Table of Contents – (spoilers)
Father Morrenthall sat at his desk in his church office and smiled at Waters seated in front of him. The former sheriff was slumped in a despair so profound that it seemed he might begin to weep at any second. Peep and Choke were seated to either side of him, with Knuckle lurking behind, playing around with his new cudgel. Peep’s face was split with a wide grin, and her eyes beamed admiration that bordered on love for Father Morrenthall.
“Oh, my,” Father Morrenthall said. “Mr Waters, you really do seem completely beside yourself! These last few days must have been terribly hard on you. Have you been overdrinking? You seem quite drunk.”
Waters remained as he was. Father Morrenthall nodded resolutely.
“Yes, it is just so, I think. Well, if we are to talk seriously, I need you sober.”
Father Morrenthall stood up and moved around his desk to stand in front of Waters, who startled as he noticed this.
“Don’t worry. I shall do you no harm,” Father Morrenthall said kindly. He then laid his palm down upon Waters’ brow. “Lord Stron, please remove the poison of alcohol from this man! Amen!”
Waters shuddered as Stron did exactly that. Father Morrenthall kept his hand in place to cast his next spell:
“Lord Stron, please cure this man of his sickness of alcohol! Amen!”
Father Morrenthall moved back to sit at his desk.
Waters remained seated as he had been, his eyes closed, breathing deeply in an effort to calm the wild, rising tide of emotion that was surging up through him. His head lolled back and he doubled up, clutching his stomach.
“Ohhh. Oh no,” Waters groaned.
“Oh dear. You have been drunk for a long time, haven’t you? You will be having quite the emotional reaction, I am afraid. This can, of course, lead to certain physical complications, particularly in one’s digestive system. As you are learning for yourself presently, it seems. Do you need to excuse yourself, Mr Waters?” Father Morrenthall asked pleasantly.
“Yes, please,” murmured Waters.
“You may make use of my commode. Out in the hall, second door to the right. Sergeant Theodas shall accompany you. I am afraid that I must insist that you leave the door ajar, though, so that he may guard you properly.”
Waters gave Father Morrenthall an angry look at this, and seemed as though might have something to say. However, before he could, a spasm of pain crossed his face and he doubled up a little.
“Fine,” Waters said, standing up with a grimace.
“And leave your sword here, Mr Waters. Set it on my desk before you go.”
Waters glared at Father Morrenthall. Peep and Choke both stood up and stepped in close, ready to intervene if he tried anything. Waters gave them both an evil glare in turn before turning back to Father Morrenthall:
“So I am under arrest, then.”
“Yes. You may consider yourself my prisoner, Mr Waters. Now, your sword, if you please. Do not make us take it from you.”
Waters hesitated just a few seconds before another spasm lanced through him. He unbuckled his weaponbelt as quickly as he could and slammed his sword in its scabbard down on Father Morrenthall’s desk. Then he bolted for the door.
Father Morrenthall gestured for Knuckle to let Waters out and then to follow him down the hall to the commode. They could hear Waters groan loudly with a very wet fart as he went.
Peep finally let slip the mirth she had been containing, sitting down to laugh as quietly as she could. Leaning back, she drew her knees up to her chest as she shook with silent laughter. She did manage to be quite quiet about it; only the occasional squeak escaped her.
“I’m sorry, Father. I’m sorry. Ahhhhhh…” she finally managed, wiping tears from her eyes. “Oh! I’ll get it together before he comes back. But ye made him shit himself! Ohhh…” she collapsed again into a fit of giggles.
Father Morrenthall watched her with some amusement himself.
After some time, Choke took his seat and raised his hand to Father Morrenthall.
“Yes, Lieutenant?”
“Pardon me, Father. I just have a question about your spellcraft, if I may?”
“Of course.”
“Well, just now you first cast Remove Poison on Waters to sober him up. Then, you cast Cure Disease to help him with the alcohol sickness. Is that right, Father?”
“Indeed. Alcoholics can die from withdrawal without that divine intervention. And even if they don’t, in recovery they become quite useless for some time.”
