“Insron and Sirio are confirmed dead. Kaesi is missing. There were signs of fire magic use, but no ash to imply the destruction of a body.”

  Annamentus Jivorus leaned forward in his chair. Stern eyes seared down the parchment before him. Standing on the other side of his desk, Ahlara shifted her weight back and forth. The repetitive motion drove Annamentus insane, but it wasn’t every day someone had to stand before him to give bad news. He allowed the motion.

  “Teams have already been dispatched to Underbridge. Insron and Sirio will be back with us within the hour.”

  “And the ghast sighting?” Annamentus asked, turning his gaze to Ahlara.

  The elf blanched. Her lower lip quivered until a bite stilled it.

  “Gone, sir. We lost it in the Gulf. Damage has been contained; Inquisitor Brolt’s team have set up a temporary hospital with the aid of Sarenrae’s clerics, offering free healing for the next week. People have caught on that any suspected of ghoul fever get seen first, so there have been a myriad of false positives-”

  “Thank you, Adept.”

  Annamentus rose stiffly. The dark grey robes of a Pharasman cleric wrapped around his sturdy frame, draping over his wrists. His holy spiral radiated a soothing warmth against his chest, each pulse a soothing heartbeat that reminded him of the Grey Lady’s role in birth and life as much as death and repose.

  Turning toward a small window, the Chelaxian man gazed out over the city, looking north to Outcast Cove. Somewhere in the waves, a ghast lurked. Within the bowels of the Shadow, ghouls haunted innocents and not-so-innocents alike.

  And somewhere unknown, a catfolk walked where he shouldn’t, his judgement undone. Psychopomps sought the being responsible, but it was the church who was responsible for returning the catfolk to his rightful rest.

  “Tell me.” His voice softened as he followed a wagon wandering purposefully through the streets. Black cloth covered a pair of corpses. From the path the horses took, travelling from the north-east, Annamentus could figure out who the bodies were easily enough. The lost were returning. “Ahlana, has Pharasma granted you any further visions?”

  Ahlana gulped as Annamentus’ gaze turned on her.

  “No, sir,” she said, visibly fighting to get the words out. “Well… there was… I had… I dreamt of… him. The Deer.”

  “Hmm.”

  The Deer. One of the more devout of Pharasma’s followers, a man Annamentus would have expected to gravitate toward Korvosa. Yet for reasons unknown, he seemed more than happy to languish within Magnimar, serving at Annamentus’ need. A gentle soul… yet maybe the soul that was needed.

  “Send for him.”

  Silence greeted them when they returned to Sandpoint early in the morning. Silence, and a certain sheriff. Arlo’s heart dropped like a stone as the Shoanti man stepped out of the shadows beside the Sandpoint’s gate. Torchlight flickered across a severe face, and dark eyes studied the trio, stopping on Kaesi for a moment before continuing on to Coradiel.

  “Coradiel Arthien?”

  “What can I do for you, Sheriff?” Coradiel asked, dismounting from his horse.

  “I got a letter for you.” Sheriff Belor handed a piece of rich parchment to the paladin, who opened it with careful hands.

  “You will learn to love me, desire me in time, just as she did. Give yourself to the Pack, and it will all end. Your Lordship.”

  Belor stared at Arlo closely as Coradiel read out loud. Arlo endured it as best as he could, but….

  “Why are you staring at me? It’s not like I wrote him a letter. I can just talk to him; he’s right here, you know.” Arlo scowled at the Shoanti, who relaxed almost imperceptibly. “Besides… your Lordship?” He turned toward Coradiel, his scowl deepening. “Sounds like a letter Foxglove would have given you. The creep.”

  “It sounds like a threat,” Coradiel added. “And… what… is this written in blood?! Whose blood is this?”

  Now that he mentioned it, Arlo was getting a heavy copper stench around the letter, and something worse, like some kind of rot.

  “Aw fuck, don’t tell me Foxglove’s turned into some kind of vampire murdering people for attention,” he muttered.

  “Vampire?” Kaesi demanded. “Foxglove- Aldern Foxglove? There’s no way he’s a vampire. The entire city would be hunting him down if he was.”

