5: The Garden of Morr

 We knew we had to give Ilse Fassenwuetend an answer soon, about whether we were prepared to escort her cursed (or blessed?) murderer to his execution, and so during our evening patrol Kurtis and Erhardt sneaked off to Mauer’s workshop and broke in. They planned to use the authority of the watch to cover themselves if required, not that they were on their official beat.

They got in easily enough and had a look round but could not find anything that looked unusual or out of place in a typical stonemason’s workshop. They were interrupted by the next-door neighbour, the owner of a sausage shop, but Erhardt used all his authority to convince the man that they had every right to be there. The sausage shop proprietor did not have any opinion on Maurer’s deeds and seemed to think he was a perfectly normal bloke.

Meanwhile, on patrol, Solvej found an unattended rat trap on the waterfront and decided it might come in handy for something or other and so she took it into custody. She also had a conversation during the day with Kurtis about his gig. I wasn’t there, so am unable to say what Kurtis told her. But, the next time we spoke to them, Solvej blurted out that Kurtis had only got his gig at the Pig because he slept with the landlady. Kurtis was mortified that Solvej had let this slip after she had promised not to tell anyone. While I was surprised that the generally pleasant and helpful Solvej should betray a trust like that, the incident did at least confirm my appraisal of Kurtis’ musical talent. Perhaps in retaliation, Kurtis then told us all that he thought Solvej’s mysterious meeting with Heske Glazer was because they were in a cult.

The next day, still in two minds about the Maurer job, we decided to seek legal advice. We went to see Osanna Windandus again and asked her whether Ilse really would be able to get us off the hook. She was a bit non-committal but left us with the idea that Pfeffer’s discretion would be the most important factor. So, we bit the bullet and agreed to help Ilse, even though the job stank worse than Solvej’s pickled herring. And Ilse arranged to meet us at the watch station at midnight, which didn’t sound ominous at all.

Come midnight we went to the station, Morrslieb was hanging particularly low and menacing, and an eerie mist was rising from the Teufel. Ilse was there with Maurer. She was looking gritty and determined while Maurer was looking as aloof and confident as ever. The group of Altdorf soldiers surrounding the manacled prisoner were clearly relieved to discharge their duty and hurry back to their barracks.

I decided, as a merciful Shallayan, it was my duty to ask Maurer if there was anything he wished to confess. He ignored me, of course, but I gave him Shallyan’s blessing in any case, although I wasn’t really feeling it. We made our way slowly along the riverfront heading for the bridge. The waters of the Teufel seemed to turn black and the mist swirled around like ghosts. After the big build-up and our trepidation, I decided this would probably be a run of the mill and rather boring escort duty after all and we’d be safely tucked up in bed before we knew it.

But, when we turned onto the bridge, the mist thickened, and visibility drastically reduced, which wasn’t that unusual, but it didn’t help our mood. Then, as we reached the middle of the span, out of the mist emerged an armed gang. There were many more of them than us. They were calling for Maurer to join them and they clearly meant us harm. Ilse immediately emptied her two pistols into them. One of the gang, their leader no doubt, looked unreasonably large and seemed to have shiny skin and large, strange eyes. He confronted Gulgad, thankfully, and the two of them went at it.

I decided to appeal to their better nature, although I doubted they had one, and blessed them on behalf of Shallya that they might think twice about their actions. I was surprised to see that a couple of them considered my words and hesitated. With little choice, the rest of the group were joined in battle. Ilse and Gulgad were tenacious and competent fighters, but the rest of us left something to be desired.

Their leader was so large, and bloated, and shiny, that I thought he might actually be a mutant, and some of the others seemed deformed too. They were calling for Maurer to join them, perhaps he was a mutant too. And among the gang, we noticed Narbe Ditwin, the fellow Gulgad had rescued from the fire and who had promised to help us if we needed it. He was now shirtless and his torso was covered in pink and green scales like a mad fish. What was going on, he was a mutant, too?

