Making his way home after midnight, Devrik felt very good about the session just concluded with Toran. They were well on their way to the realization of the artifact he had devised, and with his Khundari friend’s help was forging, which he planned to gift the chantry when he made his petition for the rank of Vendari. He felt that each had learned something from the other, and he was seriously considering the Tykizu convocation as his second branch of arcane study… assuming he achieved the rank of Master, of course. He smiled at the idea that he might not make it… bloody unlikely!
He rapped lightly at the door to Bekatia House, the very nice mansion on loan to them from the Imperial government, since the door was properly locked and barred at this late hour. After a moment he rapped more firmly… eventually the door porter, a yawning 14-year-old boy, opened the door and bowed him in. Devrik chuckled and ruffled the lad’s already tousled hair in passing.
“Go back to sleep, Bari, no one else is out tonight, I’m the last one.”
The boy flushed, but nodded, giving the scary older man a shy smile before turning back to lock and bar the doors again. Devrik made his way quietly upstairs, and on the way down the long hallway to his and Raven’s chamber peeked into his son’s room. Apparently the boy had won the battle with his mother, and was sleeping in the pocket dimension mansion tonight – his bed here was neatly made and unoccupied. Shaking his head in amusement, he continued on to his own room.
He tried to slip in without waking his wife, a on-going game they played. Raven’s preternaturally sharp “barbarian” senses usually made that his attempts at winning a fool’s hope, but…
So far, so good, he thought as he pulled off his boots, carefully watching her sleeping form under the comforter… no change in breathing… maybe this was his night! As he began to undo the frogs on his tunic he glanced over at the dresser, where they always kept The Book when Aldari was in residence within – and froze.
The dresser top was empty, safe for Raven’s combs and brushes.
“Raven! Where is The Book?” Devrik barked, his pulse beginning to race as the combat rush came over him. “Where is Aldari?!”
With a sharp intake of breath Raven sat up in bed, instantly awake. In much less time that it would have taken him, woken from a deep sleep, to realize the situation, she had understood his fears, and collapsed back onto her elbows.
“He is fine, husband. He is not sleeping in the Violet Mansion tonight, despite his whining. So the book is, I assume, on its usual shelf in Mariala’s chamber. As for Aldari, he and his herd are sleeping on the roof tonight… a tactical compromise I made, to carry the day.”
Devrik felt relief wash over him, and the sudden loosening of tension was almost dizzying. He didn’t continue undressing, however, and his wife smiled indulgently. “Go up and check on them, husband, we both know you won’t be able to sleep until you do.” She sank back into the pillows, turned over, and drifted back to sleep.
She was right, of course, Devrik realized, he was too primed for action now, and he’d never fully relax until he saw his son for himself… Kasira knew there’d been too many abductions with that boy, in his short life, for him to rest easy! He slipped back out of the room and made his way up to the small rooftop terrace.
Sure enough, there was Aldari, sound asleep on a pile of cushions and pillows, one leg sticking out of the twisted blankets, one arm akimbo behind his back. How the boy slept like that his father would never understand… Brann raised his head when Devrik stepped onto the terrace, then settled back down sleepily when he sensed who it was. Likewise, one of the two small, colorful fairy dragons (he could never remember which one was which), opened an eye, stared at him for a moment, then also went back to sleep.
Well, it was good to know his son had attentive guardians, even in his sleep. Still… it was a lovely night, and he also enjoyed sleeping out-of-doors of a summer evening. Raven will understand, he thought wryly as he wrapped himself in a blanket Aldari had kicked off in his sleep, and curled up next to his son and the menagerie.
•••••
As the dawn light poured in through the windows of her room like rose honey (the eastern exposure was one reason she’d picked this room, despite it being on the third floor), Mariala stretched and smiled languidly, disentangling her limbs from those of her bedmate. The other person made a small noise, and began to come slowly awake as well.
“It looks to be another beautiful day, sleepyhead” Mariala said, stroking the other’s dark hair. “But didn’t you say you wanted to be back aboard the ship before everyone was up and about?”
With a groan, her bedmate rolled over and, propped up on elbows, arched an eyebrow at the redhead. “If you hadn’t exhausted me last night, I should’ve been up before the sun,” Lurin Ar’Hanol said, smiling. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you! Still, I’d rather not draw too much attention to… whatever we have going on here. You are, after all, my boss.”
“Well, one of them, anyway,” Mariala laughed, laying back down as the Kunya-Keshdan physician rose and began searching for her clothes. “As we agreed last night, it’s nobody’s business but our own — and Shala knows, that ship is as big a hot-bed of gossip as any village laundry full of washer women. No need to feed grist to the rumor mill just yet.”
As she watched the good doctor put herself back together Mariala’s eyes drifted absently across the bookshelf where she stored the Hand’s growing collection of tomes (another reason she’d picked this room, that built in bookcase). Her gaze grew sharper when she realized The Book, as they’d all taken to calling The Joys of Extradimensional Spaces, was missing from its usual place.
“Lurin, was The Book on the shelf last night when we returned from the inn?” she asked, sitting back up again suddenly.
“Hmmm?” Lurin paused as she was buttoning her bodice. “Oh, your “special” book… I really couldn’t say I noticed. As I recall, my mind was rather focused on… more interesting things just then.” She smiled wickedly at Mariala, and the sorceress mentally shrugged. No doubt Raven had lost her battle of wills with young Aldari, and had taken The Book while they were out… and then she forgot all about it as Lurin slipped back out of her bodice…
•••••
It wasn’t until some time later, gathered for breakfast with the rest of the Hand and Hand-adjacent, that Devrik and Mariala compared notes and came to understand that The Book really was missing. Quick and urgent questioning of every inmate of the house soon revealed that no one knew where it was!
A few minutes of meditation and self-hypnosis helped Mariala to fully recall last evening, and resulted in her absolute certainty that The Book had been in it’s proper place when she returned from her dinner with Dr. Ar’Hanol. Why that confirmation should make her blush, Devrik couldn’t imagine, but at the moment he was too distracted to dwell on the matter.
Erol and Toran’s combined tracking skills, when they went in together to examine Mariala’s bedroom (while the rest of the Hand crowded the hall outside), revealed that two… creatures was really all they could say… had been in the chamber. The traces were disturbingly animal-like, if considerably larger, and showed they had climbed up the trellis outside the windows at some point during the night.
“It looks like they went over to your bed, Mariala,” Erol said, on his knees near foot of said furniture. Mariala was distinctly glad she’d made the bed after Lurin had departed. But…
“Yes, I agree,” Toran nodded. “It looks like they stood there for at least a few minutes, too, before heading straight over to the bookshelf.” He scanned the floorboards carefully as he crossed to the wall, perpendicular to the one with the windows. “Which is odd, as they must have known what they were looking for, since it doesn’t appear that they searched the room. The bookshelf is closer to the windows than the bed, so it’s odd they made that detour—“
“Odd?!” Mariala yelped in horrified dismay. “You think some nasty animal-things staring down at us — me, while I slept is ODD? It’s creepy beyond words, and deeply disturbing!”
It took a few minutes for Mariala to regain her composure, and while she did the others moved downstairs to check the ground at the base of the trellis. When she rejoined her friends, Erol was just setting Grover down and encouraging the ferret to pick up the scent, if he could.
The little beast quickly latched onto something, and darted off down the street, with the Hand in hot pursuit. Grover followed the scent into the nearby pedestrian tunnel under the Decadius Canal, but seemed to become confused about halfway through the passage. The physical traces of claw-like feet mingled with both bare and shod human footprints in a confused scramble in the tunnel, and did not appear to go on… from the middle of the tunnel they became lost in the traces of the other marks which covered the floor.
Toran closely examined the stonework of the tunnel, looking for any hidden door or hatch, perhaps an entrance to the city’s vast labyrinth of sewers and heat tunnels, but found nothing. Eventually the group returned to the surface and stood staring in frustration at the morning sun glittering on the waters of the canal.
“This is clearly a dead end,” Vulk sighed. “I think we need to turn to another question: where might a stolen book be taken in this city? I wish we’d tagged the damn book with a locator cantrip, as we talked about…”
“The Book is naturally resistant to scrying spells and such,” Mariala shrugged. “It would’ve taken more than a cantrip; on the ship, there seemed no need, and after we arrived here, we’ve all been too busy. Still, we’ve each of us become attuned to The Book in recent months, so maybe we’ll be able to sense it if we get close enough…”
“Possibly,” Vulk agreed, and a sudden thought struck him. “The Staff of Summer is extraordinarily sensitive, and through me it’s gained familiarity with the energies of The Book… perhaps it can act like an amplifier, increasing our sensing range. Or at least mine.”
