A Portal for Your Thoughts Read online

  “Are you Constable Fensham?” Pheron asked, standing stiffly at attention.

  The constable didn’t look up but he did nod. Barely. He was a burly man in his mid forties. Standing just under six feet tall, the normally proud official was slumped over in his chair as if he had suffered the most debilitating of defeats. The forlorn man finally looked up and met Pheron’s eyes. The constable’s own eyes were bloodshot. His face was unshaven. His clothes were heavily wrinkled and he reeked of alcohol. This was a man who hasn’t slept in days, Pheron decided. He watched Fensham’s eyes drop to the king’s crest displayed on his right shoulder and then over to his left to note the gold bars signifying his rank as captain. Pheron motioned for his lieutenants to wait by the door and approached the constable’s table alone. He pulled out one of the rickety chairs, spun it around, and straddled the chair as he sat down. Leaning forward to rest his chest on the back of the chair he clasped his hands together and rested his elbows on his knees.

  “It’s a little early to be drinking,” Pheron casually remarked. There was no sense in frightening the inebriated constable any more than he had to. “Would you care to explain why you’re in here rather than conducting a search for this missing girl?”

  “We won’t find her,” the constable softly said. “Once they disappear they never come back.”

  “Why aren’t you even trying?” Pheron snapped. “If this was your daughter wouldn’t you want someone to at least make an effort to find her?”

  “She is my daughter!”

  Pheron hesitated. That explained the constable’s presence in the tavern and the fact that he was inebriated. How should he handle this? Dole out a reprimand for his behavior? Pheron shook his head. The loss of the man’s daughter had to be devastating. Perhaps he should show some compassion?

  “Uh…”

  Fensham’s gaze fell back to the table and landed on his ale. He drained the mug and angrily tossed it back to the table, where it bounced several times on the hard wooden surface. Pheron caught as it bounced over the edge and fell towards the floor.

  “We are here to help, constable,” Pheron gently told him as he replaced the tankard on the table. “We need to get to the bottom of these disappearances. Do you want to see your daughter again? Snap out of this. Help us.”

  “What do you want to know?” Fensham asked in the tiniest of whispers.

  “Everything,” Pheron promptly answered. “Start from… I’m sorry, what is your daughter’s name?”

  “Lissa.”

  “Lissa. What was she doing? Where did you see her last?”

  Fensham belched loudly. His face colored with embarrassment as he looked at Pheron.

  “I am terribly sorry. I have been feeling sorry for myself. Everything I have is at your disposal.”

  Pheron turned to his two lieutenants and motioned them over. Once both soldiers were seated next to him he turned back to the constable.

  “These are two of my lieutenants. Graylan is on my left and Tyril is on my right. I need additional sets of ears to listen to this. Now. Start from the beginning. How many people have been reported missing?”

  Fensham sighed and sat back in his chair. “Officially or unofficially?”

  “Let’s hear the official answer first.”

  Fensham sighed again. “My daughter is the fifth to disappear.”

  “And unofficially?” Graylan prompted.

  “At least a dozen.”

  “Why did you wait so long to report it?”

  “Many of our residents are fisherman,” Fensham explained. “Boats go down all the time. It is not uncommon for the weather to turn precarious from time to time. When that happens there are always reports of missing ships. Most of the people presumed to be lost at sea oftentimes turn up several months later.”

  “But you think otherwise?” Tyril prompted.

  Fensham nodded. “I do.”

  “Let’s focus on those who we know vanished,” Pheron suggested. “What can you tell us about the townfolk that disappeared?”

  “The first to be reported missing, where I knew it wasn’t fishing related, was a young man by the name of Quinn. He was going to head the new school that Prince Mikal had just set up.”

  The captain and his two lieutenants had produced small notebooks and were taking notes.

  “Appointed by the throne,” Pheron nodded without looking up. “Very well. Please continue.”

  “He disappeared without a trace. He didn’t leave any explanation or indication of where he was going. Instead we found his cottage fully furnished. All his possessions were still there, like he had just stepped out.”

  “How long ago was this?” Pheron asked. His two lieutenants paused with their quills hovering over their papers.

  “Over two years ago.”

  “And the next?” Pheron asked. He dipped his quill in the ink bottle and waited for the next name.

  “That would be Melvyn. He was known as the town drunk.”

  “How did you know he vanished?” Graylan asked, looking up from his notes. “How do you know he didn’t wander off and, in his drunken stupor, bump noses with a dragon?”

  “There are no dragons in these parts.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “His father said he didn’t come home one night. Melvyn may have been a drunk, and a fool, but he was a habitual drunk. He always made his rounds to the same businesses at the same time. Every day. When he didn’t make it home his father became worried and began investigating. No traces were ever found.”

  For a few moments no one could hear anything as three quills scratched away on three separate pieces of parchment. Pheron finally looked up.

  “And the third?”

  “Ruan.”

  “And who was he?”

  “He was an avid hunter. Ruan was one of the most skilled hunters I had ever seen. When he disappeared we just assumed that Ruan had been tracking something that had got the better of him. I was prepared to leave it at that until a group of searchers found his camp site.”

