The Shape of Greed

By Sara Tiger Ryan

Is the body in the box being shipped out of Vantage, Conyor Ness or in. Cady needs to find out what is really going on before his clients are charged with the crime.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sara Tiger Ryan
• Release date: Dec 12, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215484692

Sara Tiger Ryan

Sara Tiger Ryan was born in New Hampshire. She now lives in Florida with her 2 cats. Make that minus one charming boy cat, add in a Mama cat who brought me 5 kittens--all of them adorable! Sara started writing novels in 1973 in high school study hall and hasn't stopped (for long) yet. She started out writing fantasy and added mystery. She also writes metaphysical non-fiction. Ryan was active in the small press in the mid 90's, and had her own 'zine, Star Triad.

Book preview

Cady Longwish Mystery

Book 2

The Shape of Greed

Sara Tiger Ryan

All characters herein are entirely fictional.

Author's Note:

Herm is short for hermaprodite.

All the work herein is copyright Sara Tiger Ryan, Tiger Moon Press. Smashwords Ebook Edition, November 2023.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting this author's work.

Table Of Contents

1 A Body In A Box

2 A Body After All

3 Matron Hillrunner

4 The Third Crate

5 A Mug For Dair

6 Crowly Doff

7 Sirten Blue

8 Vray Windwalker

9 Nested Companies

10 Miss Kitty’s Private Spy Agency

11 Boys In Trouble

12 Far Too Long

13 The Hidden Owner

14 Last Stop Junk Shop

15 To the Rescue—Oops!

16 Recovering

17 A Rough Shape

18 The Royal Trial

19 The Pale Fates’ Sentence

Appendices

Cast of Characters

Map of Conyor Ness

About Sara

Other Books by Sara

Cady Longwish Mysteries

Cady Longwish Mystery 3, The Shape of Fire, first chapter

Chapter 1

A Body In A Box

Hsst!

Cady tensed and let his hand fall towards his belt knife before checking the shadows in the alley to his right.

We didn't want to come to your office in daylight and you didn't stay past dark.

Since the man in the shadows didn't sound dangerous, Cady relaxed a hair.

You gotta help us. We found a body in one of the packing crates and, sure as dirt, it's gonna end up our fault, only it ain't.

I'm headed to the Jester Cafe. He could close up his office later. Join me and we can talk.

*~*

Two young men joined him at the cafe table, both in their mid to late teens and both looking a bit white and green by turns. Cady waved for the server to bring three short ales, then studied the young men a few minutes before asking, So?

Hooch and me didn't do it, the taller, dark-haired, smooth-skinned youth said.

We work for Thunder Movers on Old River Street, the other added. He was short, solid, and looked as if he lifted weights.

He was just a kid.

'Just-a-kids' were his weak points. What else do you know?

Nothing, they said in unison, then Hooch added, You gotta come look, you used to be a guard.

Which didn't really follow, but he figured he'd go with them, then tell one of the stations about whatever he found and let them deal with it. Even though likely the boys were right and they would get blamed. But at least they wouldn't be in the primary spot for the blame—that of reporting the body.

You got a name? he asked the taller boy.

Tapper Hillrunner, Mister Longwish.

All right, he knew the Hillrunner family—or at least knew of them, since they lived near his folks. He inspected Hooch a moment.

I'm part Maemar, Hooch said, naming one of the odd Races of Legend.

With their being of the Races, he felt obliged to help, even on top of his natural inclination to protect children—or at least get them safe. Though, in this case, it sounded as if he wouldn't be able to do more than bring the child justice. All right, you two, let's go see what you found.

*~*

The wind came up on the walk to the warehouse making tree branches creak and things tumble along the ground...and his escort even more jittery.

Once inside the open warehouse, without looking, Hooch pointed to the first crate in a line of three sitting on a low bench about halfway in and barely visible in the dim light of the single wizardglobe perched on the battered sconce by the warehouse door.

What made you open it? Cady asked, without going closer.

