The Pirate's Ruby [A Lighthearted Fantasy Adventure]

The obvious library to visit would be the one located in the Old Stone Keep. It was one of the oldest and grandest libraries in the North and contained books on pretty much any topic a person cared to think of. Beyond that, though, it housed the city's history. If there was something a person needed to know about Tressa's past, it could most certainly be found within the library's many aisles.

Neither of the pair were willing to take the risk, however, but fortunately Holsley knew the next best thing.

He led the way through the many alleys that made up Gold Penny, the wealthiest ward of Tressa. Here, the streets were a little cleaner, the people were a little more well dressed, and the presence of the guards was drastically diminished. That didn't mean they were gone, though — a simple snap of a finger could summon them in a second.

With that in mind, they kept themselves as out of sight as they could. They didn't make eye contact with anyone, and they kept stalwartly to the shadows. Luckily, the streets became emptier the further they ventured into the ward.

'How do you know about this place, anyway?' Roland sniffed. He was uneasy. If there was a ward in Tressa he'd stolen from the most, it would be Gold Penny. Here, his name carried the greatest weight, and he was sure they'd love a chance to get even.

'Dan took me a few times,' Holsley said, rounding the next corner onto a narrow street dotted with puddles. Strange, seeing as there hadn't been any rain in days. Their feet sploshed against the cobblestones as they strode. 'The owner is one the city's Tavern Lords, and he was a good friend of Dan's. It's where he taught me to read.'

Roland shuddered. 'So, what, it's a tavern?'

'And a library,' replied Holsley excitedly. 'People go there to have a pint and a read a book.'

'Thrilling.' Roland rolled his eyes.

They had been taking to the main roads that made up Gold Penny's prestigious appearance, but Holsley suddenly took a quick turn down an alleyway. Roland could see why. There was a sign held up on four legs. In chalk, an arrow pointed the way and he could see some words written beneath it that were too smudged to read. Roland recognised the drawing of a tankard and a book, however.

The rogue snapped after him.

Holsley led the way into a dead end. There, the pair found a green door with a tiny circular window that had been heavily vandalised by poetry. Besides the door, beneath the only window, there was a chair and a small table. Above the window was a sign that appeared to be written on a plank of wood.

The Scholar's Wit. Drink, Read, Love.

Holsley was the first through the door, but Roland hesitated. He could already smell the musky air from the aging pages. Could see the spring-loaded dust wedged between each spine. No one have ever tried to make him read a book. Not that they could. Reading was a boring, mind-numbing pastime that he'd never had any particular interest in.

Behind the door dwelled a cramped tavern that was trying its best to appear as a library. In every corner, and along every wall, there were bookshelves jampacked with reading material. Scrolls, tome, parchments, and so on. Patrons sat quietly on the provided armchairs, faces in books and occasionally stealing sips from the pints at their side in hushed silence.

As they crossed to the bar, Roland saw that some creative solutions had been implemented to alleviate the cramped conditions. The furniture, like the tables and chairs, were blocky and had been turned into makeshift shelves. Bits of woods hung down from the ceiling, swinging the books upon them with every slight breeze.

'Isn't this place great,' remarked Holsley, breathing it in. Roland also took a breath and got a nose full of dust and musk. 'This is where I learned some of the world's greatest stories.'

They arrived at the bar, if a person could call it that. It was more like an alcove with a table wedged between the walls. Behind that, there was a set of shelves that housed both books and bottles of spirits. The bottles were mostly used as bookends from what Roland could see. There was also a figure sitting there, engrossed in a book of his own.

The dwarf noticed them immediately and patiently closed his book and removed his reading glasses. Perhaps a tad too predictably, the dwarf was bookish in appearance. His beard was trimmed, his clothes were suede, and he had a little bowtie under his collar. He stood, cleared his throat, and said in a dithering voice, 'Welcome to the Scholar's Wit. How may I help you today, young masters?'

'Uh, hi,' Holsley said with a wave. 'We're looking for information regarding hangings in the city.'

'Hangings?' the dwarf repeated, umming and ahhing. 'Yes. Hangings. I do believe we have a copy of the Executioner's Records from the Named Offices, though it is out of date.'

'That's perfect,' replied Holsley.

'What's that for?' Roland whispered to Holsley once the dwarf's back was turned.

'I thought we could find something on Tallhi Ravenpeak,' replied Holsley. 'The Executioner's Record's might tell us what she did to deserve the hanging.'

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'Here it is,' the dwarf said eagerly, turned suddenly and slamming down a large tome on the table. Dust flew up into the air. Roland sniffed. He flicked open the first page. 'Yes, it's about five years out of date. I've been meaning to update the copy.'

'It's perfect for us,' said Holsley.

'Is there anything else?' he asked.

Holsley nodded and then leaned across the table, his voice now lower and softer. 'We're looking for books on the art of necromancy. Specifically books about bringing people's spirits back from the dead.'

'Necromancy.' The dwarf looked affronted. 'It is against the law to carry such books in the City of Tressa.'

'But you do have them.' Roland crossed his arms. 'Don't you?'

'Do I recognise you?' The dwarf turned to Holsley. 'You seem awfully familiar.'

'I think you do.' Holsley laughed. 'I used to come here with Dan Biggens. I've borrowed more books than I've ever read from this fine establishment.'

'And never returned them!' the dwarf barked. 'Hallsley, isn't it?'

'Holsley,' he corrected.

'My, my, my, as I live and read.' The dwarf shook his head, his face turning sombre. 'I am sorry to hear about what happened to Dan, my boy. Sorry indeed. He was a good man, and I miss the literary discussions we used to have.'

