In Fall of Night, things are never as they seem. Pascal Hunter is not in a good position to complain, as he's a ghost working as a detective. It is rare that his cases are as exotic as he is. This is one of them.

Pascal’s hands twitched.

He tried to act like a hard-bitten detective who just wants the case to be over. He liked to blame dramatic moments on his partner, Brynn, who was all too eager to take the credit. But he had to admit he was looking forward to it.

The big reveal.

He knew the answers, and he got to show off.

No one in the room knew everything, except him.

Not even a trace of a smile crept across his face. He kept it inside.

They gathered in Aelune’s receiving room, the same place the changed women were kept until one of the potential consorts suggested it was a bad idea to keep them all together. There was plenty of room, lots of seating, and you could see everyone at once.

Pascal saw an additional advantage. There were only two doors, one to the personal quarters, and one leading to the public areas of the Shell. Both doors had tables near enough that there were no easy lines from the chairs to the doors.

That might be important, as he had low confidence in Torralene’s guards. Dansel, the potential consort who suggested they separate the girls, was one of them, and Pascal assumed the other was also a consort wannabe. They were tall and strong but looked more like athletes than fighters. The worst part was that they probably thought they could fight; a lot of tough men thought strength was all it took to fight. Put them up against someone who had a little training and was willing to fight dirty, and they’d drop in a minute. He didn’t want to test their skills, not even against women with unfamiliar bodies. Hopefully their presence would be intimidating enough that no one would try anything.

The three girls were seated apart from each other; each one still claimed to be Aelune. The athletic Dienne, with her bright blue eyes and pale skin, was at the edge of her chair. Deri of the fox-like face sat back uncomfortably and fidgeted, still trying to sit properly in a dress. Prior didn’t even try, crossing her legs like a man and giving everyone a clear view of her panties, smiling like she knew exactly what she was doing.

Torralene sat opposite them all, chewing absently on a fingernail.

“I’m a nice guy,” Pascal started when everyone was seated. He paced slowly across the center of the room, passing before each of the three girls. “I have this all figured out, but I’m going to give you a chance to confess. I don’t know this shard’s legal system, I’ll admit, but every one I do know gives more leniency if you confess first.”

He waited, looked each one in the eye. Dienne stared back unconcerned. Deri shifted around and looked to the side, realized she looked guilty and looked back at Pascal. Prior stared pointedly at her fingernails with a wicked grin touching the side of her face.

“You know something? In all the years I’ve been doing this, no one has ever taken me up on that offer. I was really hoping one of you would be smart enough to change that. The big problem with being clever is that it’s easy to think you’re the only one. Last chance. Anyone?”

No one took him up on it. He was serious; he kept hoping, someday, that someone would. Torralene looked at the girls in turn like she was expecting one of them to speak.

After a pause, Pascal continued. “Let’s start with the easy one. There are three of you, when there should be at most two. Of course the answer to this one is simple. Only two of you are possessed by spirits.”

“That’s not possible,” interrupted Torralene. Pascal cursed silently. He wanted to watch the girls’ reactions, but now he’d have to watch the dowdy accountant instead. “Only spirits can enter the Shell once Aelune leaves.”

“I got in,” he responded simply. “Never assume there isn’t something out there you don’t know about. But in this case it’s even easier. She entered the building before Aelune left. She was a thief.”

He let that sink in. Dansel, one of the guards, quietly moved to the inner door, behind the table. Anyone trying to leave would first have to dodge the table and then him. Pascal approved. That one had some smarts behind him.

“You can give it up, Dienne. It was you. You were–”

“That’s not true. I’m– I’m Aelune, not a thief. I didn’t do anything like–”

“Your clothes don’t fit,” Pascal interrupted.

She fell silent. Her tight white blouse drew every eye. Torralene looked puzzled.

“Neither do theirs,” Dienne finally protested.

