[This story is part of the Soothfinder Series.]
Thomas stared down at the body, his mind a flurry of thoughts. He glanced over at Isabel, who was gazing through the mangled, muddy mess of bones and blood, almost as if it wasn’t really there.
“You alright?” he offered, fixing his eyes on hers. “You can head home if you want to.”
“No,” she said, in a daze. “I’m fine.”
“Well, talk me through what you see.”
She pointed down at the deep hoof prints in the wet mud. The early morning sun cast strong shadows from the ridges and lumps, glistening off the wet pools of water and blood. “He was trampled,” she said, steeling herself. “But not just in passing. He was trampled a lot.”
“Very good,” he said. “What else?” He glanced toward the west gate, just a few paces from where they stood.
“It looks like the horse tracks enter and leave through the gate.”
“Excellent, now back to the body.”
She stared down at the grisly scene and bit her lower lip. “He’s unrecognizable. Even if we cleaned off all the mud and guts, his face has been mauled beyond recognition.”
“Convenient,” he remarked, rolling his eyes.
She shot him a disapproving glance. “Not for him,” she scowled.
He gave her a wry grin and looked back to the body. “What was the cause of death?” he asked.
“Obviously he was trampled to death. No way anyone could survive that.”
“Are you sure? What evidence do you have that suggests he was alive when the trampling began?”
She looked around the body and stooped down on her haunches for a closer look. She reached out and took the edge of the man’s tattered cloak and pulled it free of the dark red mud, peering at it. The sun’s rays peeked through a small hole in the cloth and she smiled. “He was shot by an arrow, or perhaps a bolt.”
“Very good,” he lauded.
“The killer must have taken the arrows to make it look like an accident.” Encouraged by his praise, she began digging deeper, feeling around the inside of the robe, moving her hands under the rope tied loosely around his waist and along the leather belt underneath. She groaned and let out an exasperated sigh. “There has to be something else…”
Thomas looked on with pride. He had almost skipped knocking on her door when the guard had summoned him to the scene. He didn’t love the idea of bringing a child apprentice to her first murder case, especially when the body was so badly mangled. But Isabel had been more fearless than most adults about it, and Thomas was impressed.
“Ah ha!” she cried, pulling a muddy pouch out from the mess.
Thomas smiled as she wiped the mud off the leather and smeared her hands around on her pants before opening the pouch. She pulled out a folded piece of parchment that was completely covered in neat, black text. She unfolded it and examined it with a furrowed brow. “It’s just gibberish,” she said, looking at Thomas with disappointment. She extended the letter up to him.
“You know how to read?” he asked offhandedly, taking the parchment from her.
“My mom teaches me in the evenings.”
Thomas knew that, on the whole, the people of Riverwood kingdom were far more educated and literate than most of the world, but he was still mighty pleased that his 10-year-old apprentice could read. He gave her an approving nod and turned his attention to the document.
After he had stared at it for a moment, Isabel got to her feet and looked at it with him. “Can you read it?” she asked.
He hummed. “No,” he said. “It’s some kind of cipher.”
“What is a cipher?” she asked.
“Well, when you have a secret you need to share with someone, you can change things about the message in a way that only you and your recipient know about. That way anyone else who gets the message can’t read it.”
“Oh,” she sighed. “So we can’t read it?”
“Well..” he said. “Let’s go back to your house and take a look.” He turned to the guard who had summoned him to the scene of the crime, noting that a small crowd had gathered around them. “Go ahead and clean this up now,” he said. “Thank you for letting me take a look before you disturbed it.”
“You’re welcome,” he said eagerly. “I remember when you and your wife used to help catch killers. She always got really angry if we moved anything at the scene of the crime.” He chuckled fondly and puffed up his chest.
The mention of his late wife stung, but he forced a smile. “Be on the lookout for any horses with blood on their hooves, bloody arrows or bolts, and strangers snooping around.”
“You got it,” the chipper guard replied before turning his attention to the mangled man. “Uh, any idea who he was?” he asked. “I’d hate to have to deliver the news to his family…”
“He wasn’t from around here,” Thomas reassured the guard. “I have a hunch about where he might be from, but for now just bundle him up and keep the body in the dungeon for me. While you’re pulling him out of the mud, keep any of his personal belongings separate so I can inspect them later.”
The guard nodded and got to work, ordering the crowd to disperse.
Thomas and Isabel walked back to her house. “Do you really think you can read that message?” she asked enthusiastically.
“I’ll try. I’ll teach you everything I know about cryptography and ciphers, and if it’s not enough I have a friend who can help.”
“Nope,” Isabel announced, roughly getting up from the table and throwing her hands up in exasperation. “That was the last one too!”
Thomas was familiar with shift ciphers, and he and Isabel had spent the bulk of the morning trying every shift offset on the first dozen letters of the message to see if any familiar words might appear.
