2 - The Three Maids

Behold the noble in his natural environment.

As noble houses went, Edwin's manor was modest. There were paintings on the wall, furnishings, and other conspicuous signs of "wealth" present, but it was obviously (to him at least) not the most opulent or extravagant of places. No magical moving pieces that required constant, expensive upkeep, for example; no ancient artifacts in glass cases to display. It was just enough to let anyone know this was a kept-up house, without either being too expensive or presuming above his present station. At least, his noble visitors the past few years never had complained of it either being too ostentatious or looking particularly destitute, which was an unbelievably difficult balance to strike with most types.

Before long they made it to the front hall, and nearly everyone who hadn't left for the night was already assembled. Alyssa showed up just as they came to the wall opposite the entrance, the gardener's hooves behind her. "I think this is everyone, sir," she reported with another, dutiful curtsy.

"Thank you," Sir Vaersi nodded, and carefully cleared his throat again. The staff made up a small crowd on the opposite side of the room, easy to address all at once.

"I apologize for interrupting your duties, but I require a moment of your time in the interest of improving our house's efficiency. This is Varga," he said, indicating the conspicuously out-of-place werewolf standing next to him, who held up her free hand briefly in a wave, "a consultant I've had recommended to me. Forgive her appearance, but her ability is second to none. She will take a brief, private interview with each of you, after which you may return to whatever you were doing before. What exactly you say to her will be confidential--" (a half-lie; nobles needed to be able to say such things convincingly all the time) "--so please, be as honest with her as you can. I believe her work will help us all immensely." All but possibly one, at least. "The, ah, tea room should do nicely for this purpose," he said, indicating a neighboring room. "Meanwhile, I intend to retire to my chambers until supper is finished, for the sake of my health."

The detective listened to him speak with a bit of interest. Out on the streets, this noble seemed uncertain, cautious, nervous even to the point of terror. Here, in his element, it was like hearing a different person entirely. Even suffering an illness from a curse, he had an assured, commanding presence about him which seemed to immediately calm any fears or suspicions the staff had about her. He was feeding them the flimsiest story she could imagine and they appeared--for the most part--to be eating it up, if only because he was saying it. It was impressive in some ways, and in others disgusting to watch, but she maintained a neutral, serious expression with crossed arms throughout.

With a brief bow, Edwin made his way off toward his "chambers", keeping up the appearance of a confidential interview quite well. Varga looked over the crowd, quickly identifying a few who might be able to hear through a short distance and walls--including the eager-to-help maid they'd met at the entrance. This was going to be quite a pool to narrow down, she thought. "All right. Who's in a hurry to leave?" she said, waving to come forward. The centaur from before, and a human whose garb suggested he was a cook, made their way toward her.

"My soup will burn if left alone too long," the chef complained. The gardener gave him a silent, withering stare, and he took a small step backward.

"What's your excuse, then?"
"End of today's shift," he said in a deep, croaking voice with a thick accent. "Was on the way home when Alyssa accosted me," he added with a backwards glare which didn't appear to faze the sheep-like maid much.

"Alright." Varga shrugged, and led the way into the tea room before going around the centaur's flank to shut the door behind them.

He didn't really fit in this room, standing awkwardly behind a couch and appearing deeply uncomfortable in such a small space. The werewolf took a moment, holding her free hand against the door and briefly chanting something.

"You use magic?" he said, sounding mildly surprised, as a faint bluish glow spread from where her hand touched the door outward, past the frames and the rest of the way around the wall.

"Very little. Sound damping spell isn't much more than a cantrip, though." Varga went around to stand behind the chair opposite the couch, leaning an elbow over it. "All right. Name and occupation."

"Oleg Klaarznov. Gardener."

She added the first name to his page, while asking her next question: "What do you think of Sir Edwin?"
"Is fine master. Very little complains of my work. Less hassle, but shows ignorance; he would not know a good garden from bad one. Old master knew what made gardens good. Most importantly: Pays on time, always."

"How often are you in the house?"

"Never, unless called for," Oleg frowned. "This stuffy place, these fragile things. Clumsy hooves made for open fields would crush this house, if in it often."

"It'd be easy to have the other servants confirm that," she said. "Not that I don't believe you."

"Hmph." Oleg placed an arm across the couch next to him and half-leaned over it at her. "Listen, 'consultant', No fool am I. Some of those who work at this house get out very little, but I do. Have been in same tavern as you some nights. Da?"

Varga nodded, but didn't reply; he obviously wasn't finished.

