Moving the Blackwater River

Gordon tossed the Black Velvet onto the water. If it counted as bait, it was terrible at its job, merely lying limp on the surface, playing dead.

Yet the Blackwater River took the bait.

A shadow suddenly surfaced.

Then a second.

Then more and more.

The whole river took on an indescribable vitality.

Monsters large and small rose from the depths one after another, swimming toward that wet piece of Black Velvet.

Deepclaw Demons were vile creatures, always acting alone, despising their own kind. Whenever they met, their only concern was which would eat the other. But now they were like a band of devout pilgrims.

Beneath the old house, the monsters still prowling the basement left at the same time, following the current back to the Blackwater River.

At that moment, they cared nothing for corpses, flesh, or marrow. They wanted only that single drop of water.

Seeing so many monsters surface, Vera drew her sword and took up a position in front of Gordon and Charlotte, poised to strike.

By rights, they should have attacked the bank, or at least come over for a look. But this time, not a single monster paid her any attention. It robbed her killing intent of all weight.

In the river, the Deepclaw Demons moved like schooling fish, their gray, arched backs breaking the surface from time to time.

They kept reaching out with their claws, trampling over one another without fighting. Finally, they gathered around the piece of velvet and, utterly entranced, spiraled down together into the dark riverbed...

One last swell broke the surface, and then everything went still.

The Blackwater River was calm once more.

As though nothing had happened.

"What... exactly... is... going on...?" Evans asked haltingly.

Only now did he realize that a horror capable of destroying the entire Montfort Family had been sitting in the old house's collection room for twenty years.

The night breeze blew in from the river, carrying the stench of the Blackwater River.

Gordon concluded his experiment and turned to face the others.

His face was expressionless.

"It seems," Gordon said, "the real problem was never the Deepclaw Demons or the flooded basement."

Everyone felt differently about it.

Standing on the bank, Charlotte looked at Gordon with entirely different eyes.

When she first invited him to the Montfort Ancestral Home, she had wanted to broaden his horizons.

She had thought this would be a classic grand adventure: a mysterious old house, bloodthirsty monsters, a professional hunter, brave young men and women. She had even imagined witnessing a breathtaking battle alongside Gordon. Blood could fly everywhere, of course, so long as none of it splashed onto her dress.

But what was this? She felt as though she had seen a whole new world hidden beneath deep water, a place of darkness and stench that did not care in the slightest what her surname was.

"Looks like whatever's attracting the monsters is upstairs. Nothing to do with the basement," Vera said curtly. "The cook and the butler's dog died for nothing."

"..." Evans sighed.

"Let's go back and discuss it." Gordon turned away.

Standing by the river in shock served no purpose now. It would only waste their body heat. Lundenim was especially cold tonight.

"And have dinner," Vera said. "An empty stomach will only give us bad ideas."

As far as she was concerned, that was the most urgent problem in this whole disaster.

The dining room candles were lit again, casting everyone's shadows onto the walls. Evans had hot tea brought in. If a butler could not even provide tea, he might as well declare himself unfit for the position.

Charlotte sat on the left side of the long table, her fingertips resting against her cup, her expression inscrutable. No one knew what she was thinking.

Gordon sat on the other side.

He was still the same poor student, but now every eye was on him. The Montfort heir, the Essence Hunter, the old butler, and all those servants-everyone was waiting for him to speak.

"First, let's establish the timing," Gordon said. "Did the Silverfish Casket only start leaking in the last two days?"

"Yes," Evans said. "For twenty years before that, it behaved itself perfectly. It never caused any trouble."

"Perhaps it was just biding its time."

"If we leave it in the ancestral home, will more and more Deepclaw Demons come?" Charlotte could not help asking.

"Of course," Gordon said. "Today's visitors were just the neighbors. Upstream, the Blackwater River passes through Leder City, Windsor, and Old Ox Ferry. Once word gets around, every Deepclaw Demon in the Empire will come for a visit. They might already be on their way."

All color had drained from Evans's face.

His original worst-case plan had simply been to abandon the ancestral home and seal off the basement.

Now it seemed they faced an endless invasion of Deepclaw Demons.

