Chapter 57: Art of the Killer's Reenactment

Elara asked me what we should do next. I said there was, for the moment, naught to do. While we waited for word from the others, we might as well go back to the inn and sleep, to mend our spirits.

We went back to the inn. Dane was still lying in bed. I gave him the roast duck and the food I had brought. Dane ate with good appetite, and as he ate, asked after the day's inquiry. I told him in brief.

When Dane had heard my surmise, he asked, 'Soren, do you think this deed was not done by a man?'

'Nay. In any case, I hold fast that it was done by a man. Else there is no case to break,' I spoke, my eyes bright.

At that moment, there came the sound of running water from the next room. Dane was at once alert, and spoke with a lewd eye. 'Listen! Sister Elara is bathing!'

'Nay. The next room is Broderick's,' I answered.

He lay down, all interest gone. 'Pah! Old Wang next door!'

We had driven through the night to Wuqu City. I was long since spent with sleep. I slept a while, and when I woke, felt my spirit much mended. I opened my message-rune, and found I had received several messages.

The company had set up a magic message-circle. A Watchman said he had found a weighty piece of news. Moreover, Sir Bancroft Ash and Vivienne Locke had done what they were bidden.

I dressed, and knocked upon Elara's door and Broderick's, one after the other. After some five minutes, Broderick, fully dressed, stood before me. I asked him, 'Did you not sleep?'

'I slept,' he answered lightly.

After a while, Elara opened her door. She wore the inn's sleeping-robe, and had a moisture-clout upon her face. She stretched long, and said, 'That was a good sleep. What is it? Is there a clue?'

'Yea. You have ten minutes. Make haste, and dress,' I pressed her.

'Ten minutes? Ho! Have you ever waited for a maid? To dress and comb the hair must take half an hour at the least. If she paints her face, longer still.' Elara was in a flurry.

It was the first time I knew that a maid took so long to dress. I said, 'Then Uncle Broderick and I will go first. You come when you may.'

'Good!'

We came to the second-floor council hall. Sir Bancroft Ash, Vivienne Locke, and another Watchman were already there. Sir Bancroft Ash gave me two paper parcels. I opened them. One held three masks carved from yew. The other held several alchemical herbs.

I spoke in praise. 'You are swift in your errands!'

He answered, lazily, 'I have a friend who works in such crafts. He has a lathe in his shop. What would you with these things?'

'I have a weighty purpose. That is all,' I spoke, as one who held a secret.

Vivienne Locke had brought the white mice, two of them, in a small iron cage.

The Watchman said he had looked into the dead man's bank account, and found one doubtful great payment! Above five hundred thousand gold. This sum had vanished after death. The name of the payee was Edmund Yale.

I bade him and Sir Bancroft Ash go look into this Edmund Yale. As for Vivienne Locke, I had no task for her. I told her she might leave early if she wished.

But Vivienne Locke would go with Sir Bancroft Ash to look into the matter. As she went, I bade her leave me one of the keys to the scene of the murder.

I, for my part, borrowed the alchemical laboratory. I set the alchemical herbs to simmer over a slow fire. Then I bade the Watchmen who were with me get me each a sample of blood-serum from the male and female dead.

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When the serum was separated, I bade them inject a dose of twenty drops into each of the two white mice. At this moment Elara came. She saw the alchemical laboratory, with herbs simmering and mice being pricked, and spoke in jest. 'Soren, what evil experiment is this?'

'You shall know by and by.'

When the serum was in, I waited in silence a while. The two white mice were still as lively as could be. Elara, at a loss, said, 'There is no change at all.'

'Well. The test has failed. I had thought to see if they would fall upon one another,' I spread my hands.

'Fall upon one another?' Elara asked.

'Yea. To wait for the technical crew to give their result is too slow. I thought to make a living test. It seems we may, for the most part, rule out the work of drugs in these two murders...' I sighed in disappointment.

'Soren, you are cruel!' Elara cried aloud.

Then I told the men of the technical crew that they need not go on with the tests. The crew, who had been ready for a night of toil, gave a cheer, and made ready to go home.