“That’s an interesting possibility,” Devrik said, manfully not rolling his eyes. His friend did like to go on about his amazing staff… of course, in this case he might actually have a point. “It still leaves us with the difficult task of narrowing down where to even begin looking… this city is enormous. So where do we start?”
“Well, we do have two obvious places to begin,” Mariala said. “The Great Library, although I doubt anyone would try to sell stolen books to them… at least not ones stolen in the City itself. A more likely possibility is our friends at the Amberdune bookstall. I suspect if anyone knows where a stolen book might be fenced, it would Nadalia and her people.”
“Assuming it wasn’t stolen specifically for some wealthy collector, of course,” Draik added glumly.
“Well, even then, Nadalia would seem the one most likely to know who the major players in the City’s book world are,” Mariala said. “She can help us narrow down our search, at the very least.”
After making sure the mansion was secure, with Jeb and Therok on high alert and Aldari firmly under his mother’s watchful eye, the Hand spread out across the city to their various tasks. Mariala, Toran and Erol headed toward’s the Baldeth Market and the bookstall run by the Amberdune “family” of jackalweres, while Devrik and Draik made their way toward the Great Library, on the grounds of the Imperial University and the shores of Lake Shala. Vulk undertook to vigorously investigate the nearby Serene Lotus bathhouse, so popular with the gladiators from the nearby training academy — and, he theorized, a veritable hotbed of underworld informants.
At the Amberdune bookstall, the three friends found Inbar and his brother Ramah on duty, the latter reading aloud from a book of poetry to attract possible patrons. The three companions were greeted with sincere but guarded enthusiasm – the jackalweres were still getting used to the idea that such high folk could truly be well-meaning, friends even, to such as themselves.
Once Mariala had explained the situation, however, and how serious their need was to find The Book, Ramah became a bit prickly, assuming he and his family were being accused.
“No, no, nothing of the sort,” Mariala assured him, making placating gestures. “It honestly never occurred to us to think any of you might have been involved. But you are our only connection to the world of books in this city – who else would we turn to for advice, and possibly help?” She smiled and opened her hands, palm up, in a questioning gesture.
Ramah had the grace to look embarrassed and Inbar laughed at him, slapping his younger brother lightly on the back of the head. “Of course we’d be happy to help, mistress,” the older man went on, ignoring his sibling’s glare. His Pagonian accent was heavier than most of the other Amberdune’s, but perfectly understandable.
“Sadly most of the fences and other… um, less than reputable booksellers we know of are, how should I say, low-level? And I would not wish to say anything without Nadalia’s nod, I am sure you understand. But really, she is the one you need to speak to, mistress… I am certain if anyone could point you straight it shall be her.”
Like all the jackalweres, he spoke of their leader and surrogate mother-figure with something near to reverence. The lamia – half snake, half woman – had, after all, saved each of them over the years from lives of various kinds of desperation, and had kept them together and safe ever since. It was hardly surprising that their loyalty to her was absolute. Inbar assured them that Nadalia was at home just then, and would likely be happy to receive them.
“Indeed, she has probably only just risen,” he added. “Ever since her… revival… she has been sleeping much longer, as Cantor Vulk had said she might. But it is clear that she is getting stronger each day, and we all thank him, and you all, everyday for that gift.”
A bit embarrassed by the naked gratitude in the man, indeed, in both men, the friends quickly made their farewells. Leaving the market, they headed down into the warren of older buildings that made up Raddler’s Maze, the slum wherein Nadalia and her family made their home. On Old Quarry Street they passed the popular bakery and food shop they’d noted on previous visits to the area, Virgot’s. One of the most popular eatery’s in the northwest quadrant of the City, the queue to get in was as long as ever, Toran noted. They really had to try it sometime, the smells were literally mouthwatering…
At that moment he caught site of Marliza, the youngest member of the Amberdune family, coming out of the food shop, carrying a large tray piled high with wrapped bundles – pastries and meat pies, Toran assumed. He hailed her, and she seemed please enough to see them. They quickly learned she was just returning home with breakfast for Nadalia and the others not on shift at the bookstall.
“A little late, I know,” she said, “but Nadalia is still waking up rather late, so…”
“No need to explain,” Erol assured her. “In our lands we call it brunch, and it’s really very civilized. Here, can I help you with that?”
The three friends accompanied the girl through the twisting lanes of the Maze back to the jumble of rooms the Amberdune family called home, Erol carrying the laden tray for her.
•••••
Nadalia made sure to present her usual cool, collected self, but was actually not displeased to see their new… allies, she might fairly call them, she thought. Perhaps friends, in time, although she was not one to make such attachments lightly, or quickly. But Goddess knew, she owed these people her life… the least she could do was share some of her breakfast as they talked. Besides, Marliza always bought too much.
“I’m very sorry to hear of your loss,” she said gravely, once they had settled in her private chamber with hot chocolate and steaming sweet buns, and the visitors had explained their errand. “I can’t say I’m terribly surprised, however, given your rather cavalier attitude toward keeping secrets. I admit, I didn’t expect it would happen quite so soon.”
“What?” Mariala sat her cup down rather too sharply. Nadalia thought she seemed suddenly suspicious. “How did you know… how could you have expected something likes this?”
“My dear, half the city knows of the existence of your marvelous Book and its pocket dimension by now, after that birthday party you threw for one of your friends four nights ago. As I’ve heard it, you had caterers going in and out of that Book, serving food cooked by your homunculus servants – quite good food, too, I’m led to understand. In any case, servants will talk, especially when there’s a good story to be told.”
Lady Mariala seemed chagrined at this – no doubt wondering why none of them had considered this possibility? Nadalia’s sources had told her the mansion’s staff were vetted by the Lord Myrmytron himself, so no doubt they’d all just assumed their silence…
“It seems we have been indiscreet,” the noblewoman sighed. “Still, nothing to be done about that now, it’s spilt milk. Nadalia, can you offer us any advice on how to proceed in trying to recover The Book? Have you any ideas on who might have taken it?”
Nadalia took a bite from her mushroom tart and considered. She was impressed. The other woman didn’t waste time on useless regrets, and she appreciated that. “As for who might be behind this theft… given the alacrity with which it occurred, and the traces you say you found, I can make a very educated guess. But first, some history might be in order.
“When I and my jackalweres first moved to the City, some five years ago, we rather quickly came to the attention of a certain Guildmaster. He went by the name W’Larid, and claimed to be the head of the Zalik Mal here in Avantir—“
“Hold up,” the Telnori fighter, Erol, said with a frown. “I understood the Empire, and the capital especially, was free of that sort of crap. Korwin – a friend of ours, and a native – was always going on about how that sort of organized crime simply wasn’t allowed.”
Nadalia laughed aloud at that, something she seldom did. “Oh, it’s true as far as it goes… traditionally Avantir has never been a safe city for the so-called Thieves Guild – that they exist at all within the Empire is mainly due to inroads they’ve made in outlying areas over the centuries, during the rare Interregnums or periods of Imperial eclipse. As it is, they are weak compared to their sister organizations elsewhere, and are very careful not to upset the social order here in the Archipelago, nor to draw attention to themselves.
“They never had any presence at all in the Eternal City, however, until about 40 years ago, when they gained a foothold during the decade-long rule of the Usurper. During that time, a small cadre from the Wild Coast infiltrated the City; given the corruption and malfeasance rampant under an illegitimate ruler, it’s hardly surprising they made inroads in certain areas… protection and smuggling primarily, I’ve been told.
“When Emperor Gil-Garon and his beloved Myrmytron reclaimed the Coral Throne, they saw to the extermination of the nascent organization in the Imperial City in quick order. Others, in other realms, may buy into the supposed benefit of the “Guild,” as a means of controlling the extremes of crime, but not those two! The Emperor was not prepared to tolerate such a taint so close to home, not in his own city..
“I infer, from what my careful researches at the time allowed me to piece together, that this W’Larid (although almost certainly not under that name), was a young man at the time of Zalik Mal purges, and probably an apprentice in the organization. Obviously he managed to avoid the fate of his fellows, including the so-called Guildmaster of that time, one Tervan Holdak — they all went to the gallows. W’Laird, I believe, went underground. Probably quite literally, given the maze of sewers, catacombs and service tunnels that criss-cross this city. They have always served as a refuge for the unwanted or desperate in Avantir.
