There was no question, of course, of refusing the King-elect’s request. Leaving their brunch untouched, the friends followed their royal patron, once again in mufti, back to Kar Landsar. With the castle in a chaos of activity in preparation for the upcoming coronation, they had no trouble reaching the royal quarters, where Maldan resumed his normal appearance.
He immediately led the group, accompanied by Ser Mirad Alkinil, the Treasurer Royal and two of his most trusted guards, to the dungeons beneath the great castle. The two men who had been on sentry duty outside the Royal Treasury the previous night were being held in separate cells. They had been disarmed, of course, and thoroughly searched, but had not been placed in chains or otherwise subjected to humiliation or torture… yet.
In an attempt to “soften them up,” Korwin cast a subtle spell of gloom and despair, affecting all those whom his shadow touched. Unfortunately, in a torch-filled underground chamber, that included his everyone around him, including the King-elect. On the plus side, only his comrades recognized what was going on, shooting him looks of annoyance, while the royal party simply assumed it was the dire situation that led to these feelings of doom and ennui.
In a somewhat more practical vein, Mariala used her Truth Sense, while Vulk summoned the awe-inspiring power of Abon’s Authority, to assist Maldan he interrogated the hapless guards. These maintained not only their own innocence in the theft of the Royal Regalia, but in the absolute impossibility of anyone having been able to get past them – no unauthorized breaks, no distractions, no food or drink consumed that might have drugged them…
And Mariala was quite sure they were telling the absolute truth.
“Could anyone have gated into the Treasury?” Korwin asked in the face of the King-elect’s growing frustration. “We should examine the area for magical residue–”
“It’s impossible,” Maldan replied gruffly. “Or so all our esoteric experts have claimed for decades. Ever since the Sword of Tarthin was stolen, in the reign of my grandfather, wards and seals have been in place to prevent any magical intrusion into the vaults.
“Still, there can be no harm in having you examine the place yourselves; perhaps you will discover some clue we have missed…”
At that point Ser Mirad returned to the dungeon, having absented himself when it became obvious the interrogation was yielding nothing. Now, he leaned in to whisper into his liege’s ear, gesturing to a cask of ironwood and gold that a servant carried. At Maldan’s nod, he turned to address Mariala.
“A thought has occurred to me, Dame Mariala,” the small, fussy little man explained, “that you might be able to use a certain artifact of which I know – I have seen the Mistress of Esoterica use it once before, and have managed to retrieve it from her chambers without her knowledge.”
He opened the cask and drew out a cube of opaque bluish crystal, perhaps 25 cm on a side. The cube was pierced through the center of two opposing faces by a rod of silver, the ends of which were carved in the shape of entwined snakes.
“Ah, a Memory Crystal!” Mariala exclaimed. “I have heard of such artifacts, although I’ve never actually seen one… still, I understand the theory well enough. I should be able to make use of this.”
Taking the cube up, she moved over toward the first guard, Rozin. Holding one of the silver handles, she motioned him to grasp the other one. Seeing his fear and uncertainty, she smiled and assured him it was perfectly safe.
“If you are truly innocent, this will prove it. It will allow us to see your memories as if with your own mind’s eye. I will guide the process, no harm can come to you.”
Reluctantly, the man grasped the silver snakes, and instantly his eyes took on a glazed look. Mariala focused her mental energies on drawing his mind into a link with the cube and herself, guiding him to recall the events of his guard shift last night.
The cube began to glow, and in each of its six faces the same images slowly began to form. In moments everyone gathered around could see the events of last night, as seen through Rozin’s eyes, played out before them…
Even moving with dream-like speed through the long hours of the watch, it was a singularly boring play they watched… events proceeded just as the guards had said, with nothing suspicious or out of the ordinary. Until about the fourth hour after midnight.
At that point, Rozin turned away from his fellow guard, Gildor, as if something had caught his attention – and then there was nothing. After about ten minutes of apparent time, suddenly the memories returned, and the night went on as before, uneventful and boring.
Gildor, taking the silver handle next, had the same memories as his comrade, including the mysterious gap. Some human agency was clearly behind the theft, using some sort of esoteric power to erase the relevant memories from the guards’ minds.