  Pheron looked up again. He scowled at the constable and waited for him to continue. When Fensham never bothered to look up from his empty tankard, Pheron cleared his throat. “And?”

  “All his supplies were there. Several bows, two quivers, a short sword, and a few daggers were all found at his camp. Since when does a hunter leave behind his weapons?”

  Pheron frowned. “He wouldn’t.”

  Fensham nodded. “Exactly.”

  “Who’s next?”

  “That would be the woodsmith, Ruskin.”

  “What was his story?”

  “Only that he was very particular about which wood he used in his shop so he was constantly searching for the right species of tree.”

  “His disappearance brought the king here, did it not?”

  Fensham nodded. “Aye. He chastised me, just as you did, for not reporting the disappearances earlier. I promised him that if I heard of any other peculiar occurrences then I would notify him immediately. I never dreamed my own daughter would be the next to vanish.”

  Pheron turned to Graylan. “Lieutenant, begin the search. You have the names of the previous victims. I will start working on the constable’s daughter.”

  Tyril jerked his head up and raised an eyebrow at his superior officer. Pheron cleared his throat and tried again.

  “That is, I will start searching for the girl. Have the men split into teams and begin investigating the four other cases. I want to know everything about them. What were their hobbies? What did they like to do for fun? Who were their friends? What was the nature of their jhorun? Where were they seen last? We need answers. Find them.”

  Both lieutenants nodded. They both stood and excused themselves from the table. Fensham watched as the group of soldiers standing silently outside broke apart and appeared to go their separate ways.

  Pheron turned back to the constable.

  “Tell me about your daughter. Her name is Lissa, correct?”r />
  Fensham nodded. His eyes teared up.

  “My lovely Lissa. She was only thirteen. She –”

  “Don’t speak of her as though she’s dead,” Pheron scolded. “We will get her back.”

  “Lissa is thirteen,” Fensham ammended. “She was so bright. Is. She is so bright. She wants to be a healer.” Fensham pulled out a handkerchief from his back trouser pocket and blew his nose so hard that he was certain the king could have heard it back in the castle.

  “Your daughter wants to be a healer?” Pheron nodded, impressed. “That is a very commendable occupation. The king can always use gifted healers.”

  “Lissa had a remarkable gift for finding natural remedies for everything from a common cough to the strongest of fevers.”

  “Was there anyone you can think of who would want to do her harm? Is it possible she may have been kidnapped?”

  Fensham shook his head. “No. This is a small village, lieutenant.”

  “Captain,” Pheron corrected.

  “My apologies, captain. Everyone knew Lissa. She’s an energetic girl who made friends easily and had a smile for everyone.”

  “What does she look like?” Pheron asked as he picked up his quill.

  “She has reddish blonde hair that sweeps down to her shoulders,” Fensham began. “She has green eyes, stands about 14.5 hands high and weighs about 7 stone.”

  Pheron was silent a moment as he mentally converted the archaic measurements into something he was more familiar with. He didn’t know why the constable had used the old style of weights and measures but figured it wasn’t worth bringing up at this point in time. After a few moments Pheron added a few more notes to his notebook. 14.5 hands was the equivalent of about five feet tall while 7 stone was just under a hundred pounds.

  “Where was she last seen? Do you know?”

  Fensham sadly shook his head. “She only told me she was going out to look for herbs. She never told me where.”

  “Will you take me to see her room?”

  Fensham nodded. “Of course. Follow me.”

  The constable rose unsteadily to his feet and headed towards the door. Once outside Fensham turned to his left and headed south. After a ten minute walk in complete silence Fensham pointed at a tiny, neatly kept cottage sitting on a small hill overlooking the water. A single gable stretched from one side of the house to the other. The cottage, Pheron noted, had been painted light blue while the trim around the windows and the doors was white. Rows of brightly colored flowers lined the walk up to the front door.

  “You have a lovely home. Is your wife here now?”

  Fensham shook his head. “My wife is dead. She died from complications during childbirth. Thank the wizards she delivered a healthy baby girl.”

  Pheron silently groaned. No wonder Fensham was in the tavern. His only daughter, the only family he had left, had vanished. He’d be distraught, too, if that had happened to him.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know about your wife.”

  “It was a long time ago, captain. I have long since grieved for her.”

  “I will do everything in my power to return your daughter to you,” Pheron vowed.

  In the process of opening the front door, Fensham turned and laid a friendly arm on Pheron’s shoulder.

  “I know you will, captain. Lissa’s room is just over there.”

  Pheron gently pushed open the door to the small room and looked inside. Several bundles of plants were hanging upside down near the window next to the small desk. The girl’s bed had been lifted up and was resting against the wall, presumably to give the girl more work space.

  To the right of the room’s only window was a large map of Capily. Judging by its incorrect scale and distorted landmarks Pheron deduced the girl had drawn it herself. Stepping up to the map he noticed that notes had been written all across it. Pheron nodded. The girl had been documenting where she had found specific herbs. Clever.