“Well,” he offered, “I did warn you that my knowledge about ciphers was limited. But I know who might be able to help.”
He stowed the letter in the purse on his belt and smiled. “Let’s have lunch with the queen,” he said.
Isabel giggled. “That’s so weird,” she grinned, bubbling with delight.
As they walked to the castle Thomas began to worry about how close Isabel was getting to him. She reminded him of Emma in all the best and worst ways. His heart wanted to welcome her into his life, embrace the company she provided, but the pain of loss hovered over him like a millstone dangling from the thin thread of life. So when she reached for his hand as they walked together on the road, he deftly avoided her touch and rubbed his face as though lost in thought.
They were welcomed by Bartholomew, who happened upon them in the courtyard outside the royal hall. “One of my guards told me you looked over the body he found trampled in the road,” he said with an accusatory air.
“Yes,” Thomas smiled. “That’s correct.”
“He also said you looted something from the body. A document perhaps.” He was almost growling.
“Oh, yes,” Thomas said, pulling the paper from the pouch on his belt. “This is the one.”
Bartholomew snatched at it but Thomas quickly retracted his hand and slid the parchment back into his purse.
“You won’t be able to read it,” he said flatly. “Though I may have a way to have its meaning deciphered. As the appointed court Soothfinder I can assure you that my apprentice and I will uncover the scandal that has left a man murdered in our streets.”
The head guard glared at him. “That man was trampled to death. This was not a murder. You speak no more truth than the crazy soothsayer that wanders our streets at night.”
“Oh!” Isabel chimed in. “Arthur! I love Arthur! Do you know he told me once about a dream he had in which he was in the belly of a great jewel encrusted silver bird that flew over the seas spewing flames from its wings? He tells the most delightful tales!”
Thomas smiled. “Please excuse us, Bartholomew. We must meet with the queen at once.”
“You can’t,” he grumbled. “She’s at lunch. She said she’ll see no one until she’s finished.” He seemed hurt.
“No one?” Thomas asked. “Or, perhaps, did she refuse your company?”
Isabel snickered as they left the guard fuming in his boots. They knocked at the door and a dining staff girl opened it a crack. “Sorry,” she began with a soft but polite tone, “the queen said she’d prefer to eat alo…” she stopped short. “Oh! Thomas! She did say she’d welcome you. Please, come in!”
She briskly walked them to the table where Queen Julia sat alone with several platters of meats and porridges laid out. She looked up at the source of approaching footsteps and smiled. “Ah! Thomas and Isabel. Please be seated with me!” Trenchers, bowls, and spoons were set out for them and Thomas watched as Isabel dug into a fat chicken leg.
“What news do you have from the man in the street?” she asked politely, before taking a ginger bite of her own roasted chicken leg.
“The good news is that he was likely from out of town.”
The queen smiled and nodded.
“However,” Thomas added, “he carried a secret message for a traitor among us.”
Her eyes widened. “A secret message? Traitor? How do you know?”
He told her about the parchment, which was covered in a lengthy jumble of unintelligible letters and explained that there were few likely scenarios in which a secret message exchange would not be traitorous. She took a long breath and sighed.
“Well, what do you require of me?” She glanced at Isabel, who was eagerly shoveling a messy slice of sambocade directly into her mouth. “Besides the lunch.” She smiled warmly.
“I wish to see Abbot Emil.” He paused. “In private. My apprentice may observe, but nobody else.”
“Very well,” she said. “It will be arranged.”
The Abbot was ancient. He didn’t take many visitors and spent most of his time turning the pages of books that nobody had opened in a hundred years. Isabel sneezed several times in a row as they entered his room and Thomas felt the dust tickling his own nostrils as well.
“Ah,” Abbot Emil sighed through a wide smile. “Thomas, how good it is to see you.” He struggled to his feet despite fervent protests from Thomas, and wrapped his bony arms warmly around his old friend. In his ear, the old man whispered, “I really miss Emma. Any time you two visited it was the warmest, brightest part of my day.” He released Thomas from the hug and held his shoulders, his eyes searching. “Now, to what do I owe this visit?” His scan brought his eyes down to Isabel, and he gasped. “And you brought company!”
He hunched over and turned to the apprentice. “My, you’re a young one. Let me guess, you are studying under Thomas.”
She smiled and nodded, keeping her lips sealed tightly, just as Thomas had instructed.
The old man straightened out and peered at Thomas. “I am glad you have taken on an apprentice. Your skills are much needed in this kingdom.”
“So are yours, Father,” Thomas said, digging into his purse. “I need help reading a cipher.” He handed the parchment to the old man. “Do you think you can help?”
Emil took the paper to his desk and slowly lowered himself into the hard, worn chair. “You must have already tried a shift cipher,” he mused. “I remember teaching you that one.”