“His story might have ended there, if it were not for a strange chance… I believe that it was in the tunnels or sewers during that time that the man contracted lycanthropy. Over time he learned to take advantage of this gift, and by his own native intelligence and powerful personalty he eventually gained mastery over most of the city’s other lycanthropes.”
“What kind of lycanthropy?” Mariala asked, apparently dreading the answer she seemed to have already half-guessed.
“He is a very powerful wererat,” Nadalia repiled. “Aside from his domination of other lycanthropes, he has absolute mastery over the actual rat population of the City. Which means he has eyes and ears everywhere. It is probably what — Are you quite alright, Lady Mariala?”
The other woman had turned very pale, and her hands had acquired a slight shake. “It’s nothing, I just have a… great dislike for rodents of any sort. And the idea that giant rats may have stood over me as I slept… disturbs me. But please, go on…” Nadalia couldn’t quite decide if she was sympathetic or amused. A little of both, she supposed, as she continued.
“Well, I was saying that It may be this confluence of events and abilities which led W’Larid to the idea of reforming a new version of the Zalik Mal, one designed to avoid the Imperial eye and so survive, under the Emperor’s very nose. Protection rackets were out, of course — the people know too well that the Imperial authorities will take care of anyone who tries such tactics — but theft, smuggling, illicit drugs, fencing… and murder… were safer options. And all of the members of his “Guild” are were-creatures, every single one, without exception… and that is the major reason for his success.
“The other reason, so far as I can tell, is that he has kept his operation limited to the three Outer Circles of the City for the the past 20 years. He has recently managed to extend limited tendrils of influence into the Third Circle, however, if rumors are to be believed. Mostly in the areas of burglary and fencing, which is why I suspect he may ultimately be behind the theft of your Book. Not the man himself, of course, but certainly his agents—“
“How do you know so much about the man?” The tall Telnori interrupted again, his own suspicions apparently aroused now. Nadalia noticed that his Khundari companion sighed and shook his head slightly. Interesting…
“As I said, research and inference – in point of fact, I know very little of him, beyond the existence of the man and his organization, but I can conjecture with reasonable accuracy.”
“I take it from what you said earlier,” the Khundari, Toran offered, “that he attempted to coerce your jackalwere family into this “Guild,” when you first moved into the City?”
“Indeed, Master Dwarf, you are correct. I refused his agents, of course – I have my own interests to pursue, and they would not be best served by criminal entanglements. Their leader seemed to take my answer in good part, however, and appeared content to leave us alone. I eventually learned, however, that he kept us under observation. Unfortunately. When my children began to dabble in minor crime (pickpocketing, mostly, and an occasional burglary) he soon came to know of it.
“Three years ago he sent more emissaries to me, insisting again that we “come into the fold,” as it were. They made it clear that he viewed all “criminal” lycanthropes in the city as under his purview, and his alone. I didn’t see it that way, of course, and declined his invitation a second time. I also commanded my children to refrain from their criminal antics.
“Understand, I had no problem with my boys and girls and their little hobby, but when it began to threaten my own interests — books, and acquiring them — it had to stop. They tried to be good, of course, but there were the occasional lapses… and each time W’Larid’s agents appeared, demanding the pack submit to his authority.
“The last time, he actually visited me in person — the first and only time I ever laid eyes on the man. Well, the rat — he came to me in his hybrid were-form. In this very chamber we debated his “offer,” and this time he seemed disinclined to accept my continued refusal. He became quite heated, in fact. I was forced to remind him that snakes liked to eat rats… and while he was a rather large rat, I was a rather large snake. We realized we were at an impasse, and he eventually departed.
“I prepared for his anticipated reprisals as best I could, but unfortunately it was only a month later that I was attacked and… slain… by that band of illiterate treasure-hunting thugs. I can only assume that, with my children focused on raising money to revive me, and therefore lacking the time or heart for petty crime, W’Larid didn’t press them in my absence. A strange mercy from such a creature.”
“Well, it certainly seems that he has become our prime suspect,” Mariala sighed, in some resignation. Nadalia got the sense that the woman was realizing her immediate future promised rather more rats than she might have wished. “Is there any chance you know where we might find this “Guildmaster” of yours?”
“Ha! I disclaim any ownership of the man. And I’m sorry, but I was never able to determine any definite location for his headquarters… Goddess knows I’ve tried! For all I know he moves around from location to location, month to month, like ancient kings were said to do. His organization does have a strong presence in this sector of the Fourth Circle, however. Although I’m not sure if that is of much real help to you. You might more profitably look not at where he could be now, but where he (or at least your Book) might be in the future.”
“I take it you have a thought on that?” Toran asked, smiling.
“I do, in fact…”
••••••
It was just approaching midday when the Hand gathered in a hot cocoa shop on the Street of the High Bells, across from the Kirdathar (KEER-da-thar) Arcanium, in the northern part of the Third Circle. The shop was a low, single story building of dark gray basalt, with a higher, flat-roofed central core, shingled in blue-gray slate. It stood out amongst its taller neighbors, which were mostly two- or three-story townhouses of the usual Avantir pale stone, with the traditional bright blue slate roofs of the City. Windows of geometric-cut stained glass made it impossible to see inside, and the tall front door of bronze-bound ironwood was closed. A discreet placard next to the door indicated the place was open for business, however.
“According to Nadalia, a man named Kolith Kirdathar is the owner and sole proprietor of that place,” Mariala recapped for Devrik, Draik and Vulk, who had just joined her and the others. “It’s a small business specializing in the buying and selling of minor magic items and spells. As you can probably tell, this is a very exclusive area… not far from Inspiration Park, in fact.
“According to our lamia friend – who, by the way, seems to have a network of informants in the City that I suspect would make Lord Kavyn jealous — in his youth, Kolith apparently had ambitions to become the greatest mage since Talorin Silvereye… but a decade of dedicated study in one of the better Xavar’na chantries as we well as the Imperial University, proved he just didn’t have the talent to move past the rank of Vendari.
“This didn’t seem to stifle his ambition, though. Realizing he probably wouldn’t become very famous, he decided instead to become very rich. Using a sizable investment from a mysterious source — rumors of a swindle on a wealthy relative floated around for a time, but never came to anything — Kolith started a buying and selling service for magic items. He supplements this with his own middle-of-the-road enchanting and crafting capabilities, and the business eventually grew to deal in all manner of minor magic.
“Over the last few years Kolith has developed a reputation within certain circles for being willing to dip his hands into shadier business dealings, namely buying and selling stolen items or procuring certain equipment for buyers with nefarious intent. Nadalia knows of this first-hand, having dealt with him a time or two, in seeking to acquire some hard-to-find books. She says she suspects that he spends a significant portion of his time greasing palms and working deals to ensure that his business enjoys a steady growth… and avoids the wrong kind of attention.
“Nadalia believes, but cannot prove, that he is also a primary fence for the Zalik Mal in matters involving esoteric items, be it artifacts, scrolls, holy objects… or books. If she is right, she thinks this arrangement has been going on for quite awhile now, although she doesn’t think Master Kirdathar is an actual member of W’Larid’s “Guild”… he’s definitely not a lycanthrope, for one thing.”
“So, how do we want to approach this?” Devrik asked, pouring himself another cup of the extraordinarily good chocolate. No wonder it was so expensive!
He and Draik had had little luck at the Great Library, although Learned Tali’ken had agreed to keep an especially sharp eye out for their Book, should anyone be so foolish as to try and sell it to them. They’d hit a few random taverns and inns on the way back — if Vulk could spend his time “investigating” bathhouses, no reason why they couldn’t do the same in likely-looking drinking establishments — until he’d got the comms call from Mariala to meet the others here.
Draik didn’t have an ear-piece, since Korwin had gifted his own to young Aldari. That arrangement hadn’t lasted more than two hours, however, as the boy spent the entire time narrating his day in real time, driving everyone else mad. Devrik had been forced to take it away, giving it instead to Raven, who reluctantly promised to wear it, even though she said the devices gave her the heebie-jeebies.
“I think we just go in and casually ask about The Book, in a general sort of way, making it clear we’re serious buyers and not too worried about scruples,” Mariala suggested. “He’s a fence, he’ll be wanting to sell it, so why balk at a quick sell? For that matter, if the price isn’t outrageous, we might be able to just buy it back, then take our time coming after him and this W’Larid creature.”
