire? Was this from cinders and ashes, dust and debris? No. We tasted this tainted water with just a dab, and it burned our tongue. We are masters of poisons and venoms. We knew that this was foul play; we knew that this was from a wormwood plant. How dastardly! Those poor, poor harlots! They were poisoned and burned!
Now, now. Questions. More questions. The more we see, the more questions we have. We knock knock knocked on doors. All the doors, every door, opened and closed. Most were not willing to talk to us, Vassiago. And that was all right. Some only spoke to us when we offered coins. Most did not speak to us at all.
Three people, two women, one man – (He did not wear a shirt but that was all right! His abdomen was taut, rippled, and strong) – have all said the same thing. Right before the fire, a large, pale Unquenched in black iron armor was seen spiriting away with a redheaded woman! Interesting! We know this. We know who this is. It is the Lady Shadowglade's dead brother, the General Sunmourne. He has been visiting the Gilded Lily quite often. His mere presence was upsetting the neighborhood. How dare the Lady Shadowglade allow Unquenched to roam free in the Quarter? So many people were angry at their Marquis for this! So hostile! They lashed out at dear Vassiago, and he fled! They were looking for someone to blame, someone to target.
Vassiago hears the whispers, like soft music... and he knows. He knows that the Unquenched Ashtorath has a strange fixation on the woman. It is not right! He is dead! What is this obsession he has? What does it mean? He cannot have sex and he cannot feel in his heart! It does not even beat!
Another time for that, Vassiago, another time. We have other riddles to solve...
Could he have set the fire? Possibly! Or perhaps the redheaded woman felt vindictive!
Possible answers!
But we investigated further. We delved deeper into this well of darkness.
We paid a secret man with a hidden face behind a hood. We paid him all that was left in our coin purse. The night was creeping in and the moon was beginning to lift her face. The man behind the cowl told us many, many things. He had broken teeth and a spider tattoo. He told us he saw a small, pale girl that was seen running from behind the copper water heater. He followed her. He thought she was a lovely, lost girl ripe for the plucking. He wanted to do so many wicked things to her.
He said her hair was molten silver and her eyes were sad puddles of melted ice. He had seen nothing like her before.
Go on, we said, go on! We were listening...
She was a Muse, he said. A Muse.
How interesting, we told him.
He said he watched her dump the poison into the water drums and then set the building on fire with a lamp.
Did he help her, we asked?
The man in the cowl hesitated. He had helped her, hoisted her up to the window. Please, he begged, forgive him. He was a fool. He blamed his actions on being inspired by the presence of the little Muse.
And Vassiago said we forgave him with a clever, long smile, before we sank a shining dagger into his stomach.
The Lady Shadowglade forgives those before she destroys them, we said. No one would miss you, but the god, Baellith, shall accept your sacrifice.
A Muse. A Muse. We are searching for a Muse...
We searched and wandered the city for three and a half days. We rarely rested and we rarely ate. A Muse? we asked until our voice was hoarse and broken. We were looking for a Muse? A pale haired, sweet girl. Her eyes were sadness and silver. Her skin was sallow and white. She dressed in rags and spoke in a gentle, sweet voice. Why, she was an innocent dove of a thing.
Vassiago learned her name was Castalline, a Muse of the goddess Eryss. We tracked her to Marquis Malviss of the Artisan Quarter, and from there she was owned by Maestro Mulecio. Vassiago learned that Mulecio cast her out; he would not say why, though there were other rumors, other stories. For we are very clever! And she had fallen into obscurity and vanished without a trace. He was very upset that he was being questioned. Why, he did not seem to like us in his home at all! He seemed to think we were accusing him of something. But we assured him, no, oh no, we were not. We were merely looking for poor Castalline. He would speak very little on the fate of the pyromaniac Muse. Mulecio did not show sympathy, and he seemed very drawn.
But that was all right! We asked Mulecio no more! We shall find her, and we did.
A very chatty, fat woman in a questionable part of town said that she had seen Castalline, all right! She wanted to talk about her cats and the loudness of her neighbors at night, but Vassiago insisted she speak on Castalline instead! Perhaps we would hear of her cats and neighbors' sexual promiscuity later! For now, we must focus on Castalline the arsonist and criminal!
She told us that she had seen Castalline vanish into a shining black carriage drawn by coal-colored horses. We asked her who owned the carriage, and without missing a beat she told us the name.
Meriweather Osterious. Such a fright he was. There were more rumors about him than anyone.
And oh, yes. Yes yes. We knew him. Yes. He frequents our lady's house for tea.
We do not like him.
Not at all.
He sends shivers down our spine and tingles to our brain.
It is like being doused in electrified water.
We avoid him, we do.
His very name frightens us to pieces.
We did not need to know anything else, Madam. And here is a copper piece for you to spend on your cats.
No need to thank us, no.
Good-day, lady, good-bye. Yes, yes, we shall speak again, soon. We would like to hear about your neighbors. Thank you for the dry biscuits and the bland tea. Yes.
You ruined our day. Awful. Wicked. We do not wish to investigate Merris the Moth. He frightens us. No. We would not go near.
But we must. We have to, for the lady of shadows. Our lady, Lady Lillandyr Shadowglade.
Secrets. Secrets from the Lady. We hold secrets about ourselves against her. She does not know Vassiago.
We know what Merris is. He is no man, no elf. No. He is something else.
He is our creator.
But he does not love us. He does not love Vassiago. Oh, no. We are a failure in his eyes. He made us too perfect. He cast us out. He sent us away. He dismissed Vassiago.
And now we mustn't go near him. But we have to. We must know all of the secrets. What has he done with the Muse? What has he done with the pretty dove, Castalline?
Merris speaks to the god of death, Nehmain, and makes his children. He made Vassiago, but he made him too perfect. We are not Unquenched. We do not eat flesh and Nehmain does not look over us. Yet we are not alive. Merris thought we were beautiful, once. He called us perfection. But we did not obey our master. We had free will. We ran from him. We did not collect secrets for Merris as he asked us to.
Then he cast us away. He replaced us with the wretched Varnil. Who is Varnil? Varnil has no free will as we do. It angers us badly. Merris loved that thing more than us. We are jealous. And we do not even know what it is. Is it man? Is it woman? Is it dead or alive? We hate Varnil and all that serve Merris, our creator.
We hate our creator and we hate his family. We fear him. We fear he may destroy us.
We have no master now. We cast no allegiance to any god or goddess. We serve the lady of shadows because it amuses us. We choose to serve her until it becomes dull and boring.
We are better than Varnil. Oh yes. We are cleverer and we are truly perfect. Varnil is flawed. We are the best at feeding on secrets and mysteries. Vassiago is the true fox, not Varnil, oh no. No, no.
We stalked Merris' manor for a day and a night. We did! We did... And then? We saw her. We saw he had Castalline. The rumors of the street are true! Such a delight. We saw her colorless visage looking sadly out a window pane. So gorgeous and white.
We believe that she burned down our Lady's house for Merris, our master. The Lady shall be so upset!
It was not the Old Dog, but he is still missing. Another day, another mystery. We believe the dog is underground, yes, yes. Caught in a spider's web. Perhaps he is dead. Rhymes.
A rhyme, a song, a beat, a right and a wrong. We sing and we dance as we make our way through the trance.
A vision, a delight.
I shall make a secret for you tonight.