4 - The Invisible

It's very easy to miss something you don't usually pay much attention to in the first place.

First came a trip toward the front of the manor. Fortunately, she found her target long before reaching her destination; Alyssa entered a hallway at about the same time she did. "Oh, uh..hello again, Miss Varga," she said, quickly recovering into a brief curtsy.

"Done answering the door?"
"Well--yes. Rion took over. I was just on my way to clean Sir Vaersi's chambers."

"Good. I was just about to ask directions," Varga said.

"To--oh." The maid nervously fidgeted, but clearly remembered an order to let her go where she pleased. "Well, certainly! Right this way." She continued on her course, the detective not far behind.

"How often would you say the place gets cleaned?"
"Oh, just about every day. We rotate it in just like everywhere else."
"You sweep the floors every time?"
"Well--I do. To...be honest, I think Rion forgets she has fur sometimes. Or...doesn't think anyone cares. There's never too much buildup, though!"

"Where do you dump it?"

"Mm..usually out back with everything else. There's a dustbin next Sir Vaersi's desk that I'll put it in if there's not too much, though. It's small, but it doesn't see too much use otherwise."

"So it's not dumped often?"
"Nooo...I suppose I ought to, soon," Alyssa said nervously, beginning to get concerned this minor breach of protocol would be severely punished somehow.

Varga just nodded to herself, saying, "Good," which didn't do anything for her worries.

Finally, they reached the inner chambers. "Well, uh..here we are."
"Where's the desk?"
"Oh, just over there," she said, pointing; the werewolf headed over and knelt next to the dustbin, looking in; it was about half full.

"Sorry, but I'll have to make more work for you," she said.
"Er, how do you--oh." Varga set the bin on its side and began digging through it before she finished asking. More confused than ever, Alyssa moved slightly closer and watched.

She got out a few crumpled pieces of paper and disposable handkerchiefs first, setting them aside. After that there were a few clumps of dust and hair, which were placed in an orderly manner in front of her. Picking one at random, Varga began carefully pulling out some hairs from it. "Um..Miss Varga, if I may..."
"Who do you think has a good reason to be here?" She plucked out some light-colored hair. "Master of the house, maids...anyone else?"
"Well--uh, Sir Vaersi's doctor came in here when he first took ill."

She moved on to progressively darker-shaded strands. "Hair color?"
"A dark red?"

"Good." Finally, she pulled out a dark strand and held it up. "Know whose this is?"
Alyssa tilted her head, not making much sense of this quiz. "Rion's?"

The werewolf shook her head. "Look closer. Too short, wrong color."
"..Oh, you're right, it's.."

"Know whose it is?"

"Well..no one that I can think of."

"'Course not." Varga stood up, taking the strand with her. "I'll get out of your way, now."

She returned to the servants' quarters; tracking her own scent back there was easy enough. Looking around, only one of the bedroom doors was shut, so Varga tried knocking on it. Serra's voice inside made a vague, half-asleep groan which at least let her know she had the right room, so she knocked again a little louder.

The quick shuffle of someone suddenly sitting up. "Wah! I'm up, amIlate?!"

"Relax. This is Varga; we met last night. Can we talk?"
"Oh, um, sure." Serra got up and opened the door. She was fully dressed, but her hair was still a bit of a mess. "How can I uh, help you?"

"Better we talk in private. Use your room?" the werewolf said, gesturing inside.
"Um...okay." Serra backed up, allowing her guest in. Varga took a moment to close the door and apply the sound damping spell with a hadn on the wall beside her, still keeping her eyes forward.

The room itself was small and stark, possessing little more than an old dresser and a small wooden cot that served as a bed. If Serra had personal possessions other than clothing, they were hidden in the former, or not here at all. It wasn't dirty and didn't seem an entirely unpleasant place to sleep, but it lacked anything that could remotely be termed a luxury.

Varga crossed her arms. "Well, you're in deep."

"Um..?" Serra either didn't understand, or faked it pretty well.
"What I know, someone else is gonna figure out pretty quick. They'd know already if anyone paid any attention to you. But that's the problem, in't it?" The werewolf dropped her arms to hold a hand slightly in the Lago's direction. As her tired mind appeared to register the topic of conversation, Serra quivered slightly, her ears lowering, and her head darted backwards for a second--glancing at the unglazed window behind her.

The detective moved her hands slowly back toward the pockets of her coat. "Must be easy to sneak around when folks treat you like you don't exist."