“There is no way in the Void I’m paying to get back what rightfully belongs to us,” Devrik objected hotly. “If we can be sure he has The Book, I say we simply take it back – let him call the Watch, if he dares!”
“Sheesh, it was just an idea,” Mariala said. “We can play that part by ear, yes? Any objections to the rest of my plan?”
There weren’t, beyond the suggestion that they go in as several groups, a little apart, so as not to seem like an invading mob. Mariala, Vulk and Devrik entered first, with Erol and Draik following a few minutes later, and Toran bringing up the rear shortly after that.
The shops wide door opened into a main central show room, a tall, spacious area illuminated by a large skylight in the 4-meter high ceiling and two large stained glass windows to either side of the entrance. A purple carpet, trimmed with gold leaf, lay on a hardwood floor and extended from the door to a beautiful burled wood service counter. Behind the counter was a yellow silk curtain, screening the shop’s back area.
Items of all sorts sat on shelves that ran along the walls of the room, with more items prominently displayed on two pedestal tables in the middle of the room, to either side of the carpet. To either side of the counter stood two life-size mannequins dressed in expensive-looking, and no doubt enchanted, clothing. The only other door was one in the west wall, which was currently closed.
No bell tinkled to announce their arrival, but the yellow curtain behind the counter parted almost immediately as a tall, well dressed man stepped through and courteously greeted his potential new customers. His dark hair was thick and wavy, and he had large muttonchop side whiskers that ran down almost to his chin. The chin itself was bare, but thick mustachios, oiled and curled, adorned his upper lip. He wore a high-collard, long-sleeved silk tunic of wine red, which was cut away from the waist down, revealing his dark purple linen trousers and dark leather knee-boots. A matching purple linen pectoral cloak covered his chest and back, held together by two large disks of gold.
While he seemed reasonably fit, his face showed his 50 years by a certain puffiness, and his dark brown eyes were set deep within prominent pouches. Mariala took an instant dislike to him.
“How may we be of service, gentlemen, lady?” His voice was as unctuous and ingratiating as she’d imagined it would be, given his looks, but Mariala stepped forward, putting on a smile as false as his own.
“Good day,” she replied in her most high-lady voice. “You are Master Kolith Kirdathar, proprietor of this establishment?” They’d agreed she would speak for the group, posing as a noblewoman with her bodyguard and her religious advisor. After so much time with Korwin, she felt her Oceanian accent was rather good.
“We are, good lady. And whom do we have the honor of addressing, if we may be so bold?” His teeth were very white, she noticed. Disturbingly white, actually.
“I am Lady Regina Lingon-Holwarth of Sweros, and this is my spiritual advisor, Cantor Yulwin.” Mariala didn’t introduce Devrik, of course; such muscle as he was pretending to be was there to be called upon at need, but otherwise treated like a piece of furniture. “We are in search of a certain rare tome, and are told that you are the man to see about such matters.”
“Ah, well, there is every chance we might be able to help your Ladyship. Rare items, including books, are our speciality here at the Arcanium,” he spread his hands to encompass the whole shop, and his smile widened. “Now, what title in particular is it that has caught her Ladyship’s interest?”
“It’s quite unusual, and I have only today learned that it is very recently on the market, as it were,” Mariala said, leaning in as if to share a confidence. “If this is so, I wish to forestall any competition by acting quickly. It is a copy of the great Darolithukan’s work titled The Joys of Extradimensional Spaces which I seek.”
The smile froze on Kardithar’s face, Mariala rather thought, although she was getting absolutely nothing from her previously cast Truthsense spell. Damn, the man must be wearing a protective amulet against such magics… not unusual amongst the nobility and those involved in the T’ara, of course, so it wasn’t necessarily suspicious. Just damned inconvenient.
“I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the volume, my lady,” Kirdathar replied after the barest hesitation. “I’m sorry, it seems I won’t be able to help you after all,” Mariala noted with some amusement that he had suddenly dropped the use of the third person plural. While her spells couldn’t prove it, her gut told her she’d struck a nerve. “Perhaps her ladyship would like to peruse the Reading Room, where the best books are kept, and something else of interest might suggest itself…?”
Mariala shrugged in indifference to the idea, and made a little moue of annoyance. “Well, that is disappointing, Master Kirdathar. My sources in the Baldeth were quite certain you were the man to rely upon in these matters. Still, if you don’t have it, you don’t have it. If you do hear of anything, however…”
“Of course, my lady, should I learn of such a book being available I shall contact you at once,” Kirdathar said quickly, coming out from behind the counter and gesturing them toward the door across the room. “But I have other customers, as you can see, so…”
The rest of the Hand had entered the shop and were now milling about, appearing to examine the wares, so Mariala allowed herself to be chivied to the Reading Room. Kirdathar unlocked the door on the west side of the room with a key taken from a chain at his waist, and ushered them in. Toran startled the man as he turned back to the counter, forcing him back a step at the Khundari’s sudden, silent presence behind him.
“Ah, as long as you’ve opened it up, I wouldn’t mind having a bit of a peruse myself,” the Dwarf said, smiling broadly. The shop keeper quickly recovered and stepped aside.
“Of course, Master Dwarf, just let me know if I can help you find anything,” he muttered, before stepping quickly away to check on Erol and Draik, who were examining some supposedly enchanted blades on the other side of the room. Toran followed Mariala and the others into the smaller room.
“I can’t tell if he’s lying,” Mariala was speaking quietly to the other two as he approached. “I’m sure he’s shielded, but I’m also sure he knows something. Unfortunately, I’m not getting any sense of The Book’s presence. Is anyone else getting anything?”
Devrik shook his head, but Vulk looked lost in thought, his grip white-knuckled on his staff. After a moment his face lightened and he looked up, lips quirking.
“I can’t sense The Book either, but as I suspected, the Staff of Summer is much more sensitive. Through it I get… it’s hard to describe… it’s nothing so clear as a direction or a presence, but the Staff seems convinced that The Book is nearby… perhaps well shielded? Or maybe it was here recently, and it’s only sensing a residue? Sorry I can’t be more definitive.”
“Well, that’s not much to go on,” Toran sighed. “At least not as a pretext to ransack a legitimate business. Especially if we don’t turn up The Book or some other evidence of a crime.”
“Maybe not,” Devrik growled. “But if just asking about The Book unnerved the man, let’s see what some real intimidation can do!”
Before anyone could stop him, Devrik had turned and stepped back into the main room. He stalked over to intercept Kirdathar as he was returning to the counter, interposing himself between the man and his refuge. The shop keeper peered down his nose at the shorter, but much more muscular young man, appearing more annoyed than intimidated.
“Excuse me, I need to—“
“We know you have The Book,” Devrik rumbled, dropping his voice even further than usual into the octaves that he knew really unnerved people. “Hand it over now.”
The implication of what would happen otherwise was left unsaid, but was nonetheless abundantly clear. Even when he didn’t want to be, the fire warrior was an intensely intimidating man – and when he did want to be…
Kirdathar blanched and stepped back several paces, only to find Erol and Draik suddenly close behind him. Mariala and the others had followed Devrik from the Reading Room, and now stood arrayed nearby. They might not be sure this was the wisest course, but they were committed now and would play it out, perforce.
“Madame,” Kirdathar huffed indignantly, trying to regain his composure and pulling himself to his full height. “Control your servant, this is outrageous!”
Mariala said nothing, just stared placidly at the man. No one else spoke, and Devrik continued to glare, a smoldering menace. The tension in the room was palpable.
“Very well then, I must insist you leave at once, all of you!” Kirdathar demanded, pulling himself together with visible effort. He might be a slimy fence and half-assed magician, but he had a backbone apparently. When no one made a move to leave, he turned and walked determinedly toward the front door.
Devrik followed close on his heels, but made no move to actually stop the man. Once on the street Kirdathar seemed to gain more confidence from the flow of passersby, and he began calling loudly for the Watch. Heads turned, but no one moved to intervene, probably because it was difficult to see what the actual trouble was. No one seemed to be attacking anyone else.
“OK, that was a bust,” Mariala whispered over comms. “We’ve played our cards and the man has called our bluff. I think it’s time to get out of here, before the Watch arrives.”
“Yes,” Draik agreed equally quietly. “I doubt our Imperial favor will extend to harassing apparently honest merchants in their own shops. Maybe it’s time to consider a Plan B.”