To digress, cultists of Shallya are often accused of being mutant lovers. This is used to dismiss us, denigrate our work, and thereby give power to those for whom the wellbeing of the common person is not a consideration. The simple, effective, and age-old practice of naming something in order to denigrate it: ‘mutant lovers.’

Shallya’s mercy is strong and blind. She wants to be merciful, she does not want anyone to suffer. But whether mutants are always her enemies, or sometimes those who must be helped by her is a divisive theological argument. Is mutation inherently evil? Is affliction a sign of immorality? I have certainly seen evil people who are not mutated, and I have seen immoral people who are not afflicted. I will leave it there. In any case, I’m pretty sure Shallya did not want me to be beaten to a pulp by a gang of mutants at this time.

But, I was sure they must defeat us, especially with Maurer potentially adding to their numbers, but shockingly he began to fight them as desperately as any of us, even with his hands manacled. Solvej noticed and quickly offered him her dagger, but we were all confused about what was happening.

Erhardt faced his opponents, too. I don’t really understand magic. In fact, I’m not really sure whether I believe magic is separate or different from the power any priest might be granted by their god. When we have been in fights Erhardt seems to throw things at our enemies, but it is not easy to see precisely what he is throwing. As a Grey Wizard it is often not easy to see what he is doing, in any case. But the missiles he throws sometimes do not seem any different to Solvej’s sling stones, except that Erhardt sometimes hits something with his. But now, from what I could vaguely make out, and from what others have said of it afterwards, Erhardt managed to summon some sort of exceptional magical force and his powerful missile struck his mutant foe killing it instantly.

This, I understand is why magic is said to be so dangerous. This is why the Dark Gods can thrive in the presence of Wizards. This is why, some say, mutants exist in any case. Because magic is inherently unstable. Even the most skilful Wizard, and Erhardt certainly does not deserve to be described in that way, cannot always control their magical powers. From what Erhardt has said, it may be that subsequent events, resolved at a later date, were down to this very outburst of uncontrolled power.

But back to the matter in hand, even though our group were acquitting themselves well, we still looked like being overwhelmed. The big man fighting Gulgad seemed ridiculously strong, and Gulgad’s axe either missed completely or deflected off the beast’s unnatural bulk. It was at this moment that Gulgad showed his resilience. He steeled himself for a final, do-or-die blow. Summoning every ounce of his strength, with an almighty strike, he felled the huge mutant. Seeing their invincible leader drop, the rest of the gang fled.

We wasted no time in continuing our journey. And questioned Maurer about what it was all about. He simply ignored us and walked purposefully on towards his doom. I said he was enigmatic. So we crossed the bridge and made our way through the north of the city and through the gate, then we walked up the track towards the Garden of Morr and were pleased to get there with no further incident.

There was a block prepared in the centre of the garden and an executioner standing by. A couple of priests of Morr were looking on from a distance. It was tempting to think we had done our job and leave right away, but we were obliged to stay until Maurer was dead. I’m sure we were all wondering why he had helped us fight the mutant gang, and we all knew he wouldn’t tell us.

Maurer knelt before the block, resigned to his fate, or confident he would survive, whispering what sounded like, a prayer to Sigmar. And the executioner raised his axe and then buried it in Ilse Fassenwuetend’s head. Before we could act, the treacherous executioner glared at us with glowing pink and blue eyes and grabbed Maurer. Then the ground erupted beneath them, swallowed them both, and in a few moments there was no sign that they had ever been there at all.

We were stunned and merely stared at Ilse’s body. It had been some sort of magic, of course. Solvej stared longer and more disbelieving than the rest of us. She had clearly taken the day’s events, the attack by mutants, Ilse’s death, and the extraordinary spectacle of Maurer’s disappearance harder than the rest of us. Perhaps it was surprising just how well the rest of us had taken it. In any case, and it might seem callous to say this so soon, we were all very pleased to have got Ilse’s promise to release us from the watch down on paper when we did.