Tric, Heppa, and Heledd slog through the tunnels under South Tower with a corpse. Once they reach the chamber where they fought Godol and Efa, Tric has the presence of mind to send Mate on ahead to let Kachen know they are coming. Then they pass through the rubble and broken barrels of the ruined basement and emerge into his current residence. Rain falls into the structure through various holes, but Kachen is dry in one reinforced corner. He sits on an intact kask at a makeshift desk, a new notebook open before him. Mate is on the plank as well, devouring a peanut and occasionally mimicking the chimes at the Parting Glass.
“I hope you don’t mind some company,” Tric says, as they let Lowrie’s body fall to the ground. “We just need to store this here for the night. We’ll pick up our corpse in the morning.” Hopefully it will stay dead. “If you want to know more about it you can; if you don’t want to know more about it, you don’t have to,” he adds wearily, rather than launching into a thrilling tale.
Kachen does not seem off-put by the dead body. “Is anyone likely to come looking for this corpse?” he asks practically.
Tric considers for a moment. “I don’t think so. People will only be finding out this person is dead as the night progresses.”
“How would they even know?” Heppa asks. “No one got away.”
“One way or another, the lieutenants are going to notice when Lowrie’s not breathing down their necks. And there’s a chance that somebody saw what we did. We were fighting on a rooftop.”
Heppa nods at Tric’s reasonable observations. “He was going to burn down the Parting Glass!” she tells Kachen.
“It’s a good thing I changed my accommodations,” he observes dryly. Heppa smiles to once again see evidence that the medicine she prepared for him is working so well as to support a sense of humor. “But if there are still lieutenants, how do you know they are finished with that plan?”
Tric shows off the L-shaped rod Mate brought him. “They need this to fire the catapult. They were using it to launch flaming pumpkins. They’re going to have a much harder time doing it without this.”
“Harder perhaps, but not impossible,” Kachen comments. “Flaming pumpkins are not the only way to spread fire.”
“That’s a good point,” Heppa agrees. “We should probably go alert the town guard tonight. Or maybe just Alric.”
“It is raining, and I don’t know how quickly Lowrie enacted this plan. Without his direction, the Rats may not be able to adapt to a different approach,” Tric says. He really hopes there are no additional fire plans. Not with how achy he is right now.
“I got the feeling this was personal for Lowrie,” Heppa says.
“But it wasn’t just him. He had at least one person running watch,” Tric reminds her. “And he probably sent a lieutenant and some thugs to take over the catapult. That was an important task.”
“I’m surprised it wasn’t guarded,” Heppa comments.
“It probably was,” Tric says. He pulls out the keyring again and holds it out to Kachen this time. “Any of these keys look familiar to you?”
The mage takes them and steps to the edge of his sheltered area where rainwater gathers on the uneven floor. As he crouches down, Heppa continues glumly, “So there are probably some dead guards, then.”
“Dead or worse,” Tric mutters.
“What do you mean?!” Heppa asks, eyes going wide. Kachen also looks up from what he is doing, alarmed.
“Bribed!” Tric quickly clarifies. Fortunately Lowrie did not have any shadow mages on staff.
Kachen returns his attention to the puddle. He sets the keyring down in it and circles his open palm over the water. After gazing intently at the surface for a moment, he describes a person that only his eyes can see there.
“That’s the Engineer,” Heledd volunteers.
“Then that is the owner of this item,” Kachen says. “I cannot discern anything about what state he is in now or the means by which these left his possession.” He picks the keys up out of the water and stands back up, weaving slightly. “I hope there’s nothing else that you need help with,” he adds, his voice breathy. He hands the keyring back to Tric.
“Sit down, take it easy,” Tric urges him.
Kachen does so, under a barrage of questions from Heppa. “What kind of magic was that?!”
“Scrying.” That answer is clearly insufficient for the curious elf, so he elaborates, “It is the technique I used to find your uncle’s circlet.” Heppa happily absorbs a short lecture on the traceable imprints that people and objects make on the aetherium. It uses some of the same concepts as teleportation.
“Is the imprint stronger if the other person is a magic user?” she asks.
Kachen shrugs wearily. “I don’t have a lot of practice with this. It’s possible that it is, but I do not know.”
“Maybe it depends on if you’re pulling from the aetherium or from somewhere else,” Tric comments, thinking of the different energy sources for magic he and Heppa have learned about in their travels across Wesnoth.
“The amount of information the caster has upfront also impacts the spell’s success,” Kachen adds.
“Seems like it takes a lot of energy,” Heppa observes, noting how tired Kachen looks.
“I’m not very practiced at this,” he reiterates. “I have not worked this spell the same way I have… many others. Magic is hard to do. I cannot cast the spell as efficiently as someone who has studied it extensively.”
“And you’re still recovering,” Heppa adds. It has been less than a week since Tric found him malnourished and unconscious with a poison dagger in his back.
“My apologies for imposing upon you without the customary one day’s notice,” Tric tells Kachen.
“It is your right as landlords to have an additional tenant here. The estate is of course larger than I need myself. I would prefer, however, that none others be living.”
“I think that can be arranged,” Tric agrees. “But there may be a bird staying here from time to time.”
“The magpie and I have a mutual understanding,” Kachen says, glancing over at where Mate is working through a pile of peanuts.
“He is a shrewd bargainer. Make sure he doesn’t eat your entire food supply,” Tric warns.
“If you could snack as much as Mate does…” Heppa provides some indirect doctorly advice. Kachen wearily closes his eyes, suppressing the urge to roll them.
“All right,” Tric says, glancing out towards the courtyard and psyching himself up for more activity. “Let’s get going. I suppose letting Alric know is the smartest move. We’re not in a state to deal with much more.”
“Yes, he’ll know the best way to handle it,” Heppa agrees. “And I don’t want him to have more trouble.”
“Maybe he can get a fire crew together or something. We need to just tell him and then I’m about ready to pass out.”
“I will guard your body,” Kachen assures them. “You can take the streets back. That will be easier for you. Heledd can get you back to the Parting Glass safely.” Tric picks up something in his tone, a sort of wistful dismissal. Kachen does not really look like he wants to get rid of Heledd, but he probably thinks it is for the best that she leave.
The thief has stayed out of the way, quietly watching Kachen during the whole magical discussion. Tric glances over at her now and sees a flash of disappointment pass over her face. “I’ve got to get back to work,” she says brusquely, quickly covering up how she feels.
The route back to the Parting Glass goes through Spice Row, where Damal’s shop is. The apothecary himself is out on the street, armed with a bucket like many of his neighbors, working hard to make sure the fire further down the block does not reach his shop and cause an even larger-scale disaster. As Heledd and the elves sneak down the street, they overhear Damal talking with a neighbor. He describes seeing several observers clad in dark grays and greens, one of whom was sent off as a runner to “correct the aim.” Damal does not know what was being aimed, but he got a good enough look at these people, thanks to the glow of the fire, that he would be able to identify them.
Heppa and Tric do not engage with Damal here and now, but they take note of him as a reputable witness in the case against Lowrie and the Rats. After all, Heppa thinks grimly, he owes Alric.