“It could have been an artifact of some sort,” Mariala mused after the cube had been returned to its cask. “I’ve read of such things, though they are rare and valuable… a spell is more difficult, but not impossible… or a very rare psionic talent, perhaps…”
“However rare, and whichever it was, it proves a mortal agency was behind this,” Maldan smiled grimly. “Not that I really believed the Immortals would have done this, but it’s good to be sure…”
The Hand’s next step was to examine the vaults of the Royal Treasury. No arcane energies could be deteted, either in the vaults or in the hallway where the guards had stood watch. But minute traces of dirt within the chamber revealed that someone had been within.
Korwin made a great show of trying to glean something from the small clods of dirt using his vaunted psychometry powers, to no result. It was Erol, fingering one of the samples and sniffing it, who sardonically suggested the stables would be a good place to start.
“I’ve smelled enough horse shit and seen enough muddy straw to connect those dots,” he said, handling the bit back to Korwin.
Confident that his agents were now on a viable track, the King-elect returned to the pressing business of both war and coronation planning, while the Hand headed for the nearest stables, the Royal Stables that lay within the grounds of the castle itself.
Along the way, the group debated what their cover story should be as the investigation progressed… Mariala suggested a scavenger hunt, while Korwin was of the opinion that they should claim to be hunting a stolen shipment of wine meant for the celebration. Neither idea met with much enthusiasm from the others.
Careful questioning at the stables revealed that a man, wearing the livery of Ser Corwan Landsar, had been seen in the predawn hours entering the stables caring a sack of a size and bulk that could certainly have contained the Regalia. No one could identify the fellow, however, and no one could recall seeing him again after he entered.
This lead to a thorough search of the building, and eventually the discovery of a grate leading down to the sewers. Traces indicated that it had very recently been lifted and replaced, with fresh muck to been seen (and smelled) on the rusty iron rungs set into the stone wall leading down into darkness.
With Grover the war ferret on his shoulder, Erol followed Devrik into the hole, scouting it out before the others joined them. A small circular chamber at the foot of the ladder opened, across a corroded iron grate, into the city’s main sewer system.
Once everyone was down, and torches lit, it became obvious there was only one direction to go – to the left there was no path, only a large chamber of murky, noisome water, while on the right a narrow ledge led northward along the line of a large sewer tunnel.
After several hundred feet an iron gate barred their progress. Obviously of an age with the surrounding stonework, the lock upon it was equally clearly of much more recent vintage. Korwin, again exercising his psychometry, was able to divine only that an old locksmith named Gepeto had made the lock, and it had been installed by a member of the Zalik-mal, the so-called “Thieves Guild.”
Toran was able to unlock the gate using his locksmithing skills, and the group continued onward, Grover sniffing ahead. After several other locked gates (some of which had to be smashed open when they proved beyond Toran’s ability), they found themselves in a small chamber off a junction of two sewer lines.
Vulk had been sure he’d heard voices shortly before, and there were signs that someone had recently occupied the area, probably as a lookout. It seemed likely that he (or she) were Zalik-mal, although they were known to be just one of the many groups using Shalara’s vast network of sewers, tunnels and crypts for their sub-legal activities. But were they associated with the theft of the Regalia, or merely lurking about on unrelated business?
It was Grover who sniffed out the hidden passage in the northwest wall of the chamber, a rough, crude and rather narrow passage that led slightly upward into darkness. Toran took the lead, as the group wound its way slowly up the dank tunnel to an apparent dead-end.
But it took the Khundari only a moment to find the mechanism that opened the hidden door, which lead out into an older, larger, and generally better built tunnel. Unfortunately, they had little time to appreciate the handiwork of long-dead demon cultists, or whomever, because from out of the shadows two lithe, fast-moving shapes were suddenly upon them, blades flashing in the flickering torch light.
Despite his ninja reflexes, Toran was taken by surpise, and barely deflected the longknife aimed at his throat, and failed completely in avoiding the other blade that plunged into his side. Staggering back, his head slammed into the wall, and he was down!
As Devrik leapt over his dwarven friend’s unconscious form, Vulk rushed forward to tend to his wounds. While the cantor sent his healing power into the bleeding wound, mentally stitching together the damaged tissue, Devrik applied his more physical abilities to the would-be assassin.