"This is about Sir Edwin's 'illness', da? Two healers and no better means magic. You know my people have as little talent in magic as yours."

"I've known mages of my kind, too," Varga stated, "rare as they are. At any rate, if you know why I'm asking, then you know why you should tell the truth."

"Lies make suspicion, da. I do not lie, 'detective'," he said, his tone for this title carrying the same implied skepticism as 'consultant'. "Little plant magic I learned, in war--mine was long before yours. Helps with work now. Nothing dark. Enough for you?"

"For today," Varga nodded. "When you come back in for work tomorrow, I may have more. Not likely about you."

"Long as I am on payroll then," he said, carefully bringing himself around in a tight circle to approach the door and leave again.

The chef entered impatiently as Oleg left, standing near the entrance of the room with his hands disapprovingly crossed while she shut the door and re-applied the charm. "Can we get on with this? I'd like to serve something people can eat."
"I'll ask the basics now, and follow up later if I need to," Varga stated. "Name and occupation."
"Joe Sachs. Head chef, as little as that means here." His appearance was more or less unremarkable--dark hair and eyes, about the same height she was, slightly plump.
"Where would you say you spend most of your time here?"
"Innn the kitcheenn?" he said, drawing out his words in disbelief that this wasn't too obvious to have even asked. "My job, is to cook."

"I suppose someone else serves the food."
"Of course. That's the maids' job, generally. They insist on it, in fact."

"And Sir Edwin isn't often in the kitchen?"
Joe huffed. "No. You could ask him yourself!"
"What do you think of him?"

"This is confidential?" Varga nodded. "Sir Vaersi is an average master at best. I have had worse, I have had better. Inexperience, I guess? It doesn't really make any difference, as long as my talents are recognized and I'm decently compensated. I do my job, he does his, everybody's happy."

"Good enough." Finished with her notes on the chef, Varga opened the door, and he started toward it.

"Thank you. And send my sous through soon, if you can manage it," he said, hurrying out and running off toward the kitchen.

Varga leaned out the door, examining those left. No telling who that man's sous chef was of all these; might as well move on to who she'd already met. She waved at the sheep-like maid standing near the front of the group, who immediately bounced over and into the door.

The maid seemed keenly interested when she refreshed the damping spell once again. "Oooh, is that why I couldn't hear anything out there!? Can you teach me that spell?" she said with a starry-eyed expression.
"...Maybe later. It's not tough to pick up, or I wouldn't know it," Varga said, moving over to the chair again and taking a seat, waving to the opposite one.

"I-I'd rather stand if it's all right with you. My clothes are a bit dusty from cleaning," she said, moving to stand next to the couch with an alacrity that suggested this to be a regular post of hers.

"Fine. I was introduced before, but give me your name again anyway?"
"Sure! Alyssa Mellenfrow," she said, and further volunteered: "I've been working as a maid here since forever. I mean since I was little. My mom worked here too, actually." Varga took some notes while she spoke.

"You...int'rested in magic?"

"Totally! I'm just self-taught though, so I don't know much. Just a few little useful things here and there, to help with my job."

The werewolf nodded. "Maybe it's obvious, but I don't associate with nobility all that often. Could you describe for me, in your own words, your job as a maid?"

"Anything Sir Vaersi needs!" she said enthusiastically at first. "I mean--specifically, cleaning everywhere, helping a bit with cooking, and serving food and tea and stuff, answering the door...or if I'm asked to do anything else, even if I don't know how, then I try my best to do it anyway!"

"And you're near him often?"
"Yep! I mean--one of us maids is usually close by unless he wants privacy or rest, and if he needs something from someone else we'll act as messengers so he doesn't have to walk all that way. Especially lately," she added with a slight dampening of her sunny demeanor.

"What is your opinion of Sir Vaersi?" Varga asked next.

"Oh, he's great! Our old master was--well, to put it bluntly I more put up with him than worked for him. Sir Vaersi is like everything I was ever taught a noble's supposed to be. Plus, he's totally dreamy, isn't he?"
"Bit young for me," Varga said, impassively continuing her notes. "Does this house have no footmen?"
"Nope. A-and before you ask, that's just how it was with the old master too! Sir Vaersi hasn't changed things up much besides hiring a bit more help, like when the chef wanted an assistant. I get the impression it's a little tough to find good people after, uh, the war and all."

"Could you send whoever that is next? I think you've answered as much as I wanted for now."

"Oh--sure!" Alyssa curtsied before starting over toward the door.