  “Unless you didn’t know he was,” Arlo pointed out.

  “Well… there were murders,” Belor interrupted the two. “Look, I didn’t want to drag you two into this, but the murderer, whoever they are, seems to know you. And… whoever you are,” he added belatedly, looking down at Kaesi.

  “Oh, she’s just a random halfling who’s agreed not to kill me yet,” Arlo said offhandedly. “This letter, whose blood is it?”

  “Kill…?” Belor shook his head clear. “There were two victims, down at the sawmill,” he said. “Both are in… pretty gruesome shape. A man named Ibor Thorn found them — he’s one of the mill workers. I have my men at the mill trying to keep things quiet, but there was a crowd out there before we arrived. But what worries me isn’t this murder, it’s that this is the second murder in the past few days.”

  “And you thought we — I — did it.”

  “I had to be sure,” Belor said. “With your track record… and three of the victims were thugs who’d worked with Jubrayl in the past… besides, that letter had Coradiel’s name on it. You have to see how suspicious this all is.”

  “It is pretty suspicious. But I can attest to their whereabouts,” Kaesi said. “We were in Magnimar three days ago, and have been travelling since.”

  “Thank you… um…”

  “Kaesi. Investigator for the Church of Pharasma.” the halfling provided. “We’ll get to the bottom of these murders for you.”

  “There is one other matter,” Belor said quickly, pulling out another parchment. “This letter was found on one of the first victims, one of the thugs. There was an eyewitness to that attack, a man named Grayst Sevilla, but he has gone insane. If you wish to try your luck questioning him, he’s currently at Habe’s Sanitorium, south of Sandpoint, along Cougar Creek, near the Ashen Rise.”

  He handed the letter to Coradiel, only for it to be snatched away by Arlo.

  “There are a- Um… the only other suspect I have is Ven Vinder.”

  Arlo’s face scrunched. Ven Vinder… “Isn’t that one of the local shop owners?” he asked.

  “One of the victims was his daughter, who snuck out to a midnight tryst,” Belor said. “I don’t think Ven did it, but he’s the only suspect I have, and I had to lock someone up to ease fears around town. I don’t want this to get out of control like Chopper did.”

  “Chopper… wasn’t that that murderer who rampaged around Sandpoint five years ago?” Kaesi asked.

  “Right, I’d heard about that,” Coradiel added.

  Belor frowned, but nodded.

  “I will of course be providing you with all the support you need, but I need to keep the peace in town,” he said. “I suggest you start your search at the sawmill. The crime scene is untouched, but I’d like to get the bodies interred as soon as possible. Ven Vinder and Ibor Thorn are both in the jail under the Garrison, if you wish to talk to either of them. The three con men who were murdered in an abandoned barn south of Sandpoint have been buried already, but their bodyguard, Grayst Sevilla, has been sent to the sanatorium. Lastly, we found a rune on Katrine’s lover’s chest, a seven point star, but I have no idea what it could mean.”

  “Wait, a seven point star?” Kneeling beside his horse, Arlo scribed a heptagram into the dirt. “This? We found a corpse in the Shadow of Magnimar with a heptagram on his chest. That brings the kill count to six already.”

  This was serious. They were now dealing with a serial killer.

  “What do you know about the man who had the rune on his chest?” Coradiel demanded.

  “His name was Banny Harker. He was one of the mill’s night-time operators, along with Thorn. I don’t know why Thorn was not present last night, but the mill was operating — we received no less than five noise complaints,” Belor said. “Harker was well known as a pinch pincher. He never spent money when he could avoid it. Why Katrine Vinder would want to be with a man like that-” The sheriff faltered at Arlo’s scowl. “My men are waiting for you by the sawmill. They’ll keep any onlookers at bay until you’ve had the chance to look around.”

  “We’ll go immediately,” Coradiel promised, mounting his horse once more.

  Arlo opened the parchment in his hand, reading quickly in the dawning morning.

  “Messrs. Mortwell, Hask, and Tabe. A deal has come about that I require capital for. It involves property and gold, and while I am not at liberty to tell you the exact details, it will make us all rich. Come to Bradley’s Barn on Cougar Creek at midnight. There we can discuss our futures. Your Lordship.”