“Yes, Father. If you recall, we had a similar experience with Brother Barrelmender after Otilla sobered him with her brands. He had to start drinking again to manage it.”
“Ah, yes. That’s right.”
“Well, Father, I was just wondering why Sheriff Waters had such a violent physical reaction just now. Since you did cast Cure Disease,” Choke said.
“Yes, that is a good question. It is down to the nature of the alcohol disease. Over months, or years, it suppresses the sufferer’s ability to think and feel. Their nerves, as well as their capacity to feel emotion, become quite deadened. To have this condition removed so quickly often causes just such a reaction. The flood of unhindered and unsuppressed emotion can be very disturbing. Our guts are, after all, emotional creatures. There really is no helping that. He shall just have to go through it.”
“I understand. Thank you, Father.”
“However, for our purposes, this is ideal,” Father Morrenthall continued. “Without alcohol, Mr Waters is going to be acutely anxious. Indeed, he would be so if he were safe and sound at home with a family he had the full love, trust, and support of. So, in the circumstances I intend to place him in, he is going to be in quite a bit of bother.”
“It couldn’t happen to a nicer guy,” Peep said, having finally gained control of herself.
The three sat in silence, then, each with their own thoughts, and waited for Knuckle to bring the prisoner back. It took almost half an hour.
Waters came shuffling back into Father Morrenthall’s office looking deeply upset. The nasty smell of stomach acid came with him, suggesting he had been spewing out of both ends.
Both Choke and Peep stood up when Waters came back, and took their seats again as he did. Knuckle followed right on Waters’ heels, looking very amused. He was about to shut the door, but Father Morrenthall raised his hand to stop him.
“Wait a moment, Sergeant. Mr Waters, you look as though you have been rather ill. Would you like a drink of water?”
“Yes. Thank you, Father,” Waters said quietly.
“Indeed. I think we all could use one,” Father Morrenthall stood up.
Knuckle gestured out the door in a nonverbal question whether he should go to get them the water.
“That is quite alright, Sergeant. I shall go and get us all some refreshing well water. It is quite lovely. You all stay just as you are.”
Father Morrenthall left. Waters, Peep, Choke, and Knuckle all stayed just as they were. None of them spoke. A few minutes later, Father Morrenthall returned with a large earthenware jug and a wooden tray with five simple wooden cups. He set them on his desk, in front of Waters’ longsword, and poured the water. He handed the first cup to Waters, the second to Peep, the third to Choke, and the fourth to Knuckle, moving over to him to do so. Father Morrenthall shut and bolted the door himself, which Knuckle had neglected to do. Then he picked up his own cup of water on his way back around his desk to take his seat.
They all had a nice drink. The water was cool and delicious. Father Morrenthall stood to refill their cups before proceeding:
“Now, Mr Waters, do you feel capable of proceeding?”
Waters nodded without looking up from the cup he clasped in his lap with both hands.
“Good.” Father Morrenthall grasped his steel Wheel holy symbol. “Lord Stron, please grant me the ability to detect lies. Amen.” He then unstopped his inkwell, dipped his quill, and read aloud as he wrote at the top of his first sheet of parchment: “Sheriff Waters, Interview One, June third of the year of our Lord Stron, 382.”
Father Morrenthall set the quill down on its stand again and leaned back in his chair to watch the former-sheriff Waters for a while. When Waters finally raised his eyes out of his cup to meet his, Father Morrenthall continued:
“Now, Mr Waters, as the Sheriff of Spaggot, and the de facto magistrate of Spitzer for a good number of years, I think you are well aware of how this sort of thing is meant to go. You are caught. I have you however I want you. With the evidence I have against you, I have every right to take you downstairs, have my man, Srecko, rack even more evidence out of you all day and night, and then slow roast you tomorrow morning on the very Wheel I just cleansed your man, Billy, upon. If you prove obstinate about speaking and being truthful, you may be as tall as Sergeant Theodas when I am done with you. Although, quite unable to move. Or walk. Or even to sit up in bed. A full racking is horrifying. I shudder to even think about it. Do you doubt me, Mr Waters?”
“No, Father,” Waters managed.
