User blog:Leea/The Tale of Voronwe, Chapter 60

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4th Era 150, 4th of Second Seed, Pyandonea
There was a knock on the door. Stopping from her work, she hurried to the entry hall.

As he was about to knock again, the door opened under his raised hand.

"Good day, Investigator," Niranya said, recognizing him, though keeping one hand on the door.

He nodded. "Good day to you, too, ma'am."

"How may I help you?"

"I would like to have a look at the rest of the house. May I come in?"

"Of course," she replied, opening the door further.

* * *

She watched him kneel and open the door to the cabinet containing the planted Vaermina totem. As expected, there was some settlement of dust, and the flowers were even more wilted. He stared at it for some time, a hand on one knee and the other on the cabinet door. She thought she detected some unwinding of the muscles in his shoulders. After a time, the Investigator got up and turned to face her.

She'd spent some time the night before practicing "slightly guilty" faces in the mirror while Orthendar watched. Some that she'd thought were pretty good made him laugh, while a couple he thought were passable gave her the giggles. They eventually settled for a slightly pressed lips, averted eyes expression. She used this one as the Investigator faced her, tightening her lips slightly and avoiding eye contact. She didn't see his face when he asked the question, but thought she heard vindication. "How long had your employer worshipped Vaermina?" His voice was quiet, solemn.

Niranya brought her eyes up to his. They were as solemn as the rest of him. "For as long as I knew him."

"And how long was this?"

"Twenty five years...sir."

"He could have worshipped her longer than that, then." he said, seemingly thinking out loud.

"Yes, I suppose so. He never told about it, if he had."

The Investigator turned around briefly and shut the door, once more hiding the totem from vision. He faced her again. "Did Carodaar force you to worship the Prince, as well?"

She shook her head. "He worshipped her alone. I had no part in it."

His eyes flicked over her face, evaluating. Finally, he nodded. "Is there somewhere comfortable we could sit? There are a few more questions I'd like to ask you."

Niranya sighed. "Yes. Follow me."

* * *

The Investigator carried himself as one who was quite familiar with asking strangers probing questions. He sat across from her at the table in the kitchen, his fingers laced together as he lightly leaned his elbows on the tabletop. His back was straight but not rigid against the chair back, and his voice carried a serious though friendly tone. He likely had a different tone for different kinds of interviews, she thought.

"And he worshipped Vaermina every night?" he asked, well into her interview.

"No. Well, sometimes he did, sometimes he didn't. He might have worshipped her for several days in a row, before becoming more lax and not tending the shrine for a week or more."

"He never gave a reason for this behavior?"

"No," Niranya replied, shaking her head. "And I didn't want to ask. Vaermina repulses me."

"Then why did you stay on with him? You could have easily found work elsewhere."

The emotions from Carodaar's death came flooding back. She made no attempt to conceal her now-faltering voice and fresh tears. Although she had seen that killing him had been neccesary, she still missed him after knowing and caring for him for a quarter of a century.

"Because," she whispered, "He was like a son to me."

Oncalimar's expression softened. "Was this sentiment shared by him, as well?"

She stared at the tabletop as her tears began to run down her cheeks as she sniffled and laid her head in her hands. Her voice choked up, and her truthfull reply came out barely a whisper.

"He did. Many times. I'll never forget...never forget about him, for the rest of my life."

As she wept across the table from him, Oncalimar reflected on how much Vaermina had taken from this poor woman. A very good reason to worship only the Eight Divines or even no one at all. It would prevent such heart and soul wrenching loss as this.