The auction went on for what seemed an eternity. And in the end, many tens of thousands of coins had changed hands in the form of promisary notes. The covered sculpture on the dais, was revealed as the first in a series of statues by Romero Selejian to be titled "The Masters' Touch". It was there only on exhibition, and wouldn't be sold until all the statues in the series was complete.
It was obvious from the crowd's interest, that the series of sculptures would command a very high price indeed when they were finally brought to auction.
During the auction, Kirnoth's eyes kept being drawn to Selejian's statues. Four were on display, and the three that were for sale went quickly to various wealthy patrons. As the last of the guests dispersed, a dark thought was bubbling in Kirnoth's mind and he hopped up onto the dais to get a closer look at the statue.
The statue depicted a large man with long hair holding a chisel and a small hammer. The stone was finely polished white granite. It was truly a spectacular piece of stonework.
"Romero Selejian is quite a talent, is he not?" Lord Barre asked, coming toward them with a small pouch in his hands. "I think that his latest works are even better than Anashan Poro's."
"Who?" Finian asked.
"Anashan Poro," Lord Barre said as if repeating the name would explain things. He peered at Finian through his spectacles. "He was Selejian's mentor. He did the kestrels on the Temple of Shaharizod and the gargoyles on the arena. You must know Anashan Poro."
"Finian is from Pellham," Ledare told Lord Barre and the man nodded understanding. "But I agree, Lord Barre, Selejian clearly has a magnificent gift. I wish that I could have spoken to him before he left."
Lord Barre laughed.
"I doubt that you'd have had much luck," he told her. "It's been nearly impossible to get a word with him since his comeback. It will be only a matter of time before the King snatches him up to be the royal sculptor, mark my words."
"Do you know, Lord Barre, what caused his long absence and sudden return to this profession?" Ledare pressed.
He made a dismissive gesture with the spectacles he carried.
"There was talk," he said. "That he was going blind. That arthritis had crippled him. That he'd offended Rushlyn and the goddess was punishing him. It's all just talk, mind you and- Please don't touch that!"
Lord Barre snapped at Kirnoth, taking a swipe at the elf with his glasses. The mage jerked his hand away from the statue and stepped out of Lord Barre's reach.
"Sorry," he said, "I was just-"
"Do you have any idea what this statue is worth?" he said, dusting at it with his silken handkerchief. He tossed the pouch to Ledare. "Here's a little something extra for putting on such a fine display tonight. Now go, it's late and I'm tired."
Once they were outside, Ledare opened the pouch.
"Fifty gold," she announced after a quick count, giving the pouch a shake so that the coins clinked against one another.
"About that statue," Kirnoth said with a troubled look on his face. "I was wondering if it might actually be a transformed person. I can't say for sure that it is, but it's definitely magical."
"Wait a minute," Ledare said, looking at the elf with confusion on her face. "A transformed person? You mean like someone stuck in the statue?"
Kirnoth opened his mouth to speak and Finian piped up.
"I've heard tales of certain magical beasts that possess the ability to petrify mortals," he said. "There're medusae, gorgons, cockatrices, chimerae. No, wait. Maybe chimerae breathe fire. I'm not sure."
"Well, whatever the case," the Janissary went on. "Could that be where these other artisans have disappeared to as well: all trapped within their work?"
"Yes!" Kirnoth said quickly, before the Archer could interrupt him again. "That is exactly what I believe has happened! That statue Selejian showed tonight was of an artisan. Perhaps he is making a collection."
"How could you be sure?" Ledare asked.
"Well..." the mage paused. "That's a good question. Certain powerful Transmuters possess magicks that change stone to flesh. But such spells are far beyond my ability. A Dispel Magic of sufficient power might do it as well. I'm not sure."
"Hmm," Ledare said stroking her chin with one hand. "I wish Soriah were here to tell us more about Selejian's mentor. That might shed some light on the current situation."
"Do you think we should start looking for Soriah?" Kirnoth asked. He, like the others, had missed the Battleguard's presence over the past few days.
"We don't even know where she is," Finian countered. "It's a big city, even assuming she's still in Barnacus."
"Didn't her note say she was going to seek atonement?" Ledare asked and the others nodded. "She'll need a priest for that, won't she? So I'd say our first place to look would be the Temple of Shaharizod up at the end of Crescent Street."
