Chapter 22 Ridley #3
She nodded, nearly losing her glasses in the process.
“I remember just about every dress I make. And Lord Crim, well, that family has been a customer for years. They’re very good customers. Horrible business, Bel going missing and all. Just terrible.”
Liv sat and motioned for the woman to do the same. “Tell me about Bel, about the dress you made for her recently.”
“We spent hours together, just the other day, even brought in a hairdresser. She was so excited. Couldn’t stop babbling about some dinner she had that evening. I wasn’t paying much attention. She’s such a sweet girl, but you must understand, Bel Crim could talk your ears off.
You don’t think her going missing had anything to do with my shop, surely?”
“No,” Liv reassured her. “We don’t think so, but we’re talking to everyone who saw her the day she went missing. Would you mind telling us about her visit that day? We never know what little detail might fit with other things we’ve learned.”
It took the dressmaker a moment to gather herself and recount the events of that day.
I was impressed with the level of detail she recalled, down to the stitch patterns Bel preferred, but there was nothing surprising—or particularly useful—in her recitation, other than that Bel asked to leave through the back door rather than the front.
She said she wanted to avoid running into her parents and ruining what she called, “her grand entrance.”
Liv stayed with the dressmaker as I spoke with her assistant in the back of the shop. She confirmed the same series of events and became emotional talking about Bel’s disappearance.
“Any read on either of those two?” I asked as we strode back to the Guild Hall.
“I think the shop’s a dead end, other than the tracks and the ring.”
I couldn’t argue, which meant we had nothing new to go on—unless the Mages had managed to find something.
It was lunchtime when we stepped through the humble door of the Guild Hall, so we headed straight for the dining room, confident our older partner would be holding court before any plate within range of his lanky arms.
As expected, Atikus, Pel, and two other Mages were already devouring mounds of food.
Atikus used his fork, still saddled with a roasted turnip, to motion for us to sit.
“Father, we met the most skilled seamstress today. Perhaps, after all these wonderful meals, she might let a little room out of those robes of yours. I believe the twins are kicking down there.” Liv poked Atikus in the ribs as she sat next to him.
Pel was so caught by the comment that a piece of turkey shot out of his mouth and smacked Atikus square in the forehead. The room erupted. The next half hour was spent eating and laughing, the group having bonded over what Pel dubbed, “the great flying turkey incident.”
As the plates were cleared, Atikus turned to me. “I’m afraid we were successful in our efforts with the ring.”
“Afraid? That’s great. Why don’t you sound happy about it?” I asked.
Pel stepped in. “We were successful in creating a scrying link using the ring. We could sense Bel’s presence and even ascertain a general direction and distance of her whereabouts. As hope rose of learning her exact location, the link snapped. Worse, the ring’s aura faded and winked out.”
“I’m sorry, Pel. My Gift has nothing to do with scrying. I haven’t done it before and haven’t spoken to many who have. Can you explain what that means?” Liv asked.
He nodded. “When an item is personal to someone, it often takes on some of that person’s aura. The longer it’s worn or used, the stronger the pairing of the auras becomes. In simple terms, the ring’s natural aura, which is very weak to begin with, is replaced by a linked version of Bel’s aura.
Think of it as a mirror of her own.”
Pel cleared his throat. “She had worn the ring only a few days earlier. It was a family heirloom with deep significance to both Bel and her family. Their auras weren’t simply connected; they were intertwined. What we witnessed in the scrying was Bel’s life force fading.
Her location and distance were still hazy, but we know one thing for certain: Bel is dead.”
Liv and I sat back in our chairs. Our shoulders slumped.
Our mission was to locate and save the young woman, yet here we were on day two of our search, and she was dead. It was hard not to let frustration and disappointment overtake us.
Pel spent the next hour explaining the process of scrying and the information they had gathered.
I listened numbly; it was hard not to take each explanation as an accounting of our failure.
Bel had been taken from Freeport and traveled west to somewhere beyond the mountains at the border, where we assumed she was killed.
Pel and his Mages excused themselves, allowing Atikus, Liv, and me to discuss our next steps alone. It took me a few long moments to set aside remorse and focus on the future. We’d known our mission bordered on impossible, especially starting a month following the kidnapping, but still . . .
“Atikus, would you mind sending word directly to the Arch Mage and Keelan? They’ll want this information right away,” I said.
Atikus placed a fatherly hand on my shoulder as he rose and excused himself to send the message, preferring the quiet of his room for such a task.
We decided to let the local Constables inform Bel’s parents, concluding there wasn’t any point in remaining in Freeport. It was just a couple of hours past noon, and we wanted to start home before the sun set.
An hour later, we had gathered our packs and thanked our hosts.
Pel presented each of us with a small bag of provisions that Mage Salt had prepared for our ride home.
Atikus grinned like a schoolboy as he stuffed his bag of goodies into his saddlebags.
By 16:00, we were on the road headed north, each dreading conversations that waited at the end of our journey.