Without undue haste, the Hand decamped, heading towards Inspiration Park, and stopping as soon as they were out of sight of the still yelling merchant. All except Toran and Erol. The former had used his amulet to cast an illusion over himself and slipped back into the cocoa shop across from the Arcanium, to keep an eye on events from there. Erol chose to stay inside the magic shop, casting the Cloak of Asakora over himself to cloud mens’ minds and become essentially invisible.
In a very few minutes three of the City Watch showed up, and Toran enjoyed the pantomime from his window seat as Kirdathar gesticulated forcefully, apparently describing, as far as the Khundari could tell, how a marauding force of cave trolls had invaded his shop and threatened his very life. Or maybe it was just hill trolls he’d bravely fought off…
After a moment, one of the Watchmen spoke to his companions, then turned and headed back down the street, apparently to make a report – or maybe summon reinforcements? The remaining guardsmen followed a still visibly upset Kirdathar back into the Arcanium and closed the door firmly behind them.
Inside, Erol cursed at this turn of events. He’d hoped to have only the irate shop keeper to avoid while he searched under his invisible shield… three sets of senses would be more difficult to—
“Dear Tyvos, one of the villains is still here!” Kirdathar cried in consternation, pointing directly at Erol, who swore silently. Did the Void-cursed bastard have some magical detector, or was he simply that sharp-minded? Not that it mattered at this point…
The two city guards looked in the direction Kirdathar was pointing, hands suddenly on their swords… and looked completely past Erol, their expressions turning from alertness to confusion. Ha, he was still invisible to them! This might be fun, actually…
“He’s standing right there!” the agitated shopkeeper yelled, gesturing toward Erol but refusing to get any closer to the tall and very dangerous looking intruder. “He must be using some sort of invisibility spell!” The guards looked back and forth between the empty room and the increasingly frenzied citizen. They were definitely confused now, and clearly uncertain how to proceed. One drew his sword slowly and made a few half-hearted sweeps in the direction indicated, missing Erol by almost two meters.
There followed several minutes of cat-and-mouse between Erol and the guards, as the latter tried to follow Kirdathar’s increasingly frustrated directions, only to find empty air as Erol silently dodged them. The arcanist refused to get close enough to Erol to be in any personal danger, and the room was large enough to allow the invisible mage plenty of room to navigate – eventually, as it became clear the watchmen were beginning to doubt his sanity, Kirdathar gave up.
“Fine, if you can’t kill a simple invisible intruder, you can at least guard my property while I seek more competent help,” the shopkeeper growled. He motioned for the two swordsmen to follow him behind the yellow curtains. “If you stand before these two doorways,” he said, gesturing to the doors ant either end of the narrow hallway, ”even our invisible friend can’t get passed you. See that he doesn’t, until I return.”
Stepping back out into the main room, and keeping a wary eye on the sardonically watching Erol, Kirdath stopped at the counter to write something on a slip of parchment. Then, with one last malevolent glare at the intruder, he sipped out the front door, locking it behind him. This left Erol some needed space, but it also left him somewhat trapped. He couldn’t explore the shop’s back rooms at his leisure now, and he could hardly even escape, since the back door was in plain view of the soldiers.
He toyed with the idea of trying to spook the two men – they already seemed uneasy at being alone in a “magic shop” annd unnerved by Kirdathar’s antics. Givne that, he could imagine several things to mess with their minds. But in the end he decided to rely on his Balls of Wonder to cut his losses and simply escape. It was easy enough, once the swirling, multihued balls of light were summoned into being in the middle of the short hallway, to ensorcel the two.
As he’d expected, he could’t move either of the entranced men to get to the doors they guarded without breaking the spell and awakening them. With a sigh, he turned and unbarred the door between them, which led out into the alley behind the Arcanium. Well, that was a good idea gone bust…
Toran, meanwhile, still in his Umantari disguise, followed Kolith Kirdathar as he left the Arcanium and headed north. In just a few blocks he boarded a gondola on the Merchant’s Canal, and Toran scrambled to get his own. He managed to keep his quarry in sight, and was only a moment behind him when Kirdathar disembarked at what the Khundari recognized as the southern end of the Baldeth Market.
The arcane merchant strode through the crowds without stopping or even pausing to look around, apparently intent on his destination. Toran considered changing his look again, but the man was hardly paying attention, it didn’t seem worth expending another charge. Kalos alone knew how many were remaining on his amulet. As it was, he almost lost him once, but Vulk had Cherdon following overhead, and was able to relay Kirdath’s location to his friend.
It was with some surprise that Toran saw where they were headed at last, when Kirdathar stopped before Virgot’s Bakery. The smells were as enticing as ever, and Toran’s stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten since their interrupted breakfast early this morning. The crowd waiting to get in was thinner than usual, it being a bit past the usual midday meal hour, but still numbered a score or more.
Kirdathar waited only a few minutes, however, before being escorted to a small table inside. This caused a bit of grumbling, but not as much as Toran would have expected. Apparently it was a common enough occurrence for those with more influence or importance to skip the queue and get preferential seating. Kolith must be a regular. Toran was forced to get into the marginally shorter queue for to-go orders, it being the one.
By the time he reached the counter, and began ordering the most complicated, time consuming items he could think of, Kirdathar was already eating what looked to be some kind of meat pie, with a carafe of wine next to a goblet. There was no one at the table with him, and the man never even looked around, focused entirely on his food.
Mariala and the others had arrived by now, and were mostly staying out of sight nearby. She, however, had cast Wallflower on herself and managed to get into the food shop, despite the crowded conditions. She positioned herself in an out-of-the-way corner and kept an eye on Kirdathar.
When the merchant finally finished his meal and his carafe of wine he didn’t linger, but got up and departed the bakery without so much as a word to anyone. Before she could maneuver herself to the table a surprisingly handsome young waiter was already there, clearing away the dishes and cutlery.
With a frustrated hiss, Mariala caught a glimpse of a scrap of parchment that had been tucked under a plate, just as the youth picked it up… he was very good, because she didn’t see where it went. Did he drop it into the pocket of his apron? Did it go into the dirty pie dish, as garbage? Impossible to tell, damn it. All she’d been able to catch were a few inked lines, which gave her the sense of a cypher… or maybe it was just a scribbled poem, who could tell?
She followed the waiter as best she could in the crowd, keeping her eye on him at all times. He didn’t seem to hand anything to anyone else before disappearing into the kitchen, and it took her minute to manage the delicate task of entering there herself without breaking her spell. By the time she slipped in, the youth had dumped the dishes, and was picking up another order to take out to some waiting patron.
Half a dozen other men were busy in the kitchen, preparing food, sliding pies and loaves into a row of large stone ovens, and pulling out cooked dishes. She took a few minutes to examine the large space, and managed to get a peek into a storage room. Something was tugging at her mind, something odd, but before she could pursue the thought, she literally ran into trouble — in the shape of a tall, skinny man in a flour-covered apron. He had a sharp blade of a nose and rather large ears… his being entirely bald made guaging his precise age hard – 60ish, Mariala guessed. He grabbed her as they collided, to keep her from falling, and his intelligent brown eyes sparkled with amusement.
“I’m sure my boys appreciate such an attractive lady visiting them as they work, my dear, but I’m afraid I don’t allow customers in my kitchen!” Despite the admonishing words, his tone was jovial, and he politely dusted the flour off her cloak.
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” Mariala gushed, deciding an air-headed girl was the way to play this. “I was hoping to find, um, well, you know, the privy…” she mumbled in obvious embarrassment.
“Ah, well, we‘ve none here I’m afraid,” the man chuckled. “You’ll find the public jakes just a few doors down the street, though.”
“Oh, well thank you, and again I’m so sorry to have intruded, mister…?”
“Griz Virgot, my dear, the owner of this establishment. But you must be new, then, if you don’t know old Griz.”
“Yes, I’m only visiting the city, and I’d heard such marvelous things about your shop, I just had to visit before I left.” Mariala danced slightly from foot to foot, trying to sell her stated excuse for being there. “But I’m afraid—“
“Yes, yes, I understand,” the older man laughed. He had managed to ease her out of the kitchen as they talked, and now he handed her a bag of cinnamon buns from a nearby shelf. “But before you go, on the house. Do come again – but stay out of the kitchen next time, or you just might end up in one of my pies!” He laughed again at his joke, and flashed her an avuncular smile as he waved her out.
