The Poems of Madam Albithurst: The Constabulary Returns

The events that spanned our delightful reunion at Lady Quixtactictle’s mansion, and the remarkably less delightful environs of the local Constabulary are not worthy of report. Instead, allow me to explain what happened just before myself and Mr. Porist were released on our own recognizance, as they are far more pertinent to this particular poem.

Once again, my dear Captain Sir Venriki de’Laisey was eager to reacquaint himself with my company. I could only imagine how long he had searched for me, after realizing he had let me slip through his fingers once before without so much as a nightcap.

The dear man, his face was still masked with placid professionalism as he escorted us through the interrogation-room door, sparing me not a single a furtive glance; hiding his passions, no doubt, lest he betray his predilections and force his own recusal from the case, never to see me again. Of course, he could have always asked me over for tea, but my poor Captain was so devoted to his job that I’m certain the idea never once occurred to him.

“Madam Albithurst,” he said, sitting down across the table from me. “May I ask what you are doing here at the Grand Junction?”

“I might ask the same of you, Captain de’Laisey,” I smiled most charmingly at my friend. “The Anointed Bulwark has legal jurisdiction in many places across the Myriad Worlds, but the Grand Junction has its own police force, if I remember correctly.”

“It does,” my Captain looked glum.

“And of all times, with such a large gathering of folk-of-war, I’m certain there are more important and above all essential things for your illustrious law-keepers to do than chase after me.”

“There are,” my Captain fumed.

“And yet here we sit, in this frankly un-comfortable room, as though I were a common criminal. You know me better than that, I should hope, Captain de’Laisey.”

“I know you quite well, Lady Albithurst,” he heaved a great sigh of, I can only assume, heartfelt wistfulness. “But the facts remain. Your hat-pin was found in the deceased Duke’s fist. Within days after questioning you about it, you absconded on a Golden Howdah for the Grand Junction, only for the vessel to explode in mid-journey. You numbered among those not accounted for upon the survivors’ return, and now I find you in the middle of an unlawful attack by no less than six separate military squads on the mansion of one Lady Quixtactictle, whom I should warn you is considered a person-of-interest outside of this unimaginable assault. Do you not understand how this could be perceived, Madam Albithurst?”

“Well,” I said, clasping my hands in my lap, “I can certainly see how, if you construct the facts in that particular order, with that particular intent, that it might look however you wish it to look. But that requires you to ignore a great number of significant facts that you have overlooked at the moment, not the least of which is that ‘being interesting’ is neither a suspicious nor derogatory quality, no matter how deep you pitch your tone when you say it, Mister de’Laisey.”

My Captain pinched his nose at this, a sure sign I had struck a rhetorical blow. Magnanimous in victory, and merciful in soul, I reached out with my lace gloves to grip his hand in mine. “Come now, dear Captain, why don’t you tell me what is bothering you?”

I am most certain that my beloved Captain was about to tell me everything, and if not beg for my assistance, at least plead for my sympathies — which would of course be graciously and unreservedly given — when the door to the interrogation room was pushed open by a short and sharply dressed soldier.

Their face was drawn and dark, their eyes piercing and clear. Their uniform was similar to that of the Anointed Bulwark, but ornamented with metal and silk. A sash of silver cut across their chest, and they carried with them a stack of paper under their bent arm. On their head was a plumed and maned helmet of copper and brass. They moved with fierce abandon, brushing my Captain out of his chair and taking his place with what in any other circle I would have considered quite rude, but it was clear that this particular officer was in one of the many militaries, and they have completely different standards of politeness.

“Gallant Lady Marabella Winterblee Delphinium Warde uf Howelett Euphrasia an Albithurst?” the entrant asked, glancing at the top sheet of paper they had just dropped on the table.

“That is my full name, yes,” I admitted. “Please, call me Madam Albithurst. It is much easier on the throat, and I fear that, given the size of your stack of papers and your purposeful behavior, you desire to speak with me for an extended period of time?”

“No longer than it needs to be,” the soldier sniffed, taking my offered hand and flashing a quite crude smile. “Just a few questions and then we can have you on your way.”

“I would be perfectly happy to answer any questions you have,” I pulled my hand back, “but I was just speaking with my dear friend Captain de’Laisey, whose seat you have just taken. After I have finished my discussion with him, I will be more than willing to speak with you.”

“I’m afraid that’s not how this works. The Captain is here on behalf of the Anointed Bulwark, while I am Field General Elevenstar of the Unified Military Task Force of the Tentative Alliance, Forthright Division. I command more than half of the soldiers and officers currently stationed at Grand Junction, and as such take precedence over any minor police issues that may also involve the current situation.”

