Open House, Part 4

(( The ongoing events of Heulwen's day, in which a simple plan gets more complicated by the minute, she develops a case of pins and needles in her fingers, and that ceramic duck finally gets what's coming to it.... ))

Flames licked hungrily up Voratien’s collar and started to nibble at his neck.

Heulwen flung herself at the tub, swishing the shallow water vigorously in an attempt to put out the shirt.  The flame-pipe was now burbling unevenly with hot water, and the part of her mind not actively engaged in preventing the fire from spreading finally worked it out.  Hot water pipe.  Obviously there was a mage employed in the basement or somewhere, heating the water, she’d heard about that being done in fancy buildings.  Only this one had fucked it up. 

She yelled in the direction of the tap.
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it, we’re good!”  Okay she didn’t sound like Mister Silvermane, but maybe they’d assume she was a houseguest or just some ‘pleasant company’.

“I’m on….ay!”  Came the reply, assuming she’d been heard at all.  The water was now flowing almost fully and smothering the sound from traveling in the pipes.  What had he said?  Apologising again? Or could it have been that he was on his way?  Fuck!  Still, at least the door was locked, she’d checked, so she could put out the rest of this fire, wet her hair a bit, put on the robe and answer the guy’s knock with a laugh and a big hint that she and Voratien didn’t want to be disturbed. 

No problem.  As long as she remembered to close the bathroom door, that was – it's starting to smell like a barbeque in here. 

With a last double-handed scoop of water, the fire was out.  Heulwen shuffled down the tub to turn off the taps, and as she did so heard a faint bang.  Had that been the knock?  She couldn’t hear properly over the sound of the gushing water.  Twirling the fancy valves closed, she definitely caught the sound of distant thumps, which were obvious the guy pounding on the door and……getting closer!?  Footsteps!?

Heulwen looked up at the doorway just as a young man in a robe skidded into view, dark hair disheveled, face pale and mouth agape.  She glanced first at his hands.  Ah yes, a master key, just like the one she had in her possession.  How lovely.  Everyone in Celestial Towers may as well live in the middle of the Bazaar the place was so accessible.

“Oh LIGHT is he hurt?  Oh no, oh no no no no…..”  The intruder clapped his hands to his bloodless cheeks, staring at Voratien.  Heulwen looked too, and sighed.  With the knock on the head and the right positioning he could have looked like he was sleeping, but not now.  Sprawled on his back in the tub, still half-clothed, head resting back, eyes wide open and his upper chest and neck medium rare, he was quite obviously dead.  And suspiciously so.  Ah well.  

She was on her feet and moving before the thought even finished.  Grabbing the dressing gown she’d laid out on the rack, she strode for the door, hands fiddling quickly with the fabric.  The stricken youth’s gaze turned to her, eyes full of shock and apology, his lips babbling some further excuse or question she didn’t hear.  Heulwen closed the distance and lightly tossed the robe, aiming it so it arrived just above the height of the guy’s knees.  Bending over slightly, he clutched at the slippery material, managing to catch it out of pure reflex, mind still trying to process the scene in the bathroom.

Heulwen slipped the belt of the robe around his neck and pulled.  The plumbing mage still held the garment for a moment before dropping it abruptly and reaching for his throat, mouth already rasping as he fought for a breath.  His assailant flicked her wrists in a semi-circle, tightening the hold as the guy backed into her, fingers scrabbling at the bite of the belt.  Staring into space, she concentrated on keeping him off balance as he struggled, shifting her weight as needed to keep control.   Her knees were bent, her hips dropped, sometimes a small adjustment was needed, sometimes a large step, but if you just concentrated on your balance…..

The mage’s fingers clawed back, trying for her eyes now, but she was ready for that too.  Heulwen leaned back, face safely out of finger and headbutt range, a slight grimace on her features as the gown’s cord dug uncomfortably into her fists.  She preferred a garotte to be intended for the purpose, and preferably with handles or knots to grip – it was easier on her hands, as well as being faster since she could get better leverage.  This silk was strong, but inefficient.  Oh come on!

It seemed like an age before she felt his knees go.  He was much heavier than her and so they both went down, him out of fading consciousness and Heulwen out of necessity to keep the ligature tight.  She dropped to her knees and tried to increase the pressure even more, painful as it was to her hands.  He hadn’t yet tried to blast her with flame, which made her wonder if the story about mages heating the water was just an exaggeration.  She’d have expected to be at least a little frost-bitten by now if he’d truly been an arcane specialist.  The young man’s body started to spasm, legs jerking and heels tapdancing around wildly in a crazy rhythm.  A ceramic duck went flying, skidding across the tile to hit the wall, its neck breaking.

Heulwen stared at the duck’s decapitated head until all was still.

Finally she let go and stood, shaking out her hands and grimacing as she studied the red marks left by the belt.  Well that sucked.  Walking down the hallway to, once again, close and lock the most ineffective front door she’d ever seen, she pondered her options.  Two bodies.  Man in bath killed by careless plumbing expert, who then hangs himself in guilt?  Possible, but a bit complicated.  Two lovers experimenting with erotic asphyxiation go too far….and then one falls over?  No, that was also over-complicated.  The more complex the narrative was, the more mistakes might be hiding in the details.

So, disposal instead of deception.  There was the cleaning cart, its laundry basket big enough for one, but not two.  That would either mean two trips, one for each body, and that would make the Dragon suspicious - Missus Highmeadow came in the morning, left in the evening, didn't go back and forth.  She could leave one here overnight and return the next day, but that was too risky, what if the one left behind was discovered in the meantime?  If she dismembered both bodies they might fit in one load.  Still, that sort of thing was messy and time-consuming, and if you got caught with a bumper pack of body parts, it rarely went well with the law.  Those kind of loads also tended to leak when you least wanted them to.

Perhaps leaving them here and disappearing out the door was the best option.  Heulwen walked back towards the bathroom, towing the cart,  but her gaze drifted to the study door.  Going through Voratien’s secrets would take time, though.  A lot of time.  Especially if she had to find a safe and pick the lock – that could take hours in and of itself.  And if someone else came by…..who knows, perhaps there’s some cook wandering around with a master key, ready to burst in and make a soufflé!

Heulwen scowled.  If she wanted to go through Voratien's papers there was only one real option here – the expensive one.  Bending over, she rummaged in the laundry basket of the cart, removing a set of sheets, several towels, and eventually uncovering a small backpack.  Taking the bag, she retreated to sit on the bottom step of the staircase and dug through its contents.  From an inner pocket she produced two boxes.  One was a goblin-made communicator, the other was lined with wool to cushion the crystals within.  Oh well, with the amount of crap in this place, it’s not like I can’t afford it.  She pressed the red power button and waited until she heard the background hiss of what she’d been told was the Nether.  Whatever, as long as it worked.

Heulwen clicked the green button twice, and waited.