The man screamed in shock as his weapon, and the hand that held it, clattered (and thumped) to the ground. He staggered backward, dropping his longknife and clutching at his spurting stump. Devrik moved forward to finish him off, but with another step back the man suddenly disappeared with a quickly diminishing shriek.
Erol, meanwhile, had pushed past Vulk and Toran and had engaged the second Zalik-mal sentry, blocking the man’s thrusts with his trident, disarming him with a second sweeping motion, and pinning him to the wall, through his shoulder, with a third move.
As the others gathered around, Toran was groggily standing up, shaking his head. His wound had closed, and aside from the occasional painful twinge, seemed not to bother him much. His head still throbbed, however…
Devrik peered down into the darkness of the 10’ wide pit that blocked the passage and had swallowed the wounded sentry-thief, shrugged, and turned back to his friends. Erol was pressing their prisoner for answers, but was getting nothing but surly, if pain-filled, grunts in response.
While Vulk and Mariala argued about various esoteric methods of extracting information from the man, Erol dragged him over to the edge of the pit and leaned him backwards over it. The man’s feet scrabbled for purchase at the edge, as Erol grasped his tunic tightly about the neck, holding him suspended over the inky depths.
“I’m only going to ask you one more time,” he said quietly. “Where do we find your friends and the… items… they stole?”
The thief stared defiantly back into Erol’s eyes, and tried to spit, despite a very dry mouth. “I’ll never betray the Brotherhood! You’ll never make me talk!”
“I believe you,” Erol said after a moment. And let go of the man’s tunic.
With a shriek that was almost as much surprise as terror, the second thief vanished into the darkness. It was several seconds before Erol thought he heard a faint thump…
“Erol, goddess curse you, what did you do?!” “Erol, we needed him!” Vulk and Mariala’s outraged cries tumbled over each other as they rushed over and peered into the pit.
“Eh, he was never going to talk,” Erol shrugged, slinging his trident over his shoulder. “You learn to read men in the arena, if you want to survive, and I could read it in his eyes.”
“What’s done is done,” Devrtik interrupted before Vulk or Mariala could pursue the argument. “The question now is how do we get across this chasm?”
After studying the problem for a moment, Korwin suggested maybe a running start would let them leap it. An irritated noise from Toran and an annoyed glare from Mariala quickly shut down that idea.
In fact, it took Toran only a few minutes to find a semi-hidden mechanism in a dark recess in the wall of one of the sentry alcoves. Pulling the metal grip and twisting it caused a sudden grinding noise to fill the passage as a metal catwalk extended from beneath the near lip of the pit. It slowly ratcheted its way across the gulf, locking into place at the far side with a loud ‘snick.’
With shake of his head as he passed Korwin, Toran led the way across, the others following in various degrees of vertiginous panic. Everyone made it without stumbling to a nasty death, and the party continued up the curving tunnel.
About 30 meters along, the passage turned sharply to the left, while on the right it opened into a circular chamber some 6 meters across. A quick examination of the chamber revealed a stone and iron ladder set into the wall, leading up through a hole in the rough-hewn ceiling.
It was decided that Toran and Korwin would remain below while the others investigated above. Toran wonders what he’d done to piss off the others…
Erol went first, and after a few minutes called softly down that it seemed to open in to a passage in a building. Devrik, Vulk and Mariala quickly headed up the ladder.
With the others gone, Korwin decided it would be a good idea to scout ahead themselves, and set off down the tunnel. Toran was of the mind that sentry duty meant staying put, but realized he’d better stick with his bumbling companion – Gheas knew what trouble he’d get into on his own!
In point of fact, without the critical gaze of the two professional warriors, the Oceanic mage proved almost adept when two more sentry-thieves leapt out at them from another dark alcove. True, he was surprised at first, and if not for Toran (who had expected exactly this sort of thing), he might have died then and there.
But after the dwarf took the first man’s left leg off at the knee with a powerful swing of his battle-axe, while Korwin dodged, the water mage did manage to draw his cutlass. He parried the second minion’s attack, and the man leaped back to avoid Toran’s next blow. Then, in a bit of battle ballet that surprised them both, Toran feinted, the thief dodged, and Kowrin cut him down with slashing blow across the belly.
“Not bad,” Toran told his companion as they cleaned their weapons on the clothes of the dead men. “Why don’t you do that more often?”
