I. What's Past is Prologue

Valentina could tell that Cantor hadn’t been any fonder of the delay than Pennyfarthing, but Dozy made a number of compelling arguments. The resulting plans, coupled with Cantor’s myriad aches and pains, saw a good four days pass before Cantor and Valentina left their suite again.

Even so, Cantor still looked like he’d been dragged along a stretch of rough road, and Valentina herself – while much recovered – had a pair of black eyes which she thought left her looking like a startled raccoon.

For Valentina, it had been a series of idle days, coupled with a quick check-in with the Westphalia to see about her next departure. Valentina was seriously considering resigning her post, she was simply having too much fun with all this cloak-and-daggering about! But a talk with Bogart, Dozy, and Thretan had changed her mind. Valentina’s position on the airship might well prove useful in the flight to the mainland, should all go as planned.

The consensus which had emerged was that Cantor and Jon Quill needed to be gotten out of Albion before Doctor Fether could nab them both. Secondary to this was to leave in such a way that the local authorities – both the constabulary at Whitstable and the Inspectors of Shetland Yard – were as well disposed to Cantor and his friends as was feasible.

It would be quite the disappearing act, if they could manage it!

Other than Cantor and Valentina, who spent their time recovering, the others had been quite busy. One of Hive Naught’s solicitors had accompanied Pennyfarthing back to Whitstable and was acting as Cantor’s legal advocate there – the police weren’t exactly happy that Cantor wasn’t in custody, but there were negotiations underway. And the fact that the unnatural magical disturbances at Fairweather’s tomb had finally ceased immediately after Cantor had brought his peculiar magical expertise to bear on the vortex was proving to be a mitigating factor for the whole breaking-and-entering thing. The latest reports back to Lunadun indicated that the situation would probably be resolved with a fine of some sort. Hive Naught could afford a fine.

Still, even with the warrants for Cantor’s arrest hanging much less threateningly above his head, Valentina could tell Cantor was nervous. Hardly surprising given they were currently navigating the back halls of Shetland Yard. Valentina's job was to keep quiet, to help Cantor stay upright, to watch, and to report back to the rest of Hive Naught if events propelled Cantor and Dozy into the proverbial rapidly descending basket. As long as she didn't cause a fuss, there shouldn't be any reason for Shetland Yard to hold her.

Cantor, Valentina, and Dozy were being escorted to the morgue by the Chief Inspector James H. Jack – a particularly solid earth-pony with a bushy mustache and a salt-of-the-earth demeanor. Valentina suspected that the stallion in question was cannier than he looked, and that he was a very competent detective … though perhaps a trifle on the unimaginative side. Two other earth-pony inspectors – Tobias Greenbroke and Bridle Martingale were along for unspecified reasons. Valentina suspected they were the muscle if Cantor, Dozy, or Valentina got out of line. Well, if she or Dozy got out of line at least. Valentina doubted Cantor would be able to put up much of a fight right now. There were also four unicorns accompanying them – of which Molly Halter had been introduced as a local mortician brought in for forensic analysis on unusual cases. The other three, Merivale, Althelney Knacker, and Baynes Hostler were here “for observation” as Chief Inspector Jack put it.

What they were going to be observing, Valentina suspected, was Cantor’s interrogation of the bodies from the Ashmulean.

“This way, if you please. Mind that last step.” Chief Inspector Jack’s tone managed to be both professionally detached and invitingly hospitable. He was a pony with a proper (if rather dull) reserve.

The interview with Chief Inspector Jack had been refreshingly brief, Valentina thought. He had already read over the statements about the affair at the Bodleian. On being ushered into his rather cramped office, Chief Inspector Jack simply rose and shook Cantor’s hoof, then had said, “Let’s be on our way, then.”

Valentina helped Cantor down that last step and then along a well lit hallway. It had a hospital feel about it, she thought. Before reaching the end, the Chief Inspector pushed open a door to what was clearly a morgue. The walls held sealed slabs where the waiting bodies rested. Four operating tables occupied the center of the room, each with a covered body upon it. A rush of surprisingly cold air hit Valentina. They had the place very properly chilled.

Cantor stopped in the doorway. He blinked at the room.