“Good. And so we begin with truth from you. An auspicious start. Now, in the interest of continued respectful intercourse between us, I am going to tell you what evidence I have against you. The evidence that your man, Billy, provided me during his truthful testimony. You, Mr Waters, are a rapist. You have used your position of authority to capture and sexually assault multiple women. While Billy was unable to provide concrete details in this regard, it nonetheless seems to me that many of these women were guilty of nothing more than being with men that had been arrested. You had Billy rape and sexually assault women as a terroristic tactic, and used the threat of such to make them more compliant with your own sick, perverted crimes. This is so, is it not? This is what you have done. Yes?” Father Morrenthall asked mildly.
Waters only stared down into his cup, trembling like a beaten dog.
“Mr Waters. I have explained to you the stick I wield over you. I will have your truthful testimony. You will answer my every question. Otherwise, you get the stick. However, if you comply; if you submit; if you not only answer my every question, but helpfully and earnestly provide useful information that I have not explicitly asked for; in short, if you do your job as you should have been all this time, and help me in doing mine; then, and only then, you may avoid the stick. Indeed, then you may even have a carrot. Do you want to hear of the carrot I have for you, Mr Waters?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Good. Your carrot is simple. If you please me in our coming interviews, and give me a truthful and complete confession of your sins and repent of them, then, and only then, you may again call yourself Sheriff of Spaggot. You are an intelligent man. I think you understand that this is the only way for you.”
Father Morrenthall paused to allow Waters to think about what he had said. When Father Morrenthall continued, all traces of kindness were gone from his voice, which rang with the steel of a judge pronouncing a death sentence:
“Mr Waters: from this moment on, you must now commit fully to this path to redemption. Or don’t. But I tell you now, Mr Waters: I am weary of you and this entire sordid matter. Displease me again, if even just a little, and I shall revoke my mercy towards you, and it shall be the other thing. Fully. And then I shall indulge myself upon you. Fully. I shall not further waste my time in fencing with you. Submit to me, help me root out the sin and corruption you were party to, and commit to the process of your redemption. Or, shall we take you downstairs and summon Srecko to go to work on you upon my rack?”
“I’ll help you, Father.”
“Good. Now, I ask you again: have you raped women in your custody?”
Waters hesitated just a moment before answering: “Yes, Father.”
“And you had your man, Billy, rape and sexually assault women in order to motivate them to perform for you sexually.”
“Yes, Father.”
“And you did keep some of these women for extended periods of time in the jail tower to so use them.”
“Yes, Father.”
“As well, having done so, you sold such women to others, to be used in sexual slavery. Did you not?”
“Well, no I did not do that, Father.”
“You didn’t?”
“No, Father. I was never paid.”
“But, having violated women in your tower, you subsiquently turned them over to others for sexual exploitation. Did you not?”
“Yes, Father. I did do that. But—”
“That was bad enough,” Father Morrenthall interrupted, disgust and disdain dripping from his voice.
For the entire confession, Waters had answered deadpan, without any expression, staring at the floor in front of him with his shoulders slouched, his water cup still held in his lap.
Father Morrenthall let him be then, and spent a few minutes writing. The sound of his quill on the parchment was loud in the quiet room. When he had set his quill down again, Father Morrenthall eased back in his chair to continue:
“Understand, Mr Waters, that these crimes alone are enough to justify me taking you straight out of here to light you up on the Wheel. But I have hope that you may be redeemed. And that, in turning to the path of righteousness, you may be uniquely suitable to help me clean up the quagmire of corruption around here. Do you understand what I am getting at, Mr Waters?”
Waters sighed before squaring his shoulders to meet Father Morrenthall’s eye:
“It means you want me to give you everyone I’ve been doing dirt with.”
“Just so. I have no need to dig up any more of your crimes. What I have is enough to wash my hands of you, should I decide to. Of course, you must prepare yourself to confess your crimes and sins to me, in order to repent of them. But that is for another day. However, I will add that as part of your repentance, you shall be helping to track down those women you sold on as sex slaves, so that we may liberate them. Is that understood?”
“I understand that, Father. But, if I may: just how long do you think I’m going to be alive after I betray the Outfit?”