♦ ♦ ♦
Meanwhile, above them, Erol, Devrik, Vulk and Mariala were enjoying a confused encounter with several acolytes of Kalura, Goddess of Love. It seems the hidden trap door at the head of the ladder was located in the basement of the Kaluran temple, near the dormitory of the male acolytes.
Passing into the refectory, they had run into a very beautiful woman and a staggeringly handsome man, dressed in the translucent silks of mid-level cantors (as Vulk had quietly informed the others). The couple were already annoyed, as a short time before a grubby street urchin had appeared, seemingly from nowhere, and raced through the living quarters area, up into the temple, and out the main doors, causing quite a kerfluffle.
Now these heavily armed intruders had appeared, also apparently from thin air, and started asking questions. It was too much! The cantors fled back the way they’d come, calling for the Temple Guards, and the Hand decided that discretion seemed wisest, especially when Mariala recalled that she had an old friend who was an acolyte there. They really didn’t need to be recognized!
It seemed obvious that, if there were any connection between the temple and the Thieves Guild, these people knew nothing of it! Scrambling back down the ladder, they left a pretty mystery for the Kalurans to puzzle over…
♦ ♦ ♦
Reunited, the group continued on, crossing another pit and entering back into the sewer system. A few picked and/or smashed gates later, they discovered yet another hidden doorway, this one rather more cunningly concealed in the stonework of the sewer. Another ladder led upward into darkness…
It was decided that this time Mariala would scout ahead, having cast her Wallflower enchantment on herself, causing others to ignore her, as long as she was quiet and unobtrusive. Korwin attempted to cast his own stealth spell, Klordia’s Shadow, but failed… perhaps it’s just performance anxiety, Toran thought to himself as he watched the frustrated mage glance around to see if anyone had noticed…
When Mariala eventually summoned the rest of the group to follow her, they found themselves in a very narrow passageway, apparently within the walls of… a warehouse? Clumped together as best they could at the far end of the passage, where a secret door and a spy hole allowed them to hear what was going on in the large room beyond, they listened intently…
Only to immediately hear a door bang open, the sound of running feet, and a piping young voice that gasped out a warning to the gathered men.
“The King’s men… are in… the tunnels… looking for… you… sir!”
A growl went up from the men, and one commanding voice began issuing orders to send a force down to ambush and stop these “King’s men.”
Devrik knew a cue when he heard one, and before the men could begin to act on their leader’s orders he had kicked the door open and leapt to the attack, his great sword glittering wickedly in the dim light of the warehouse. The others were right behind him, Vulk calling up his mystical armor and Korwin summoning his Frost Blade.
There were a dozen men, and one youth, in the large open room, along with great piles of barrels, sacks, lumber and stone along the walls and around the support pillars. Shocked to be suddenly attacked from their own hidden entrance, nonetheless the “guildsmen” reacted swiftly, and a tremendous battle ensued.
Perhaps inspired by Devrik’s earlier fight in the tunnels, Toran quickly took first blood by loping off the hand of the man who rushed at him, sword drawn. Erol traded buffets with a hulking brute, and both men went down, while the leader of the pack snarled at Devrik and aimed a blow at his head, which was barely blocked.
The Zalik-mal captain was clearly a skilled swordsman, and he seemed fueled by rage at being surprised in his own lair. Devrik was suddenly forced back on the defensive, parrying a hail of swift, darting attacks but unable to land any of his own.
Erol was back on his feet and laying about him with his trident, while Toran and Korwin hacked and slashed at the horde surging around them. Korwin’s icy blade took out two of the thieves, while Toran’s bloody axe dispatched another two in quick succession.
Mariala, staying back near the hidden door, surveyed the melee and looked for her chance. She found it as the leader was suddenly in her line of sight, blocking another of Devrik’s powerful blows – she raised her hand and focused her mind.
The leader of the thieves screamed and staggered forward as every nerve in his body suddenly seemed to be on fire. But before Devrik could take advantage of the man’s distraction, two minions attacked from either side, and he was hard pressed to defend himself.
Seeing the leader down but not out, Vulk threw down his staff, uttering the word of Command as he did. As it struck the floor the staff was suddenly a large constricting snake, which slithered determinedly toward the writhing man. As the captain staggered to his feet, his sword still clutched in his hand and blood in his eye, he found himself suddenly wrapped in the tightening coils. He struggled frantically, but to no avail, and was soon on the floor again, writhing this time in the crushing grip of the snake.