A short Lagomai girl slid into the room slowly, shuffling on her feet. She had shoulder-length, dark but distinctly blue hair, contrasting the brilliant white of the rabbit-like ears laying down across the sides of her head. Varga took a moment to shut the door and re-apply the charm, during which her interviewee stood quietly, looking like she was going to fall asleep on her feet at any moment.

"Let's get this over with quick. What's your name?" she asked.

"Serra."
"You got a last name?"
"Mnh, no," she replied, shaking her head slowly. "I'm, uh, not from too well-off a family..."
"Know how it is," the werewolf nodded. "And you're the assistant to the house chef?"
"Mm-hm." Serra's head suddenly tilted up slightly, as though she was trying without full success to snap herself the rest of the way awake. "Uh--I mean, yes ma'am."

"No need to be formal around me. When were you hired on?"

"About uh...two years back," the rabbit-eared girl said. "I really appreciate it; I've been trying my best to be useful around here."
"Joe at least seemed to want you back as soon as possible," Varga nodded. "Well--what do you think of Sir Vaersi?"
"He's really kind." Serra yawned. "I don't exactly see him much, but I've got the impression he's pretty generous. Anyway, I'm really grateful for the job. Don't know what I'd be doing otherwise."

Without looking up from her notes, the detective asked: "Have you been having difficulty sleeping lately? Feeling unwell?"

"Oh, no--I mean, I'm perfectly all right, sickness-wise. If I got sick, I...well, I wouldn't go anywhere near the food 'till I was better," Serra said. "We've just been, a little busier than usual lately, with more guests. Big breakfasts mean getting up early, big suppers take longer to clean up afterward..that sort of thing. Head chef isn't having any trouble, so I'm hoping I can use the opportunity to get used to it too."

"But you aren't having difficulty actually falling asleep, once you're in bed."
"Right," Serra nodded slowly, and yawned again.

After sending that one off, Varga examined the crowd remaining and beckoned the one remaining member whose hearing made necessary the sound-damping spells: A slim, dark-skinned Ketshi with very long black hair and equally shaded fur, and the second of the house's maids to be interviewed. She seemed considerably less cheerful than Alyssa had been, her face a bit sour, but at least her ears were standing up from the sides of her head rather than folded back and her long, slim tail wasn't entirely still on the way into the room. At least it was only necessary to shut the door before starting this interview.

"Would you like to take a seat?" the werewolf offered, heading over to do so herself.
"Is this gonna take long?" the maid countered, coming over and sitting in the center of the couch anyway, crossing her legs and leaning forward in a not entirely relaxed posture.

"It shouldn't. Give me your name and occupation?"
"Rion Kazte. Maid, if the dress don't tell ya."

Varga nodded, noting this. "Describe your job, in your own words."

"Well, like any maid, I live to serve," she said, a sigh evident in her tone. "Serve any meals, teatimes, clean, help with cooking, yadda yadda," Rion waved her hand dismissively. "Not the most fulfilling work, but it's nice and stable at least."

"What's your opinion of the master of the house?"
"Edwin? I mean 'Sir Vaersi'," she corrected after a second. "I always liked him alright. Sometimes I think I'd quit and do something else if I was working for someone worse."
"What did you think of the previous master, then?"
"Misunderstood," Rion replied immediately. "A lot of folks thought he was a curmudgeon, but he'd just seen a lot of wrong in his life and couldn't take it anymore. In't that familiar?"

Varga exchanged a glance with the cat-eared woman for a moment, and then resumed her notes, visibly ignoring that last comment.

"How often do you help with cooking?"
"It used to be not too much, but the sous chef's been awful clumsy lately. Joe's been complaining, y'know. Not that I can't handle the slack."

"Do you know much magic?"
"Just the basic stuff they teach in school," Rion shrugged. "Or, used to at least. I dunno what education's like these days. You want your ear talked off about that stuff, talk to Alyssa."

"Does the gardener come inside the house much?"
This question appeared to surprise her a bit. "Oleg? You think a bloody centaur's comin' in here often? He'd track mud everywhere!"

"I'll take that as no. Just confirming his claims."

After clearing out a few more members of the house staff whose positions placed them far away from Edwin, Varga finally noticed a pair of giant, pitch-black wings staring at her from behind the remaining maid, and called her in immediately. This one was tall almost to the point of imposing--though shorter than the werewolf herself--with deep purple flowing hair even longer than Rion's. She floated into the room with the sort of grace that one might expect of an ancient, powerful being, and closed the door herself.