“Come in, come in. We haven’t got all day.” Chief Inspector Jack continued to hold the door.

“I … uh … may need a minute.” Cantor was glancing about the room rather distractedly.

The Chief Inspector frowned. It was the sort of frown that indicated one should be careful about trying the patience of a stallion who was presently refraining from having you arrested.

Valentina caught on faster than the others. “Chief Inspector Jack?” her tone was deferential, “I suspect the room may already be … occupied.”

Jack turned his frown upon the four corpses on the tables. His expression didn’t indicated any great enlightenment. Valentina continued, “By something more than just the bodies.”

“I don’t see anypony else here.” The Chief Inspector’s expression wavered on the verge of frown and scowl.

“Nor I,” that was Merivale – she had a light, pleasant voice. Her eyes were glowing purple at the moment. Valentina thought they complimented her yellow coat nicely.

“Well … I do.” Cantor sighed, and then stepped into the room. He then glanced to his left and muttered, “Yes, this is more like what I’m used to.”

“There are haunts here?” Baynes sounded interested. He was looking around.

Valentina tsked at him. “Really, sir. You bring a medium into this kind of a police mortuary and you’re surprised he finds it already occupied?”

Chief Inspector Jack let out a snort. Valentina was relieved to note that it sounded amused.

“Well then, Cantor. Do what you can to clear the room so we can get our questions answered.”

Cantor blinked at him. “Clear the room?”

“The ghosties. They aren’t authorized to overhear details about our investigation at the Ashmulean. And,” Jack continued, his gaze shifting to Valentina and Dozy – who was wearing his young Hoofrey Bogart disguise, “I’ve already filled out quite enough paperwork for bringing in visitors. So make them go away. It’s what you do isn’t it?” Chief Inspector Jack suddenly frowned. “Unless one of them is one of our dead stallions.”

“I doubt that.” Cantor said. He pulled his foreleg free from Valentina’s grip and limped over to a freezer on the right side of the room. There was a tag on it, marked with numbers. Cantor tapped it and said, “This fellow …” he trailed off and made his way to the back of the room where he tapped another freezer. “And this young mare.”

The Chief Inspector raised an eyebrow. What he said, though, was “Tobias, take notes.” Tobias flipped open a notepad and went to stand by Cantor.

Valentina eyed the assortment of unicorns present. Only Molly, the mortician, was in anything approaching a uniform. The other three wore street clothes, and their ID badges (like Cantor’s own) had “Consultant” printed on them.

Cantor began carrying on a conversation with somepony no one else present could see. Tobias gave him a sidelong glance and took a step back, but he did keep on scribbling.

“So, why exactly are you here?” Valentina addressed Althelney, who was looking a little green around the gills. This wasn’t a stallion who was comfortable in a room full of corpses. Merivale didn’t seem too pleased either, Valentina noted.

“Observation. Consultation. The usual,” it was Merivale who answered.

Althelney nodded, “Same here.”

Baynes chimed in, “We’re trusted experts in our own fields of magic. And we’ve all worked with Shetland Yard before … or work for them now.”

Molly added, “Effectively we’re here to watch Cantor work. To determine, as best we can, if he’s doing what he says he is. Talking to the dead.”

Valentina was quite interested. “And how will you determine that?”

Merivale wore a puzzled frown. She was still watching Cantor. The light around her horn flared, and a shimmering wash of colors played over her eyes. When she answered it was clear that she was quite distracted.

“I’m a diviner. I’ve a knack for seeing magic … for figuring out what it is and where it comes from. For identifying its type and nature. Even from trace residue of long cast spells.”

Baynes grinned, “I specialize in illusions – conjuring sights and sounds to baffle the senses. Ol’ Knacker here turns stuff into junk and junk into stuff.”

Althelney Knacker snorted. “My transformation magic can also bring the semblance of life to inanimate objects. Make them dance about, that sort of thing.”

Molly chimed in, “We’ve dealt with would-be mediums before here at Shetland Yard.”

“Fakers, the lot of ‘em. Hmph.” Chief Inspector Jack snorted disdainfully.