"But do you think she wants to be found?" Kirnoth asked.
"I don't know," the Janissary answered and stifled back a yawn. "At any rate, it's too late to do anything tonight except head back to Grey House and get some sleep."
Once Abernathy had awakened them and they'd assembled as usual on the landing they headed down to breakfast in the Morning Room. Over griddle cakes and spiced ham they planned the day's activities.
"I would like to see the dwarves making my statue as soon as possible to ask them what they know of Selejian, and of course, to get my statue," Kirnoth announced.
"I would be willing to accompany you to pick up your statue," Ledare said as she took a sip of tea. "Perhaps we could ask the dwarves if they know of or have heard anything about the disappearance of the two artisans, Cooper and Wyesinger."
"It couldn't hurt," the mage replied. "But I think our first priority must be to find out whatever we can about Selejian."
Ledare stopped cutting her griddle cakes into small bites and put her silverware down. She wiped her mouth with her napkin and began to speak.
"I've been thinking," she began. "If indeed Selejian was going blind, perhaps he made a deal that would ensure his health. Maybe something along the lines of transmogrification of humans!"
"You think Andamacles is... or was... involved in this?" Finian asked through a mouthful of ham.
"I think that Ledare's on the right track here," the elf retorted. "All this transmogrification with Selejian and Andamacles MUST be connected! But how?"
"Good question," Finian shot back, taking another bite of ham. He was clearly unconvinced by the moon elf's assertions.
"It makes me suspicious that Selejian seems destined to work for the King," the Janissary went on. "What if that is his goal: to get within the castle walls for some sinister purpose?"
"We must warn the king of our suspicions so he knows not to hire this man until we can be sure," Kirnoth suggested.
Ledare shook her head and folded her napkin.
"Right now, all we have are suspicions," she said. "Not even I will be able to convince King Haermond that so wealthy and well-respected a man as Selejian is responsible for all these disappearances. We need some evidence."
"Then let's get to the Silverforge's," Kirnoth replied, crossing his silverware neatly at the top of his plate.
"An excellent idea," Ledare said. She dabbed at the corners of her mouth one last time and pushed away from the table. "After our visit to the dwarves, I might go to see the families of the two missing men, starting with Thaddeus Cooper's. Would you like to join us, Finian?"
The Archer drained his mug and shook his head.
"No," he told them. "I have to get on with house-breaking Curly. And after that, I have some business with Goodman Midzer at The Five Elements."
"Okay," the Janissary responded. "Perhaps I'll have more to share with you when I return."
"Well, now!" Hatar bellowed when Kirnoth and Ledare stepped into the jewellers' shop. "If it isn't Mr. Kirnoth! An' 'e's brought along a Janissary!"
He turned briefly toward the small doorway set behind the counter and shouted, "Runa! Mr. Kirnoth be 'ere!"
Then he came up to the elf and bowed his head respectfully.
"Ye did as ye promised ye would," Hatar said in a manner that made it plain that this was high-praise indeed from a dwarf. "Lord Barre was just as tickled as 'e could be at the job ye did. And this wouldn't be the same Janissary what gelded young Ongenbern, would it?"
Ledare looked uncomfortable and replied, "If you mean the young artist who struck me I-"
"Hatar Silverforge!" Runa grumbled as she came out from the back room. "I'll nae have ye makin' one o' the king's own feel bad about doin' wha' ye yerself bade her do!"
"Oh, Runa, darlin', I'm jus' havin' a bit o' fun."
"Fun? Ye call that fun? Why yer just an unwheened, chasm-hearted pebble if'n ye think-"
There was more, but Kirnoth found that he could no longer follow the exchange. His attention was riveted to the small statuette that Runa held in her pudgy but obviously nimble hands. It was made of a gleaming, glossy-black metal that the elf had never seen before and bore two bits of polished amber for eyes. It showed Gordigan crouched as if ready to leap forward. The duckbunny's bill was made, it appeared, from solid gold. A band of wrought silver circled the statue's neck exactly as the band of silver fur circled Gordigan's neck like a collar.
It was magnificent.
Ledare elbowed him, startling him back to reality.
"I'd say, from the look o' him, that 'e's 'appy with our work, Runa," Hatar said, smiling broadly.