Mariala thanked him, and departed hurriedly. She could see why this place was so popular, the amazing food aside, with such a winning shop keeper. By Shala, the buns smelled incredible, and her stomach rumbled as she joined the others down a nearby alley.
While she had been inside Devrik and lit a small fire in a nook that had once been a shrine to some long forgotten minor deity or family spirit. He had used it to cast his Flame Harken spell, and thereby listen in on the conversations in the bakery’s kitchen, via the medium of the fires in their ovens. Unfortunately, nothing was being said beyond the entirely mundane conversations one would expect to find in a busy workplace.
“Another bust, I’m afraid,” Mariala sighed as Devrik let the spell fade and the flames gutter out. “I’m almost certain Kirdathar passed a note in there, and that at least one of the waiters is in on it…”
“Point him out to me, and I can wait and follow him after he leaves,” Erol offered. “See if he meets anyone suspicious, maybe heads to a “guild” warehouse or something?”
“Toran and Cherdon are following Kirdathar,” Vulk added. “It looks like he’s just headed back to his shop, at this point. But it does seem likely that this bakery is a front for the werefolk Zalik Mal… which makes me wonder if Nadalia might have a mole in her “family.” They certainly eat here a lot…”
“I don’t see that that follows at all, Vulk,” Mariala shook her head and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She really didn’t need to be reminded of the rats looming in her future. “This is the single most popular eatery in this part of the city. Everyone eats here, and I doubt they’re all lyncanrthropic thieves.”
“Well, I still think we should tell Nadalia what we’ve learned,” Vulk insisted, ”let her decide for herself. I need to check up on how she’s healing in any case, so I can head over there now, after we’ve decided our next move.”
It didn’t take long to agree that their next move must needs be a burglary… the sooner the better. Erol would follow the waiter after the bakery closed, then head over to join Toran in keeping a quiet eye on the Arcanium. Vulk would visit Nadalia, then rejoin the rest of them at Bekatia House to plan their raid. In the deepest watch of the night, they would all meet at the Arcanium…
•••••
“You really are very good at this,” Nadalia said languidly to Vulk as they lay together in the rumpled and sweaty sheets of her bed. “I’m glad you decided to come back for a second round. Really, this is as good a healing as any of your potions or prayers.” Her lower coils were wrapped around and between his legs, and his head rested on her shoulder.
“Thank you,” the cantor replied, his lazy smile almost invisible in the dim light – only a single candle lit Nadalia’s chamber. “Don’t they say sex is the best medicine? Or is that laughter? In any case, your’re no slouch yourself, especially for someone who’s been so recently dead!”
“Mmmm, very droll,” she tweaked one of his nipples, making him yelp in surprise. “Sex or laughter, either way you bring the goods. Now what was it you were going on about before I distracted you with my… humor? Something about Virgot’s?”
Vulk struggled to disentangle himself from her warm coils and turned to face her, cross-legged on her wide bed. “Yes, we’ve learned some interesting things today…” He quickly summarized what the Hand had discovered, and his concern that one of more of her own people might have “gone over” to the enemy.
Nadalia laughed out loud for the second time today… possibly a new record, she thought.
“Oh, my dear cantor, of course Virgot’s is a meeting place for W’Larid’s people – and every other person in the City who has clandestine business to conduct. It’s the perfect venue, really — popular, always busy, in a questionable part of town, but not actually dangerous. Everyone goes there, and no one pays any particular attention to anyone else in all the bustle. I know for a fact that several embassies use it as a meeting place for business they’d rather the Empire not know of.
“I don’t doubt that the Rat Lord has an agent or two installed on the staff there – he certainly does in any number of other business in the Outer Circles. But I can assure you, none of my people have been suborned by him or his. Nonetheless, I thank you for the warning, and for thinking of me. Of us. It was kindly done.
“Now, I know you said you couldn’t stay long, but my strength seems quite to have returned… perhaps one more, for the road…?”
••••••
The main show room of the Arcanium was dimly lit by several violet-tinted spirit lights along the walls, and nothing else. Both moons had long set, and starlight through the skylight added nothing to the illumination. Toran quietly eased the front door shut behind himself, the last of the Hand to enter.
The five mages, and Draik, all dressed in dark colors, had chipped away at the wards protecting the small building, but it had been Devrik’s powerful casting that had finally dispelled the last of them, allowing Toran to use his Master Key to open the door.
“Alright, let’s spread out and—“
Devrik’s whispered instructions were cut off by a sharp, mechanical “snick,” very loud in the absolute silence. A bilious green glow appeared on a high shelf to the left of the counter, quickly growing to envelope a small metal-bound ironwood box. As the Hand watched, three inky black shapes began to flow out of the eerily illuminated container. In seconds they had grown and taken form as roughly humanoid outlines of pure shadow.
Erol, closets to the forming figures, reacted instantly, and hurled his electrified net at the nearest one. The net passed straight through the creature (which seemed to truly be made of shadows)… but as it did, spitting and hissing, the thing shrieked in pain.
“Shadow Waiths!” Toran called out, and fired a spread of Stavin’s Arrows, one piercing each of the creatures. More shrieks of pain, and writhing, twisting bursts of movement, but the creatures didn’t dissipate.
Despite a cold hollow in his stomach at the thought of facing life-draining undead again, Vulk thrust forward his sanctified and holy badge, his baton of office, with a cry of “Begone!” It seemed to have no effect on the Wraiths – they were clearly not of the Shadow of Torzhalo, praise be to Kasira — not true undeadI Despite his failure to quell the creatures, the cantor felt an immense sense of relief.
“Vulk!” Toran called out, “concentrate on eliminating the darkness, if you can!”
Overhearing and understanding the Khundari’s intent, Devrik attempted to cast Immolation on himself, to become a form of living flame, but the magic-dampening of the Arcanium seemed to hinder his effort. With a curse fo frustration, he reached over hi shoulder to draw his holy blade from its sheath on his back…
As he did, two wraiths flowed forward to attack Erol and Toran, shadowy claws raking both. An intense, deadly cold spread from the points where shadow met matter, causing pain and a spiritual fatigue, rather than physical wounds. Erol staggered back clutching at his side, while Toran stumbled to one knee, hit in his side and right calf…
Mariala faced the third shadow wraith alone, with barely time to draw her Khundari dagger and slash it across where she imagined a face should be. Despite its ethereal nature, the creature ducked the attack, and lunged in a crouching leap. Both claws raked across her abdomen, and the shocking dual blasts of enervating cold seemed to shut down her mind, sending her reeling down into darkness.
As Mariala collapsed, Vulk leapt forward to stand over her, presenting his baton more forcefully… this time it flared to life with a brilliant white light. All three wraiths recoiled with a high-pitched shriek, the substance of their darkness seeming to thin, fraying at the edges. Draik darted in to pull Mariala from immediate danger, into the brightest part of the room.
As the flare of Vulk’s baton faded, the wraiths attacked once more, each choosing a single target. Erol and Toran avoided their icy assaults this time, while Devrik summoned Goraten’s Brand. His holy sword burst into shadow-killing flame as he counter-attacked, and the blow sliced through his wraith from crown to groin, splitting it into halves which quickly dissipated into nothingness.
Toran cast another volley of Stavin’s Arrows, focused this time on a single wraith this time, at the same instant that an extratemporally charged Erol cast Handor’s Flash, directing the blades of solid light into the same creature. The combined energies seemed to shred the shadow form from within! It too quickly vanished into the Void.
The final shadow wraith took the full brunt of Stavin’s Arrows cast by Vulk through the Staff of Summer, and shredded into nothingness under the power of the the invisible bolts! As the final ethereal shriek faded away, the dimly lit room fell silent again save for the heavy breathing of the survivors, and a groan from Mariala as she regained consciousness.
Draik had given her a small dose of her personal Baylorium, from the locket around her neck, and it quickly erased the subtle damage from the shadow touch. PocketPatch™. After a very few minutes she insisted they press on, if cautiously. “I’m fine now, really… and I suspect after that attack, we may not have as much time as we’d hoped for.”
“I’m afraid you’re right,” Devrik sighed. “Triggering that defensive trap would almost certainly have warned whoever set it – presumably Kardithar himself. We’ve already examined this room and the Reading Room, earlier today, so let’s head behind the counter and check out the back rooms. Erol, you said there were two rooms, at either end of a short corridor?”