  Pheron turned back to the desk. Bottles and jars of dried herbs were everywhere. The girl had enough herbs to make a full-fledged healer jealous. He would have to talk to the king to see about helping the girl with her education. Provided he was able to find her.

  Pheron shook his head. He really shouldn’t be thinking like that, either. He will get her back. He just had to find out where she had gone.

  He turned to look back at the desk again. Something had caught his attention. As his eyes traveled over the surface of the desk he noticed that all the herbs were labeled. Everything was in its place. All the bottles were full. All except one.

  Pheron picked up the nearly empty bottle and rotated it so that he could see which herb was almost gone. It was goldenseal. While not knowing too much about herbs and their properties he did know goldenseal was used as a contact disinfectant. It was a common ingredient used in many salves. Could Lissa have been looking for more?

  The captain walked back over to the map and studied it. There. Northeast of the city, in a small section of the forest, was a tiny scribbled word: goldenseal. It was a place to start.

  “I noticed that, too,” Fensham told him from the doorway. “That was the first place I checked. I didn’t find anything.”

  “Noted. Nevertheless, it’s a place to start.”

  Thanking the constable and assuring him that he would keep him apprised of any new developments, Pheron headed toward the closest inn to procure rooms for the next several nights. He didn’t think this particular problem would be solved in one day so it was better to be prepared. He was anxious to see what else his men had been able to find out about the other missing villagers.

  ****

  Three hours later the contingent from R’Tal had reassembled in the same tavern they had originally found the constable in and were comparing notes. After three tables had been shoved together in the center of the room Pheron pulled out his notebook and flipped through a few pages.

  “Everyone, settle down. We need to find what these people had in common. We’ll go through them one at a time, starting with Quinn, the schoolmaster. What did we find out?”

  Lieutenant Graylan consulted his notes. “He didn’t have any family here. The only relatives I could find were his parents, who lived in R’Tal. The house where he had lived now has new occupants in it, who I’m sorry to say, didn’t know him at all.”

  Pheron frowned. “Were you able to find anyone that did know him?”

  Graylan nodded. “The cobbler. He remembers striking up several conversations with him whenever he had mended Quinn’s shoes.”

  “How often did his shoes need mending?” Pheron asked.

  “Quite often. It seems he was fond of hiking. He was an outdoor enthusiast.”

  “Where did he hike?”

  Graylan shook his head. “The cobbler didn’t know. No one else that I spoke with knew anything I didn’t already know.”

  Pheron consulted his list. “What about the town drunk?”

  Lieutenant Tyril raised a hand.

  “Melvyn’s father tells me that his son abused alcohol whenever and wherever he could. No amount of coercion could force him to surrender the bottle, so he was always in trouble.”

  “Did he frequent one tavern more than the other?”

  Tyril shook his head. “Apparently he was an equal opportunity drinker. Whenever one tavern threw him out he’d just move on to the next.”

  “Friends?”

  “None. There is something else I should point out, captain.”

  “Go on, lieutenant.”

  “Melvyn liked to roam about the city. I heard from numerous people that he had been found, passed out, in practically every street and behind every building.”

  “That doesn’t really help us too much.”

  Tyril shrugged.

  “What about Ruan, the hunter?

  Graylan flipped a page in his notebook and consulted his next set of notes.

  “He was an avid hunter. He was an honest businessman who sold his game at a fair wage. He was good friends
with the owner of the Bustling Barmaid.”

  Pheron raised an eyebrow and suppressed a smirk.

  “The Bustling Barmaid?”

  “It’s a fairly new tavern,” Graylan explained as he fought the urge to smile. “Ruan and the owner were quite close and frequently hunted together. The tavern owner couldn’t remember anything other than Ruan telling him he was restless and wanted to go hunting that day. Ruan had invited him along but the tavern owner had declined because several of his serving girls had fallen ill. That was the last he ever heard from him.”

  “Fallen ill from what?” Pheron prompted.

  His lieutenant looked at him blankly.

  “Find out,” Pheron ordered. “Any detail, no matter how unimportant, could be helpful.”

  Graylan nodded.

  “And what of Ruskin the woodsmith?”

  “He was a wood worker,” Graylan answered. “His shop is located in the southern district. He turns quite a profit, I’m told. His wife showed me some of his work. It’s truly amazing.”

  “Did he have any known enemies?”

  Graylan shook his head. “On the contrary, he was an outstanding citizen. I checked with all the adjacent businesses and the owners had nothing but high praise for him.”

  “And finally, we have Lissa, the girl,” Pheron added. “She was – is – an aspiring healer. She vanished while searching for herbs.”

  “How does that help us?” Tyril asked.

  “I’m fairly certain she was searching for goldenseal. According to a map I found in the girl’s room, there is an area northeast of the city that had the label ‘goldenseal’ next to it. I believe that was where she had found the herb before and was planning on searching again.”

  Tyril unrolled a map and spread it out on the table in front of them. He made a mark on the map.

  “This is where you’ll find the educator’s house.”

  Graylan took the pen and made another mark.

  “Here is Melvyn’s house.”