"Then we must seal it with Sealing Wax immediately," Evans said. "The ancestral home has a strongroom with three doors. We can put it in a box with a lead seal."

When faced with a problem beyond their ability to handle, they would lock it away and cut it off from the world.

For centuries, nobles had dealt with scandals, illegitimate children, and relatives with albinism in precisely that way.

"Very good, very good," Gordon said. "That will work against thieves and reporters. It might even withstand a fire. But have you considered that the entire Blackwater River answered its call just now?"

Evans fell silent.

"Besides, we have no idea how it sends out that summons," Gordon said. "Could it be a scent, vibrations, sound waves-some call we can't hear, but the Deepclaw Demons understand? If it gets desperate, could it send someone a damp, lightless dream?"

Evans said nothing.

Gordon's words were unpleasant. What made them harder to bear was that they made sense.

Vera had just swallowed a piece of cold meat.

"Then stand guard," Vera said. "Kill them as they come."

"You killed five tonight, but there are more in the river. We can't count them one at a time," Gordon said.

"A few dozen isn't that many."

"Don't forget that's just one day's worth," Gordon said. "Tomorrow, the day after, and the day after that, without end. Unless Deepclaw Demons are on your menu, this is a losing proposition. You'll be so busy you won't even have time to eat."

"Then I'm out," Vera said without hesitation. Gordon was right. No one should lose their time to eat.

As Vera understood it, the Silverfish Casket was either a wondrous item, something created from Source Substance, or a container holding Source Substance that was radiating terrifying spiritual corruption. Whichever it was, the situation was utterly disastrous.

"Then notify the Aberrant Affairs Bureau," Charlotte said. "Since this is beyond our capabilities, let a professional agency take over."

"Miss..." Evans hesitated.

"I know what you're worried about," Charlotte said. "But if we keep putting this off, the dead won't be limited to one cook and one dog."

She was very familiar with this sort of procedure.

At her aristocratic girls' school and at the Royal Academy of Natural Sciences University, she had never encountered any real trouble. Clever adults would resolve every problem neatly and completely. All she had to do was sit and wait to be informed.

Evans looked increasingly despairing.

"The investigators will turn the Montfort Ancestral Home upside down," he said, lowering his voice. "The family cannot withstand that sort of public investigation."

"And if we don't tell them?" Charlotte asked helplessly.

"Then the Deepclaw Demons will keep coming," Gordon said. "Until the Bureau sticks its nose in on its own, or you finally can't take it anymore."

The room fell utterly silent.

Three paths lay before them.

Sealing it away meant tossing an ember deep into a woodpile.

Standing guard meant pitting one sword against an entire river.

Reporting it meant handing their house over to strangers for inspection.

Watching this unfold, Charlotte could not help shivering.

Now she understood that the name Montfort was not a key that opened every door.

Instinctively, Charlotte looked toward Gordon.

How strange.

He was still the same poor student, yet he looked as though he had everything under control.

As though he stood on some higher ground, had surveyed everyone's plans, and still found them wanting.

She guessed Gordon might be a little nervous too, but he was also busy considering how to maximize his gains, leaving him no time to worry.

"Do you have a solution?" Charlotte asked softly.

"Not necessarily a solution." Gordon set down his teacup. "The main thing is that all three proposals you just made share the same blind spot."

"What?" Evans frowned.

"You're all thinking about how to stop the Deepclaw Demons," Gordon said.

"What else should we be thinking about?"

"The question is, what brought them here?" Gordon said. "Remember, all I threw into the river just now was a piece of cloth."

"So..." Vera said instinctively, "...the casket isn't necessary."

The entire room went quiet as a new idea slowly took root in everyone's mind.

"Right. You noticed it too," Gordon said. "What leaks out of the casket carries just as much weight. All those Deepclaw Demons couldn't even be bothered to glance at us. They chased that insignificant scrap of cloth like dogs."

Charlotte's heart pounded. She could hear an idea taking shape. Though fear still lurked deep inside her, something brighter and more dangerous rose beneath it.

"That means..." Something suddenly occurred to Evans, and at last a look of disbelief appeared on his face.

"The way I see it, we're going to be rich." Gordon set down his teacup.