"Indeed, I am," Kirnoth admitted breathlessly. "It's wonderful! It's better than anything I could have hoped for! It's-"
"It's adamant," Runa said, handing over the statuette. "The 'ardest metal on Oerune. It'll cut through mithril, it will. But it's also quite brittle, so drop it an' ye'll end up with naught but duckbunny pieces."
She gave the elf a stern look to emphasize her warning and placed it into his eager hands.
It was far lighter than it looked, and Kirnoth could see himself reflected in the shiny black metal. His image in the statuette was surrounded by a magical rainbow corona.
"Adamant'll take any enchantment ye care to throw 'pon it, Mr. Kirnoth," Hatar added proudly. "Ye did such a fine job at the party, we decided to put a wee bit extra into it for ye."
"Thank you," the mage said, unable to come up with anything more eloquent. "Thank you very much."
"About the party," Ledare put in. "We saw a man there, an artist named Selejian. We were wondering if you could tell us anything about him."
The husband and wife exchanged glances and shrugged.
"Nae much, I'm afraid," Hatar admitted. "I've 'eard tell that 'e's workin' on a new series of statues what're supposed to be his best work to date."
"Aye," Runa added. "We were both sorry to see hear that he was goin' to be sellin' 'is studio to pay off 'is debts. I'm right glad to 'ear that 'e's back on 'is feet now."
"Debts?" Ledare asked. "To whom did he owe?"
"The usual," Hatar explained. "Taxes to the king for one. An' great marble blocks ain't free, ye know."
Ledare nodded.
"Of course," she said. "On another matter: do you know anything about the disappearances of the barrel maker, Thaddeus Cooper and the carpenter, Quinn Wyesinger?"
"Not a bit," the dwarf responded. "I've no use for barrels an' any carpentry work what needs doin' we two do ourselves."
Finian spent a few hours trying to curb Curly's tendency to relieve himself whenever and wherever the urge struck him. He'd had some success, but nothing really reliable. He'd been awakened the night before with his sheets wet from the puppy, and Abernathy had told him this morning that his room was beginning to smell like a kennel.
The lack of solid sleep was beginning to catch up with him too, he thought. His joints ached and he was developing a bit of a congested feeling in his chest.
Knowing that a few hours a day was all the more that the puppy could be expected to put up with training, the Archer decided to turn Curly over to Gwaedry and head to The Five Elements. He found the girl in the stable, brushing the mane of his grey stallion and humming a tune.
"Hello, Gwaedry," he said as he entered. "How are you this fine morning?"
"Oh, I'm just wonderful, good sir," she said, radiating happiness as she courtsied prettily to him.
He bowed formally in return.
"I am glad to hear it," he told her with a smile. "And seeing you has brightened my day."
She blushed and giggled, toying idly with her strawberry-blonde hair.
"May I entrust Curly to your capable hands, fair maiden?" he asked, cradling the exhausted animal in his hands.
"Indeed you may, good sir," the young woman replied, putting down the horse brush and coming to take the puppy from the Archer.
"I have an errand to run, but I shan't be gone too terribly long," he explained as the dog changed hands. "I'll be back well before sundown."
"There's no need to hurry on my account," she told him. "Tending to Curly is a better task than tending to these great beasts as father wishes."
She indicated the horses with a tilt of her head.
For the first time, Finian noticed that Soriah's reddish-brown horse was in its stall beside Kirnoth's. He went over and looked to make sure it was the same animal; it was. He recognized the white markings around its nostrils and the band running down its face.
"How long has Soriah's horse been here?" he asked, patting the animal on the rump.
"That one?" Gwaedry asked. "It's been here since mother and I arrived on Godsday."
"Hmm," Finian said. Without her horse, it was likely that Soriah was still in town.
"Is there something wrong with it being here?" the girl asked him, eager to please.
"No, my dear," he told her with a bow. "There's nothing wrong at all. Now look after Curly whilst I'm gone and perhaps I'll bring you something from my travels."
The girl's face nearly exploded with excitement.
"Don't worry one whit, good sir!" she said as he headed for the stable door. "I'll look after him as if he were my own!"
"Well, Kirnoth," Ledare began once they'd stepped out of the Silverforges' shop onto Craft Street, "I wonder what kinds of debt Selejian is trying to pay off with the money from his new line of statues?"
The mage didn't respond. His attention was obviously held almost by the little statuette he cradled in his hands. Gordigan, whose head was sticking out of the front of the mage's shirt seemed quite taken with it as well.