Molly nodded, then continued, “Those who fake it well tend to either use illusions or some sort of transmutation spell,” Althelney grinned wider at the mention of his own magical specialty, “to bring a false semblance of life to a body … making it seem to move. A very skilled practitioner might even be able to make one seem to speak.”

“Well, grunt anyway,” Althelney chimed in. “Actual speech would be rather remarkable.”

“The other option is to conjure sound alone,” Tobias added. There was a brief flare of magic from his horn, and to Valentina’s delight his voice began to wander about the room. As Tobias’ lips moved, the sound came from different places … making it seem as if other ponies (or even inanimate objects) were the ones talking. “And a skilled illusionist could also convince a pony that there were movements, strange lights, ghostly presences, all that sort of thing.”

Valentina clapped, “How delightful! So, what is Cantor doing now?”

“Other than wasting our time,” Chief Inspector Jack muttered. He eyed a clock hanging above the door.

“Cantor’s talking to nopony whatsoever, from all I can see,” Merivale sounded a little put out. “If he’s using some sort of magic, it’s nothing active. He’s not casting spells nor working rituals. Nor are there any spells or rituals currently acting on he, himself.”

“So there’s nothing there?” If Molly was disappointed, Valentina thought, she hid it well.

Merivale frowned. “I can’t say. There’s nothing there that I know how to see, but …”

After a moment of silence, Chief Inspector Jack said, “But?” He gestured with his hoof, an encouragement for the unicorn to finish her unspoken thought.

“But … if he has an innate magic which allows him to see and speak with the dead, then I wouldn’t see that. Just like I don’t see the sort of innate magic that lets a pegasus walk on clouds. If somepony who wasn’t a pegasi had a common cloud-walking spell cast upon them, that I could see. End result, if Cantor is talking to a ghost, it’s something he can just do.”

“And watching him do it isn’t giving you any insights into how somepony other than Cantor could do such a thing?” Molly’s question was oddly pointed. Valentina began to suspect that Shetland Yard’s “on call” forensic mortician might very well like to learn a spell that could let her see ghosts.

Merivale grinned, her eyes were still glowing brightly. “Sorry, Molly! Not a one. But …”

“But what?” This time it was Baynes who prodded her along.

“But, if Cantor were using magic to fake a conversation with the dead … like we’ve seen done before … that’s something I would have seen by now.”

“So … either he’s cracked and talking to himself …” said Althelney.

“Or he might be the real thing,” added Baynes.

“Or he’s a clever bloke who’s thought his con out better than the charlatans we’ve dealt with before.” That was from Chief Inspector Jack.

Cantor had moved to a different part of the room. He was carrying on a different conversation. Tobias was still taking notes, though the stallion was looking a little on the pale and wild-eyed side.

Chief Inspector Jack sighed, and addressed Dozy, “So Dozy is it? I don’t suppose you’ve brought along that piece of important evidence that you’re turning over to the Yard?”

Dozy grinned his Hoofrey Bogart grin. “Sorry Chief Inspector, we’ve got it locked safely away.”

“I could send somepony to get it.”

Dozy shook his head. “Given the unusual nature of the crimes involved and the theoretical skills of the likely suspects, we’d much rather give it to you in person. Or at least to somepony I personally know has been sent on your behalf, rather than just trust a note. Less risk of it being mislaid in transit, don’t you agree?”

Chief Inspector Jack raised an eyebrow. “I do agree. But I also think you could have brought it to me yourself since you were coming here today.”

Dozy gave an apologetic smile, “I suppose I should have thought of that. Do forgive us for the oversight, Chief Inspector.”

Valentina knew there was no oversight involved. And she suspected that Chief Inspector Jack knew that as well. Hive Naught was keeping the broken tablet and its covering cloth, dropped by Caballeron at the Bodleian, locked up until they knew that Cantor had been released from his current “consulting visit” to Shetland Yard.

There were still warrants for Cantor’s arrest out there, after all.

The Chief Inspector gave a noncommittal grunt and turned his attention back to Cantor.

Dozy added, “We did manage to identify the mark sewn onto the cloth, though.”

That brought the Chief Inspector’s attention sharply back to Dozy. He said, “Well?” It was as much a demand as a question.