Holsley's smile faltered for the first time since they had entered the Scholar's Wit. Roland saw this and stepped up to the table. 'If you could get us what you have on necromancers, we would be grateful.'

'Yes, of course,' came the hurried response and the dwarf pointed to an unoccupied corner of the tavern with two armchairs and a coffee table. 'Take a seat over there, young masters, and I'll bring what I have over. Not that you read it here.'

'Thank you.' Roland nodded.

'Yes, thank you,' said Holsley as Roland led him away. 'It's been a while, hasn't it, Donbarri?'

'Too long.'

Holsley poured over the Executioner's Records, which were expansive and richly detailed with almost seventy years of hangings. Roland sat opposite, looking bored. Eventually, Donbarri approached their table. He laid out three books concerning the art of necromancy, or more accurately the laws forbidding it, and two tall glasses of milky rose.

'Okay,' Holsley said, leaning towards Roland once the dwarf hobbled back. The rogue instantly perked up at the thought of having something to do. Holsley pointed a finger on the page. 'As I suspected, there's an entry here for Tallhi Ravenpeak.'

'What does it say?'

'In some detail, it says that she was convicted of crimes relating to high treason, theft, and mutiny,' Holsley paraphrased. 'Apparently, she led a revolt against the Ravenpeak family with a bunch of dark paladins, but she was apprehended and tried. She confessed to her guilt immediately and her last words were "My mother has ruled for long enough" before she was hanged by the neck.'

'My mother has ruled for long enough,' Roland repeated the phrase. 'Not a fan then, eh?'

'Apparently not,' replied Holsley. 'The record only says dark paladins, but they have to be Servants of Xoal, right?'

'That would be my guess.' Roland sighed. 'Now tell me what you found out about Dan.'

Holsley looked away.

'Come on, I know you looked for him in the record.'

Sheepishly, the young bard turned the pages of the book to a page he had earmarked with a fold. 'I couldn't find much, but there's a record of the hanging from fifteen years ago, about three months after Tallhi's hanging. It says that he was convicted of crimes related to demon worship.'

'Demon worship?' Roland spat. 'What does that mean?'

'I don't know,' said Holsley. 'It has to be a mistake, right?'

Roland shook his head. 'There's something going on here, Holsley. I don't know what, but it's something.'

Holsley sighed.

'We'll get to the bottom of it.' Roland rested a hand on his shoulder, then nodded towards the three other books. 'First, we need to figure out a way to stop the Hangman.'

Holsley pushed aside all concerns and thoughts surrounding Dan Biggens and got to work. One by one, he leafed through the pages on his lap, stopping every now and then to read them properly, then starting up again. In the time it took, Donbarri had brought three more milky roses over each, and the pair had drunk them before Holsley was finished with his research.

Roland passed the time by playing with his dagger, attracting the occasional shout from Donbarri whenever the point of his blade connecting with the tabletop.

'Found anything yet?' Roland asked after a while. 'We've been here for an hour. This is the longest amount of time I've ever spent near a book.'

'I have, actually,' replied Holsley, leaning over again. 'Check this out. I'm kind of piecing this together from context clues, so I don't have a full picture, but I'm pretty sure I know what the Hangman is.'

'Oh?'

Holsley pointed to a page that looked like mere scribbles to Roland. 'I think she's a creature known as a revenant. It's what makes the most sense. Revenants can only be created from murder, and the victim must have unfinished business on the Material Plane. They must also have rejected the light of Jantarri.'

'What's the light of Jantarri?'

'Oh, well, when you die you are greeted into the afterlife by a lantern-lighter,' replied Holsley. 'This lantern-lighter is a servant of Jantarri, the Goddess of Spirits, who takes you to where you must spend eternity. If you reject them, you must spend your eternity wondering the Material Plane as a ghost.'

'How do you know this?'

Holsley gave him a playful nudge. 'I read it in a book.'

'Better you than me.'

'Anyway, there's a ritual you can perform if you find a restless soul,' said Holsley. 'It's calling the Ritual of Binding, and, according to these books, you can bring the soul back to life as a vengeful spirit.

It's actually really awesome. You bind the spirit to the weapon that was used to murder it. In doing so, you can control it, and it will do your bidding as long as you're the master designated when the soul is summoned. Oh, and as long as you retain possession of the murder weapon. When the ritual is performed, you also have to set out rules that the spirit must obey until you release them, and you can't break these rules otherwise the spirit gets rebellious.'

'That's what Love was talking about in the crypts, then,' said Roland thoughtfully. 'I'll bet a king's hoard that one of the rules says that when a hanging has been set, the person must hang on that date. That's why the Hangman refuses to kill me before midday tomorrow.'

'That would explain it,' replied Holsley, closing the book with a thud. 'Unfortunately, none of these things say how to fight a revenant. Only that they're dangerous spirits that aren't affected by mortal weapons and must be destroyed at all costs.'

'Joy.' Roland leaned back, then suddenly jolted forward. 'The string.'

'What?'

'The string! Love carries a piece of string around her neck,' replied Roland. 'It's from the Hangman's noose. The weapon she used to kill her daughter.'

'Whoa! She must carry it around with her for a reason,' said Holsley, then he threw his hands up. 'That doesn't help us, though. We need to find out why. Gods, I wish there was an easier way of knowing.'

Roland thought on that for a moment. 'Maybe there is?'

'What do you mean?'

'Well,' Roland replied, standing up. 'Why don't we just go ask the Hangman ourselves?'