We figured the wine had sprung a leak, Tapper answered.

Only it wasn't wine, it was blood, Hooch finished.

We didn't do it, Tapper repeated.

Go on. You're a private spy. You was a guard. You musta seen dead bodies before.

Not a lot, and he certainly had never gotten used to it—especially bodies of dead children. Besides, he didn't want to get blamed for the death either. Cady advanced on the crate and the body.

The young boy—probably about thirteen or fourteen—was curled up on his side in the crate with one arm crossed over his chest and stomach and one hand spread over his face.

His years of guard training kicked in and Cady checked for a pulse. And found it, faint and erratic, but there. He straightened and glanced between the two movers. He isn't dead.

Both boys let out explosive breaths.

Hooch said, He looked dead to us. He didn't move or nothing when we pried the cover off.

We weren't quiet, Tapper added.

Do you have a towing sledge in here?

Tapper Hillrunner took a step back, looking ready to bolt.

If he recovers, he can tell the guards you had nothing to do with it.

A fresh burst of wind slammed against the side of the building, making the place moan. Something deeper in the building fluttered.

Hooch stared in that direction. S'over that way.

We can load the crate on it and get him to the healers, Cady prompted.

Both young men stared at him wide-eyed. Something crashed deep in the warehouse. A rhythmic creaking started up. The movers' eyes went wide and Tapper began backing away. A second crash sent them both running.

Cady rolled his eyes. Teens. With obviously over active imaginations. He returned his attention to the boy in the crate.

He didn't dare leave the boy here alone and go for help in case whoever had crated him came back.

Cady checked the boy as best he could for possible broken bones, categorized the boy's visible damage, then knocked the front side and ends of the crate off and set them on top of the crate next to the boy's.

The blood that had caused the movers to open the crate came from a gash in the boy's arm. Cady tore the bottom off his shirt and used that to bind the wound, even though it had stopped bleeding.

Hoping the boy had no internal injuries that would kill him moving him, Cady lifted the boy over his shoulder and headed for the closest heal hall.

Halfway there, the boy moaned once and thrashed.

Don't do that, I barely have hold of you. I'm taking you to the healers.

The boy shuddered all over and went limp again.

By the time he reached the heal hall, his arms and back ached. Cady kicked the door open, startling three sleepy healers to their feet.

The oldest healer pointed to a side room. Cady brought his burden there and set the boy carefully on the padded healing bench.

What happened? the healer asked.

Cady took a breath and stifled an out-of-place laugh. It would sound like a fireside tale. He settled for, I don't know. I found him like this.

The healer put her hands on the boy's chest. His breathing is shallow. His pulse is low. She wrinkled her nose. Mirage. She paused. It smells like Sweet Deception. Lots of it. Did he overdose? Or did someone try to put him to sleep permanently. She ran her hands over the back of the boy's head. A rather large bump on his head. She checked the boy's hands and found the same broken skinned places and splinters that meant to him the boy had fought whoever had crated him...and fought to get out of the crate.

We'll need to keep him at least overnight. She paused and inspected him. Are you out of the guards or just out of uniform?

Cady Longwish, private spy.

Go report to the nearest guard station then, because I'm going to have to say this poor boy met with foul play. Whether he deserved it or not is something else.

He doubted anyone deserved to be nailed into a crate...like being nailed in a badly fitting coffin. The Reader Station was closest to the warehouse, thank the Fates, because he didn't want to tangle with Rander, his old captain, or especially his old peti-captain, Hashern. If he was lucky, Perrin, his older brother, would be on duty and he could report to him.

*~*

Paperwork and details kept him and Perrin from arriving for their weekly dinner at their folks on time, earning them a scold by their mother—which neither of them were in the mood for.

He and Perrin didn't discuss the case because it was something that would hit the Legend Community rumor mill like wildfire. Perrin needed time to solve the case before everyone came up with an opinion they would just have to come down to the station and discuss.