“Your question is nonsense, Mr Waters. Foolishness prefaced upon the assumption that the status quo is immutable. Nothing could be further from the truth. When you betray the Outfit to me, I shall cleanse our land of it. To put it another way: if you are worried about agents of the Outfit doing you harm, it is in your best interests to make sure that I get to them before they can get to you. Further, if you commit to helping me to the very best of your abilities and knowledge, you shall then be under my protection. All shall know it. For those on the path of righteousness do not walk alone. Stron protects those that do his work. Look upon Otilla’s rise, and that of her Pekot compatriots, if you have any doubt of that. You, yourself, were an agent of evil, set to do them harm. How has that worked out for you?”
Father Morrenthall waited to allow the full import of his words to settle in on Waters.
“So, understand, Mr Waters: You too may benefit from an earnest revitalization of your character. If only you do so. Yes?”
Waters closed his eyes and nodded. When he again spoke, he seemed committed to his answer:
“I will do it, Father Morrenthall. I will help you.”
“Good. Now, my immediate priority is uprooting the corruption in the military. Specifically, getting to the agents at the bottom of the payroll scam that was being run with Lieutenant Dixon. You are aware of this malfeasance, yes?”
“Yes, Father. I wasn’t directly involved with it, not being at the fort myself. But I do know all about it. Sergeant Major Orel is the man you want. He’s the quartermaster at the fort. He is partnered with Wes, the Outfit boss at the freight yard.”
“Ah. So Wes is the Outfit boss? He controls everything in Spaggot for them?” Father Morrenthall asked, leaning forward intently.
“Yes, Father. Although, he’s more of a command and logistics sort. Mostly concerns himself with making sure the coin gathered here makes it to where it’s supposed to go. With this whole bullshit deal against the Pekot Bunch, he has not been in the driver’s seat. They sent another cat direct from Strana to run that.”
“Sneed, I believe his name is. Yes?” Father Morrenthall said.
“Right. Yes, Father.”
“Good. More on him later. Now, about the military. Sergeant Major Orel, Captain Edison’s quartermaster. Is he entirely dirty, or just mildly complicit in this one payroll scam?”
Waters flinched at this question, before sighing as he resigned himself to full disclosure:
“He’s as dirty as they come, Father. Through Lieutenant Hamon, he coordinates a number of rackets. Mostly selling off what equipment and horses he can.”
“Without a proper constabulary, Lieutenant Hamon has been your muscle in town, has he not?”
“Yes, Father.”
“And I suppose that, within the hierarchy of the Outfit, Sergeant Orel outranks Lieutenant Hamon. As well as you,” Father Morrenthall said, with just a trace of smugness.
“Yes, Father. That’s so. As far as the Outfit is concerned, Orel is number two under Wes,” Waters said, looking surprised that Father Morrenthall had put this together himself.
“It is obvious that it would be so, Mr Waters. For who is in a better position than Sergeant Orel to exploit this town for all it is worth?”
“Yes, Father.”
“So, as to the dirt that you do with them: what might that be, Mr Waters?”
“Well, I collect the Baron’s taxes, right? Most of that is in kind, not in coin. Livestock, grain, timber, and the like. I underreport what I collect to allow Orel to sell that on,” Waters said, matter-of-factly.
“Yes, of course. Now, that sort of thing ought to be caught by Father Gerban, should it not? As Baron Hart’s steward, he should know precisely what ought to be coming in from his holdings.”
“Yes, he should, Father. But in case you haven’t noticed, Father Gerban is as old as dirt. He’s not up to it, and hasn’t been for years.”
“That is one possibility,” Father Morrenthall said, looking annoyed at Waters’ disrespect towards Father Gerban. “However, he is not quite as decrepit as all that. Now, at the fort, Captain Edison is generally in charge of things, day to day, is that right?”
“Yes, Father. He is.”
“To your knowledge, Mr Waters, is the captain involved in this corruption?”
“Not to my knowledge, Father. But he would have no reason to be anywhere near the practicalities of it, so I would have no reason to be aware of his involvement. All he needs to do is take his cut. Either way, he would be an incompetent imbecile not to have noticed what’s going on.”
