User blog:Leea/The Tale of Voronwe, Chapter 58

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4th Era 150, 3rd of Second Seed, Pyandonea
It looked like it had always been there, though it had just arrived. Cleverly hidden in a cabinet, the totem of Vaermina had candlesticks (with half burnt candles) and little flower offerings (wilted, day old flowers, as had been stipulated) surrounding it, making it appear as if Carodaar had actually venerated the Prince, even though he had worshipped no god in particular.

The word that the Investigator was looking into Vaermina worship was caught by one of their scholars at the Library of the Ancients, which mentally relayed this to Orthendar, who in turn notified persons in the Liberators who could procure a totem of Vaermina unobtrusively. Next, two known friends of Niranya - the two teenagers - were sent to Carodaar's where she still lived yet to offer "condolences" in the form of a sweet bread, which was also in the bundle along with Vaermina's totem. The bread needed to be sent, as someone might see them heading for Carodaar's house and when the Investigator came to look for Vaermina worship - like they expected him to - not having that bread there would be very incriminating. Someone could tell him that they'd seen two young men enter the house with a bundle, and when he inspected and found the Vaermina totem, he might think that they had brought it, potentially ending in disaster.

Niranya shut the doors to the cabinet and faced the boys.

"Thank you."

They nodded solemly. "We were proud to be chosen to help," they replied.

She nodded slightly. "Remember to act like you just visited a friend in mourning. Not--"

"We know," the eldest one interrupted, brushing the newly-grown scruff on his chin. "We'll be carefull."

She sighed and nodded, confirming. "Let me escort you to the door."

* * *

The book the assistant had unearthed from the stuffed shelves had more to do with vampires than Vaermina, though it did have an interesting bit about her involvement with the plague: Molag Bal had to ask her for the cure for vampirism when one wanted to be cured of the condition. Oncalimar idly wondered why the Patron of Vampires - and their sole creator - didn't even know how to cure his own creations. He had to ask the Patron of Dreams, Nightmares, and Torture for the cure. If you create something, you should at least be able to undo it. Perhaps the Prince of Domination acted on impulse in creating the abominations. Impulsive creations generally were harder to dismantle than those that were planned out beforehand.

He closed the book and shook his head. The information - though interesting - had nothing to do with the case at hand. He carefully placed the aged volume on the stack on the table and waved for a nearby assistant.

"Yes?" the young man asked when he approached. "Do you need any help, sir?"

"No, thank you," Oncalimar replied, rising from his chair. "I've found everything I needed. Just letting you know that I'm done with these books and scrolls." he stated, gesturing to the pile on the table before him.

"Very well. Have a good day, Investigator." the young man said, referencing the Investigator's uniform.

"You, too." he replied as he left the library.

* * *

He took a few moments to adjust his vision from the stark contrasts of the dimly-lit library to the brightness of the mid-afternoon sun. How time passes when you are deeply involved with something. Was there still enough time to head to Carodaar's house? Now that his eyes had fully adjusted to the natural daylight, he glanced at the sun and calculated the time. About three in the afternoon, give or take. It would easily be five or later by the time he arrived, and that didn't even account for inspecting the house for signs of Vaermina worship, questioning the housekeeper, and the ride back to his own residence. He stared at the horizon. A sudden wave of what he had always called "laziness" swept over him. A tavern was far closer; he'd seen it on his way here. When had he had a few hours off? He frowned slightly as he thought. They were as forgotten as the day or days off he (might have) had. Making up his mind, Oncalimar waved for a carriage and paid the driver, indicating the bar up the road from the library.