“True enough. But Deri was soaked when she came in and Torralene gave her some of Aelune’s old clothes. Prior was naked when she changed and picked up women’s clothing that was nearby. You came here in the clothes you claim were transformed from your ‘wicked black and yellow outfit.’ Transformed clothes would fit better, but those don’t fit well enough to be what you had on. The question at hand, then, is why you changed outfits. After all, if you’d stayed in your own clothes, you could always tell us they’d been something else before you changed. So why did you change?”

Everyone was quiet and looked at him. Even Dienne, who obviously knew the answer, didn’t speak up. Finally Torralene obligingly asked “Why?”

“Because the outfit you were wearing would have told us too much. Probably black and covering all your skin. Burglar’s clothes. But that’s just a guess. You didn’t burn them, but this is a big building and I’m sure they’re hidden well enough that it’ll take a few days to find them.”

“You can’t– That’s foolish, it’s just a guess. You can’t believe that. I’m Vy- Aelune and–”

“And that’s the other thing,” Pascal continued smoothly, “You were the only one to mention Vynne when I spoke with you. You made sure to emphasize that you were a woman before you changed so we’d make the connection. I’d be willing to bet the story you mentioned, The Bird in the Bucket, has Vynne pretending to be Aelune in it somewhere.”

Torralene, Prior, and both guards nodded. “Yes.” “That’s right.”

“You wanted us to think you were Vynne. After all, you don’t have a spirit in you. If you got the Clear Stone the game would be over. But if we thought you were Vynne, they’d just kick you back out. It’s too bad the Minister died, she would probably have picked up your hints and your plot might have worked.”

Torralene raised her hand and then lowered it while blushing. “So she didn’t kill Ma Zen?”

“I’m afraid she did,” Pascal answered. He didn’t turn away from the pale girl, now cowering back in her seat. “It was an accident, I’m sure. The Minister surprised you, or you surprised her, and she either tripped or you pushed her and her head hit the bed. You left her alone for a while, so I’d guess this happened before Aelune died. Well, left. Whatever. I bet it came as a shock when the lights went out and you realized what happened.”

Dienne was paler than normal. With a whimper she nodded.

“It was the mess in the room that gave you away,” he admitted. “It was a bad job to make it look like there was a struggle. Just a hint, I’ve never seen a real fight that knocked over every chair in a room. If it did happen, there’s no way it could be that rowdy and still leave a glass case open but not broken. Cutting the Minister’s throat was probably to make it look like a political killing, but the problem is that she’d been dead for a few minutes already. A slit throat sprays blood everywhere, it doesn’t pool underneath. So that was staged. Did you find the pass phrase afterwords?”

“Yes,” she murmured. She was trying not to look at anyone while all eyes were on her. The other two girls managed to look astonished, but Pascal wondered how much that was for show. One was a smuggler, the other a veteran and john. They’d seen worse.

Pascal nodded, “Don’t feel too bad. I don’t think it would have made much difference. I’ve got entrances for the other two. Deri was soaking wet when she came in, and I had a report from outside that someone from the Breathless Sigh came in. So you were the only one who could have started inside. Too much against you, doll.”

“I didn’t mean to,” she insisted at last. “I was just trying to keep my poor mother–”

“Mother, eh? Hmph, I’d figured on a sister for sure,” scoffed Pascal.

“If she hadn’t tried to jump me… Or if Aelune had just waited a few more minutes…”

She didn’t run. There was that, at least. She collapsed in her chair and wept. Pascal believed her, for what little that was worth. It probably was the first time she’d ever killed anyone and she hadn’t intended to. Might as well spit in the sea for all the difference it makes. He couldn’t even bring himself to feel sorry for her. She’d tried to cover it up with the indifference of a pro. If she hadn’t gotten caught, she would have killed again. There was no question in his mind.

When she didn’t move, Dansel grabbed her and tied her hands behind her back with a curtain tie. It would have to do.