“It’s the cutie-mark of Trotwine the Riddler. A unicorn from long ago. From what we’ve learned, his tomb was supposed to be somewhere in Albion, but has been lost for centuries.”

Chief Inspector Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Canterbury.”

Dozy nodded, “We believe so.”

“Well, good. The academics have been wondering whose grave had been dug up. They’ll be glad of the news. It’s progress.” Chief Inspector Jack frowned at Cantor’s continuing one-sided conversation, “… of a sort.” Jack’s eyes strayed up to the clock again.

“Can we move this along, please?” The Chief Inspector’s voice held only the hint of impatience.

“Only if you’re prepared to make a couple of promises,” Cantor replied.

Chief Inspector Jack’s brow furrowed, “You’re hardly in a position to make demands.”

Cantor nodded, “But unfortunately I am in a position where I must make requests … and to request the promise of immediate action.”

“Let’s hear it then.”

“The dead here need two messages delivered. He,” and here Cantor gestured absently towards one side of the room, at a place that appeared empty, “needs his mother to be made aware of a life-insurance policy that he had made to help support his daughter – and ... and he needs his daughter to know that he loves her and is proud of her and he is sorry that he will not be there to watch her grow up.”

There was an old, too-familiar sounding sadness that leaked into Cantor’s tone. Valentina suddenly wondered how many times Cantor had been required to bear that sort of heart-wrenching news to somepony. Dozens? Hundreds? Valentina shivered as she blinked away the start of tears. She still felt the urge to give Cantor a comforting hug.

“Go on,” Chief Inspector Jack no longer sounded quite so impatient. If anything, Valentina thought he sounded a little startled, perhaps even a touch sympathetic.

Cantor sighed, he sounded tired as he went on, “And this young mare here, Abigail, wants her sister Nelly to be told that it wasn’t her, that is Nelly’s, fault. It was just an accident. Abigail had too much to drink and fell in the river. Abigail doesn’t want Nelly to blame herself.”

There was a moment of silence. Chief Inspector Jack and Molly Halter exchanged a significant look. Valentina couldn't tell what exactly was up with that. But she wasn't about to interrupt to ask!

Cantor continued, “It is very important to these spirits that the messages be delivered. Will you promise me, and them, that you will have this done? Immediately?”

Chief Inspector Jack waved Tobias over.

“Well?” The comment was addressed to the junior inspector, who looked quite spooked.

“Chief Inspector, sir, he was able to confirm … uh … basically everything about Smiley’s death, with a few extra details thrown in for good measure. And we’ve gotten addresses for his next of kin and other verifiable information. As for the ‘Jane Doe’ – what Cantor says about her movements matches with what we had been able to reconstruct. Thanks to him we’ve got addresses for her next of kin, including her sister, available now too. Assuming they check out.”

Chief Inspector Jack raised both his eyebrows at that. “Well then, Inspector Bridle, would you kindly go to the appropriate residences, deliver the unfortunate news, and (assuming Cantor's information is on the up and up) gather the necessary reports from the inhabitants?”

“Sir?” Bridle had been lingering by the door through all of this. His presence was enough to indicate that no pony was to leave until the Chief Inspector was done with them.

“Now, Bridle. As I said earlier, we haven’t got all day. And be sure to deliver the ghosts' messages – as Cantor has dictated. That’s an order.”

Bridle nodded and trotted out the door.

Chief Inspector Jack turned back to Cantor. “Is that sufficient, sir?”

Cantor nodded gratefully. “Quite.” He then turned to address air that, to Valentina’s own senses, seemed empty. “There, the messages are on their way. They will be delivered. It’s done, so you don’t need to worry about that any more. You can rest now. Doesn’t rest sound good? That’s it. Let it go. Let it all go. And … just lay down. Shut your eyes … there … there. Isn’t that nice?”

Valentina found her own eyes growing a little heavy as Cantor’s sweet voice soothed and quieted the unseen spirits. Baynes had to struggled to hold back a yawn.

There was a moment of silence. Cantor sighed, then he smiled. It was a rather pale and wan smile, Valentina thought, but it was good to see him perking up a bit.

“Well, that’s a bit of good news.” Cantor didn’t sound as tired as he looked.