"I believe I'll pay a visit to Thaddeus Cooper's wife," she went on. "Perhaps she can tell me something to shed a bit of light on things."
"That sounds like a good idea," Kirnoth muttered absently.
"Would you like to accompany me?" the Janissary asked. "Two sets of eyes and ears might learn more from the meeting than one."
There was a long pause before Kirnoth jerked his head up and looked at Ledare.
"What?" he asked, then quickly added, "Oh! No, Ledare. I want to do my spell right away. I feel like I'll be a lot more useful once it's complete, so the sooner the better."
"Alright," she responded with a nod. "I'll tell you what I find out when I get back."
"No. You can't do that," he explained. "Once the spell is begun, Gordigan and I must be in complete isolation for three risings and settings of Shaharizod's Mirrors. If I'm disturbed, the enchantment will be ruined and I'll never be able to cast the spell again!"
"Alright," she said again. "When you and Gordigan are through, we'll discuss further anything that I uncover."
"That sounds fine," the elf said enthusiastically, already starting to hurry back toward Grey House. "I'll see you on Moonsday evening."
Finian trudged along the wide lane of Festival Street, passed perfumeries and other upscale shops. A goblin dressed in finery and smoking a hobbit pipe nodded at him from the stoop of the Crossroads Inn as he passed.
"Good day to ye," he muttered in Guttertongue and blew a smoke ring in the air.
Finian nodded and kept walking.
His joints were bothering him. And what he had at first thought was merely the beginnings of a cold brought on by lack of sleep were starting now to give him pause. He feared that their excursion into the sewer - and his subsequent dunking and leech attack - had given him some sort of disease that he would be unable to shake without some aid. To that end, he turned off of Festival Street, east onto Arrow Lane.
There he found Dr. Gaston's Sanatorium. The closed door had a sign tacked to it that read "CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE". Someone had angrily hurled several rotting tomatoes at the locked door. In the early spring heat, a cloud of insects buzzed over the rotting remains.
Apparently the good doctor hadn't yet returned from his excursion to Riverneck.
The Archer stood there, staring at the sign and thinking. Crescent Street was just a few blocks away, but he knew that the Hospital was closed, so going there would do no good. Whether or not there was another healer in Barnacus, he didn't know, but he felt certain that he'd need to be examined before any illness took too firm a hold.
He sighed and looked eastward toward Hasding Island and the flags fluttering in the sea breeze atop the King's castle.
Perhaps Goodman Midzer would be able to point him toward a healer.
Ledare headed through the South Gate and made her way along the rutted cart path toward Thaddeus Cooper's barrel shop. She'd stopped off at the Janissary Guildhall to requisition a replacement breastplate and chain tunic, and it felt good to walk around without the damaged armor to constantly remind her of how near she'd come to dying on the Riverneck Path. While at the Guildhall, she'd also gotten directions to Goodman Cooper's shop.
When she arrived there, she found two men "haggling" over a barrel with a woman in the middle of her fourth decade. Haggling in this case meant that they were refusing to pay her what the barrels were worth.
"These 'ere are shoddy workmanship!" Ledare heard one of the men say as she got within earshot. "They're not worth 'alf what yer askin'!"
"These are the finest barrels produced in Barnacus!" the woman countered. She was holding a young child on her hip. "If my husband were here, he'd tell-"
"But yer 'usband ain't 'ere is 'e?" the other man said. "I 'eard tell 'e got right sick o' ye an' left town with some sweet young thing who knows 'er way 'round a-"
Goodwife Cooper slapped the man across the face loud enough to cause the sound to echo off the nearby barn.
"Get off my land!" she shouted. "Get out of my sight!"
"Oh ye'll regret that, woman," the man shot back. He massaged his cheek with one hand; the other was slowly easing his dirk free of its scabbard.
"Is there a problem, here?" Ledare asked in her most professional tone.
The look on the men's faces as they turned and saw her standing there with her hand resting on the pommel of her longsword was enough to almost make her smile.
The man's dagger immediately went back into its sheath and the two men backed two steps away, shaking their heads.
"No, Janissary," the second man said. Ledare could see Goodwife Cooper's handprint glowing redly on his cheek.
"We was just leavin', Janissary," the first man said. He started to turn, his questioning gaze alternating between Ledare's face and her swordhand.