When the alchemical herbs were done, I strained the liquor from them. Because I had no brush, I took a piece of linen cloth, dipped it in the liquor, and smeared it upon the inside of the three masks. Elara smelled the strange scent, and asked, 'What is this? It smells wondrous strange.'

'You shall know by and by.' When the liquor upon the masks had dried in the air, I took up the masks, picked up the cage with the white mice, and said, 'Come. Let us go back to the scene of the murder.'

'Now?' Elara looked at her watch. 'It is already half past five. By the time we come there, it will be dark.'

'No matter. I did mean to go at night!' I smiled, as one who held a secret.

We three drove to the old street. When the sun had set, every house had its folk within, at their meal or their watching. We lifted the Watch-cord, came to the door of the dead, and opened it with the key Vivienne Locke had given me.

At night, the air of the place was yet more ghostly. Elara put out her hand to light the lamp, and found there was no oil. I gave a wry laugh. 'Mayhap the oil-fee was not paid, and they stopped it.'

Then I drew out my message-rune, to give light.

The flour I had laid by day bore no mark. We went up to the second floor. I set the white mice upon the window-sill, pushed open the window, and drew from the bag three pairs of gloves. I bade them help me put the scene in order. The table and chairs were set right. The broken shards upon the floor were swept. The message-rune was set in the midst of the table, to serve as a lamp.

When all was in rough order, I brought out the three masks, and said, 'Let us make a reenactment of the crime.'

'What?' Elara was greatly startled. 'Ho! You choose your time well! This house is swimming in blood. How dreadful must the air be?'

'Be at ease. I know what I am about,' I answered.

Elara bore some doubt. 'Must it be done?'

'Yes!' I spoke with steadfastness.

'Well!' Elara nodded, in submission.

I gave out the roles. At first I had meant that Elara and I should play the husband and wife, and Broderick the old madam. But after coming here, I felt, in truth, that the air was ghostly, and my heart went cold in waves. For safety's sake, let the old madam's part go! She had no words, at any rate. I bade Broderick stand by, and if aught went awry, to break in upon us at once.

I gave one mask to Elara, and put another upon my own face. The mask was heavy, and one could see only through the two eye-holes. Elara weighed it in her hand, and said, 'I learned reenactment of crime scenes at the Watch Academy. But I never heard of wearing such strange masks. What drug do you sell in your gourd?'

I laughed, and made it known. This was, in truth, the Art of the Killer's Reenactment, recorded in the Codex of the Dead's Truth.

A forebear of the House of Vane had drawn his inspiration from the death-rites of the West. In old days, the shamans wore masks of ghosts and spirits, and by mystic dances were said to speak with the dead and the living. This forebear thought: might one not use the like art to set the crime back upon its stage?

And so, after ten years of trial, he brought forth this Art of the Killer's Reenactment. By having several men take the parts of those in the murder, one might set the crime before one's eyes anew, sound the heart of the killer, and seek out the traces that else might be missed.

The parts in the Art of the Killer's Reenactment are set by sex, birth-hour, and life or death, into several kinds. They are represented by the Twelve Prime Spirits of the death-rites of the West. These twelve masks are one more hideous than the last, and their purpose is to stir up in the reenactor the fear of death.

Thus the mask Elara held was Jumang, the symbol of the middle-aged woman who had died. And the mask upon my face was Chiyou, the symbol of the middle-aged man who was the killer.

The inside of the mask was smeared with a layer of a drug that stirs the passions, so that joy and wrath, sorrow and gladness, should be as true as if one lived them.

The subtlety of the Art of the Killer's Reenactment is hard to set forth in full. It holds within it the truths of soul-suggestion, and other things that the craft of proof cannot explain.

It is said that once, in the midst of the art, a man fell into a swoon. Then, in the voice of the dead, he cried out the name of the killer, and a case ten years cold was broken at last!

But it cannot be denied: the Art of the Killer's Reenactment is most perilous.

I had two reasons for its use. First, this case had, up to this hour, yielded no progress. Second, I had a surmise that I must put to the proof...