His father interrupted Cady’s thoughts, How are you coming with opening your shop? His father’s tone said he hoped to hear no progress had been made.

All right.

Perrin rolled his eyes, since his brother knew he had put his sign up two days ago—which meant he had officially opened his doors to business. Not that he'd had anyone walk in yet...even though he sort of had a case.

That reminds me, Perrin said. How are you doing chasing down the orphans and parents from the Chance Fair Kidnappings?

I don't know why you took something so odd on, his mother said before Cady could answer. Getting those poor orphans hopes up like that.

I took the job on because the Queen gave it to me, he said, not for the first time. He turned toward Perrin. I decided to do the kids in the orphanage first. The new matron there has to match the files to the orphans anyway.

Is she young? his mother asked.

Cady stifled his first reaction. No, mother, she's fifty if she's a day.

I'd like grandchildren, his mother returned worriedly.

You have some. Sis had you some.

And I hardly ever see them.

It certainly has been hot lately, his father put in, obviously trying to deflect his mother’s well-worn round of complaints.

The weatherwitches are all predicting the hottest fall on record, Perrin said, spearing a hunk of squash. That, and Gaudy Fates trickery, and the stations are getting ready for a bad season.

There, his mother said, you could get your old job back.

I don't want my old job back, Cady added a scant spoonful of mashed moonjots to his plate. He might not have had any cases come in yet, past the Queen's order to reunite all the Chance Fair Kidnapper's victims with their families (if he could) but the thought of going back in the guards and having to stifle his talents made him sick. Besides, he had promised the Youngest Sinister Fate to follow his talents. Cady nudged his emptied plate toward the center of the table.

Perrin pushed from the table and stood. Come on, little brother, walk with me. I need to get back to the station. Detective Yesterlean will be back by now with questions.

Cady pushed agreeably to his feet, thanked his mother for dinner, kissed her cheek and headed out.

Perrin followed and fell in step with him. How's it really going? How are you doing with your possible sideline talent?

Struggling. Sometimes I think I have the talent, sometimes I don't. I've matched about four of the few kidnapped orphans with parents. The midwife confirmed the matches— whatever the parties involved decided. It's the orphans who are hoping for a match that don't have blue, flowery folders that mean 'kidnapped' that hurt.

Better you than me. I thank the Fates I’m an object Seeker not a person Seeker. It sounds like too much of a heart-rending mess to me.

They reached the steps of the Reader Station. Let me know what you find out about the crated boy.

Perrin slapped his arm in answer and headed into the station.

On his way to his apartment on Brwk Street, passing through the Community’s Plenty Market, Cady picked up a fresh bucket of ale and a bag of day-olds to tide him over till breakfast at Miss Kitty's Private Spy Agency tomorrow. Maybe Miss Kitty's had another missing child case for him. He could use a break from orphans.

KnifeKissingday

Cady arrived the next morning in time to meet Paff coming out of Edgy Yallow's with breakfast. The curly-dark-haired guard handed him a bucket of toast. How's it going?

I'm hoping Miss Kitty's has a straight forward, plain old, missing child case for me. Trying to Seek orphans older and their parents is tying my mind in knots. Perr is expecting a tough webwiche summer, since it was so hot for so long in the real summer.

At our station, we're going on the theory that it's so hot not even the criminals will want to exert themselves.

Luck on that one. He opened the foyer door and let Paff inside. Inside the building was noticeably cooler. Miss Kitty's waiting room felt even cooler. Cady paused under the slowly turning magic fan several minutes before following Paff into the meeting room where Paff sat serving plates.

Miss Kitty's three cats already had their plates and were eating. Miss Sazzy looked half asleep and had only a cup of kasha in front of her. Dusty stood at the back bench trading pages in the office’s magic book copiers.

Dusty still looked seriously thin from his bout with several poisons, even though he had been a couple seasons healing. But then taking down Elite Molly Lyy again last month had taken a bite out of all of them.

Cady sat, ate several forkfuls of his scrambled eggs and onions, then told his adventures of last night.