“How so?” It was Molly who asked.

Cantor gave a half-shrug, and winced. “It’s … uh … been a little while since I encountered what I would call a ‘normal’ haunting.” He began to tick off points with his hoof, “Recently dead spirit; staying close to its body, the site of death, or the locale near to where its unfinished business in life could be resolved; one with a strong, obsessive focus on something unsaid or undone in their life … and haunts who, when their personal issue has been dealt with and they are finally at peace, simply fade away rather than lingering on.”

“No, it’s been all ‘vortexes of evil energy’ and ‘trapped ghosts who I can’t send back to sleep’ for far too long. The overall situation with the spirits might have some really bad stuff going on, but at least it’s not every spirit everywhere. Well, not yet any way. So, yes. Reassuring that the old normal is still in place.”

Cantor gestured around the mortuary. “At least in places. Shall we proceed?”

“Yes. Lets.” That from Chief Inspector Jack. He produced a clipboard. Molly uncovered the head of one of the stallion corpses.

Merivale muttered a word of power, the color of the light shining from her eyes changed again.

“First question (for you Cantor, and not the deceased) have you ever seen this stallion before? Do you know who this is?”

Cantor grimaced as he looked on the face of the slain stallion. At least this one hadn’t been badly butchered.

“No, Chief Inspector. Not that I can recall. I don't know the fellow.”

Chief Inspector Jack glanced at Merivale. She nodded.

“I say,” Dozy broke in, “Is that a truth-spell? I didn’t think the use of such magics was admissible as evidence.”

“It is, it’s not, and we’re not using Merivale's spell to vet evidence about the crime,” Chief Inspector Jack answered. “We’re using it to establish your friend's … credentials. Is that a problem?” The Chief Inspector’s tone indicated that the correct answer to his question was “no, it is not a problem.” Cantor’s head-shake showed he’d gotten that message loud and clear.

“Right then. First question. There.” The Chief Inspector tapped a line printed on a piece of paper. There were quite a few sheets currently attached to his clip board. Valentina thought there were considerably more than ten questions total. She glanced at Dozy inquiringly. He shrugged.

Cantor took a breath and began to concentrate. A shimmering aura, dark-gray, silver, and blue-black began to bubble and congeal around his horn, his eyes, and the body on the table. A moment later the corpse twitched.

“What is your full, given name, sir?” Cantor inquired.

The dead pony’s mouth opened. It drew breath like an old, worn out bellows, and its voice was a whispery wheeze as it answered, “I am Finnegan Draught, though my mother called me Amblin.”

Valentina felt her flesh shiver and crawl. She clung to Dozy’s foreleg. She couldn’t quite decide if she was more excited or frightened. It was certainly eerie.

Chief Inspector Jack flipped a page, eyed a comment, nodded then looked at Merivale with a raised eyebrow. She nodded back at him.

“What was that about?” Valentina whispered to Dozy.

“We probably shouldn’t ask questions while this is going on … in case the corpse thinks we’re talking to it. But I suspect they already knew his name and they were confirming that Cantor’s spell can get them accurate information,” Dozy whispered back.

Chief Inspector Jack tapped another question printed on a new page. Cantor’s eyes were still bubbling with that unpleasant looking energy.

Cantor addressed the corpse, “How did you die?”

Another wheezing inhale. The corpse’s voice was a little stronger this time. “He cut me with that knife. It was horrible. There was laughter, and voices, and … and a bell … somewhere there was a bell. And the shadow was there. She looked at me and laughed. I ran … I was bleeding. He cut me bad. I ran … and ran … and … I … tripped?” Suddenly the corpse sounded unsure. “I was tripped? Were there other ponies there? I fell down. It was cold. The back of my head hurt. And I was bleeding. I … I guess I bled to death.”

“Well, at least he’s talkative,” Althelney muttered. Baynes shot him a glare and Tobias, who was scribbling away as the corpse spoke, shushed the illusionist.

Chief Inspector Jack flipped through about four pages, discarding them before settling on the next question. Again he pointed the question out for Cantor, and again Cantor asked.

“Who cut you so that you bled to death?”

