The city had split into three in a surprisingly short space of time. You had the small water district, made up mostly of those that believed the not-water was too dangerous and did not need to be lived on and those piscans that had tired of being nomadic and brought their small tribes to live in the big city. It was small but the kelp farmers, shoal herders and game hunters were flourishing. At the other end, up on the cliffs were the rich and powerful, the ones who had reaped the most from the bounties of the not-water such as lumber and farming. The Main Road connected it to the water district, a straight line paved with pebbles to the most secure route up the cliff a spiral ramp wide enough for seal-driven sleighs to go up. But this was expensive, so a multitude of ladders and stairs of varying quality had appeared like vines creeping up the cliff face. There were rumours the chief had access to caves that ran through the cliff and entered a cove far from the city. At the base of the cliff was the dry zone, a small part of the beach that was not usually touched by the sea. It had become the dump of the growing city, particularly of the higher classes, which tended to throw down refuse and litter. Scavenging had become a successful business for the last district, the tidal district. It was the largest and poorest part of the city - a sprawling, chaotic mess. Families were lucky if their houses survived the battering of the tides, and in the morning, more often than not, someone would have to see the local scavenger to see if they could get something cheap to patch the hole.
All this went through Sergeant Sachis as he walked, flanked by two guards, to the church. A runner one of the street urchins the guards used to get messages to one another, paid slightly more than postal runners had breathlessly arrived at the guard house that morning, saying that one of the Low Priests was in trouble. The city had an interesting take on the church. By no means was worship of Her forbidden, but the Chief seemed to have little care for it. The church was taxed like any other building, but it never seemed to be short of funds. The main part was the tidepools water in the not-water while the rest were rooms for the priestesses, the priestesses-in-training and those too poor or sick to have places of their own. To an outsider, it was the largest structure on the beach, but there was very little different beyond that, material-wise.
The route to the church was different than before, but that just made guard duty all the more exciting. Merchants were hawking their wares, keeping an eye out for thieving children and vermin mud crabs. Everyone parted and closed for the city guard, resplendent in dyed seal leather.
When they arrived at the church, an acolyte guided them to the room of Low Priestess Izan. The escort stayed outside while the sergeant entered the room, pushing back the kelp curtain. The first thing that struck him was the feeling of the air in the room it was like he was in the water. The High Priestess Axill, standing in the room, saw this immediately. An alarming feeling, isnt it? But do try to notice, sergeant. The High Priestess directed the sergeant to the kneeling piscan in the room, head thrown back and mouth wide open. He eyes were glassy.
Is she dead?
No, she is still breathing, look. But we havent been able to rouse her. Plus there is this strange
texture to the room.
Can I touch her?
Yes, go ahead.
The sergeant gingerly poked the still girl. She didnt feel any different. As he got closer, he could swear he could hear the girl making noises from her throat. He walked behind her, to where the priestess had a small rock garden. One of the rocks had a shape cut into it, and it was warm to the touch. Did she do this?
Ah, well, when an acolyte came in to clean this morning, the first thing she did when she saw Low Priestess Izan in this
state, was to scream. The scream, the poor girl says, caused an arrow of fire to spring from her mouth and strike the rock. Shes currently in the pool of tranquillity.
Sachi nodded as he paced the room. Isnt this room rather small?
No, all the low priests get rooms this small. Then again, we should be against the cliff face
Youre right, this is a rather small room.
Guard Tuca get in here. The guard entered the room, holding his spear at an angle so not to scrape the low roof. Smash that wall down. It went down a little too easy for Sachis mind. Behind was a small pool with plants in it. Speckled kelp, said the sergeant, immediately recognising it. It was the latest thing being grown by farmers in the water. A drink infused with speckled kelp would make a piscan happy with the first couple of drinks, then make them very angry.
But the guard shook his head. No sergeant, my cousin is a speckled kelp farmer and no way is this big enough or is this room light enough for real speckled kelp.
Well, guard Tuca, care to give your opinion?
I did hear of a smaller plant that looks a lot like speckled kelp, but you dont go angry after a few drinks. You just feel, well, hungrier and less like doing anything. Cant remember whats called. Speckled weed, I think.
How do you know this, guard?
Well, you hear things in bars
I see. He turned to the High Priestess. I believe shes had an adverse reaction to this
speckled weed. Did she exhibit any unusual behaviour?
You know, come to think of it, she did. I noticed her getting slower in her duties and she was always the last one to meals. An initiate said she saw the low priestess going into her room a lot and saying unusual prayers. Oh dear
Guard Tuca, go and get a runner, we need some sort of specialist on this. High Priestess Axill, I can assure we will get to the bottom of this.