That's it? That’s all you did? Dusty asked. Where's your curiosity?

I'm a wolf not a cat.

Even so, you must have assumed something was shady about a boy being nailed into a coffin alive.

It was a plain shipping crate.

Longwish, Dusty scolded.

It was just a crate like any of the others there.

Did you look in any of the others?

No. He hadn't thought to. There had been two others on the low bench with the boy's. I got the kid to the healers. He paused and offered, Something about the return address has been bothering me.

Did you write the return address down?

I don't write things down, he grumped. My memory isn't that bad.

What was the return address, then?

He shot Dusty a dark look. I don't read when I don't have to either.

But when he left Miss Kitty's, he returned to the warehouse, slipped past the sleeping security guard and went to see if the other two crates were still on the bench.

Today the place smelled of lacquer, as if someone had spilled at whole bucket of it. Cady grimaced, but kept going into the warehouse.

Yes, the other two crates and the remains of the boy's crate were still on the bench. He might be able to find out something from the wood, which he didn't recognize. Not that he was any kind of woodworker or knew much about wood. He chose a forearm long piece to take with him, turned, and inspected the other two crates still on the bench.

He wrinkled his nose. The smell of spilled lacquer might be overpowering, but up close he could smell something dead. He ought to get a city guard. Except...

No, he ought to get his brother. That made sense. The crates might not be here when he got back. He pried the lid carefully off the second crate, tilted the lid up, let it fall silently and pushed the nails back in with his knife handle.

It had been a girl. He glanced at the third crate, started away, and made himself return and check it. The third crate was empty. That made his hair stand on end. He started towards the door again, returned, and copied the address down. All three crates were to the same address. And the address seemed familiar, though he couldn't remember ever having encountered a street by the name of Evening Primrose before. It sounded like a Community street. Cady stuffed the address in his right front trouser pocket, caught up the strip of wood from the boy's crate, and went to get his brother.

Chapter 2

A Body After All

She is definitely not Conyor Ness, Perrin said of the body.

Her clothes look Rover, the medical examiner said, fingering the girl's skirt. Or prairie. Though what a prairie girl is doing here, I can't guess. The medical examiner wiped her hands on a cloth hanging at her waist and stepped back. She can't have been dead long. In this heat, she would smell like the Dark Fates’ outhouse after only a day. Take her out, boys, crate and all.

Two cadets picked up the crate and headed to the death wagon with it. Detective Yesterlean said, I'll want to talk to you, Longwish.

I'll be working at the station all day, Perrin answered.

I was talking to your brother.

I already told Perrin everything I know.

Even so. You know the routine. Later. I have another case I'm working to follow up on this morning.

I'll be at my office mid Dragon Court off of Backwards Avenue, Cady answered.

Detective Yesterlean shot him a look. Nowadays everyone thinks they can become a private spy.

I also work for Miss Kitty's, he answered perversely. It was not hard to guess who the detective was disparaging.

The detective made no comment, only motioned the waiting crime scene dockets to ribbon off the area, then he ordered Perrin to notify the owners of the warehouse.

On Yesterlean's way out, he woke the sleeping security guard with a hard kick to the man's chair.

Cady arrived at his office building a half wizardmark later to find a 'condemned per order of the Queen' sign on his door. He snatched the sign off, folded it, and stuck it in his back pocket. It made no sense that Her Majesty would rent him a building, give him a season’s worth of work, then have his building condemned. He could ask the Prince at dinner tonight—assuming Prince Lyzan ate at Miss Kitty's tonight, as he often did.

Cady sat at his desk and pulled the top blue Flowers of Joy Orphanage folder from his to-do pile. Both he and Dusty had sensed Janie Fisher/Lela Daisy alive. He rifled through the folder, found Miss Sazzy's portrait of the girl, and studied it. It had been ten years, so the girl would look and feel older. She might have changed her name from the one the orphanage had given her.

The building doesn't look safe, his father said.

Cady looked up. At least he hadn't been Seeking yet.