  Folding the bloody letter and slipping it into a pocket, Arlo glanced at Kaesi.

  “I don’t suppose the man we found with the rune in his chest was a greedy asshole by any chance?”

  “I couldn’t say.” Kaesi shook her head. “He was not my target, and any information on him was denied to me when I neglected to return to the temple.”

  “Fine. That still leaves four people connected through greed. Did any of the Messrs. have runes on them?” Arlo asked, turning to Belor.

  “Their bodies lie within the Garrison basement. You’re welcome to examine them,” Belor offered. “But yes, all three of them bear a rune similar to Harker’s.”

  “Timeline. Give us a timeline,” Arlo said, mounting up.

  “The three bodies were found two days ago. Then two this morn-”

  Arlo was gone before the sheriff could finish his sentence.

  A flock of curious townsfolk awaited them at the sawmill. True to Belor’s word, guards prevented anyone from entering. Arlo nodded his appreciation as they passed — that would make their job that much easier.

  The Sandpoint Lumber Mill backed onto the Turandarok River, with a massive waterwheel that provided energy for the saw within the building. The mill itself was a formidable structure, with thick walls and well-kept roofing.

  Within the building, blood and sawdust lay strewn in equal measure. Arlo’s eyes scanned the area. An instant later, the catfolk threw himself forward, bile spewing from his throat. A mangled corpse lay in parts across the log splitter. Blood spattered the length of the splitter, and viscera lined the uncut wood on the side.

  Beside him, Coradiel stared wide eyed at a terrified guard. Both cast furtive glances at the corpse before looking away, pale faces only growing more distressed.

  A hand patted Arlo’s back.

  “It’ll be okay,” Kaesi said awkwardly. “She wouldn’t have suffered. Death was instantaneous with wounds like this.”

  Arlo shook his head, his entire body heaving through another round. He dropped into the sawdust, spitting and coughing. Eyes closed, head shaking… he caught something. A whiff so putrid, it made him retch again.

  “Something was rotting.” He spat again. Eyes creaked open, then closed again. Arlo forced himself to sniff again. “The pier,” he whimpered, eyes opening once more.

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  Crawling to his feet, the catfolk staggered toward the pier. Among a pile of waiting lumber, muddy footprints stood out. Steeling himself, Arlo followed the footprints and the stench toward the mill proper. Careful study of the wall revealed claw marks that climbed up into an open window — their murderer hadn’t entered through the door for some reason.

  “Arlo!” Coradiel’s head poked out of the mill, and he waved the catfolk over. “We found Harker.”

  Back inside the mill, the stench of rotting flesh mingled with the metallic cloy of spilled blood. The stench grew stronger the closer Arlo got to a dead body hanging from the wall. The person’s entire face was missing, and their lower jaw had been wrenched off. Claw marks marred the arms, but more precise slices formed a seven point star into the body’s chest.

  “Ghast!”

  A solid thump echoed through the room. Instantly, Arlo unslung his musket from his back, whirling around. Kaesi stood over a bloody axe, her face green, her eyes glowing with righteous fury.

  “They were killed by a ghast!” she snapped.

  “Ghasts can be serial killers?”

  “Ghasts are intelligent undead,” Coradiel said, his eyes squeezing shut. “This is bad. This is really bad. Kaesi, you need to get the church out here-”

  “What? No way!” Arlo protested.

  “Arlo, we have to. A single ghast could create an army of ghouls to wipe out Sandpoint in a matter of days. This is worse than the goblin threat. We need people out here who can hunt the undead.”

  “It would take too long,” Arlo argued. “A day to get out there, a day to convince anyone to come out, a day to get back — that’s at least one more death!”

  “He’s right,” Kaesi said. “We’ll have to handle this on our own somehow. Starting with getting to the Sanitarium. That man… Grayst… has been in contact with a ghast. I don’t doubt he’s infected with ghoul fever.”

  “And what about Foxglove?” Arlo kicked sawdust over the vomit covering the floor. His stomach lurched again, but thankfully nothing else came up.

  “We don’t know he’s involved. Your vendetta with him is no reason to accuse him of murder,” Coradiel said sternly. “But we do need to decide whether to go after the ghoul or the ghast.”