”It was Carl. Carl Hostler, the researcher. But … but it wasn’t him. It was the shadow. She was behind him. But she was in him too. He was laughing and laughing … and he cut me. He kept cutting me. I had to run.”

More notes were taken. More papers turned. A new question decided on.

“Who all was in the building when you were attacked?”

”Carl, Murray, Jacob, Whinney, Sonders, Yoke, and Janice Thuring. I don’t know if anypony else was there.”

Valentina started. Counting Finnegan, that made eight! But the papers had said that there were only seven bodies. She glanced at Dozy, but he was watching the assembled investigators of Shetland Yard.

None of them seemed overly concerned by the tally of names, Valentina thought to herself. So either they hadn’t noticed one extra name, or ….

“There’s a body they’ve not let the press mention,” Dozy whispered in her ear, completing her thought.

“That or a survivor,” Valentina whispered back.

Time for the last question. After a brief moment of thought, Chief Inspector Jack indicated one resided near the bottom of the pile.

“Were there any unusual disturbances at the museum that week?”

”No. It had been a quiet week. Nothing odd at all.”

Merivale blanched. Her yellow coat turned nearly as pale as Cantor’s own. Her glowing eyes had gone wide as they leapt from Cantor to the corpse then back again. Cantor's own eyes and horn had ceased to glow.

Something had rattled her very badly.

“Interesting,” Chief Inspector Jack was busy reviewing his notes.

A moment or two passed in silence. Merivale seemed to be trying to regain her composure, and to gather up the courage to ask a question. When she spoke, it was clear she was still spooked, but at least she managed to keep her voice even.

“So …” Merivale blinked thoughtfully at Cantor, “… uh … how often, in your experience, do the dead lie to you?”

Cantor looked a little startled as well. He also looked a lot tired.

“I don’t know, really. Mostly I take them at their word.”

Everypony present was staring at him. Cantor looked concerned as he added, “Why?”

Merivale said, “That last question – Finnegan lied. Something odd did happen during the past week.”

“You’re sure?” Chief Inspector Jack could muster up a frighteningly keen focus, Valentina noted.

“Quite sure. The lie-detection magic, a little trick of my own devising, which I used to determine that Cantor hadn’t known Finnegan ahead of time alerted me when Finnegan’s … uh … body knowingly told him a lie.”

There was a brief pause while Merivale shakily drew a deep breath, “Which … uh … also indicates that, until further notice, as best as I can determine that spell of his works as advertised. With it, we can talk to the dead.”

Chief Inspector Jack looked from Merivale to Athelney, to Baynes. “Are you sure about this?”

Merivale grimaced, “As sure as I can be. Right now I’ve seen no sign that he’s faking any of it. I’d need to study the spell more to be certain.”

“There are no illusions involved,” Baynes chimed in. “If there had been, I’ll turn in my badge and retire to the countryside to raise sheep.”

“But you hate the countryside, Baynes. And you despise sheep!” Althelney wore an expression of considerable confusion.

Baynes nodded solemnly. “Exactly.”

Althelney blinked, then chuckled. It was a chuckle that died swiftly at the realization that the Chief Inspector was looking to him for an answer to Jack’s earlier question. “There was no transmutation magic of any sort either, sir. However it was that Cantor brought animation and the semblance of life to that body, it’s like nothing I’m familiar with.”

“He was asking questions and getting answers,” the Chief Inspector once again addressed Merivale. She was still looking a little shocked.

“True. Yes. But it wasn’t divination in the classic sense. From what I could unravel from the auras I perceived, I’d say it had some things in common with divination spells – in that it sought information … and it had something in common with transmutation spells, like that come-to-life enchantment Althelney loves to abuse … but it wasn’t either of them. The power underpinning it was … well … rather dark in nature. If you want my professional opinion, I’d have to chalk it up to … uh … necromancy.”

Chief Inspector Jack still looked skeptical. An impressive feat, Valentina thought, considering what he had just witnessed. Jack’s tone matched his look as he said, “Necromancy. Right. Any other possibilities?”

Merivale shook her head, less in answer and more to clear it.

Molly chimed in, “I’m sure, given time, we could come up with some alternatives – but they’d be at least as unlikely as necromancy. I’d say we should give Cantor the benefit of the doubt on this issue.”