---

Dienne did not show any signs of resistance, but Pascal was not reassured. No one could leave the Shell for a few more hours, so Torralene insisted they keep the girl here where everyone was watching. Pascal had to continue over the sounds of her sobbing.

“That brings us to the more difficult question. Which of you two is Aelune? I must admit,” he said to Torralene, “that I did not consider the question that it might be neither of them. I can exclude one, but cannot guarantee the other is Aelune.”

He’d swear her hair was grayer than it was when he first met her a few hours ago. The accountant was not cut out for the stresses of leadership. She nodded slowly, “One of them has to be…”

While Pascal mostly agreed with her, he didn’t like to rely on hope.

“Both of you changed from a man to a woman, and Vynne cannot do that. I considered the possibility that we have a third spirit here, or more likely, that a spirit or influence from another shard has gotten in.” The two women and the guards were listening eagerly, hanging on his every word, “But I believe in looking at simpler explanations first, such as that one of you is lying.”

With a theatrical glance at the ceiling that even his partner Brynn would approve of, he added, “Or that both of you are lying.”

That earned him sharp glances from everyone except Dienne, who couldn’t stop thinking about her fate. Pascal treasured the sudden fear in Deri and Prior. Both of them looked at Dienne while she cried.

“So, if I start with the idea that one of you is Vynne, then that means one of you is lying about having been a man.”

“No way,” insisted Prior, “I was a man - just ask that whore I was with.”

“So was I,” said Deri, not to be outdone. “But you can’t get to Elli or anyone else who knew me until it’s too late. But you’ve got to believe me.”

“All right, Deri, let’s take a look. You came in here soaking wet, which works with your story of being in the lake. We’re left with a few problems; you’re not sure how you managed to swim so far in a new body and fully clothed, and I’m not clear why your partner threw you overboard. You’re adapting to being a woman very quickly, insisting on the feminine form of your old name.”

“I have to–”

“I know, you have to get used to being a woman now. You’ve brought up your wife several times, which could be a distraction for us.” Prior nodded in agreement and smiled.

“But the first time I saw you was when you woke up from a quick nap. You woke up quickly, a survival trait for smugglers. You got your legs caught in your dress and nearly tumbled off the couch. It didn’t look rehearsed. At another point you leaned rather far forward and backed off when you realized the view you gave me.”

Deri turned aside for an instant before realizing where Pascal was going with this, and then turned back with eyes wide, “You believe me?”

“I think it’s more likely than not that you were a man.”

“No way,” Prior snapped as she leapt to her feet. “That means you think I’m–”

“That’s right,” Pascal responded. He stood his ground as Prior took a threatening step towards him. Her thin skirt restrained her stride and she nearly tore it open before it rode up on her thigh. She raised her hand before her in a fist.

“Is that supposed to convince me? A show of aggression? Please. If you’re going to box you need both hands. A dirty fighter wouldn’t raise them in the first place. A good fighter looks at the odds and doesn’t start a fight she can’t win. You don’t have a lot of experience fighting, I think.” He tried to look unconcerned but kept his eyes on her just in case.

She didn’t sit down but did drop her fist. “You’re wrong, but what have you got?”

Pascal grimaced briefly in acknowledgment before continuing.

“Your first mistake was your clothing. It doesn’t fit, but you have an excuse for that. The problem is that everyone else had, or claimed to have, a command to come here directly. They didn’t have the opportunity to get dressed first. Now, I’m willing to concede that a spirit might decide to change her usual commands rather than parade through town in the altogether, but it was enough to raise my hackles and get me thinking about it.

“Which got me looking more closely at your clothes. They’re too tight, but they’re too tight in, shall we say, interesting ways. You show off your assets nicely while appearing uncomfortable. You’d distract men - it worked on me for a few moments - while making women uncomfortable.”

“Give me a break,” she retorted. “This is all that was available. You think I want to look like one of them whores.”