"You had best get on with it then," Ledare said with a nod and the two men scurried away eastward toward the sea.
"Thank you, Janissary," Goodwife Cooper said, hiking her child up higher onto her hip. "It's getting to the point where it's dangerous just doing business since my husband..."
Her voice trailed off and a pained look fell across her face like a shadow.
"Your husband is why I am here. I have come to you on assignment from the king," Ledare told the woman. "I was wondering if I may ask you some questions?"
Goodwife Cooper smiled at her and nodded.
"Of course," she said, gesturing to the living quarters attached to the side of the barrel shop. "Come inside and I'll fix a pot of tea."
"And as I said, this is the best place to do such things," Abernathy explained as he set the small sack of charcoal on the stone floor. "The lab is protected against fire, but the rest of Grey House is not. If your spell were to somehow malfunction or escape your control..."
"It won't," Kirnoth assured him. The mage took the brazier he'd purchased in from the merchant, Arturo in Riverneck and placed it carefully on the floor. It made a sound like a gong as it settled on the flagstone, echoing off the fitted stone walls and domed ceiling. "But I don't like being underground if I can help it. Why can't I conduct my business in the lab?"
Abernathy looked at him with indignation on his face.
"Because it simply isn't allowed," he said dryly. "And the testing ground is the only other fire proof area inside the compound."
The elf frowned and looked around.
The room was circular and perhaps fifty or so paces across, lit at regular intervals by flickering torches set in metal sconces. Its ceiling rose into a smooth dome overhead. A pair of corridors breached the walls on opposite sides of the room. One of them, Kirnoth knew, led to the stairs up to Grey House, the other stretched off in a straight line to the limits of his vision. In the center of the room stood a small stone pedestal about chest high with a glittering diamond embedded in its flat top.
"Is this where Finian and Soriah battled Fir Flinderkin?" Kirnoth asked, recalling their description of the area where they underwent the Final Exam.
"I'm sure that I have no idea," Abernathy responded. "I am not privy to the events that transpired during their entrance exam."
"Hmm," the moon elf muttered, looking around and trying to imagine what had gone on here when the Archer and the Battleguard first met.
"There are three other rooms in this complex," the manservant said while Kirnoth looked around. "I will deliver food and water to you each morning, leaving it at the bottom of the stairs. If you truly do not wish to be disturbed during the next three days, then you may go to one of the other rooms without fear of being interrupted."
"Thank you, Abernathy," Kirnoth replied. "You've been most helpful. And I'll see you again on Moonsday."
Gordigan's head thrust out between the buttons of the elf's shirt and he gave a loud, "QUACK!!" which curiously didn't echo at all.
"Well, lad, I do know that the various temples 'bout town've been offerin' their services fer a price," Goodman Midzer told Finian. The Innkeeper looked around to make sure no clerics were within earshot. "Course that price's usually more'n an honest workin' man can afford. I 'eard that the goin' rate for a simple light healin' is a hundred gold nobles! That's more profit'n I make in a week!"
"And there're no other healers in Barnacus?" the Archer asked, nibbling on the sweetbread that Goodman Midzer had forced on him.
The man shook his head.
"None what I know of," he said with a sigh. "Losin' the hospital was a right terrible blow to the city. Flor's healers were the best. An' they could always be counted on to help out those what couldn't afford the prices the other temples charge."
Goodman Midzer turned away to fill the pewter tankard of a man sitting down the bar a bit. Finian scowled at the Innkeeper's news. A city the size of Barnacus had to have more than two healers. Perhaps Abernathy would know where to send him.
"Have ye takin' to dyin' yer hair, lad?" Midzer asked, returning to stand before Finian. "Don't take my meanin' wrong, now. I think the red suits ye just fine, but I was jus' wonderin'."
Finian chuckled and changed the subject.
"Goodman, remember when I was here last and you offered me sausages?" the Archer asked.
"Ayuh, Goodwife Fletcher's duck sausages," Midzer said. "I remember. Ye lot ate 'em eagerly on the night ye brought down Khaana."
The man hastily made the sign of the Evil Eye.
Finian motioned for Midzer to lean in closer and whispered, "We never ate those sausages."
"What?" the innkeeper whispered back. "I don't get yer meanin'."
"When we returned from below the inn, we found the plate empty and small footprints all around it," Finian told him.
