Chapter 43: Searching for Someone

Chapter Forty-Three
Searching for Someone

Looking at Klein, Leonard nodded with a smile in his green eyes.

“Then what do you need them to provide?”

He had worked with Old Neil and the others many times before, so he naturally understood that divination required a medium—especially when the “main character” was not present.

Klein thought for a moment, then looked toward Butler Klee.

“I need clothing Elliott has worn recently that has not yet been laundered. If there are accessories he once wore on his person, that would be even better.”

He deliberately chose ordinary mediums, not anything that would cause a normal person to start imagining strange things.

Yet even so, old Butler Klee still looked confused.

“Why?”

After asking, he added, “I have brought a photograph of Young Master Elliott.”

Why? Because we are going to use divination to find his whereabouts…

For a moment, Klein did not know how to answer.

If he told the truth, not to mention whether that would violate secrecy regulations, old Butler Klee would probably turn around and leave, tear up the contract directly, and curse inwardly, “These swindlers! If this sort of thing worked, I might as well go find the most famous Spirit Medium in Awwa County!”

Beside him, Leonard Mitchell chuckled.

“Mr. Klee, my companion—hm, my colleague—keeps a special pet. Its sense of smell is sharper than a hunting dog’s. That is why we need Young Elliott’s worn clothes and items he once kept on him to help with the search. As you know, clues often only narrow things down to a general area.

“As for that photograph, we need it as well. He and I must know what Young Elliott looks like.”

Old Butler Klee accepted this explanation and slowly nodded.

“Will you wait here, or come with me to Mr. Vickroy’s city residence?”

“We will go with you. It saves time,” Klein answered succinctly.

He wanted to try his own Beyonder abilities, and he also possessed the simple human desire to save someone.

“Very good. The carriage is downstairs.”

As Butler Klee spoke, he took a black-and-white photograph from his pocket and handed it to Leonard.

It was a single portrait of Elliott Vickroy. He was around ten years old, with slightly long hair almost covering his eyes, obvious freckles on his face, and features not especially distinctive.

Leonard glanced at it, then casually passed it to Klein.

Klein examined it carefully, placed the photograph in his pocket, picked up his cane, put on his hat, and followed the two men out of Blackthorn Security Company, entering the carriage waiting downstairs.

The inside of the carriage was quite spacious, laid with thick carpet and equipped with a small table for placing items.

Because old Butler Klee was present, neither Klein nor Leonard spoke. They quietly felt the carriage travel smoothly through the dwindling rain and over the rainwater gathered on the roads.

“An excellent coachman,” Leonard said with a smile after an unknown amount of time, breaking the silence.

“Mm.”

Klein responded perfunctorily.

Old Butler Klee forced out a smile.

“Your praise is his honor. We are almost there…”

Because they feared the kidnappers might notice, the carriage did not approach tobacco merchant Vickroy’s residence directly, but stopped by a nearby street.

Old Butler Klee took an umbrella and returned alone. While they waited, Leonard spoke to Klein again, as if talking to himself.

“The reason behind the deduction I mentioned last time had no other purpose. I only wanted to tell you that the notebook will definitely appear again. Perhaps very soon.”

“That is not exactly a pleasant deduction.”

Klein pointed with his chin toward the coachman outside, indicating that with another person present, they should not discuss sensitive topics.

Leonard whistled, turned his head, and looked out the window. One raindrop after another slid down the glass, leaving blurred trails and turning the outside world completely indistinct.

After a while, Klee returned carrying a bag. Because he had walked too quickly, his trouser legs were muddy and the front of his clothes bore many damp marks.

“These are the clothes Young Master Elliott wore yesterday. This is the storm amulet he wore previously.”

Klein accepted them and took a look. He found that the clothes were a miniature version of a gentleman’s formal outfit: a small shirt, a little waistcoat, a tiny bow tie, and so forth.

The storm amulet had a bronze base engraved with symbols representing gales and waves, but it did not stir Klein’s inspiration.

“I will now describe the details of Young Master Elliott’s kidnapping, to help you lock onto the target…”

Old Butler Klee sat down and repeated the morning’s nightmare, hoping that the helpers he had finally found might have some use.

Klein and Leonard were completely uninterested in the exact process. They cared only about how many kidnappers there had been, whether any of them had displayed anything unusual, and whether they had carried weapons.

“Three.” “Normal.” “Armed.”

After obtaining the information they needed, they parted from old Butler Klee and hired a light two-wheeled carriage nearby.

Unlike public carriages, hired ones came in both four-wheeled and two-wheeled forms. They could charge by distance or by time. For the former, the rate was four pence per kilometer in the city and eight pence per kilometer in the suburbs. For the latter, two soli per hour; anything less than an hour counted as one full hour, and after one hour, every additional fifteen minutes cost six pence, with incomplete intervals rounded up. In bad weather, or when a quicker pace was needed for emergencies, the price rose further.

Klein had heard from Mr. Azik that in the capital, Backlund, hired coachmen were famous for outrageous prices.