A glance at my Captain confirmed General Elevenstar’s brusque assessment of the facts. He leaned against the wall with arms folded, a sour frown on his face like he had just swallowed an entire lemon. “I was interrogating her already, General,” he muttered into his upturned collar.

“I am certain,” the General’s tone was deceptively light, “that you may interject at any point that you feel you have something to add to the conversation, Captain. Now, Madam Albithurst, you were discovered by the Anointed Bulwark leaving a person-of-interest’s mansion during a firefight between no less than six separate military squads —”

I’m afraid at this moment I found myself far less patient than I had been. “Yes, General Elevenstar, I admit to all the readily available facts, though likely not their interpretations. I have already gone over this with Captain de’Laisey, and I am not interested in repeating it. I am far more interested in why you both consider ‘interest’ a suspicious quality to have? I myself have been called quite interesting on multiple occasions, and yet I cannot say I’ve ever been aware of being such a topic of conversation among the military.”

General Elevenstar glanced at my Captain, who gave a smirk of such satisfaction, I can only dream at what might have given him such glee. “It is a term of art, Madam Albithurst,” they said as they turned back, “‘Person-of-interest’ means, more or less, that the person in question has behaved in such a manner as to suggest a possible crime has been committed.”

“Ah,” I said with a relaxed smile, “that explains it then. I must say, I am relieved to know that the term does not, in fact, describe the person beyond a significant act, as I have never been such a ‘person-of-interest.’”

Captain de’Laisey sputtered and coughed, his eyes blazing bright, as he no doubt found the idea of me committing a crime equally absurd as I did.

“Be that as it may,” General Elevenstar sniffed, turning a paper over and reading the back, “The Tentative Alliance has reason to believe Lady Quixtactictle has engaged in behavior that is tantamount to an act of war, and we are investigating that fact at this very moment.”

“An act of war?” I was aghast. “You must be joking! The poor dear has just seen her mansion torn to bits in front of her, and now you suggest she is a criminal? Has she not suffered enough?”

“That’s not my department,” General Elevenstar shrugged. “Aside from the fact that it appears a good half of her mansion was destroyed through her own efforts to drive off her attackers, there are facts and clues that go beyond your little evening meal, Madam Albithurst, and it is these that make her a person-of-interest.”

“Indeed?” Now I found myself quite interested, perhaps more so than I had been before. “And what crime do you think she has committed? Is it something to do with the murdered Aeolam?”

“Not at all,” General Elevenstar said, setting aside another page before pausing, pulling the paper back, reading both sides, and then looking at Captain de’Laisey.

My Captain stepped forward. “What are you talking about? What murder?”

“The Aeolam,” I explained. “Surely your investigations must have included the Aeolam on the Golden Howdah. She was the only Aeolam on the vessel, I’m sure of it, and had locked herself in her cabin. Of course, I thought the poor thing might be in want of some company, so I went to visit only to find her dead. Murdered by a knife to the chest.”

“You what?” Poor Captain de’Laisey, he was quite astonished to find me so well versed in the facts.

“But not by the Archonarchian,” I continued, “of this I am certain. The wound was so high on the chest, and the Aeolam so tall, there would be no way the Archonarchian could have reached. Their clothing is so binding about the upper arms, you see, so she could hardly have stabbed any higher than the poor thing’s stomach.”

“The Archonarchian?” Now General Elevenstar’s brows were furrowed. Of course, the poor dears were confused, as there were three on the vessel.

“The female,” I explained. “Yes, the taller of the males might have been able to reach so high, but he was nowhere to be seen when I arrived, and the cabins were so small, that he would have left some other sign of his being there. No, the female was there, of course, also with the intent to kill the Aeolam, she said, but would have done so with strangling. Someone had beaten her to it, however, and she seemed to think it had something to do with their great construction, their super-weapon, whatever it is.”

My poor Captain was so amazed at my cleverness, he couldn’t do anything but open and close his mouth like a fish. His eyes bulged and he cleared his throat, likely to think of a way to compliment me at my mastery of the many threads of this case. The General merely blinked, pulling paper after paper off his stack.

Now, let it not be said that I would ever let fellow converseuers flounder in uncertainty over what to say next, especially since I required no complements of my actions, so I continued my discourse over matters I thought important. I explained the helpful manner of Sir Juhrooz the Circumspect, the life-saving intervention of the Golbegigenthwaite, and gave him but a sampling of the poem I had already begun to compose, though he did not seem receptive. I gave a thorough accounting of the events surrounding the Golden Howdah and its destruction, as best as I remembered, having been unconscious for a good portion of the excitement.

