The Tin Bird

To find a magician

Calist stood over the newly deceased. She wore plastic gloves, a cover over her hair and a pair of gaudy goggles over her eyes, but this did not keep Miff from recognizing her as the lady who had smothered him with questions the day before. She nodded at him when he entered the chamber and lifted the goggles to smile at Trinket.

“Do not worry,” she said. “This woman is not contagious. Unless you'd like to give her a kiss, of course.”

“Calist,” Said Trinket in disappointment. “I specifically mentioned that I disapprove of these sorts of practices in my shop. Wherever you got it from I suggest you bring it back immediately.”

“I retrieved our departed guest from the ward of Doctor Lawrence Munsen,” Calist explained.

“What?” Said Miff. “You stole from Dr. Munsen?” His face went pale and his palms began to shake. “You can't do that! Are you mad?”

“An interesting theory, but I suspect I am merely thorough in my work,” said Calist as she returned to her examination of the corpse. “I went to Dr. Munsen because I was led to believe that your brother worked directly beneath him, providing the supply for his demand I should say. This proven, I led him on a grand deception in which I was able to learn more of his dark trade.”

“Yes but did you have to steal from him?” Miff was still horrified at the thought. He had never met the man himself, but he had heard stories that would chill a sailor's bones.

“Miffleton Weaver,” Calist spun around and fixed him in her hawkish stare. “To discover the truth, one must dig. Dig up the graves and shake out the skeletons. One must sort through every speck of dirt until one finds the source of the pile. Do you want me to find your brother's killer?”

Miff was starting to wonder if he did. Here he was in The Locker in a strange shop with two suspicious strangers and a corpse. But then he thought of Breather, and that cold night when he had breathed no more, and he became resolute. “Yes,” he said.

“Then you must trust me,” said Calist. “Now, this woman who you see on my table was not yet deceased when I took her from your employer. However, her death late last night may provide us with the answer to a most unique and bizarre question.”

“Which is?” Asked Miff.

“Who should like to purchase a corpse?”

At this Trinket suddenly burst into a fit of laughter. He did not stop until he had to suck in a large breath. Miff was still troubled.

“What does that have to do with my brother's killer?” He asked.

“All things are connected, Miff,” Said Calist who had chosen to ignore Trinkets little outburst. “And given the peculiar elements of your case, I am driven to follow all the paths until they connect, and I am certain...” She paused as Trinket wheezed loudly in delight. “... they will. Have you something to say or are you merely going to huff and puff over there until your lungs give out?”

“Oh nothing, nothing at all.” Trinket tried and failed to hide his clever grin. “It is just that you have gone to a great deal of trouble to attain your corpse. A great deal indeed. And I shall give you respect where it is earned. But, forgive me if I mention that you seem, at times, to forget where it is you break your daily bread, and at whose table you do so.”

“Speak plainly,” said Calist.

“Well, to put it simply, it was not two days ago that a man came here in the hopes of attaining a fresh cadaver. And if you had simply asked, I would have told you exactly the sort of people who would purchase such a thing for a formidable sum.”

“At the time you were out, as you usually are, and I was left with my old achy bones to close shop on my own. Now I was just about to lock up when the door opened and this cocky fellow walked in. He was dressed like some prize parrot in a red cape and this tiny feather hat atop his head. I guessed that he was here for some kind of prop to improve his performance, for I have seen my fair share of illusionists come through my doors.

“Good day sir,” I said. “Is there anything I can help you find today?” It was then that he looked my way with a grin as white and large as a wolfs. It was a grin he managed to hold for the greater part of our encounter.

“Why yes sir, if you could be so kind,” he replied. “Only I do not know if you would happen to have it. I'm looking for a specialized kind of trade.”

Well I could only assume that he was searching for opiates or other likely substances with which a certain folk choose to indulge. So I began to insist that he look elsewhere. I do pride myself in a clean business.

“Oh no,” the man interrupted, “you misunderstand. I have no need for such things for I have a greater power on my side.””

Trinket paused in his storytelling to laugh again. “You see, there is a certain sect of people in this city, a very minute one, who believe in the powerful attributes of the human body. It is a selective form of cannibalism that derives from an old northern religion. The basis of it is simple enough. Consume the essence of someones liver and you will be immune to poison. Consume the brain and you will be smarter, and so on and so forth. The tradition has mostly died, but there are a few who still claim that the effects are every bit as potent as they say. And the man who visited me was one of these few.”

“And what did you tell him?” Asked Calist who had listened until now with mute fascination.

“What do you think, girl? I told him that I'd just up and run out of cold bodies that day.” He snorted through his nose. “The people you meet in this city. Never can tell what sort is going to pay a visit. So I hope that answers your question and that we can now dispose of this matter and remove ourselves from this unfortunate situation.”

If Trinket was hoping for a quick solution then he was to be disappointed. For Calist looked no less settled than she had before. Only now she appeared to have thought of something new.

“Very well, I will relieve you of the corpse,” she said.

“Good. How do you plan to go about it?” Asked Trinket. Although when he saw her expression he seemed to know exactly what she was thinking, and it did not agree with him one bit.

“This man who came two days ago,” she said. “Did he leave a name?”

“No,” said Trinket stubbornly.

“He did, did he?” Said Calist. “Then you must send word to him that there is something for him to collect.”

“Are you going to follow him?” Asked Miff. “Do you really think that he's going to lead you to my brother's killer?”

Calist paused just as she was tossing her gloves aside. “No,” she answered. “But the path is far from cold.”