Chief Inspector Jack’s hmm signaled his begrudging agreement. He turned back to Cantor.

“Why would Finnegan lie? He was dead.”

“Yes, Chief Inspector. Finnegan is dead. But from what I learned in studying that spell, however he was answering our questions, he was answering them from the same … er … point of view I suppose you could say … that he would have had in life. So, were he alive, he would have lied in answer to that question. And I couldn’t tell you the reason for sure.” Cantor sighed. He looked unusually thoughtful. “Maybe Finnegan was involved in something that happened earlier in the week and doesn’t want to risk shaming himself by admitting to it? Maybe somepony he cared about was involved in something strange that happened and he’s trying to cover for them? Did he have any dear friends working at the museum with him? Family perhaps?” Cantor shrugged and winced again.

“My spell only lets them answer. It doesn’t compel answers. Nor does it compel the truth.” Canter grinned wryly. “So I guess his testimony is about as reliable as that of any other individual closely involved in a murder case.”

Chief Inspector Jack seemed darkly amused as he muttered, “’Closely involved’ is too right.” The amusement faded. He eyed Cantor with a look that Valentina thought might even be concerned.

“Are you up for another interrogation, Mr. Mortalis?”

Valentina shot Dozy a relieved look. So it was up to “Mr. Mortalis” now! And asking for help rather than demanding it.

Cantor nodded, so Chief Inspector Jack pulled back the sheet from one of the other bodies.

With the exception of Molly, everypony (even the Chief Inspector himself) flinched back from the corpse’s expression – its face was twisted into a rictus of fear.

Cantor took a breath to steady himself and muttered, “Right. Time to get to work.”

Molly, meanwhile was giving Merivale a pointed poke to the ribs. To which, Valentina could have sworn she heard the diviner reply “Calm your tits, filly!”

Again Cantor invoked his newest spell. Again the dark power bubbled and seethed. Cantor looked like he was having trouble staying upright – he had mentioned the magic was unusually draining. So Valentina hurried to his side to help hold him up.

“You better make this fast,” she said, sotto voce, to Chief Inspector Jack.

The Chief Inspector, noting how Cantor was swaying, seemed inclined to agree.

The first question was presented to Cantor, who promptly asked the corpse, “How did you die?”

The corpse shuddered as it drew in a breath.

It screamed.

Valentina instinctively dragged Cantor away from it, placing herself between the staggering unicorn and the dead body.

The sound was horribly loud. Far louder than the whispery wheeze of the other corpse. It showed no signs of letting up. It was an unending, wordless shriek of terror.

“Enough! Be silent!”

Valentina looked back at Cantor, amazed he had found the strength to speak with such authority.

The corpse fell silent.

Valentina looked around the room.

The door was still swinging from where Baynes Hostler, consulting illusionist, had fled. Tobias Greenbroke and Molly Halter had both fallen back to one wall and were hugging one another. Merivale, her nerves already on edge, had fainted dead away. Dozy had caught her and was trying to wake her up. Even Chief Inspector James Jack looked very thoroughly rattled.

Cantor drew in a shuddering breath. Somehow he still maintained control over the spell, his concentration unbroken by the wailing of the dead.

“I think we can chalk the cause of death up to ‘fright.’ Wouldn’t you agree, Chief Inspector?”

The Chief Inspector gave Cantor a troubled look. “That was quite unpleasant. Do you think it’s safe to ask more?”

Cantor’s expression said, quite clearly, that he hadn’t the foggiest notion. He shrugged. Jack sighed. Then, as the rest of the room’s occupants began to recover from their sudden scare, he indicated another question.

The Chief Inspector also muttered something about needing to bring along ear-plugs as Cantor spoke again.

“Why did you take the knife out of the vault?”

This time the corpse spoke … stuttering and stumbling along, “Scared! Have t-to … have to … must protect … they’re after m-me … n-nothing can stop them … nothing … so s-scared!”

And then, without warning, the corpse’s face twisted and the voice changed: it seemed to deepen, to grow colder and more feminine, “the blade can protect you, the blade can make you safe.”