Midzer straightened up and looked around nervously before leaning back down and whispering, "Are ye sayin' we've got faeries now? As if haunts weren't enough to give folks the fantods!"
"I don't know what it is," Finian confided. "It could have been a brownie like you said before."
"I was foolin' when I said that," the man replied. "I didn't really believe... I shudder to think what'll happen to me business if words gets out that I've got brownies."
"Would you like me to do anything else about this?" Finian asked. "May I explore further below to see if there is anything we missed last time?"
Midzer's face brightened.
"Ayuh, lad," he beamed. "That would be right fine o' ye. Right fine indeed."
"Now what is it, you wanted to know?" Goodwife Cooper asked as she handed Ledare a steaming hot cup of tea.
Ledare sipped at her cup and asked, "How are you faring?"
The woman laughed, but her face looked as if she might cry.
"I get by," she confessed. "At least as long as Thad's supply of barrels holds out. When they're gone, I don't know what I'll do."
"Are you or the children in need of anything?" the half-elf asked, looking around the single room that was their living space. The young boy that Goodwife Cooper had been holding was playing with a wooden toy on the bed in the far corner. "Perhaps the king or the Janissary Guild may assist you in some way until the return of your husband."
The woman smiled at the offer, but shook her head.
"I've not yet been reduced to charity," she said. "I've been able to apprentice our other son to a local shipbuilder, and the temple of Lisori has agreed to take our daughter, Meriam, into the convent where she'll be trained as a Peacemaker. It's a blessing really."
Ledare found it hard to see how having a daughter trained as a prostitute - even a church-sponsored prostitute - was a blessing, but she held her tongue.
"I make enough to feed little Sugo and I," the Goodwife went on, nodding toward her younger son. "Hopefully I can do so until Thad returns."
There was a weighty silence in the room for a moment filled with the possibility that Thaddeus Cooper would never return.
"Can you describe the events which led up to your husband's disappearance?" Ledare asked to break the uncomfortable silence.
"There were no events," Goodwife Cooper said. "As I told the Armsmen that came 'round before, it was business as usual for Thad."
"Did he mention anything out of the ordinary to you?" the Janissary pressed.
"Well, he was excited about a big order he had received, but I know nothing about that," the woman confessed. "He claimed that we'd never want for business again."
"Do any patrons of his business stick out in your memory?" Ledare went on. "Was there anything unusual about the company he was keeping before his disappearance?"
Goodwife Cooper shook her head.
"Not that I remember," she said. "Most of Thad's customers tend to look alike. Merchants and carters mostly."
"Perhaps your children might remember something?" Ledare sounded hopeful.
"Believe me, I asked them," the woman told her guest. "It brings such pain to tell them that their father might not be coming home."
She stifled back a sob as tears began to fall from her eyes.
"I understand," Ledare said, placing her half-drained teacup on the table. "There's no reason to make this worse for them than it already is. I would like to examine his workshop, however, if that would be acceptable to you."
The woman nodded and got to her feet.
"There's no record in the shop I can find about who this great order was for or how big it was," she sniffed. "But you're welcome to have a look around if you wish."
"I thank you for your help," Ledare said, clasping the woman's hand. "And I promise to do what I can to assist in the search for your husband."
"Thank you, Janissary," Goodwife Cooper said with the saddest smile on her face that Ledare had ever seen.
After much searching of the workshop, Ledare uncovered only one odd bit that seemed out of place.
On a scrap of parchment slipped between the last few written-on pages of Goodman Cooper's ledger was a strange message: THE OGRE'S EYE 4-23.
It meant nothing to Ledare, but she took it anyway, in case it meant something to Kirnoth or Finian.
Much of the underground area beneath The Five Elements as Finian remembered it, although Goodman Midzer had carefully piled boxes and barrels in front of the secret door leading to Khaana's former lair.
"It's just a precaution, mind ye," the Innkeeper had told him. "I've seen no sign of anythin' tryin' to get in that way, but a body can't be too careful."
It took Finian quite a while to move aside the barricade so that he could once more traverse the hidden tunnel to the cellar of the adjacent building. He was careful to check the area for traps but found none. He vividly remembered the witch shrieking, "Villains!" last time he had poked his head into her sanctum, and although he knew that she had met justice at the end of a hangman's noose, he was still nervous as he stepped into the room beyond.