For him, this was a rather luxurious indulgence. But for the moment, he did not need to worry about it, because Leonard directly tossed two one-soli notes to the coachman.

“Charge by time.”

After giving the instruction, Leonard shut the carriage door.

“Where do you gentlemen want to go?”

The coachman, holding the two notes, was both delighted and bewildered.

“Wait a moment.”

Leonard turned his gaze toward Klein.

Klein nodded slightly. He took out Elliott’s clothes and spread them across the carriage floor. Then he wrapped the storm amulet around the head of his cane.

Holding the black, silver-inlaid cane, he stood it upright on top of Elliott’s clothes.

The “balls of light” in his mind gathered. Klein’s mood rapidly became tranquil, and the brown of his eyes deepened as he entered a half-meditative state.

He felt his body’s “spirit” showing signs of lightening and drifting upward. Faintly, he glimpsed the ever-present “world of spirits.” In his heart, he silently recited:

“Elliott’s location.”

After seven repetitions, his hand left the black cane, yet the cane did not fall. It remained perfectly upright there, even though the carriage swayed slightly.

Tiny, invisible movements came from all around. Klein felt as though one indifferent eye after another were watching him.

During this recent period, he had occasionally felt something similar while meditating or in spirit vision.

With that faint, hair-raising sensation, he stared at the cane with his deep-black eyes and silently recited once more:

“Elliott’s location.”

The moment he finished, the silver-inlaid wooden black cane toppled, falling forward.

“Straight ahead,” Klein said in a low voice.

His voice carried a faintly ethereal quality, as though it could pierce through to an unknown world.

This was one of the divination abilities he had mastered, called dowsing. The tool had to be wood, metal, or a mixture of the two.

Normally, this required two true dowsing rods: shaped somewhat like an unbent wire bent into a right angle, the shorter side held in the hand, and their turning used to determine direction. But as a Seer, after practice, Klein discovered that he could use this searching method directly to find a person, and could also replace dowsing rods with his cane. Whichever direction it fell was the direction of the thing he sought.

As for the Antigonus family notebook, because Klein did not remember its appearance at all and had not the slightest impression of it, he could not search for it.

“Straight ahead,” Leonard called to the coachman. “I will tell you when to turn.”

The coachman had no understanding of why they were doing this, but the notes in his inside pocket, along with Leonard’s image of paying without hesitation, made him keep silent and accept it.

The carriage moved slowly, passing one street after another.

Along the way, Klein used dowsing several more times to correct their direction.

When the carriage made a circle around a certain building, he finally confirmed that Elliott was inside. At that point, only thirty minutes had passed since they parted from Butler Klee.

After dismissing the coachman, Klein no longer used Elliott’s clothes. He simply planted the cane wrapped with the storm amulet against the ground.

His eyes deepened again, and the sparse remaining raindrops around them suddenly swirled in place.

The cane fell diagonally forward. Klein pointed toward a stairwell.

“There.”

“Sometimes, I envy Old Neil. Right now, I rather envy you as well,” Leonard said with a smiling sigh as he watched.

Klein glanced at him and answered flatly, “This is not especially difficult. As long as you are willing, you can definitely learn it… Your inspiration should be very high, yes?”

Leonard nodded lightly and chuckled.

“That is not necessarily a good thing.”

He quickened his steps and entered the stairwell through the rain that was now trailing toward its end.

Afraid that his formal clothes would be ruined by the rain, Klein nearly jogged after him.

The building had only three floors. It resembled an apartment block on Earth. At each entrance, on every floor, there were only two apartments by the stairs. Klein used dowsing once on the first floor and once on the second, and both times the cane remained steady, pointing upward.

The two of them lightened their steps and reached the third floor. Klein once more stood the silver-inlaid black cane gently against the ground.

Whooo!

A faint breeze passed through the stairs. His eyes changed color, turning so dark they seemed able to absorb souls.

Whooo, whooo, whooo!

Around them, there seemed to be the sound of invisible weeping.

Klein’s hand loosened, and the cane wrapped with the storm amulet stood there by some miracle.

After silently reciting “Elliott’s location” one more time, he watched the black cane fall silently to the ground, pointing toward the room on the right.

“He should be inside,” Klein said while picking up the cane and lightly tapping the space between his brows twice.

As the various “colors” deepened, he looked toward the right-hand door and directly saw the different “auras” inside.

“One, two, three, four… three kidnappers and one hostage. The count matches. One aura is small and short; that should be Elliott… Mr. Klee said they had two shotguns and one revolver…” Klein said in a low voice.

Leonard chuckled.

“Let me sing them a poem.”

“Why become kidnappers when they could simply enjoy being civilized men?”

He set down the bag containing Elliott’s clothes and took two steps forward. His expression instantly became tranquil and sorrowful.

His magnetic, deep voice drifted outward, slow and low:

“Ah, threat of terrors, crimson hope—
At least one thing is true: this life flies by.
One thing is true, and all the rest are lies:
The flower that once has bloomed will die…”