“And whatever else he might be, Captain Edison is not that,” Father Morrenthall said. “And what about the Baron?”
“The Baron? Well of course he doesn’t know, otherwise it would all be over,” Waters said with a confused frown.
“I wasn’t asking if you think he knows. Do you think he is complicit? These taxes in kind that you collect are meant to be used, for the most part, to support the Baron’s forces. In the King’s army. So, these are the King’s horses being stollen, after all.”
Waters looked shocked as Father Morrenthall’s reasoning struck home. Then he was thoughtful for a while.
“I suppose it is possible, Father,” he eventually said. “But I doubt it. He did come down hard on the Outfit agents about going after your Pekot Bunch here. And he has given you free rein to go after the corruption here. If the Baron is dirty that way, he wouldn’t do that, would he?”
“Probably not. But we must never assume anything. Start digging into this kind of thing, and there is no telling where it can all lead,” Father Morrenthall said, looking significantly to Choke and Peep as he did. “Be that as it may, I am very pleased with your help here today, Mr Waters. You have done well. I do believe my next move is to bring Sergeant Orel here for a good talking to. Now, to that end: what specific crimes of yours has he been directly complicit in, Mr Waters?”
“Well, just after last autumn’s harvest, when I brought the taxes to the freight yard for him to take receipt of for Father Gerban, he entered my low count into his ledgers. So, for example, when I handed over a wagon with fifty bushels of wheat on it, and reported to him that it was forty, he counted it up and wrote it as forty. So it goes with livestock. One in five cease to exist in this,” Waters said.
“And that which is skimmed, I suppose that Wes and his men keep that at the freight yard when the rest is sent up to the fort.”
“Yes, Father.”
“It is generally twenty percent that is skimmed?”
“No, not on the whole. Twenty percent of those deliveries that Orel decides to skim. I would guess that the skim of the total isn’t above five or ten percent, depending on the year.”
“Ah. Thank you. And your cut, Mr Waters: how do you receive that?”
“I get my cut, ten percent of the skim, in silver coin. Delivered by Orel’s man, Corporal Butters.”
“Corporal Butters? Sergeant Orel’s bagman is named Butters? I do know for a fact that you are not lying, Mr Waters, but that is quite funny. I can only assume someone along the line here has been having a laugh. Anyways, I shall get to the bottom of that, I am sure, since I will be bringing Corporal Butters in for questioning along with the Sergeant. Very good. Now, Mr Waters: specifically, who are the officers here in Spaggot that you know to be dirty?”
“Just Lieutenant Hamon, Father.”
“And what dirt have you done with him?” Father Morrenthall asked.
Waters hesitate at this. He drank the remaining water in his cup and held it up. “May I have some more water, Father?”
“Of course.” Father Morrenthall rose and moved around his desk to serve Waters as though he were a guest. By the time he was reseated, Waters had taken another deep sip and seemed again composed.
“Now, I just want you to understand here, Father, that I didn’t start out in my job as some kind of pimp. That was never what I was about.”
“Oh dear. I see. Well, do continue, Mr Waters,” Father Morrenthall said, once again looking testy.
“I am sure you know yourself what women are like, Father. Not that I am suggesting that you are weak like I have been. But you see it, too, don’t you? When they’re on the hook, most of them will offer themselves up freely to get themselves out of it. They have no shame about it! And I am just a man!”
“But you were not just a man, were you? You were an officer of the kingdom, charged with upholding the King’s law. And what was offered you was not done freely, was it? When these women you speak of are on the hook, so to speak, or their children or loved ones are, they are not free. Yes? Consent cannot be given when to displease you will push them into an abyss. But we know all about his already, don’t we? What about your crimes in relation to Lieutenant Hamon? I would hear that now.”
“Well, you talked about how I sold women on that I had captured, as you put it. Lieutenant Hamon was the one that would make the arrangements. Him and his boys were doing most of the arrests in town, after all. And they’re the ones with the relationships with the brothels. So, at the end of all this, Hamon was the one pulling the strings,” Waters said, shuddering a little, and actually looking like he might be legitimately ashamed.