In response to this, the girl made a kind of choked squeaking noise in her throat, and thrust her left hand forward in a swift, panicked motion. A jolt of miniature lightning sparked from her fingers at the werewolf, stunning her enough to fall back against the door and convulse briefly. It wasn't enough to do any real harm to a human, much less Varga's sort. She took this opportunity to turn and bolt, leaping out the window behind her and taking off at the sort of run any cornered Lagomai has at their disposal.

"Bad move," Varga yelled as soon as she recovered, starting toward the window herself. "Running always makes you look worse."

It was too small for her to exit all at once; she stuck one leg out, then the other, before pulling her body carefully through. Then she ran; her prey was nearly out of sight already but the frightened scent was easy to track, and there was no way a sous chef had the endurance to keep up such a pace for long. After vaulting the manor's back fence, it took little time for the trip to leave the well-off part of town and veer into the grubby, misshapen alleys of the city's new construction. Unfortunately for Serra, this was Varga's territory, and when she caught up to the out-of-breath Lagomai it was easy enough to goad her toward a dead end. Before long she was facing a wall, and turned around, half-bent over and entirely out of breath, to find her pursuer a few yards off, standing calmly with her hands in her trenchcoat's pockets.

"D-don't come any closer!" between gasping breaths and voiced exhalations that weren't doing her any favors. Serra held up her hands and some electricity arced dangerously between them. "Or I'll..!"
"You'll what? Dig yourself a deeper hole?" Varga's ears folded back in annoyance. "You're biting your own tail, girl. I came to you first to help you. Starting to wonder if it's worth the trouble," she added, dusting off a shoulder.

"Help me? B-by lecturing me on how much trouble I'm in?!" By now, she'd regained enough breath to stand up straight. Her prepared magic destabilized to a few stray sparks.

"Hard to get out of trouble you don't know you're in. I'll make this simple: The guard don't care about things like evidence if a noble dies."

"Wh--dies?!"

"One or two people pointing the finger your way is all it'll take to get a rope necklace." The werewolf traced a finger along her own neck, then mimicked a pulling motion above her head with the same hand.

Serra held her hands up defensively, her ears sticking straight up and eyes widening with surprise and panic. "Wh--I--I didn't, kill anyone!"

"Really? What do you call that curse you laid on him, then?"

"That's just--all that does is make someone feel bad!"

"A Wasting Curse makes the body sick and then kills it. Where'd you get your version?"
"I-it's, there was a book in the library with a bookmark at the page..."

"If you don't get rid of it, he'll probably die," Varga interrupted, deciding that this point could be dealt with later. "You want that?"
"No!" Her head darted around, still instinctively looking for an escape route just to get away from feeling cornered. "I, I..it wasn't supposed to.."

"Listen." The werewolf took a couple of steps closer, to speak more quietly. "The man you work for is soft. Get rid of the curse and tell the right sob story, I wager he sweeps the whole thing under the rug. Run away now and let it do its job, and you'll be on the most wanted list within a week."

"B-but I..I don't know how to..dispel it," she said slowly. "The book just said it would go away on its own!"

Another step closer, and Varga carefully placed a hand on the young Lagomai's shoulder. "You don't want it to kill him, right? You'd rather it go away?"
She looked up and blinked a couple of times, gaining a sudden appreciation for their height difference. "Y-yeah!"

"Far as I can tell, you just need to say something like that to him. You're sorry you cursed him, hope it goes away. That curse's made of the hate you put into it, and it goes away without it." Something like that, anyway, she thought.

"O-oh..okay..."

Serra looked back down again. "I guess..I have to tell him I did it, though. In front of everyone..."
"I don't think it matters if you have an audience. I'll be around, at least." Varga turned half-around. "First thing, let's get back before you're missed."

A storage room shared a wall with the manor's tea room. It usually wasn't hard for people with relatively weak hearing to eavesdrop through the wall, but try as she might, Alyssa could only make out vaguely muffled voices. "Mnngh, I can't make out a thing. Can you hear--?"
"Ssh! Not over you," Rion hissed, annoyed. "Who was that anyway?"
"Um, I think the sous chef.." The Ovissan maid was interrupted by another 'sssh!', but had already trailed off, thinking to herself. That girl's hair was...

The Ketshi girl's expression darkened, her ears folding back slightly despite needing a certain direction to hear through the wall. "It was her! She made him sick with some kinda curse. Why I oughta..."

The door to the storage room opened, and both of them snapped to attention, trying to look busy. The house's third maid stepped inside, giving both of them the same sort of impassive, withering glare as usual.