He needn't have been. The Watch had done an excellent job of purifying what had been her temple to the demon Asmodan. The symbol of Ibrahil the True, god of justice had been painted on the walls and the summoning circle inscribed in the floor had been chiseled roughly out of the stone. The black tapestries were all gone, and there were signs that they had been burned in the far corner. The stairs that had once led up to a door that was nailed shut had been pulled down and lay in a broken heap against the near wall. The Archer felt at ease here, as if this room were completely free of the witch's corrupting touch.
Finian moved across to the only other door in the room and checked it for traps. It opened onto what had been the witch's lab. It too had been cleansed by the Watch, and while the workbench still sat against the wall, most of the glassware and alchemical apparati had been confiscated. What little remained behind was broken beyond repair. The door across the lab that led to the room in which Victoria Moore and the witch's other victims had been buried leaned against the wall. It had been taken off its hinges, and by holding his lantern high, he could just make out the feet of two disinterred graves in the dirt floor beyond the open doorway.
A faint scrape of metal on metal caused him to turn quickly in time to see a small grate set into the floor slide back into place. He looked quickly around the room, but saw nothing else. Moving cautiously forward, he could first smell the rank odor of raw sewage coming up from the drain, then hear the far-off sound of rushing water. Tiny footprints covered the floor. Many were fresh and identical to those he'd seen before in The Five Elements: roughly the size of a thumbprint, with the great toe set far back on the foot almost like a thumb. The others looked like rat tracks, but they were huge, belonging to rodents three feet or more in length, the Archer judged.
He looked at the drain itself then. It was small - no more than a foot across - so there was no way even a halfling could fit down it without getting stuck. He looked down through the grate and was startled to see glowing yellow eyes staring back at him. Then another pair. Then another. Breathy, tittering whispers began to drift out of the drain, hissing words in a language he had never heard before.
He jerked back from the pipe and looked around again. More tiny eyes stared at him from the darkened corners that his lantern couldn't quite reach.
And all he had to defend himself with was the dagger at his hip.
He turned and rushed back the way he had come and hastily began piling boxes and barrels back in front of the secret door in the basement of the Five Elements Inn.
"What's the matter, lad?" Goodman Midzer asked as Finian stepped up to the bar. "Ye look as though ye've seen a ghost."
"Could I speak to you in private?" the Archer replied.
"Well, I-" the innkeeper began, indicating the tap room which was starting to fill up with late afternoon patrons.
"Immediately," Finian said and Goodman Midzer could hear the urgency in his voice.
He put down the goblet he had in his hands and nodded. "Let's go to the snuggery," he said.
Once inside, Finian did his best to relate what he had seen, which, admittedly, wasn't much. In fact it was the unnatural chattering that he'd heard coming up through the sewer grate and the general sense of foreboding and danger that made him fear for The Five Element's continued safety.
"By Umba," the innkeeper muttered, his eyes cast desolately on the floorboards.
"I fear that the Grey God has little to do with the unclean things living beneath Khaana's house," the Archer said, placing a comforting hand on Midzer's shoulder.
"An' ye're sure that what ye saw was not a brownie?" the Goodman asked, looking hopefully at Finian. The prospect of a faerie infestation, which had been so awful before Finian had journeyed below, suddenly seemed a welcome possibility.
The Archer shook his head.
"Brownie's aren't by nature evil," he said. "What I saw and felt below was."
"Oh, Ilmatar: how much must I bear?" he asked, raising his hands and face heavenward.
"I want to explore this further with the proper weapons and perhaps discuss this with my Companions," the Archer explained. Goodman Midzer looked up at him and smiled.
"Ye'd do that for me, lad?" he asked, clutching Finian's sleeve.
"Yes," he replied. "But I can't do this without being properly prepared. There were dozens of those... things down there. If it ends up being little demons or something I will need help. Perhaps even from the watch."
Goodman Midzer's face fell.
"Certainly, I don't want ye to get yerself hurt, lad," he said. "But if'n it's possible to keep this matter private, I'd be very grateful. It's The Five Elements, ye see. She's jus' startin' to get back on 'er feet an' news o' demons an' the like'd do little fer business. If'n ye take my meanin'."
Finian straightened himself and considered for a moment.
"I can make no promises, Goodman," he said at last. "But I'll see what my Companions and I can do about this before involving the authorities."