  “Grayst was likely infected three or four days ago. It is entirely likely he’s already turned and destroyed the Sanitarium,” Kaesi pointed out.

  “The sooner we determine who the ghast is and where it went, the sooner we can prevent anyone else from becoming a ghoul. Besides, what are we going to do if Grayst isn’t a ghoul yet? Kill him preemptively?” Arlo shook his head. “We need a spell to dispel disease. Coradiel, if you could get a scroll from Father Zantus at the Cathedral, Kaesi can examine the corpses of the thugs for anything unusual, and I can talk to Ven and Ibor. I’m sure I can get them to talk.”

  He fingered the spellbook at his side. A simple [Charm Person] should be more than enough to get tongues wagging. All Arlo needed-

  “And after, we go straight to the Sanitarium,” Kaesi demanded.

  “Deal.”

  Arlo prided himself in having never encountered the law before. Even in his former life, he’d never had to visit any centre of authority: no courthouse, no prison, he’d never even spoken to a cop before he’d arrived in Varisia.

  That streak was about to end.

  He stared at the large stone building, mentally preparing himself to enter. Jails were supposed to be miserable places at the best of times. How much worse would a mediaeval jail be?

  It couldn’t be worse than what he’d seen in the mill.

  With that dubious comfort, Arlo followed Kaesi into the Garrison. Seven-metre thick walls offered no small protection from missiles and swords. Arlo tried not to think about a basic spell he knew that would completely negate the walls — a guilty conscience would definitely be bad here. Though would [Expeditious Excavation] work? It only took effect on unworked stone as far as he knew.

  Arlo shrugged his thoughts away as he and Kaesi were stopped by Sheriff Belor.

  “Where is Coradiel?” the sheriff questioned.

  “Hopefully getting a scroll to remove diseases,” Arlo said. He motioned toward a set of stairs descending into a magically lit basement. “Are the cells down there?”

  “Yes. Vachedi is down there with Ven and Ibor already. He’s been unable to get any information from them. Ibor seems too frightened, and Ven is distraught over the death of his daughter.”

  “You said Ven didn’t do it. Why is he still locked up?” Kaesi demanded.

  “He’s the only person with a motive-”

  “Sheriff, your victims were murdered by a ghast,” Kaesi interrupted sharply. “Ven Vinder is innocent, unless he’s somehow managed to hide being an undead. I highly doubt Ibor Thorn is guilty either.”

  “I’m still questioning Ibor, but I feel Ven is safe to release,” Arlo added. His voice softened slightly. “He just lost his daughter. He should be with his family, mourning. Not locked in a cell. Katrine was not the target of this murder, she just got in the way of the murderer. Harker is the man we should be looking into.”

  Sheriff Belor’s eyes bore into Arlo’s. Finally, the Shoanti nodded.

  “As you say. I trust you have a plan if Ven or Ibor are, in fact, this undead you speak of?”

  “If you could send someone to the local cleric, some holy water would clear that question up immediately. But honestly,” Kaesi continued, “the biggest giveaway would be the most unholy stench you can imagine.”

  “Trust me, if they were undead, you’d know,” Arlo agreed. “You can dispatch some people to bury Harker and Katrine. Don’t let anyone see the bodies.”

  “Noted,” Belor said. “I’ll have holy water sent for-”

  “It was a joke, Sheriff. Right, Kaesi?”

  Kaesi scowled at Arlo, shaking her head firmly.

  “Given your… unique circumstances, I wouldn’t expect you to understand. But it is absolutely possible for a ghast spellcaster to ensorcel himself to infiltrate a village and wreak havoc the following night. We do not need more ghouls to deal with. An overabundance of caution is absolutely necessary here.” She turned back to the sheriff. “Send for the holy water.”

  “And don’t mind me if I use some tactics of… dubious ethics,” Arlo added.

  “I would rather you did not torture anyone,” Kaesi snapped.

  “Torture? Fuck that! I was just going to charm Ibor to get him to talk!” The catfolk frowned at Kaesi. “And didn’t you just say that Ven was innocent?”