"Uh, heeey..."
"We were just--"
"Eavesdropping," Friedel finished for her, and shook her head slightly, quietly pushing the door shut behind her.

"It was that girl he hired for the chef, wasn't it? Serra?"
"Uh, yeah," Alyssa said.

"I think she's dispelling it now," Rion said. Her ears drooped slightly. "Oh..."

"I really should have caught on sooner. At least this is resolved, now."

"What're they gonna do to her?" the Ovissan asked, looking Rion's way again. "Did miss Varga call the guard?"

"Um..no."

"Look, I think we should probably, leave her alone about this," the Ketshi said. "And not tell anyone. I mean, we ain't supposed to know in the first place."
"Well--yeah. Why..?" Alyssa thought she could hear someone sobbing, even through the charm on the walls.
"I'll, explain later," Rion said, looking slightly upset herself. "Um--I'd better go before I'm missed." With that she abruptly ran out of the room.
"..Her next task isn't for an hour," Friedel said, crossing her arms. "Hmph. Well, it little matters to me. It's been brought before the master, so he should be trusted to handle it."

"Uh, if you say so. Hey, do you know how to..?" The winged woman turned and left before Alyssa could finish her question, anticipating its content before it was asked. Shrugging, the last maid in the storage room shut the door on her way out.

The following day, midmorning, shortly after a single knock from the floor, Varga heard a polite couple of knocks from her door. "Come in." Sir Edwin opened the door and gracefully stepped inside. The werewolf leaned back in her chair. "Well, you're looking better."
"Indeed. I was given a clean bill of health just an hour past," he said. "Once it left, it was as though it were never there in the first place. Therefore, I'm here..perhaps earlier than expected?"

"I'm not busy."

Sir Vaersi nodded a couple of times, half to himself. "Indeed. Ah..What I would like to say, is that I owe you my life. While perhaps Friedel or the others might have discovered the culprit, it could have been too late. They might not have been so successful in convincing her to lift the curse, or she may have bolted before she could be caught. In theory, there should be no limit to the price I'd be willing to pay for that."
After giving him a moment to continue, she waved her hand for him to do so. "But..."
The elvish noble nodded again. "But, my money is not mine alone. My estate supports many people; and my wealth is a necessary component of my position. In truth, I am really a lesser noble to begin with, so..I cannot perhaps afford what you might expect of one."

"Listen." Varga leaned forward, placing her elbows on the desk and her hands together. "I'm all right here. I get a soldier's pension to live off of, and the Fae downstairs rent me this place nearly free. You can pay me whatever you think is fair, and won't hurt you, and that'll be a nice bonus. What I really need in't money, it's connections. I come up with a case where I need to talk to a noble, you let me tap your shoulder. I'm not saying you owe me and have to help, just to let me ask. Or: If someone you know's in trouble and you think I'll take their case, point 'em my way. Fair enough?"
"Certainly," Edwin said, nodding a bit more slowly and sincerely this time. "More than fair, really. I suspect the latter arrangement is more mutually beneficial than you make it sound."

"Maybe. Is that all?"

"Well..we weren't able to find the book Serra said she found that curse in. The librarian insisted no book matching its description was in the library, and a thorough search has yet to turn it up. I don't believe she's lying; therefore..."
"Someone planted the book," Varga nodded, "and then took it back. Would've been weeks ago; I didn't catch any unknown scents when I was in there. I could look again if you want, but I think the trail's too cold by now."

"That's all right, you've done more than enough," he said.

"You may also be pleased to know I found better employment for Serra. A friend of mine specializes in..discreet arrangements, and while she likely assumed a different reason for the move's need--well, discretion is her occupation. The chef she'll work under now shall be far more..understanding, I should hope."
"Good."
He cleared his throat--obviously a nervous gesture, as there was no longer anything much to clear. "When I mentioned you, this friend informed me somewhat of your, er..background. I can't say I blame you for any distrust of nobility, or my family in particular. Which..made me wonder, why you chose to help me at all. As I stated, without your aid I may well have died."

"When you first walked in here, I barked at you. You didn't get angry back, or run away. Then you sat down and asked for my help instead of trying to order me to give it." Varga shrugged. "Enough to give your case a shot. 'Family' means little to me, so that didn't figure in."

"I see. Well--I am extremely grateful, at any rate. You can expect someone to drop your payment off here by the end of today," the noble said, and began to turn to leave.
"Oh, and watch yourself, kid. Those maids of yours are gonna tear you apart someday if you're not careful." He returned a blank, confused expression, until she waved him off and he finally left.