“Madam Albithurst,” General Elevenstar said at last, interrupting me during my second attempt to describe the consistency of the strange mud-hut I had found myself in, “I have tried to be polite, but the issue of manners is, unfortunately, not in my wheelhouse. Instead, I am afraid I must become brusque. Are you involved in any way with a plot to perform espionage on or near any territory claimed by the Tentative Alliance?”

“Never mind that,” Captain de’Laisey slapped his hand on the table. “Why have you engaged in a flight across the Velvet to the Grand Junction after I explicitly ordered you to remain nearby in case we needed to question you further regarding the death of the Duke of Ten Vials?”

“Both of your questions are easy enough to answer,” I smiled soothingly. “No I am not, and I am looking to book passage to the Sibilants.”

“The Sibilants?”

Now while I do not deny that things had, in fact, gone far enough, I could not help but feel a little betrayed at my Captain’s reaction. While the General’s aghast astonishment was not unexpected, I knew my Captain had a solid head on his shoulders. I placed my hands on my hips and told him: “I will not continue to cooperate if my efforts are rewarded with no more than further astonishment and consternation. Yes, the Sibilants. I have it on good authority that someone there knows the location of at least a part of Encinidine.”

“The Encinidine?” My Captain lunged, his hands white and firm on the tabletop. “Was it a Archonarchian agent who told you where to find them? Do they have it already? Only a piece? How is it being used in the great construction? What are they going to do with it? Will they return it? Corrupt it? Claim it in defiance of the High on High?”

“Are you working for them?” General Elevenstar leaned forward with a paper in each hand. “Whom are you working for? The Illiside Army? The Black Kingdom’s Illslayers? The East Spawmirsh Legion? What do they want with the information Lady Quixtactictle stole?”

“Why did you do it?” my Captain shouted. “What does Mr. Porist have to do with it, and why destroy a Golden Howdah on the journey? Are you working with the Archonarchians against the Tentative Alliance?”

“Why would she be,” the General shouted louder, “if she’s also committing espionage in defiance of both the Archonarchians and the Alliance? You don’t think she’s a double agent?”

“Playing both sides?” The Captain was almost screaming. “Kill the Duke, tell the Archonarchians where Encinidine is, and then steal information in the process to give to a third party?”

“Who is the third party?” the General could scarcely breathe, “The Trunkhandle Gilbrim Liberation Front? The Dworg Confederacy? The Burnlandish Hegemony? The Fortuna Demarchy? The Twenty-three Distributist States? Whom do you work for, Madam Albithurst?”

“What is your plan, Madam Albithurst?”

“What is Lady Quixtactictle’s part in all this?”

“Where did the hat-pin come from?”

“What does Mr. Porist know?”

“What is the Seventh God of the Angry Pantheon?”

“Where is the Encinidine?”

“Why did you run?”

“Tell us! Tell us now!”

Now, I could recognize a silly game of one-upmanship when I saw one, and so I waited, patiently, until my two interrogators collapsed on top of each other in exhaustion. While they caught their breath, I adjusted my gloves and leveled a polite if steely smile at the two of them.

“Sir de’Laisey, Mister Elevenstar, I think this has gone far enough. You are both putting up very brave faces while clearly being accosted by multiple sides in a complicated political issue, but I think at least we know each other well enough, Captain, that such masks are unnecessary? And if this makes you uncomfortable, General, I hope you consider the fact that I am far less willing to speak to someone in trust when they do not trust me. Now, while I understand your passionate desire to know more about me and my motives, I daresay you are avoiding the far more important questions. The Archonarchian assassin, she told me she had come to kill the Aeolam because the poor thing was one of the Twelve Hands, a group focused on preventing their ‘great construction.’ Now, if she meant this mysterious super-weapon that is on the lips of every gossip-monger from here to Peddishyam, who else wanted their great construction to continue? Surely not an agent of the Tentative Alliance, unless there is someone who is so desperate for war and drinking of blood that they play both their own side and another. But even then, the most barbaric of warrior-nations must assuredly fear a super-weapon that would end a war before it starts. And why destroy a Golden Howdah once the Aeolam had been slain? In fact, why had the Aeolam traveled the Velvet on a Golden Howdah at all?”

The two officers stared at each other for a moment, before adjusting their clothing and settling themselves in a more orderly manner. After clearing his throat, my Captain took a deep breath and spoke first: “I must insist you answer this question first, Madam Albithurst; Who told you that the Encinidine is in the Sibilants?”

