“We still don’t have any hard evidence or a confession,” summarised the tiefling. “We are shit investigators.”

“We wouldn’t be if I had any mind-reading spell,” sighed Beldrak. “Alas, I don’t.”

“Let us summarise our theories,” I suggested.

“I don’t see Mathilda being a witch,” started Trueanvil slowly. “She has been living here for ever. As daft people in this town are, they would have still noticed it by now. Also, she is way too forthcoming and scornful to hide any power she has. She would flaunt it openly and damn the consequences. It’s either Elizabeth or Ysabel.”

“Elizabeth is very young,” I frowned. “Even younger than me. I wanted to ask this already: could she even be a full-fledged magician?”

“She could,” Beldrak answered. “Learning magic, the way wizards do, the way I did, takes a long time because it doesn’t require any magical talent. But some people can cast some spells instinctively. Elizabeth might be one of them. Or she could have received supernatural help in learning, like our friend, Jim here.”

“Either way, these are just theories,” sighed Trueanvil. “We need to move on and try to find some hard evidence. The mayor gladly permitted us to search Elizabeth’s and Mathilda’s house, but he refused to do the same with Ysabel.”

“We should search Elizabeth’s house first,” opinionated Jim. “And send Morreio to take a look around at Mathilda’s place. If we find evidence that’s fine, if we don’t, we can pester the mayor to give permission to search Ysabel’s house.”

“Ysabel is the most suspicious one,” I remarked, “But even she might be a cat’s-paw of one of her business partners. How will we know if she is?”

“You have come a long way, Arnold,” said Beldrak. “When did you start to listen to what I say? Few more adventures like this, and you will be properly cautious and paranoid. Anyway, I trust we are smart enough to notice if we are being set up. If not, well, there are always some enemies you cannot beat.”

Elizabeth’s mother sat in a rocking chair, swinging back and forth.

“Oh, hello! We have guests! Have you come to visit my daughter?”

“No, madame, we have come to search the house,” I answered respectfully.

“That’s good,” she said uncertainly. “Do you want some cookies?”

We looked at each other.

“I will ask the questions,” said Jim. “Do the search.”

It was a small house, so we could hear Jim interrogating the woman while we examined all the other rooms. Mrs Needle’s (what else could be the family name for a family of dressmakers) illness was mainly a feeble memory. She kept forgetting facts minutes after she was told. But she also had short fits of total delusion. For a minute, she must have thought herself a bird, because she only chirped at Jim, then she asserted that Jim was, in fact, her nephew, who came to visit her.

The search did not turn up any new information. We confirmed that Elizabeth indeed had expensive volumes that were concerned about the art of potion-making (I kept Beldrak from pocketing said volumes), but we didn’t find anything that implied she was a full-fledged witch. Of course, that could be just her being devious and skilful.

“The family has no friends as far as I gathered. The smith in the neighbourhood sometimes comes by for chat and cookies, but that’s it,” summarised Jim in a low voice, while Elizabeth’s mother was doing something in the kitchen.

“Should we take a look at him?” I asked.

“Might as well,” said Beldrak. “I think his child is healthy. It would be useful to ask him about those games in the forest.”

“Oh, hello! We have guests!” said Mrs Needle in a pleasantly surprised tone, as she entered from the kitchen. “Elizabeth! Your friends have come over! Wait just a minute, please, my daughter will be presently here.”

“No need madame, thank you. We have already talked to her, and we were just about to leave.”

“Oh, you have?” asked she with slight puzzlement. “Have a nice evening then!”

We were well into the eighteenth hour by the time we found the smithy, and it was already closed. But when the smith, incidentally a dwarf, heard who we were, he let us in. While Jim was speaking with the parents, Beldrak befriended their little son. I stood in the light of the lamp in the hall and continued my carving, when a young man, a human, sneaked up on me.

“Sir…” he said in a low voice.

“Yes,” I answered.

“You are investigating the… those… women aren’t you?”

“Why, I do. Or right now, my comrades do, anyway.”

“Do you think any of them did it? The curses, I mean? With the children?”

“If I knew, we would hardly need to interrogate people,” I sheathed my knife and put down the wood to look into the man’s eyes. He gulped.

“Do you think… they will be… tomorrow… in the morning…” he seemed to be holding back tears by now.

“Why are you asking?” I shot back sharply. He shirked away from the sudden ferocity of my voice, but I grabbed his shoulders.

“Which one are you interested in? Is Mathilde your relative maybe? An old aunt or grand-aunt?” I was looking right into his face now, and he was not a hard man to read. “No? Perhaps you admire the classy blonde then? Hm, also not. So, it is the pretty, young redhead that caught your fancy. Elizabeth.”

“I… sir… you…” he stammered. What a dysfunctional family this would be. They would stutter and stammer all day long, and never got around to say an adequately formulated sentence. I already pity their children.

“Let’s get this in order, lad. If you lie to me, I’ll break your bones. Who are you?”

“I… I…” I don’t have the patience for this.

“Here, lad.” I gave him a flask I confiscated from the unfortunate Sergeant Velario. “Drink this, then try again.” I let him go, ready to pounce again if he tried to run away. But he just stared at me with a dumb expression on his face.

“You are familiar with the way lids work, right?” I asked. He nodded, then stood still and stupefied. I sighed, opened the flask for him, and poured its contents down his throat. After he stopped coughing, wheezing and flailing around, he was finally able to speak his mind articulately. To a certain degree.

“I am Dw’yllan, sir. I am the apprentice in the smithy.”

“And what do you know about Elizabeth?”

The blood rushed into his face.

“Don’t start stammering again to me!”

“I… I just follow her around, sir,” he said. “And sometimes I go with my master to visit her house.”

“Follow her around?” I frowned.

“Yes, sir. When she is not home. I follow her when she goes into the forest.”

“And what does she think of that?” Is this going where I think it is going?

“She doesn’t know I follow her, sir!” he exclaimed, shocked by the idea. “At least I hope she doesn’t know.”

“I have half a mind to put you into a dark and cool cell for that remark,” I snickered. He paled. “Don’t worry; I won’t. But I have to say, if someone were stalking one of my sisters like that, I would break the man’s bones for good measure. If you want to spend time with a girl, walk up to her, and talk to her.”

“I cannot do that, sir!” he shouted in a horrified tone. “That would be too embarrassing!”

“You will have to do that,” I answered. “Because I will tell Sergeant Morreio to keep an eye on you and make good on my threat of locking you away if he ever sees you stalking the girl again.” He looked at me with a pained expression. “That is if we don’t burn her at the stake tomorrow,” I mused.

“She is innocent, sir!” he yelled and grabbed my tunic. “You cannot burn her!”

“Back off, lad.” He was strong, as one would expect from a smith, but I was stronger still. “If she is innocent, she won’t have to fear us. And what you told me does exacerbate her innocence somewhat. Have you followed her every time she went into the forest?”

“I… think?”

“Did she do anything besides gathering ingredients?”

“No, sir! I swear on my life! She just gathered!”

“That’s good to hear. Now be on your way, and don’t tell anyone we spoke.”

He left. I smiled and picked up my wood. Slowly, but surely, the web our investigation spun was tightening around the real culprit.