Mariala, meanwhile, Fire Nerved a whole swath of angry thieves, sending eight men screaming to the floor where here companions dispatched them between blows with the few still standing. In less than a minute the fight was over.
But even as the last man fell, with a trident in his thigh severing his femoral artery, he managed to deal a savage blow to Erol, who went down like a puppet with its strings cut.
While Vulk rushed to see to Erol’s injury, Mariala was scanning the shadows of the warehouse, looking for the most important piece of this puzzle.
“Where is Lady Ethalyn?” she called out to the others. “Did anyone see which way she went?”
“What are you talking about?” Devrik said as he extracted the thieves leader from the coils of Vulk’s snake and bound him securely with the rope that Toran handed him. “What’s that old harpy got to do with anything?”
Mariala stared at her friend in disbelief…
♦ ♦ ♦
Mariala had experienced a rather different prelude to the fight than her friends had. As they had gathered behind the crowded secret door, the group had listened intently to a fierce argument going on in what appeared to be a warehouse. The spy hole failed to give a decent view of the participants, but their raised voices came through clearly:
“I tell you I want those damn things out of here!” said an angry male voice.
“What, even the gold and gems?” replied a throaty, sardonic female voice.
“Hardly, that’s our payment for doing you this “little” favor… but now the heat looks to be coming down, and I don’t want to be found with anything identifiable!” the angry male voice grated.
“Nor can I afford to be found with the Regalia… I’m sure I’m high on the list of suspects that muscle-brained oaf is putting together – that’s why I’m allowing you to keep such a huge sum for yourself – you keep the Regalia hidden until I need it!” the woman purred, steel covered in velvet.
“It’s well hidden, but I still want it out of here, and out of my hands! I’ve heard rumors about these “Hand” jokers our new king has called in, and I’m not taking any chances, you bitch,” said angry male, finality in his tone.
“Watch your tongue, you vile little worm! You know what I can do, and if I have to –” the now equally furious female voice broke off suddenly as the youth had dashed in to announce that the “King’s men” were in the tunnels.
As her companions had burst form their hiding place and attacked the gathering of thieves, Mariala had seen the owner of that sardonic and angry voice as she turned to stare in shock at the sudden intrusion – it was the elder Lady Ethalyn Landsar, the King’s cousin and, along with her daughter Ethalyn the Younger, a potential heir to the throne, before Maldan had been elected.
As the woman had pulled up the hood of her great cloak to hide her face, Mariala had felt a sudden… tug was the only way she could describe it later… in her head, and felt her mental defenses snap down automatically. In that brief moment of confusion she had lost sight of the royal traitor, however, and then the battle was upon her….
Now, as she explained all this to her friends, it became obvious they truly had no memory of anything to do with Lady Ethalyn the Elder. And questioning of the few surviving Zalik-mal, including the leader, Hadrel Kervisan, revealed that they, too, recalled nothing of a lady of any sort being present.
“What are you babbling about?” Kervisan had snarled in confusion at Mariala’s insistent questioning. “There was no woman here, I was… I was talking to my men… then the boy ran in…” Vulk confirmed that the man was telling the truth, or at least believed he was.
Eventually, the Hand was forced to shelve the question of the woman no one remembered except Mariala, as it was imperative that the Royal Regalia be found quickly. No amount of persuasion could compel the guild captain to reveal his hiding spot, but in the end they didn’t need him.
In a locked inner room they discovered a dozen barrels of Kaluran wine, the good stuff they never sold and which was rumored to have some amazing aphrodisiacal effects… a close examination soon revealed one barrel that didn’t make quite the same sound as the others when thumped.
When the barrel was opened, sure enough, there was the sack and within it the glittering gems and metal of the Regalia, unharmed and beautiful.
As an added bonus to their general success, carting the obviously stolen wine back to the Kar Landsar allowed the Hand to smuggle the Regalia back in under a perfect cover that actually matched Korwin’s absurd story about searching for stolen wine.
And if the stuff was served at the Coronation, Mariala considered with an inward grin as they sought out the King, nine months from now the midwives of Shalara are going to be busy…