“Right,” Thomas confirmed. “I’m concerned this one is a random substitution and I fear that, without the key, we will not be able to read it.”
“Who had the message? Have you questioned him for the key?”
“The messenger is dead, and we do not know who the intended recipient was.”
He chuckled. “Well the messenger undoubtedly didn’t have the key, and we wouldn’t want to risk exposing the recipient. I assume you know who he is?”
“Not yet,” Thomas lamented.
“Pity,” the Abbot said, peering at Thomas out the corner of his eye. “Though your request to meet with me in private is telling, my dear boy.”
Thomas smiled. “Can the message be revealed without a key?”
The old man drew in a long breath and held it. “Well,” he began, “I recently exchanged letters with an old Saracen who claims that he has cracked substitution ciphers without need of the key. He made use of a detailed analysis of letter frequencies in his language, and by counting the letters in the cipher text he was able to reverse the substitutions. It is a time-consuming technique, but your letter here is long enough that it might work.” He turned the page over and saw that both sides were densely packed with letters.
“That does sound promising,” Thomas said. “Do you already have an analysis of letter frequency established?”
“Indeed, it is information I can obtain easily. Go, and return on the morrow. I will read the letter for you then.”
“I can perform the analysis myself with…” Tomas began, but he was cut off.
“I insist,” the Abbot smiled. “I will not enlist the help of any of my monks. You need not fear. I’ll handle it myself with the utmost discretion.”
“Very well,” Thomas said. “But speak of it to no one.”
“I fear the worst for my order, Thomas. Please, I ask you to handle this issue with care as well.”
Thomas nodded. “Of course, Father Emil. Your reputation is not at stake.”
“Shouldn’t we check with the guard to see if he found any horses with blood on their hooves?” Isabel trundled alongside as Thomas walked quickly back to her home.
“No,” he said flatly. “That was a wild goose chase.”
“Oh,” she said. “So you don’t think the killer is here in town?”
“Let me ask you this,” he began. “What is the biggest mystery about this situation?”
She thought for a moment. “Hmmm,” she hummed to herself. “I guess… if the messenger wasn’t a local man, who killed him?”
“That’s good,” he said, “but even better is to ask why. Why kill the messenger?”
“Huh,” she huffed. “Yeah, that is strange. You know, the more I think about it, the less sense it makes. If he was delivering a traitorous message, and a noble citizen of Riverwood killed him, why haven’t they come forward? Surely they’d be a hero. But if an enemy killed the messenger, then surely the message wouldn’t be traitorous, would it?”
Thomas smiled. “If the Abbot can reveal the contents of the message I am sure all will be clear. But until then, we must continue to observe only the facts.”
“But you already said the man is not from our kingdom and that we have a traitor in our midst. And the Abbot seemed to understand that you suspect a monk to be the traitor.”
“Good observations,” he said, raising his eyebrows.
“How do you know those things? I thought we were supposed to work from facts and only facts.”
He smiled. “Think about it while you sleep and tomorrow we will learn even more.”
Thomas had already fetched Isabel and they were on the road to the castle at first light when wide eyed guard on horseback approached, his powerful war horse snorting and kicking up dust from beneath the thin layer of cracking mud that still spotted the roads.
“Did you already receive the Abbot’s message?” the astonished guard called out.
“I did not, but we’ll happily answer his call. What news does he have for me?”
“He says simply to arrange for an arrest for he knows who the culprit is.”
“Excellent news,” Thomas said cheerfully. “And well delivered. Thank you.”
The guard furrowed his brow and reared his horse around. “An arrest though, sir? What does he mean?”
“You will soon find out. Will you see to it that the queen and Bartholomew are ready for us when we arrive. And please send someone to help the Abbot down those terrible stairs.”
The guard nodded, bouncing on his eager horse, then galloped off back toward the castle at full speed. Thomas was surprised at first, but then remembered that his appointment by the queen gave him the power to give such orders to the guards. He had meant it merely as a suggestion, but the man had taken it as law. He smiled covertly.
Isabel yawned.
“So,” Thomas said conversationally. “Have you answered any of your questions yet?”
“I think I know why you suspect a monk to be the traitor.” She smiled groggily. “I was up all night thinking about it.”
“And?”
“Transcribing a whole message like that, letter by letter, that’s tedious work. Even if a monk wasn’t the final intended recipient, it is likely a monk would be involved. Therefore it is safe to say we likely have a traitor among our monks.”
“That’s a good start, but many folks in Riverwood are literate enough to perform the necessary work.”
“True, but we know almost everyone in town. The monks are a quiet sect, and sometimes their members come and go, or perhaps their habit of sitting around and just thinking leads them to brew up conspiracies. It’s just more likely that a monk would be behind this one I think.”