"So..."
"Yes?" The maid had an austere, proper bearing to her, standing up straight and only turning her eyes Varga's way when she was speaking.

"What exactly is a Crow Tengu doing working as a maid?"

"Have you ever encountered a Fae?"
"Sure."
"Never take a bet with one. My power is sealed until I have 'served' for one hundred years," she stated simply. "Fifty-two so far."

"I take it that who you serve doesn't matter?"
The Tengu sighed. "The conditions of my debt are complex, so I will make it simple for you: I may not voluntarily change hands, and what power I have left I may not be ordered to use in my capacity as a 'servant'."

"How much power is that, exactly?"
"Little more than an average human is capable of," she said with a tone that suggested extreme disappointment at this. "I should be treated as any ordinary servant."

"Well, I'll ask you the same as everyone else, then. Name?"
"Friedel. The rest of my title is currently irrelevant."

"What is your opinion of Sir Edwin?"

"He demands too little of his servants," Friedel said, "and takes on too much himself. Nonetheless, he is never unreasonable, and fully understands the constraints I am under. Of the three I have worked under thus far, he is best. I am glad that someone stepped into the unoccupied position, as I would otherwise have spent longer with no one to serve."

"Have you noticed anything unusual over the past few weeks? Before Sir Edwin took ill," Varga asked.

"Someone cursing him?" she said immediately, and although Varga didn't react to the suggestion, she nodded to herself. "I was beginning to wonder. No, to my shame I have seen no ill magic done to the master, or I would carry the culprit to him by the ear myself. I surmise this is your job, now?"

The werewolf sighed. "I'd appreciate if you keep it quiet."
"Of course. I am perfectly practiced in being discreet."

By the time the interviews were over, supper was finished, and Sir Edwin came back from his chambers seeming better--if only slightly. He insisted that Varga remain for the meal, which consisted of a supposedly-nutritious stew she could barely stomach. It was not poorly cooked, but the tastes of a werecreature are notoriously narrow; in the end she simply picked the pieces of meat out of her bowl with a fork, devoured the bits of adjoining bread, and brushed off any offers for seconds. The elvish noble then went with her into the tea room to speak in private about her findings.

Sir Edwin sat back in his chair, watching Varga reapply the sound-damping spell for the last time of the night. "Clever. I suppose I ought to have thought of that."
"You sound as tired as I feel, so I won't take long," said the detective, heading over to the couch. "From what I've heard, nobody has a good reason to be near you for long periods of time except for your maids--and they are near you often. But you already knew that, didn't you?"
He gave a weary, slightly worried look. "I just can't believe any of them to be responsible. All three seem to like me, in their own way. Or at least not despise me."

"I'll ask you straight: Have you ever noticed any of them muttering something under their breath as they came in the room? Or as they left?"

"I never have," he said. "But I don't--you know, it's not impossible that I simply pay too little attention to them as such times to notice."

"All three have means," Varga said. "Zyzax didn't make it sound like this curse was very difficult to learn, nor expensive to cast; the costs are in all the requirements. Alyssa's curious about magic, and could have turned it up in her research. Rion claims to not know much magic and went out of her way to sound disinterested, but she could simply be lying. And I don't need to tell you that a Tengu would be the sort to know obscure curses."

He thought about it for a moment, and shook his head. "There's no way Friedel has a motive. If I die, she has to find a new person to 'serve', and that would take time which she could spend working off her debt."

"If she hated you enough to cast that curse, she'd hate you enough to make the time getting a new master worth it," Varga replied. "I can't get a read on what she's thinking. Hardly a surprise for an Ascendant."

"Rion was guarded. I think cat ears can hear past that spell, and Oleg all but said what I was here for."

Edwin fought off another coughing fit. "Surely you don't think Alyssa is capable of doing something like this?"

"I've learned it's the friendly, nice ones you have to watch out for the most," said the werewolf. "Vipers love to look like lambs."

The noble put a hand on his forehead, closing his eyes and letting out a long, slightly ragged breath, seeming rather old for just a moment. "Nothing conclusive, then."
"Not yet. I'll think more on it tonight and come back in the morning. I can only get so much from the first interview, but now that I've got it--" she held up her notepad "--I can start checking their stories. It'd be suspicious to start asking more questions so soon after we were introduced, but if you're free in the morning.."
"Certainly." Edwin shook his head. "It pains me to be away from court, but..I was officially asked to convalesce after one fit of coughing mid-speech turned into an accidental filibuster."

"Right," Varga nodded. "I'll be back as soon as I'm up."