"You must be the void mage."
I turned to the speaker, who was a short bald man with a stick in his mouth.
Not a stick.
A lollipop of sugary candy. Raspberry by the smell of it.
He was dressed in a well-worn suit and shoes which needed to be re-soled immediately. I don't know where he'd bought the suit from, but if I'd bought that suit it would have been by accident after a few more gin and tonics than I typically consume.
I certainly wouldn't have kept it the following day.
Grimsby would have burned it.
"And you're the Inspector?"
"That's right," he nodded. "Inspector Telly. I was told you wanted to see the goop."
"Goop?"
"Slime."
"Oh, yes."
His eyes didn't blink as he stared at me. There was something sort of reptilian about him. After a few deep breaths and a lick of his lollipop, he shrugged. "Alright. Follow me."
I followed.
The evidence room was a large warehouse of shelves stacked with boxes whose contents looked to be meticulously catalogued. I approved of the order.
At least, until it turned out that while the boxes were numbered, the books which kept records of where those boxes were located seemed to be lacking in accuracy.
After exploring a few aisles, Inspector Telly let out a grunt and pulled out a small box. Pulling out a small jar, he handed it to me. "This is what we found on the body."
"Hmm."
I stared through the glass at the slime.
It was sort of pink with a touch of violet threaded through it. In certain light, it would glow quite brightly.
With a careful twist, I pulled off the lid and inhaled.
Then slapped the lid back and twisted it sharply into place.
"It's got a unique stink," Telly said with a slight smirk.
"It does indeed," I said, trying to unscrunch my face. "Is this all there was? I thought there'd be more of it."
"That's all of it. It was only on his hands. Actually, mostly his fingers."
"Like he'd snatched it?"
"Exactly like that."
"But not on his body?"
"No. Just his hands."
"Sir Holmwood said it was covering him from head to toe."
Telly's face tightened. "The initial report wasn't accurate."
"Oh?"
"Some of the guard like blaming you for every little thing. The more evidence they have to blame you, the more time they can spend on other things."
"Hmm."
"That's why the monthly meetings are a good idea." The lollipop twitched between his lips. "Although not everyone would agree with that…"
"Hmm." I put the jaw back into the box. "So, the shoggoth probably didn't kill him. Or the slime would've been all over him."
"Hey, you should be an Inspector," Telly said drily.
"So, what did kill him?"
"I'd say the landing."
"Landing?"
"He fell from a great height. Landed in the yard behind the inn." He showed a short smile. The kind of smile only guards who'd seen a lot of grisly things could smile. "Were bits of him all over the place. Wasn't pleasant. Which is why Sir Holmwood didn't want to check the scene personally. Didn't want to dirty his shoes, I guess."
"There's nowhere to fall from, though."
"Right," he said. "Weird, ain't it?"
"A portal would do it, I suppose," I said.
"Portals." He snorted. "Everything's portals when no one knows what's going on. Why not say he was flying on a dragon and fell off?"
Quietly, I agreed with him. If people weren't crying void, they cried portals.
"Was he?"
"I don't know," he shrugged. "That's well above my pay grade."
"What is your pay grade?"
"Petty theft. Financial crimes which don't involve the upper class. The occasional mugging victim. You know. Normal daily life."
"Sounds awful."
"It is."
"Witnesses?"
"In that neighbourhood? Ain't nobody saw nothing." He sighed, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. "All we got is his name."
"Dermit Shanks."
"That's right."
"Reported missing."
"You read the file?"
"No. Sir Holmwood read it for me."
"Oh." His mouth twitched. "Did he mention the bit about the carriage?"
"Carriage?"
"A carriage was seen in the area just before Dermit disappeared."
"And…?"
"Ain't no one in that area can afford a carriage. And this one was real fine. Had mage lights on it and everything. Even had a driver in a uniform, but his face was wrapped up."
"Someone passing through?"
"They were stopped behind the smithy. Old Mrs Fetherington said they looked like they were lurking. She thought it was strange, because folks with enough money to afford a carriage like that aren't the type you'd normally associate with the business of lurking."
"Customer?"
Telly shook his head. "Ain't no rich customers there. Old Shanks makes mostly pots and pans. He drinks a bit more than he should, so they ain't exactly good quality. His wife runs a store in the market." Telly's eyes tightened. "She hoped Dermit might take over and improve the smithy's reputation in a year or so. He was their only kid."
"What kind of person was he?"
"Diligent," Telly said. "Everyone I spoke to said he worked hard. Reading between the lines, I get a feeling he didn't want to end up like his old man. He wanted to be somebody. I don't know if he'd have made it, but he didn't exactly get the chance."
"Hmm."
I didn't like the sound of this.
Something unpleasant was clearly happening and somebody was either very comfortable with using my reputation to cover up their mookish behaviour, or they were toying with forces they couldn't understand.
Neither option made me feel any better about what had happened to poor Dermit. I didn't know anything about the boy, but it didn't sound like he was a mook.
He didn't deserve to die like this.
"No one saw him enter the carriage, though?"
"Nope."
"What's your theory?"
"I ain't allowed to have one," he said carefully, sucking hard on the lollipop. "Anything involving upper class toffs using their money to exploit and murder kids is well beyond my pay grade."
"It's not above mine."
"Lucky you," he said. "Must be nice being able to do anything you want."
"Oh, I wouldn't say I get to do anything I want, Inspector. It might look like that from the outside. But from the inside, it's quite a different story."
"Who's gonna tell you what to do, though?"
I felt the Old Twit's amusement leak into my brain as he chuckled at the Inspector's assumptions.
"Let's just call it a higher power," I said softly. "There's more to the void than I think any of you understand."
"What? Like madness?" He looked like he wanted to push me. "I hear anyone who looks into it goes cuckoo. Is that true?"
"Mostly."
"Maybe they go crazy enough to start killing innocent kids and dropping them out of the sky? Mad enough to forget they did it?"
"Possibly," I said. "But if they had, their father would be very disappointed in them and would most likely take steps to ensure it never happened again."
"What kind of steps?"
"Drastic ones."
"Like ground you for a week?"
I stared at him, aware of what he was feeling.
What he saw when he looked at me was a man who lived a privileged life. Who never suffered. Who wore suits by Solsteims and Cart. Who carried a sturdy cane which proclaimed to the world my stature as a gentleman.
He saw a man who most likely had a privileged upbringing.
An upper class man.
A man with connections.
"Alas," I said softly. "I carry a cane, Inspector. Not a crutch. It wasn't nepotism which granted me my privilege. I did many things for the man who calls himself the Emperor. Things which would cause you to break your teeth on that lollipop of yours. And he did not grant me privilege for those things. I didn't earn what I have. No. I took it. It was not given. You might not understand or even respect that difference. Nor would you understand my reason for taking it in the first place. You might think it has to do with towers and wealth. Or perhaps power and legal protection. But you are quite wrong."
"You say that with a straight face," he snarled. "But how many upper class toffs have you offed? I don't ever see them on those lists of yours!"
I let my lips pull back into a smile.
Where a guard can smile a smile he earned as a guard, I can smile a smile which carried the terror of the void within the glint of my teeth.
"Did you not consider, inspector, that that list is also beyond your pay grade?"
He flinched.
"No," he said tightly. "I did not."
"Well. Perhaps you should."
And with that, I slashed a portal open into the void.
"Where are you going?"
I gave him an amused look. "I'm going to speak to the shoggoth whose slime is in that jar."
"You know who it is?"
"Yes. They all smell different."
"Gross."
"Tsk, inspector," I said, showing him my teeth one last time. "That's no way to talk about my family."