“Good thoughts,” he said. “But still not enough to sentence someone for a serious crime. Remember, the penalty for treason is death. For now, let’s turn our attention back to the question of ‘why kill the messenger.’ Did you have any thoughts on that one?”
She sighed and shook her head. “No. I just keep coming back to the location. I think it has something to do with the fact that the horse tracks led in and out of the same gate…” her voice trailed off. “Oh!” she cried. “That’s it! The killer must have followed the messenger into town through the gate. He probably just caught up with him, just in time too!” She smiled. “Oh! That makes so much sense! They were both outsiders! The killer followed him to prevent the delivery of the message, couldn’t find the message, and trampled him in the hopes that his identity and the message would be destroyed!”
“Very good!” Thomas cried, patting her roughly on the back. “Now, think again about what the man wore.”
“The robe! He was going to sneak into the church pretending to be a monk!” She slapped her forehead and laughed. “OK, I think I get it now.”
He grinned as they approached the castle, crossing over the broad drawbridge.
“We still don’t know much about the killer or the messenger though,” she lamented.
“We know enough. Whatever conspiracy we are dealing with, it has opposition here and at the source. Hopefully the letter will shed more light on the matter.”
Bartholomew called out, annoyed. “Was it you who had me ripped from my breakfast in order to… what?” He looked around, mockingly. “Hear a sermon from the Abbot?”
The old man glared at the head guard, holding a stack of papers.
The queen smiled. “Thomas, I trust you and the Abbot have some good news for me?”
The Abbot waved the papers over his head, crying, “Thomas! This letter was most intriguing! After guessing at several of the more frequent letters, fascinating patterns began to emerge in the text! Soon I had worked out what key had been used to generate the cipher alphabet and everything fell into place immediately! A most exhilarating and satisfying exercise!”
Thomas grinned. The old man was glowing, despite obviously having worked late into the night. He had candle wax on the backs of his fingers and bags under his eyes, but he was smiling like an excited child. “Excellent,” Thomas remarked. “Now, even my apprentice has worked out most of this cursed mystery, but Abbot, even I cannot guess who the intended recipient of the letter is.”
“Unfortunately,” the old man said, his countenance falling, “I do know. It is a young man I took in just last summer. I had noted that he took a liking to that snake Archibald and it seems they have been exchanging secrete messages.” He turned to the queen. “My queen, this letter details several of Archibald’s observations about the guards and our schedules in the castle.” He handed a sheet to her. “This is just one of many copies I made of the translated text. I think you will find the intent of the letter most damning.”
“So they are planning an attack on the castle?” Bartholomew asked, alarmed.
“Worse,” the Abbot said sadly. “They are planning to let an assassin into the castle to kill the queen.”
The group gasped in unison and Thomas accepted one of the letters from Emil. He scanned it and immediately understood. “Yes,” he confirmed, “It is a plan to assassinate the queen.”
“What shall we do?” The queen looked nervously to her closest advisors in the circle, her eyes even stopping on Isabel for a moment.
“I’ll have the traitor arrested immediately,” the head guard declared.
“Wait,” Thomas said. “Perhaps we should deliver the letter to him.”
“What?” Bartholomew cried. “And aid him in his plot against the queen? That is treason!”
“No,” the queen said slowly. “I think I understand. Then we watch him to see what he does next. If we watch close enough, we may discover how he is getting messages out as well.”
“Right,” Thomas said. “And we know that someone where Archibald is hiding doesn’t want this correspondence happening, which means we may have allies close to the source of this treachery. If we can unravel the rest of the conspiracy, we can destroy it completely.”
Bartholomew shifted his weight nervously. “I don’t like it,” he declared.
“I agree with Thomas,” the Abbot said. “It is a wise thing to make our traitor believe that all is well with his conspiracy. If we can draw out all of the conspirators, then we can be sure we have put an end to it.”
The head guard took a deep breath. “Alright,” he said.
Thomas walked Isabel home mostly in silence. Just before parting ways, she asked, “Do you really think we can catch the traitor sending his reply and stop the assassination from happening?”
He smiled. “Those incompetent guards will surely miss something, but it will be our job to pay attention to the details and put the puzzle together. I believe that we can protect our queen and bring the traitors to justice.”
She took a deep, proud breath, pulling her shoulders back and looking up at Thomas steadily. “Thank you,” she said. “I am glad I get to learn your craft.”
He sighed. “This work,” he began haltingly, “it’s dangerous. Today we didn’t face a killer, but I assure you we will one day. I…” he choked on his words.
She put a gentle hand on his arm. “You don’t have to worry about me,” she said. “I can take care of myself.” She smiled and ran into the house, disappearing from his sun-blasted view as the door drifted closed behind her.
Mermaid Pirate Dispatch 
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