“Actually, yes, I do. It serves your purpose,” he answered smoothly. “As does your general behavior, including comparing yourself to a whore. I’ve certainly known men who have used prostitutes, but a lot fewer who brag about it. Violence against them is common enough, but if you talk to their customers it seems no one is hitting them. Like your dress, I think your speech is designed to make people uncomfortable so they look away.”

“Oh come on now,” Prior exclaimed.

“I have to agree,” said Torralene. Prior stopped talking. If Torralene was taking a stand, she was in good shape.

Pascal had to bring things around soon. He knew how to do it, too.

“You tossed your hair.”

That shut everyone up, but more in confusion than agreement.

“When your hair got in your eyes you tossed your head at the same time as you brushed it back. That’s a skill that takes time to learn. Have you ever seen a man in a wig? He’ll blow it out of the way, toss his head back and forth, or push it back. Combining the motions, the toss and the hand, is something you learn when you have long hair.

“I know. You’re about to protest that you had long hair. Could be. A bit unusual for a veteran, but it could be. But you made a few other gestures, like putting your hand right over the hem of your skirt, that are typically feminine. Your masculine gestures were overt and aggressive, much easier to fake. Your feminine gestures were smaller and more unconscious.”

“You think a woman served with the Eighteenth?”

“No. I know none did. That was the one thing that threw me off. You knew where they hid. Still, so did I, and I wasn’t in the Eighteenth. Maybe that’s all you knew, and you were gambling I wouldn’t know be able to ask for more details. If so, it paid off. The Eighteenth was in Pinewood for a while, they even gathered some other refugees to them. I’d warrant soldiers picked up camp followers. So no, I don’t think any women served with the Eighteenth, but I’d bet strongly on some women being around them.”

“That’s not–”

“Alone, you can pick each piece apart. Together, it’s too much. It was a good gamble and you played it well,” Pascal tipped his head to her, “but you were a woman before the transformation. Do me a favor, one bullshit artist to another; tell me your name.”

She looked at him in surprise, smiled faintly, and then laughed sadly. “I should have some melodramatic speech here, shouldn’t I? ‘I would’ve gotten away for it if not for your incessant meddling.’ No, wait, it should be more of an ‘I’ll get my revenge on you yet.’ Perrin, Mr. Hunter, Perrin Maars. I’m the madame at the Breathless Sigh. It’s a pleasure.” She held out her hand to him and he took it and kissed it lightly. “Of course you’re right, my name is Vynne now. I may have missed getting the Stone, but I’m young again and it’ll be years before the spirit can give me any new commands. I think we’ll manage nicely, thank you very much.”

Torralene practically sobbed, “Then we’ve got it. Dansel, you watch that one,” she pointed to Dienne. “We’ll get Aelune ready for the ceremony. Vynne, you will leave, of course, as soon as the ceremony is complete.”

That confirmed what he’d thought.

“One second,” he interrupted. “I’ve got one last obligation to fulfill.” He spoke to Deri, or rather, to Aelune, “There’s a young man outside named Cambrian who went through a lot of effort to bring me here. He made me promise to mention him to you. Good kid, you should spend some time talking to him.”

She looked at him with fear in her eyes but nodded slowly. “I’ll do that.”

Torralene hurried her out of the room.

“I’m sure I won’t get to spend much time here,” Vynne said calmly to Pascal. “How about we take a quick look around before the ceremony?”

He took her arm and walked back into the Shell.

---

There wasn’t much of a crowd for the ceremony.

Only the people trapped inside the Shell were there. Twelve people to witness the return of magic.

As Cambrian had promised, the Crystal Shell at night was a different beast than during the day. As the sun set the crystal spikes faded and became translucent. They trapped the moonlight and reflected it into the auditorium below, allowing soft white light to bathe the chamber. It was lit as well as daylight in a meadow, and yet everything was in shadow.

Pascal had never seen its like.