“Do you mean to tell me that he was the one that corrupted you? I find that hard to believe, Mr Waters,” Father Morrenthall said sternly.
“No, Father. I’m not saying that. I was doing bad things with women in my custody. I admit that. But, at the start, it was just isolated incidents. Now and then. Later on, I started keeping ones I liked upstairs, like you said. And then Lieutenant Hamon noticed I was doing that. And he threatened to reveal it if I didn’t cut him in on it. So, he’d bring me suitable women, I’d get them docile, and then I would hand them back over to him. I never saw any money from it,” Waters said miserably, looking like he was about to cry.
“I can see how very hard that must have been for you. Are you honestly looking to paint yourself as a victim on any level in this?”
“No, Father. Of course not. But, but you can see how I was coerced into involvement with what could possibly be regarded as pimping. That was never my intention! You must believe me!”
“Why must I do that? Your intentions are irrelevant, man! You satisfied your perversions at every turn. This is awful. How many women did you assault in this way?”
“I don’t know, Father. It’s been a lot. But, before Lieutenant Hamon got involved, I’d let them go.”
“How benevolent of you. And when did Lieutenant Hamon get involved?”
“Not more than a year ago, Father.”
“How many women have you processed in this way for him?”
“About six. It’s not like this is something we were doing constantly, Father.”
“I don’t care. This is sickening. More on it later, though. Suffice to say, for now, Lieutenant Hamon shall have to be sharply checked as well. I wonder if we shall have any men left in town when this is all said and done. Speaking of which: what about Lieutenant Cooper?”
“What about him, Father?”
“To your knowledge, is he dirty?”
“No. But he’s been at the fort, mostly, so he’s in the same boat as the Captain, I would guess.”
“Actually, Lieutenant Cooper is generally out on patrol, but I take your meaning. That is good enough for today, Mr Waters. You have been most forthright and helpful. Thank you for that. Keep it up,” Father Morrenthall said coldly.
“I will, Father. So, about that… may I go now?”
Father Morrenthall blinked incredulously before laughing. “Absolutely not! You have earned nothing yet. And I cannot have you running around town doing who knows what. There is a long road ahead of you Mr Waters. So you will be staying here for the time being. Downstairs. In a private cell in the dungeon.”
“But… but, but… Father Morrenthall, you said that if I helped you, that I would keep my position! That you would not take me downstairs! How dare you!” Waters stood up in a sudden rage.
“Sit down!” boomed Father Morrenthall at the top of his voice, pointing at Waters as he did.
Waters’ legs failed him at the cleric’s command, and he collapsed back into his chair before Peep, Choke, and Knuckle had even managed to react to his sudden rise.
“I promised you no such thing!” Father Morrenthall shouted. “I told you that if you displeased me, I would have you downstairs on the rack! I told you that if you apply yourself earnestly to helping me, and sincerely repent of your sins, that I may! I may! I may reinstate your position! How dare you! How dare you speak to me that way, you wretched deviant!”
Father Morrenthall stood up in his rage and stabbed his finger down at Waters a second time.
“Sergeant! Seize the prisoner!” he ordered Knuckle.
“No!” yelled Waters as he lunged for his sword on Father Morrenthall’s desk.
This time, everyone was ready for him. Father Morrenthall scooped up the sword off his desk before Waters could get his hands on it. Peep lunged out and flicked a toe kick up into Waters’ groin, catching him perfectly mid-stride. Then Choke crashed into the back of him and drove him hard into the desk before dragging him to the ground to kneel on his neck. Knuckle was soon there to pin down his legs.
“You have spilled my ink, Mr Waters!” Father Morrenthall boomed overtop of Waters’ incoherent yells. “And spoiled several pages of parchment with it! Foolish!”
Father Morrenthall took some time cleaning up his desk. As he did, Waters slowly settled down into groans and mewling with Choke and Knuckle each pressing down hard on him.
When Father Morrenthall had finished putting his desk to rights, he stepped around it to stare down at the former sheriff.
“Very good. Lieutenant; Sergeant: let’s get this wretch downstairs, now, shall we?”
Muse Vassal 