Once they were in hallway behind the yellow curtain, Toran led Mariala and Draik cautiously towards the door on the left. Devrik, Erol and Vulk approached the door to the right, which proved to be unlocked. It led into another dimly lit hallway running perpendicular to the first, with a door partway down and a second at the very end.
The first door was securely locked, and lacking the presence of Toran’s more delicate skills, Devrik simply wrenched open the lock, splintering the frame and sending the door swinging violently inward. The room beyond appeared to be a combined office and workshop. As he stepped into the small, crowded room there was a purple flash from the center of the circular stained glass window over the desk. Before Devrik had time to react, Vulk’s Staff flashed passed his head to his right, the crystal in its head flaring green and almost blinding the fire mage.
“Another trap,” Vulk gasped, sounding a little shaken as he pulled his friend back out into the hallway. “Something similar to Stavin’s Arrows, I think – the Staff sensed it as it fired, thank Kasira — it seemed to move almost on its own to absorb the energy!”
“Well, I’m grateful to the Staff, then, or you, or whoever wants the credit,” Devrik growled. “The spell seemed to come from that large purple crystal in the center of the that window. Do you think you can—“
Before he could finish the question an arrow from Erol’s short bow flashed past his left ear, to strike the crystal in question dead center. The stone shattered into a score or more of violet shards, which rained down on the desk as the arrow continued its flight into the night.
“There, that should take care of it,” Erol said, smiling smugly as the other two turned to stare at him. “What? You said time was limited, this seemed like the quickest way to deal with the matter. It’s not like it’s going to warning the sleaze ball any more than he’s already warned.”
Devrik shrugged acknowledgement of his friend’s logic, and the three slipped cautiously into the room, wary of any further traps or tricks. But the lethal invisible arrows seemed to have been Kardithar’s main defense of this inner sanctum, and they soon began a fast ransacking of desk, shelves and workbench.
“Hmmm, some interesting items here,” Erol noted as he rifled through the objects on the workbench. “Even if we don’t find The Book, this might end up being a profitable night anyway…”
“No!” Devrik hissed, quietly but forcefully. “We’re here for our property, not to loot. We are not common thieves, so leave whatever you find that isn’t The Book!”
“Well, I agree we’re not common,” Erol groused in a muttered undertone as he continued to search the workbench. He could hardly help it if, a moment later, a small, flat, quite interesting looking case just accidentally slipped into the sleeve of his tunic when Devrik’s attention was focused on that stack of dull-looking papers. Before any other small, interesting items could fall into various bits of his wardrobe, however, a yell from Mariala, on the other side of the building, drew the three out of the office on the run…
• • • • • •
Unlike the door to the right, the lefthand door at the end of the short hallway was locked, by two very stout locks indeed. They both seemed resistant to Toran’s Master Key, and it took both his lock-picking skills as well as the Key’s magic to eventually get past them. After several frustrating minutes, however, the Khundari gave a grunt of triumph and swung open the very heavy, solid ironwood door.
The dimly lit space beyond was perhaps 10 meters square, and appeared to be a vault room — three very large, very secure chests sat against the walls in the otherwise bare stone chamber. The three friends entered cautiously, wary at this point of any further arcane traps Kardithar might have in place. When nothing immediately bad manifested, Mariala moved toward the great iron-bound chest on the north wall, and Draik stepped toward the southern chest. As Toran stepped up to the western chest, however, it suddenly twisted around and came to life, an immense mouth, full of razor-sharp teeth gaping open and lunging toward him
“It’s chaos-cursed mimic!” Toran roared, leaping aside and pulling Ergonkïr from his back… In the same motion he followed through with a mighty blow, but a thick, fibrous pseudopod snaked out to block it. At the same instant a second pseudopod whipped forward, trying to grapple the Dwarf, but Toran nimbly dodged, ducking under the writhing tentacle. He was barely aware of Mariala screaming for the others to come, as he wrenched his axe back around, swinging it in for a swift follow up – this time his blade bit deep into the leathery flesh of one of the pseudopods. The mimic emitted a shrill, high-pitched shriek, but showed no signs of backing off.
Mariala, backpedaling away from the fight, lit up Fire Nerves, unleashing the pulse of invisible energy straight into the mimic’s slavering maw. The creature gave an even more hideous squeal, and began writhing as it changed shape rapidly — from a chest it morphed into an ornate chair, from the chair it twisted into a large golden urn, and from the urn it suddenly became a nice Chesterfield, all in an instant, almost faster than the eye could follow. It was a grotesque and disturbing sight, and Mariala shuddered in horrified fascination!
Then Erol was suddenly rushing past her, and from the speed with which he moved she knew he must have called up his Extratemporality psionic ability. His first stabbing trident attack on the creature, now looking like a pulsating antique armoire, was met with another blocking pseudopod, quickly followed by another counterattack. Erol blocked that attack with this trident’s haft, then brought the weapon around in a blindingly fast slash — only to be blocked again!
By this time Vulk had caught up, and he quickly sized up the situation and the room. “Back off a bit, boys,” he called out. As Toran and Erol both rolled aside, he aimed the head of the Staff of Summer and muttered a word. The silvery-white strands of the Weaver’s Web flowed from the glowing tip, expanding to fill half the room and ensnaring the monster quite securely. As the mimic writhed and twisted in the restraining web, frantically flowing from one shape to another, Toran stepped up and his battleaxe came down in a killing blow, taking the thing right in its “face,” driving the blade into its brain. It twitch one final time, and died.
“Void curse ’em, I hate these things,” Toran growled, as he wiped the yellowish ichor from his blade.
No one disagreed with the sentiment, although Devrik, sticking his head in the door just then shrugged in indifference, saying, “Eh, they’re not nearly as bad as those damn eye-eating tolaxta.” The small, viscously fast reptiles remained one of the fire mage’s few actual fears, given how very close he’d come to losing his own eyes to them two years ago.
After taking care to make sure there were no more mimics, and no more traps, awaiting them, Toran turned his skills to the two real treasure chests, and had them open in just a few minutes. Each contained a great many esoteric objects, along with a fair quantity of silver and even gold coin and a number of gems. , Devrik reiterated his warning from earlier.
“We’re here for our own property, stolen from us, not to steal someone else’s,” he reminded his companions, noting the gleam in Erol’s eye in particular, as he lifted The Book from where it rested atop a collection of wands and smaller jewelry boxes. Erol rolled his eyes, and adjusted his tunic, but he didn’t argue; nor did any other the others, although there were a few wistful glances at the gleaming riches laying within the chests.
“Well, once the authorities get through with this Kordithar fellow we’ll be allowed to pick up some of this stuff at auction, or something,” Draik said, after carefully making sure the small leather-bound herbal he’d filched was neatly tucked out of sight.
As the Hand stepped from behind the yellow curtain, out into the main shop, Toran led the way, his cross-bow at hand, loaded, and cranked. Before any of the others could move past him, he took aim and shot a bolt into the still faintly glowing box whence had come Shadow Wraiths, destroying it in a spray of splinters.
“I didn’t want to risk having to deal with those cursed shadow things again on our way out,” he said, shrugging, in response to Devrik’s annoyed look. “It’s late, I just want to get home at this point.”
His wish, however, was not to be immediately filled. As the Hand stepped out into the darkest hour of the night, they were confronted by a familiar voice. “I knew it!” Kirdathar yelled shrilly, stepping from the shadows of an alley across the street into a pool of pale violet light from the nearby street lamp. Two men-at-arms flanked him, eyeing the group speculatively.
“Common thieves, burglars in the night!” the man raged, actually shaking his kid-skin-gloved fist. “Well, I shall summon the Watch on the instant! You foreign miscreants shall not get away with this outrage!”
PART II
The Hand froze for an instant, then as one drew blades and bows, and began summoning Forms. But before any of them could act, another dark figure stepped out of the shadows behind the furious arcanist, gliding silently up behind him. There was a flash of steel as Kirdathar’s head was yanked back and a long knife was drawn across his throat, a flash quickly drowned in the red flow of blood from a severed jugular. Despite the shock of the sudden violence, however, what froze Mariala in horror was the face of the assassin – that of a man-sized rat!
“Kill them all!” the wererat lord of thieves hissed at the two bodyguards, who had stood by, impassive, as their supposed employer was murdered. The large men both grinned then, as the killer dropped the still-twitching body of the shopkeeper and faded back into the deep shadows of the alley. The mercenaries dropped hands to sword hilts and stepped forward…
“Erol, get The Book back to the mansion,” Devrik growled, shoving The Book at his friend and then reaching for his own sword, never taking his eyes off their opponents. “Keep watch over the household until we return… no telling what this vermin-lord might try!”