  “Unless he could hide being a ghast, yes,” Kaesi repeated.

  “Sheriff, do you know if Ven has any spellcasting training at all?”

  “I don’t believe so,” Belor said slowly.

  “We are not taking risks,” Kaesi growled.

  Arlo rolled his eyes, but nodded to Belor. The sheriff nodded back, and stepped aside to let them down the stairs. Kaesi descended first, sniffing the air warily. Her face scrunched up, but Arlo’s nose caught nothing but straw and offal.

  The basement was well lit by several smokeless torches — everburning torches. Arlo did some quick calculations in his head. A standard everburning torch cost over a hundred gold sails. A crafter could cut that price down to fifty gold sails if they sold it at cost. Still, with four torches offering light around the prison, that was at least two hundred gold; an insane amount for just a jail.

  Before he could really start questioning, they came face to face with a burly Shoanti man. Scars covered his shaven face, and a wolf’s tail haircut added to the menacing air about him. Arlo wouldn’t want to take him in a fight for sure, even if the catfolk had magic on his side.

  “Sheriff Belor said you’d be coming,” Vachedi said. His voice wove through the air, surprisingly gentle for the aura he cast. “Ibor is in the leftmost cell, Ven in the right. We kept them separated just in case.”

  “Thank you. That will make this a lot easier,” Kaesi said.

  “I don’t know you, little lady. Arlo is a member of the Bunyip Club, but the sheriff vouches for him. You, on the other hand-”

  “She’s with me, unfortunately,” Arlo said quickly. “And I’m a former member, if you could even call me a member at all.”

  “Once a Bunyip, always a Bunyip.” Vachedi stepped aside, glaring at Arlo as the catfolk passed.

  Doing his best to ignore the stare, Arlo stopped before a dishevelled man. Wide eyes flicked over Arlo’s appearance, and the man scrambled away at the catfolk’s approach.

  “Hey. Relax,” Arlo said soothingly. “Look, I’m going to cast a spell on us to help you settle down, okay? No one’s going to hurt you.” Before the man could protest, Arlo raised a hand. “[Charm Person].”

  Ibor’s eyes relaxed slightly. Stepping forward, the muscular man set his hands to the cell’s bars, gripping them tightly.

  “Can you tell them I didn’t do it? I… I didn’t… I could never have-”

  “It’s okay. We know you’re innocent,” Arlo soothed. “Can you tell me anything about what you saw?”

  “I… I don’t want… I….” Ibor gulped, his hands rattling the bars. “I see them when I close my eyes. I can’t go back there.”

  “Arlo.” Kaesi pushed him away, pointing to a room at the far end of the hall. “Vachedi said the others are in that room. Leave the interrogations to me.”

  “Ibor, this is my friend Kaesi. You can trust her,” Arlo said smoothly. “I need to go find out who did this.”

  He hurried away from the cell, passing a man curled up on himself. Their eyes met briefly, then Arlo was gone. The catfolk steeled himself at the end of the hall, and pushed a heavy door open.

  The stench of death struck hard. Covering his nose with his shirt, Arlo forged ahead into the cool chamber, where three naked bodies lay on separate tables. All three were in initial stages of decay, and their heads had been disfigured just as Harker’s had. As Arlo studied the corpses, he found claw marks running down each body, echoing the marks on Harker’s chest. The heptagrams on their chests were barely visible against their greying flesh, but Arlo could just catch sight of the rune.

  He didn’t know what to look for. Obviously these people were killed by the same murderer… but he already knew that. Why was he searching for clues? Wasn’t this Kaesi’s job?

  “What did you find?”

  Arlo screamed. He whirled, levelling his musket at the halfling in the doorway.

  “Must you threaten my life every time you see me?” Kaesi demanded, pushing past the amurrun.

  “When you scare the shit out of me around a bunch of cadavers, yes!”

  “What did you find out?”

  Arlo grumbled, slinging his musket back over his shoulder. “They were killed by the same being that killed Harker.”

  “Obviously. Anything else?”

  “Their killer has a thing for stars and jawbones?”