“I do wish you would pay more attention, Captain. I am going to the Sibilants, not because the Encinidine is there, but because someone there knows where it is. And if you must know, it was Mrs. There-and-Back who told me to travel to the Sibilants. I’m sure you won’t think them an agent of the Archonarchy. Nor am I; you know the Guild does not involve themselves with foreign politics. Why, it would be a scandal. No, I am neither affiliated with the Archonarchy, nor any other group apart from the Grandiose Guild of Sensationalists, of which I am currently a member in good standing.”

“For what purpose are you searching for the Encinidine,” General Elevenstar asked. “Military? Bribery? Ideology?”

“Why, my dear General, of course I wish to clear my name in the unpleasant death of the Duke of Ten Vials,” I said, telling only a half truth. “Surely, if I find the Encinidine, then I need only wait for the murderer to arrive, for what other reason could there be for killing such a lovely man? Now, you have each asked your questions, I think it is high time I redirected you back to the more important questions I have just asked you?”

But the two officers were not interested. Instead, they continued to demand information about the military squads, what they had been searching for in Lady Quixtactictle’s mansion, and other such obscure trivialities.

I considered explaining further, especially the details of how I knew for a fact the Archonarchian pilgrim was not as involved as they believed, but I decided against it. The truth of the matter was that, if she was to be believed, she was going to be punished upon her return. To also subject her to the armies of the Tentative Alliance — to say nothing of the hunting noses of the Anointed Bulwark, whom I knew would pursue a suspect even behind the door — felt unfair.

I considered, ever so briefly, asking my dear Captain if there was anything to be done for the poor dear, as I still believed that to be punished for not doing a thing that had already been done seemed quite unreasonable, and what are the peacekeeping forces of the Myriad Worlds for, if not being reasonable?

But as I had said before, the Anointed Bulwark, and my Captain in particular, had a great deal already to deal with, and my adding another task to his tray would hurt him most terribly. Coupled with this moral mercy was the more practical fact that General Elevenstar was also in the room, and either telling the General about the pilgrim or whispering privately into my Captain’s ear seemed both unwise actions to take.

I daresay it took half the day before my Captain and the General had both exhausted themselves asking me questions to which I consistently gave perfectly adequate answers.

“Madam Albithurst,” General Elevenstar stood up at last, collecting the papers that had been scattered around the room, “because of your consistent refusal to give even barely adequate answers to our questions, I am afraid you will need to be detained here for an indefinite period of time until the Tentative Alliance is convinced you are not an enemy agent.”

“You can’t do that,” Captain de’Laisey shouted back. “She’s a person-of-interest in my investigation into the death of the Duke of Ten Vials. She must be returned to my custody at once!”

Instead, I raised my hands in delicate supplication. “Officers, please, I am certain we can come to an amicable arrangement. If it will expedite matters, if I am allowed passage to the Sibilants, I promise to return once my journey is complete — and, if as a result of my travels come across the Encinidine, or the person who actually murdered the Duke of Ten Vials, I will be certain to keep hold of them until I can return them to the custody of the High on High.”

At hearing this, the officer’s faces became wood. “I’m afraid that is unacceptable, Madam Albithurst,” the General said. “As a result of the recent escalations between the Archonarchy and the Alliance of the Myriad Worlds, all travel has been commandeered for the moving of troops and supplies. The Grand Junction has closed off all travel between World Regions and inter-kingdom territories.”

Hearing this confused me terribly, and I said so. “Isn’t the Sibilants technically a part of the inter-kingdom territories, same as the Grand Junction?”

“What the General is trying to say,” my Captain explained, “is that your travel-papers have been revoked and re-administered to the your former port-of-call.”

“Revoked?” I was astounded at the word.

“I’m afraid, Madam Albithurst,” the General sneered, “that your presence at Grand Junction is no longer legal.”

“Yet another reason,” my Captain growled, “that she should be turned over to the Anointed Bulwark for trial and sentencing!”

“The Grand Station is under military jurisdiction,” the General snapped back, “and so she should be given over to the head of Military Jurisprudence!”

“Fine,” the Captain shouted. “Get them in here and I’ll shout at them too!”

“I’m the head of Military Jurisprudence!” the General shouted. “There have been significant budget cutbacks and we have to wear many hats!”

At this point, I realized that my continued presence was serving little purpose but instigate further ire between these two gentlemen. As I did not want my illegal presence on the Station to cause even more trouble, I slipped out through the door while they argued, informing the guards I merely wanted a moment of fresh air.

I’m sure the guards would not have stopped me had I told them the truth — that I was going to leave the Grand Station so as to prevent a crime-in-progress — but I didn’t want to take up more of their time than necessary.