'Just the odd person wandering by and looking for something else.'
'Have you seen any wizards here lately?' Sophraea was almost certain that the lights that she'd seen in the City of the Dead were signs of magic, although she couldn't imagine why a wizard would want to venture into the graveyard after dark. The dead tended to punish those who cast spells near their graves. And the Blackstaff took an even dimmer view of unauthorized magic in a place so prone to peril.
'Haven't seen any wizards where they shouldn't be. Other than him.' The thorn pointed rather rudely at Gustin, who made a face back at the little man.
Sophraea settled herself comfortably on a memorial bench set near the topiary dragon. She rummaged through her basket, pulling out a little of the dried fruits to share with both Briarsting and Gustin. 'I've been seeing a light in the City of the Dead, usually in the middle of the night. Perhaps it's the dragon or another guardian.'
'It's not us,' Briarsting said. 'He doesn't glow in the dark and I don't light fires near him. Too many dry leaves this time of year.' The dragon sat back on its haunches and waggled its ears as if it knew they were talking about it.
'How about ghosts?' asked Gustin.
'They don't usually glow that brightly,' started Sophraea only to be interrupted by Briarsting.
'It might be one of the more substantial dead,' said the thorn. 'Two tombs were opened recently. The remains were removed to other parts of the graveyard. And the dead can take offense at such actions. Especially if the removal is being done by amateurs.'
'Amateurs?' Sophraea asked. 'If a family requests a removal, it's usually us or one of the other funerary families.'
'Why would anyone move coffins and urns?' asked Gustin, pinching a little more of the dried fruits and nuts out of Sophraea's basket.
'To make room,' said Sophraea, with the certainty of one raised in the funeral business. 'The old tombs are all full. Sometimes, when a new family member dies, somebody has to be… well… shifted to another location.'
'First come, first removed. Last come, last interred,' joked Gustin.
'It's not something that is done lightly!' Sophraea said. 'You wouldn't believe the arguments that some families get into about who should go and who should stay. And if the dead decide to get involved in the decision, then it can be a real quarrel.'
'The dead do that?' Gustin paused, a handful of fruit halfway to his mouth, and looked over his shoulder at the seemingly peaceful tombs.
'Sometimes, the dead want to travel,' Briarsting informed him. 'Sometimes they don't. But I don't think it was anything like that. With those kinds of removals, the difficult kinds, you get Carvers, for one thing, supervising the opening and the closing. And I didn't see any of your lot around.'
'No, we haven't done anything like that for ages,' Sophraea began.
'Didn't a Carver open up something in the south end last spring?' asked Briarsting.
'Leaplow,' sighed Sophraea.' 'That was not official. And that's been all properly sealed since.' Then she remembered the fat Rampage Stunk. 'There's a client now who'd like a couple of tombs opened, but nobody has started any work yet.'
'Didn't think I'd seen your lot around here. Where there's Carvers, there's always a nice funeral afterward, with the new resident being laid to rest and all, everything done just right,' concluded the thorn, snatching the last of the fruit out of the basket before Gustin could get to it.
Sophraea resigned herself to stopping at the fruit seller's place on the way home.
'Still, there have been workmen nearby,' Briarsting said, settling back on the bench. 'Amateurs. Clearing out a tomb, like I said.'
'Which tombs were opened?' Sophraea asked.
'Markarl and Vesham.'
'Those certainly are Carver-built tombs. Old ones too. Both are down in the ledger. A bit north and east of our gate,'
Sophraea said. 'That would be close to where I saw that light the first time.'
'They're working there right now,' said Briarsting.
'Then we should go take a look,' Sophraea said to Gustin. 'I don't understand why Father or one of my uncles hasn't reported this to the Watch. They know it's not safe to trespass here. There're laws for a reason. And only Carvers should work on Carver tombs.'
The bronze door on the Markarl tomb was locked tight but the Vesham tomb stood wide open.
Two burly men wrestled a marble urn through the door with grunts and some groans. The piece was heavy and the wide curling handles had to be angled precisely to fit through the door.
'Smash it into pieces,' grumbled one man. 'That would make it easier to clean out!'
Sophraea started forward to stop such vandalism, but the topiary dragon caught her skirt on its thorny teeth and dragged her behind the evergreen hedge that marked the boundary of the plot nearest to Mairgrave.
'What are you doing?' she scolded the bushy beast.
'Shh,' said Briarsting, laying one green finger against his lips. 'It's the City Watch.'
Gustin, who was almost bent double to hide behind the low hedge, added, 'The little man says that the Watch has been coming by on regular patrols and they know all about those tombs being open.'
'Well, they can't approve of this,' Sophraea stated firmly. She popped up to peer over the branches at a trio of sturdy men in armor rounding the corner. Two were tall and rather young, but the third was an older man with a huge salt-and-pepper mustache clearly visible beneath his helmet. She waited for outcries and the scuffle that usually occurred when thieves clashed with Waterdeep's defenders.
Instead, to her surprise, one of the men hauling on the urn simply said, 'Oh, you're back. Give us a hand then. It's heavy.'
'Shift it yourself,' replied the mustached Watchman with a frown. 'We're not here to help you. We're only here to make sure that you do not take more than you are allowed. And that you take proper care of what you remove.'
'Like we want an enormous stone vase full of old ashes.' With another grunt and shove, the workmen finally freed the urn from where it was caught in the doorframe. They staggered onto the path and set it down with a thump.
'Careful,' warned one of the younger Watchmen. 'Any damage will earn you a fine. That's been explained to your employer.'
'Not even a nick,' replied the insolent worker.
'That can't be right,' said Sophraea, practically up on tiptoe to see clearly over the hedge, despite the combined tug on her skirts from the skulking Gustin and Briarsting.
The youngest Watchman saw her bobbi rig up and down behind the hedge, trying to pull free her skirt from her companions. 'You, girl, what are you doing there?' he challenged her.
With a last firm jerk to set herself loose, Sophraea stood straight. 'I'm Sophraea Carver,' she said. 'I was just showing my friend some of the tombs my family worked on.' She grabbed Gustin's collar and hauled him upright beside her.
'Amazing detail, even on the feet of that memorial bench,' the wizard added smoothly, even as he twisted out of her grip. Sophraea stepped out from behind the hedge in front of the Watch.
'I didn't know Carvers came so small and cute,' said the youngest man, ignoring Gustin following her.
'She's Leaplow's sister,' hissed another guard to his companion. 'The one that Kair tried to flirt with.'
The impending grin on the first guard's face faded and his look grew decidedly blank. 'Oh, well, then, we wouldn't want to delay you on your business,' he said to Sophraea. 'Give our best to your brothers.'
'And your cousins,' added the second young man. 'To say nothing of your uncles.'
'Do I know any of you?' Sophraea asked the Watchmen.
'No, but you let our friend Kair carry your basket home from the market,' said the older one with a large bushy mustache.
Sophraea had a vague memory of a nice Watchman who once walked her home, only to be met at the door by Leaplow and Runewright. They'd probably shown him a shortcut through the City of the Dead, she decided with a sigh.
'Do you know my brothers?' she asked, just to be sure.