  “The missing jaw is to keep anyone from casting [Speak With Dead] on them,” Kaesi said. “We’re dealing with someone intelligent, which is why I’m guessing ghast, not ghoul.” She prodded a body, and Arlo fought back a retch as flesh fell away from the corpse. “The suspect targets those who are greedy. He marks them with a rune, probably a calling card. Or a ritual. Or both. He thinks himself a lord. And he kills personally, getting close to his victims. He is also incredibly resistant to being injured, adding to the undead theory.”

  “Oh, so now it’s a theory?” Arlo demanded.

  “A damning one,” Kaesi said. “The smell alone all but proves-”

  Footsteps thundered toward them, cutting Kaesi off. Coradiel burst into the room.

  “I think I found him!”

  A Garundi man strode with purpose through the temple halls. Eyes followed him wherever he walked, whispers trailed behind him. He was immune to all, though not unaware. As a mighty stag, Kulungu moved confidently through his domain, until he arrived at his destination.

  A rich umber hand rose as the sun, shedding warmth with every rap on a heavy oaken door. Tawny eyes stared out a cervine mask, making note of every motion around him with a magical sharpness. Human ears fairly twitched as a voice called, “Enter.”

  Pushing the door open, the Deer entered the chamber beyond. He took in the spartan office with a simple sweep of his eyes, moving forward to the large desk. Kulungu dropped to a knee, lowering his head.

  “Master Annamentus. How may I serve Pharasma this day?” he asked, velvet voice practically purring his desire to be of aid to his goddess.

  “I am afraid someone needs your assistance, Deer,” Annamentus replied quietly. “Please, take a seat.”

  He waited until Kulungu was seated before continuing.

  “You are a caretaker first and foremost. I trust you will handle this mission with the delicacy and understanding it requires. What I am about to tell you must not leave this room.”

  “You have my word,” Kulungu promised immediately. “I understand this will not be a happy assignment.”

  Annamentus shook his head.

  “Several days ago, one of our adepts had a vision from the Grey Lady. There is a catfolk by the name of Arlo Green. He has been judged by Pharasma, yet somehow, he has been returned to our plane of existence.”

  The Deer’s mask kept his expression to a neutral stare. Even through the eye slits, nothing could be gleaned. Yet Annamentus knew the reaction his words caused.

  “I understand you are distressed by this news-”

  “Can we trust the adept’s understanding of their vision?” Kulungu interrupted quietly. “Forgive me. I do not mean to belittle the acolytes you raise here. But magic can be fickle, and visions even more so.”

  “I am fully aware,” Annamentus agreed. “Two days ago, Insron and Sirio were slain tracking Arlo to the Underbridge. The third member of their team, Kaesi, has gone missing. We believe she may be working with the catfolk-”

  “Amurrun. They prefer amurrun.”

  “The… amurrun,” Annamentus repeated. “There is no confirmation of his death, and the guards in the Naos have reported seeing an… amurrun, and a halfling, travelling with an aiuvarin. It has been suggested they travel north to Sandpoint or further.”

  “I can travel to Sandpoint. I have heard rumours of an amurrun that lives there — it is not unusual for one to travel so far from home. If I make contact-”

  “Make his death as painless as possible,” Annamentus said. “That is why I requested your aid. Despite your solitude, your bedside manner has been praised by all who have the mind to report such things.”

  “It is the mask,” Kulungu said, the hint of a smile in his voice. He rose fluidly, dipping his head to Annamentus again. “I shall prepare and leave immediately. Will Insron and Sirio be joining me?”

  “No. Instead, I have requested aid from the cult of Lythertida. A cleric by the name of Ushara will meet you at the Rusty Dragon tavern in Sandpoint. It is my hope this business can be handled swiftly with a smaller team.”

  “Of course.” Kulungu paused mid-turn. “If I might ask, why did Insron and Sirio fail?”

  “They confronted a wizard with an exploding staff. The aiuvarin held off Kaesi and Insron until Sirio had fallen, and Arlo finished off what the aiuvarin started.”

  Kulungu nodded. He’d heard of weapons like that before. Direct conflict was not going to work here.

  “I will return in a few days,” he promised.

  Stepping from the room, the Deer listened to the door click shut. He shook off his reservations, and began to walk.