“Are you sure you don’t need me here? Maybe Mariala should—”
“We can handle a couple of local bravos, Erol,” Toran assured him, with a grim chuckle. He actually slid his battle axe back into place on his back and cracked his knuckles as he prepared to cast Stavin’s Arrows.
With a shrug and a nod of acknowledgment, the former gladiator turned and slipped into the shadows himself, The Book tucked safely under his cloak.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t until Erol was gone that his companions realized they were facing something more than just a pair of local street-toughs. The move towards their swords had been a feint. Instead of drawing their blades, the men themselves had begun to change… faces elongating into muzzles, hands twisting into claws, and coarse fur sprouting wherever flesh showed. They also expanded in mass and height, ripping some of the seams of what had seemed loose, baggy tunics and trousers.
In the shop Draik had a CS Herblore roll… did he find/swipe something good? Time will tell.
Toran suffers a CF on Stavin’s Arrows attack on werewolves; Vulk’s Staff CS on Weaver’s Web, ensnaring both WW! ZAP!
Draik loses his sword to the webs CF, Devrik gets CF on trying to torture WW with his singing…
Mariala bosses Vulk to go talk to the WW… they are unresponsive.
They revert to human, and the City Watch is summoned; Devrik reads the WW their rights.
Mariala: Mouse Mafia 😀
The WW are killed in custody the next night, and the mansion is attacked by scores of rats. Vulk pushes for quick response!
Devrik hires men to patrol near the ship, after moving his family aboard.
By noon the Hand is ready to go underground.
Mariala goes off north, the others follow the light.They find were rats and giant rats galore. Mariala is thrilled.
Toran MF on Stavin’s Arrows, Draik arrows one in left calf, Mariala Fire Nerves them, setting up Devrik’s Orb of Vorol, which takes them out, and a few rats. 15 more appear.
Toran again screws up Stavin’s Arrows again, Vulk broadswords, is bitten on foot, stumbles. Draik arrows one WR, kills it instantly. Toran skips away from 2 attacks, the rat horde comes on en mass. Mariala freaks out.
Retreat down hallway, Vulk curses Devrik, who fails at Orb. Toran bludgeons a rat to death with his crossbow. Draik arrows one. Mariala regains her composure, but fumbles Fire Nerves in her shaken state.
Kasira smiles on Devrik +2, who still fucks it up with a second Orb. He slices one rat in half with his sword, however.
Toran battle axes off the tail of one rat. And it bleeds to death.
Rat attacks Devrik, he counters in face, but it survives. Especially large. Blocks second rat attack.
Mariala totally fucking freaks out! Immobilized!
Vulk’s Staff fails him on Weaver’s Webs.
Devrik’s Fiery Ribbons is CF! Draik ducks, takes halve damage, is ok-ish, Vulk is protected by his fire amulet & Staff, Devrik is horribly burned and unconscious. His Baylorium survives uncooked, praise be to Kasira.
After treatment and an hour+, Devrik is recovered, but his eyebrows are gone and his hair is a charred wreck. He fears his attention to another convocation may have altered his fire skills…
Everyone sips some Baylorium, Mariala takes a hit of Lyrin Oil.
They find desperate and semi-mutilated prisoners, most with their eyes missing… whatever could’ve caused that?
A tolaxta’s claws rake Devrik’s belly, but they miss his eyes., as he pedals away from the attack.
A second one attacks Draik, who pulls his amulet and repels it!
Mariala doges an attack! Draik amulets this one, too, which vanishes down the grate.
Vulk attacks with sword, it doges. Devrik decapitates the last one:
“Even hindered by the grievous wound from an ankle-biter, Devrik counter-strikes to victory.”
Devrik points out they could’ve repelled the rats with the amulet… Draik looks embarrassed.
Vulk heals as he can, psionically, and then Draik and Devrik escort the victims back to the surface.
Meet were tigers on the way back, Toran misses with cross-bow,
Mariala CS Fire Nerves… Incap for 27 seconds.
Draik misses with bow, because writhed left instead of right.
Vulk webs up with his staff and immobilizes the weretigers with CS.
When Fire Nerves wears off , interrogation begins… they learn little, then Mariala Fire Nerves again, and the others drag them to the cells, locking them in.
Toran unlocks a door, isn’t surprised by the weres, axes wererat to his immediate right, but it makes its shock roll.
Vulk cast Virtues Armor on Devrik.
Devrik’s attack on Toran’s wererat is blocked. Mariala freezes again. Toran takes the rat out with his axe (helped by Devrik’s blocked attack).
Vulk cast Virtue’s Armor on Toran.
Draik arrows a wererat in the right foot. No stumble, no shock.
Wereboar attacks Draik, is wounded in the gut by his rapier.
Toran axes to death the second foot-wounded wererat, when it rushes him at a hobble, teeth bared and claws spread.
Mariala’s Fire Nerves fails, no doubt due to her own shaken nerves.
Devrik kills last wereboar.
They move thru the room of pillars, Mariala is first through the door in north wall which Toran unlocks. She screams like a girl at the sight of W’Laird and three Alpha weres: Tiger, Boar, and a very scary Wolf.
Toran takes out Alpha boar, but is wounded in the fight.
Rat Lord flees to north door, Draik arrows him in the back, abdomen injury. The wounded villain staggers on to the door.
Weretiger attacks, eschewing the sword at its side, CS vs. Toran, who counter strikes – Toran takes a skull hit, dazing him, and the WT takes a thorax injury — it is staggered but not down.
Werewolf attacks Devrik, biting him on the face; Devrik Counterstrikes, but misses. Vulk immediately uses his healing psionic power to disinfect and heal the wound, after Mariala’s Fire Nerves hits the two remaining Alphas, who roar and shriek in pain, momentarily stalled. But they power through, being super tough dudes.
A barely healed Devrik attacks Werewolf, just misses! The creature counterstrikes, and reeks his claws across Devrik’s belly.
Toran attacks were tiger with Ergonkïr, succeeding while its Dodge is a CF. Its left arm is nearly severed, and it collapses from blood-loss and shock.
Draik uses his rapier on the alpha wolf engaged with Devrik, with a CF… he stumbles but retains his footing when the thing doges into him.
Vulk invokes Kasira’s Curse on W’Laird, who fumbles his keys as he tries to open the door to escape.
Mariala attempts to Fire Nerve the Rat Lord, but freezes at the sight of him. CF on Will roll.
Alpha Wolf pulls his bastard sword at last, and manages to block Devrik’s attack. It immediately attacks him in turn, and Devrik counterstrikes – the special groin protector Raven made protects Devrik from a nasty injury, while the WW takes Devrik’s sword to the right arm, again almost severing it… the creature retains its grip on its blade, but passes out from blood-loss.
Toran races up to the still fumbling Rat Lord and hews at him with his battle-ax. W’Laird wheels and tries to duck and counter with his dagger, but the axe bites deep in his left arm (he’s left handed), and he drops the dagger. Clutching his arm, the wererat sinks to the ground, cursing feebly until he passes out.
Toran stands over the unconscious wererat – “And that’s how you open a door.”
Golden crust, savory filling,
Meat pies, my heart is willing.
Juicy chunks of beef and spice,
Served with gravy, oh so nice.
In the oven, they bake with care,
Making sure each one is fair.
The aroma fills the air with glee,
Making me so hungry, can’t you see?
With a fork and knife in hand,
I take a bite, so grand.
Flaky crust and flavors meld,
In my mouth, my taste buds yell.
Oh, the joy of eating pies,
Satisfies my heart’s desires.
A comfort food, a perfect treat,
Meat pies, can’t be beat.
The Hand continues on through the abattoir and finds the stairs up to the hidden room in Virgot’s Bakery where the meat magic happens. Exiting into the kitchen, the staff flees at the sight of the bloodied, burned and wild-eyed intruders.
Devrik starts a controlled, smokey fire in the kitchen, while Mariala follows the staff out front to tell the customers to exit immediately.
The Imperial government is not going to want to let any of this story get out. They will also make a dedicated effort to sweep up as many of the Zalik Mal lycanthropes as they can before they scatter. Once they have any evidence they need, Virgot’s will suffer a second fire, which will destroy the building utterly.