His father stayed in the doorway, scanned the ceiling and shook his head. It's going to cost a ton of money to fix this place up; I don't know why you would bother.

He had already had it fixed up.

The color of the paint is probably the only thing holding it together. It's obvious the roof leaks. It's a wonder it hasn't been condemned.

Luckily he had taken the condemned sign down. Hover Lastshadow fixed the roof and skylight.

I'll send your Uncle Ferrel by; he'll give you a truer report. His father left.

Cady waited a few minutes before pushing to his feet and locking his door— despite that meant no breeze.

Assuming Matron Hubbel, the Flowers of Joy’s previous matron, hadn't estimated the girl's age wrong, Janie Fisher, or Lela Daisy (the Flowers of Joy name), would be about twenty by now. His younger brother Dair would have been eighteen next week.

There was a thought. Cady Sought Dair, studied the sense his magic gave him and compared that to what he sensed Seeking Janie Fisher. The difference in the feel, he assumed meant she still lived. Now, how else could he work with his magic? Remembering how Dair had pathed when young? Comparing how Dusty's little friend Alice Washer had pathed before her kidnapping to how she Felt when he Sought her now?

He stared into space a moment. If he Sought Janie Fisher, added the difference in age from Dair young to Dair last year and the change in Alice, where did that take him?

He received a short flash of a direction and distance. The direction would be southwest, the distance would be in town. And now he had a pulsing headache.

Cady let go of his magic, sat back and massaged his scalp, then headed for Plenty Market and a cup of kasha. Walking helped him think. But he would need a better sense of direction to Seek-walk Janie Fisher.

Cady sipped his cup of trundle cart kasha walking the Community's Plenty Market looking for a firepot and a kettle so he could make his own kasha. No one had any firepots for sale—likely because everyone was trying to stay cool right now, rather than get warm. Maybe Sidewise Market had one; people there sold more secondhand and out of season things.

At Sidewise Market, he found one of the new magic heating stones instead. One corner had broken off, so the thing was fairly cheap. He'd heard they worked slower than fire, but at least it wouldn't make the office much hotter than it already was.

Cady started back to his office, stopped and, instead, went to the healing gallery to check on the boy from the warehouse.

The healer at the desk answered, He hasn't woken yet. Are you kin? Do you know what language he speaks?

It might be prairie, he said.

We'll try trader then.

And? he prompted.

He's holding his own. He was more starved and dehydrated than anything else. I'll tell him you were asking after him.

Cady made no comment, though he couldn't imagine the boy would care—or be able to understand the healer, if he couldn't speak Conyor Ness. He left.

*~*

Cady paused on the corner of Dragon Court and Backwards Avenue and considered the odd color of his building. He wasn't ready to paint it, and he wasn't sure that the tannish-yellow color didn't suit him. He pushed inside.

His older brother lounged in his chair with his feet up on the desk.

Good, Cady said, you can do my work while you're there.

Not hardly, unless you are hunting people made of wood now.

They only seem to be made of wood.

Perrin sat up.

Cady waved him back down, dropped into his client chair, and set the warming stone on the corner of his desk.

Does it work? Perrin asked.

I haven't had a chance to try it yet. I went by the healers and checked on the crated boy. They said he was talking but not awake.

Some of the guards at the station are like that: talking and working but not awake, Perrin said humorously. I came by to let you know what the medical examiner found out about the girl in the crate.

And?

She died of the heat, dehydration, and starvation. She had been given a strong sleeping drug and something that paralyzed her that the medical examiner wasn’t familiar with. The examiner didn't think the girl ever woke from the sleep drug. Which is a mercy. Thinking about waking in what is basically a coffin would scare me silly.

Yeah, me, too. Does Detective Yesterlean have any ideas yet?

He wants to blame someone at the warehouse. The sleepy security guard, for one. Did you follow up on the wood yet?

Cady scanned his office before admitting, I don't remember where I left it right now.

"You had it leaving the warehouse last