After seeing the scared and injured boy back to his family, and wrapping up the messy details of the insane oat peddler’s crimes with the local officials, the Hand of Fortune continued on their way back to Dürkon the next morning. It was a blessedly uneventful trip, and the pace was slow to allow the injured an easier time of it. Despite Vulk’s healing touch and rituals, and Drake’s miraculous Baylorium, none of the injured were quite up for much exertion  just yet…

The tenday after their return to the Dwarven city-state was a quiet, restful time, devoted to recovery, study and contemplation. On the 10th of Novara Devrik returned from his extended stay with his new wife, who insisted it was bad enough her being cooped up inside in these final months of her pregnancy, but he was driving her to distraction with his own cabin fever.

“She told me to go find our friends and maybe some adventure, get it out of my system, for a time anyway, so I’d be of some use to her after the infant arrives,” he told his friends over dinner that night. “I’m not quite sure what she means by that last…”

“Sadly, it doesn’t look like we have much to offer in the way of adventure just now,” Vulk sighed. “We seem to be at a dead end in tracking down the Vortex, and if Master Vetaris and the Council have had better luck, they’ve not told us.”

“We’ve been batting around ideas for drawing them out,” Mariala said. “Korwin has certainly come up with some… interesting ideas…” she added, innocently sipping her wine.

“Hmmm, I’ve been thinking about that myself,” Devrik nodded seriously, before the water mage could follow up his suspicious squint at Mariala with a retort. “Perhaps we should seek out the help of the Mad G– um, that is, of the Immortal Kalos… he aided us once against these foes, and seemed much angered at their using his temple and corrupting his priests. With a god on our side…”

“I don’t think that’s a very safe idea,” Vulk said hastily. “Kalos is not the most… reliable… of deities. And while it’s true that he did aid us, I’m quite certain it was because he saw us as tools to be used to achieve his own ends. I doubt he’d look favorably on our trying to use him as a tool to achieve our own ends. Gods are funny that way.”

This led to a lively debate that went on long into the night, but resulted in no clearer idea of how they should proceed. The most likely course seemed to involve the cover Devrik had created at Nah-henu, of Kalovai hunters for the Taruthani Games, but beyond that no one could agree on how to use that to track the Vortex buyers. Then fate stepped in and brought a new thread into their hands.

The very next morning a messenger arrived at the groups suite of rooms with a summons from Lekorm Darkeye, commander of the Prince’s elite bodyguards/intelligence force. When they had gathered in his spacious office he tossed a sheaf of papers onto his desk.

“This came in yesterday, from one of my agents in Fort Lakona, the Republic’s major settlement along our southwestern border,” he explained as Vulk reached for them. “It seems our friends in the Vortex have not given up on buying Khundari arms after all.

“Those papers are orders for more swords, spears and armor, which is not in itself an issue… the problem comes from the secret document my agent procured, which indicates the sale of forbidden cross-bows. The vendor is a small craftsman located in Khorakas, an outpost on our western border… not up to the standards of the City, perhaps, but quite good enough compared to most Umantari work.”

He gestured a perfunctory apology at his guests frowns. “No offense, of course. But what is most interesting here is the name of the person to whom these illegal arms are to be delivered, in four day’s time… it’s there, near the bottom of the third page.”

Vulk’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and Mariala gasped as she read over his shoulder. At the other’s inquiring looks he handed the pages over to Devrik. The warrior-mage stiffened as he read the name, and his face set into an expressionless mask. “I see,” was all he said.

“Well, who is it?” Korwin demanded when nothing further was forthcoming.

“The name of the supposed agent,” Vulk reluctantly replied, “is Brandis Nordaka. Devrik’s father.”

There was a moment of consternation as everyone considered what this might mean – Devrik’s father was a knight of the Republic, a major landholder, and a not insignificant player in his nation’s politics. If he was in league with the Vortex, who else might have been suborned, and in what other realms? How deep did the organization have its tentacles into the power structure in Kildora, or elsewhere. And how did Devrik feel about all of this?

He was giving no clue at the moment, and remained silent as the questions flew around him. When the others had all agreed that they needed to travel to Khorakas to intercept the agent, whomever it might be, he stood up abruptly.

“I do not particularly like my father, but I find it hard to believe that he would willingly support an organization like the Vortex, one that seems bent on control, perhaps conquest… he has always been a supporter of the Consolidation and Reform factions in the Senate, and this seems to violate that philosophy.

“But there’s only one way to learn the truth and that is from my father himself. My wife gives birth in a month – I wish to get this over with as quickly as possible. I must compose a letter for Raven; I leave the planning to you.” With that he turned and left the room.

Before any of his friends could go after him Lekorm called them back to the matter at hand.

“It would be almost impossible to make it to Khorakas before the scheduled delivery date at this time of year, if you were to take the surface road. Even with the mild weather this year, at least two of the passes between here and there are still snow-bound.

“However, if you take the Western Deepway, you should make it with half a day to prepare.”

Toran raised an eyebrow at this, and glanced at his companions, who merely looked blank.

“No need to look so shocked, young Toran,” Lekorm said, with a slight smile. “The Deepways are not really a secret, after all, however much we generally don’t talk of them to outsiders in these latter days. But any scholar or historian worth his salt knows of them, and after all your companions are now D’har Koem – I’m sure they will be discreet.

“The Deepways are a series of underground highways that connect most of the Khundari realms, or at least they did at one time. They were built over many centuries, beginning in the Age of Chaos, and allowed us to move our armies great distances at speed. But with the fall of so many of the Great Realms much of the system lies now in ruins or infested with gülvini, or worse.

“However, the minor highway we today call the Western Deepway is still relatively intact, if seldom used. The hostels that once offered comfort to travelers are abandoned, true, but our patrols keep the way clear of undesirables… mostly. It connects the City with Khorakas, of course, and with the Dwarven realms of the Greatstone Mountains in the far west.

“Toran will have the authority to deal with our renegade weapon smith, and I will send along two men-at-arms. Dealing with the other end of the matter… that I leave in your hands my friends. All we ask is that you keep us informed of what you learn of our mutual enemy.”

After a few more minutes of discussing the details, the meeting broke up and the Hand went off to prepare to once again leave the City…