Valentina felt goosebumps start up all over her body. She felt Cantor shiver too.

It wasn’t exactly the Pony of Shadow’s voice – not quite, but it was as if the corpse was trying to imitate her.

The corpse continued, in its earlier voice, “Yes! S-safe! So safe and quiet and red. I can make them all such pretty, pretty red … so s-still and s-safe ….” the sound gradually fell away.

Cantor swallowed hard. “Uh … next question please.”

There was a brief pause. Chief Inspector Jack looked like he was trying to collect himself as he shuffled through his remaining papers. The other ponies in the room were just as nonplussed. Tobias had let go of Molly and was eyeing the door as if thinking Baynes had the right idea. If it weren’t for Cantor, Valentina would likewise have been tempted to make a sudden exit.

“Were there any unusual disturbances at the museum that week?”

Another shuddering breath drawn by the corpse, Valentina braced herself for another shriek. Instead, the corpse spoke, much more coherently than before.

”There was an after-hours delivery on Friday evening. It was strange. The timing … everything was all wrong, but accident or not what’s inside the box is far too valuable to try to return.”

There was a brief pause, then, ”It’s looking at me ….”

Cantor swayed on his hooves, Valentina shifted to take more of his weight. She shot the Chief Inspector an urgent look. He nodded and produced another question.

“Who all was in the building when you took the knife from the vault?”

”Jacob Greene, Finnegan, Janice, Murray, Whinney Whitacker, Sonders, Yoke and … and … her shadow.”

The same eight, Valentina noted. And the Pony of Shadows.

One more question left. Chief Inspector Jack frowned, his eyes hopping from paper to paper, before, with a sigh, settling on his final query.

“Why did all of this happen?”

There was a long silence. Just when Valentina had started to think that the corpse wouldn’t answer, it whispered:

“Veteris delictorum misit diu tenebris.”

The body’s mouth fell open again. Then its muscles contorted, wrenching its expression back to one of deadly terror. The spell was spent. It lay still.

Cantor, eyes no longer aglow with that seething light, leaned heavily on Valentina. She was honestly surprised he was still conscious.

“That sounded like Latin. Does anypony here speak Latin?” The Chief Inspector surveyed the assembled ponies.

“I do,” said Molly. “It said ‘Old Sins Cast Long Shadows.’”

“Not exactly helpful, eh?” was the Chief Inspector’s response.

“Perhaps not. But it was an answer,” Cantor sounded exhausted.

“Are you …?” Valentina began to ask, but Cantor waved her to silence with a muttered, “I’ll be fine. Give me about ten or fifteen minutes of rest and I’ll be good to go.” He smiled weakly over at her, “Just so long as I get a good long nap before anypony asks me to cast any spells again!”

“I believe that concludes our business here, Chief Inspector. Are we free to go now?” Dozy had come up to support Cantor from the other side.

Chief Inspector Jack considered the trio.

“You’ll be heading back to your hotel. You’ll take Molly Halter and Tobias Greenbroke with you. Molly, you’ll bring the tablet’s remains and the wrapping cloth back with you when you come – and Tobias will make sure there aren’t any mishaps along the way.”

“Why Molly?” Tobias looked puzzled.

“Because he,” and here Chief Inspector Jack jerked a hoof at Cantor, “is going to provide her with instruction on how to work that little spell of his.”

“Molly?” Valentina blurted it out in surprise. While it was clear Molly was perhaps a bit too fascinated with magic involving the dead, Valentina would have thought Merivale, as a diviner, would be the one most suited to learning more about such strange question-asking magic.

Chief Inspector Jack chuckled, “Yes, Molly. She’s a forensic pathologist; quite gifted, and quite magical. Digging answers out of dead bodies is what she does. She’s very good at it. Closest thing Shetland Yard’s had to a real necromancer in almost a century, based on the records I’ve turned up. You’ll teach her that spell.” That wasn’t a request, and Cantor nodded.

“Very good. You’re free to go. And please try not to cause the Yard any more trouble while you’re visiting our fair isle, Mr. Mortalis? I’d take it as a personal favor if the rest of your visit is blissfully uneventful.”

“Him and me both,” Cantor muttered.