He was sitting next to Vynne, who had changed into a better fitting dress she’d taken from the old Aelune. “I might as well get something out of this little trip,” she’d joked. Pascal wasn’t sure if Aelune had risque tastes or if Vynne had altered the dress around the neckline. She cut a striking figure, even if he was well aware how manipulative she was.

“You know Vynne hasn’t always lost,” he asked her as a way to open a conversation.

“How do you figure?”

“You’re here. This is Fall of Night. It’s not that hard to get rid of a spirit if you really want to. For that matter, if Vynne never won, why doesn’t she just leave and go elsewhere? They’re treating you kindly, I figure out of an agreement between Vynne and Aelune. If you win, you pretend to be Aelune and she gets another chance next time. And you only take the Stone as a woman so there are wizards available to keep everyone safe.”

She thought about it and gave him a half grin. “Doesn’t really help me at the moment, but that’s good to know. I hadn’t really thought about it before, but it makes sense.”

Torralene took the stage in a new business suit. She had a new necklace and had clearly showered and redone her makeup but the strain of the last day showed in her eyes and face. Pascal hoped she could have the quiet life she clearly wanted. She was determined to do the job she didn’t want, though.

At her gesture Aelune walked on to the stage. She wore a fine white dress that fell down just past her knees. She had a sliver tiara in her curly brown hair but it was easy to see how uncomfortable it made her. She held her head unnaturally stiff to ensure it wouldn’t fall off. Between her dress and low heels she took mincing steps and tried to smile at the small crowd.

Somewhere outside the Crystal Shell was a widow whose husband hadn’t died. Not really. Not yet. Pascal wondered if she was waiting in the crowd outside or if she was frantically looking for a man who would never come home. Would she ever know, or just think he met a smuggler’s end?

“On behalf of the Crystal Vale, we welcome the return of Aelune,” Torralene announced. With a slight touch of humor in her voice, she added, “I wondered why there was so little ceremony attached to her return, but now I think I get it.” She gestured to her audience, which barely filled a single row of seats.

“Aelune, I am pleased to present you with the Clear Stone.” She pulled a cloth off a small podium. The stone was well, if simply, named. At first it looked like a very large marble, or a bowling ball made of glass. The moonlight hit it and reflected off facets. For a moment Pascal wondered if it was made of diamond. It couldn’t be, it was too large.

He could feel the stone pulling him towards it, and could see the same hunger on Vynne’s face. Neither of them had time, as Aelune reached out her hand and placed it on the Stone.

“Thank you,” said Aelune in a clear voice, “and thank all of you for attending and helping me through a most unusual transition.” She stood easily on her heels now and turned her head smoothly without disturbing her jewelry. “We will have a lot to do in the next few days, but this has been a long day for all of us. I would like to address the crowd outside, but then I believe we should get some well deserved rest.” She smiled graciously and Pascal could see the guards respond with smiles of their own.

He scowled.

The lights were back on, glowing balls flowing like water along the walls. He broke away from the others as soon as they got outside, the roar of the crowd covering his exit. He did not go entirely unnoticed.

“Mr. Hunter, you did it!” An excited Cambrian rushed him. “She’s back. Thank you.” The old man, Martan, was with him. Despite his graying hair he was still a handsome man. The square jaw and athletic build that attracted Aelune in his youth had not entirely faded.

“Thank you, old friend–”

“Don’t. Whatever I owed you is done. I’m not coming back here.”

“I don’t understand,” the old man tilted his head, honestly puzzled.

“I caught one murderer tonight,” Pascal explained, “and gave another a palace. Worse, I helped her.”

Cambrian didn’t understand, but Martan did. “It wasn’t murder. She gave her body so Aelune could live, but she’s still a part of it.”

“Tell that to his widow.”

He could barely hear Aelune speak over the cheers of the crowd and that suited him fine. His anger burned and he did not look back. Deep inside, he feared he wasn’t angry at Aelune for killing Deri, but at himself for not taking the Clear Stone.