"Oh, thank ye, lad," Midzer said, getting to his feet. "Ye've been a godsend to me an' me business."
At the snuggery door, Finian paused and turned, "Until I return, I suggest that you keep that secret door barricaded."
"I don't need to be a Lorebringer to figger that out, lad," the innkeeper said with an uneasy chuckle.
The brazier made a sizzling sound as Kirnoth added the pinch of black down that he'd cut off Gordigan's tail and the smell of burning hair quickly filled his nostrils. The black statuette glittered briefly atop the mound of charcoal and incense in the center of the brazier. Then he ladled more scented oil over the figurine and it disappeared behind a cloud of hissing vapor.
The smoke was getting thick in the chamber. At times he could barely see Gordigan sitting across the brazier from him. The cloying mist stung the wizard's eyes and made it hard to keep the chant going. But he was determined not to flub the spell. Charlay the Brown's written warnings about the use of the enchantments in his spellbook had convinced him that if he for some reason miscast the spell, he'd never be able to cast it again. There were many oblique references to the favor of the Beastlords being necessary for the spell to succeed. Kirnoth knew little about the gods, and even less about the gods of animals, but there were certainly some unusual aspects of this ritual that he'd never encountered with normal spells.
His voice sounded like little more than a croaking whisper to him. He couldn't understand how little Gordigan was able to sit there so close to the brazier and not gag on the smoke. The duckbunny looked at him curiously, his tiny eyes seeming to wink and sparkle in the torchlight.
The mage's head was swimming from the fumes...
...the room was tilting...
...and darkness came upon him swiftly from all sides.
Quinn Wyesinger's shop was located in the heart of Barnacus, on Carter Street just off of Festival Street. It was a tall, narrow building like many in the old city, with the shop on the ground floor and Wyesinger's living quarters above. All of the windows were shuttered and the front door was locked. A sign bearing the universal hammer-and-saw symbol of the carpenter's guild swayed back and forth in the late afternoon breeze above the only door leading in.
Ledare stood beneath the sign with her hand on the latch and tried to peer into the shop's darkened interior.
"You'll not find him in, Janissary," a voice called out from above.
Looking up, she saw a heavyset man wearing a lacey shirt leaning out of the upper window of the building next door. A glance at the sign on the front of the place identified it as a perfumery.
"He's not been about in a fortnight," the man added.
"You're speaking of Goodman Wyseinger?" she asked, stepping off the stoop to get a better view of the man.
He was human with the coloring of the central Realms. A series of tattoos on his cheeks marked him as a native of Gessex.
"GUILDSman Wyesinger," the man corrected. "Quinn was quite proud of his status as a skilled craftsman."
"You don't know where he is?" Ledare asked, feigning ignorance of the situation.
"Not at all," the man went on. "He kept mostly to himself and his work. He was a wonderful man, just the same. He made some fabulous toys for the neighborhood children from his carpentry scraps. He had a heart as good as gold, that one."
The man sighed dreamily and Ledare began to suspect that the perfumer's interest in Guildsman Wyesinger was somewhat more than neighborly.
Finian turned left off of Livermore Avenue onto Crescent Street and paused. There on the corner stood a fifteen foot high stone wall pierced by a pair of double doors. Well-weathered gargoyles, each with unique human features stared down from atop the barricade and a fancy marble block set beside the gate was chiseled with the words: ROMERO SELEJIAN, SCULPTOR.
For some reason, the coincidence of passing the studio of the very artist that Ledare and Kirnoth both suspected of wrong-doing made Finian feel uneasy. Casting his eyes up at the gargoyles, he shuddered and moved onto Crescent Street toward the Temple of Shaharizod.
The walled Temple stood at the far western end of the street beside a pair of weavers whose shops faced one another across the street. The Temple was much more imposing than Selejian's studio; the wall was higher and topped not only with sculpted hawks, but with pointed steel spikes as well. The double gate was mirrored, and reflected the Archer indistinctly as he came toward them. He tried the small door set into the massive gate and found it open.
The walled compound beyond was beautifully kept and lush with spiky-leafed plants that Finian had never seen - natives of Haven, he assumed. A walkway of white and grey stones went from the gate to the wide marble stairs leading up to the mirrored doors of the Temple proper. Enormous stone hawks, fully twice the size of those along the outer wall, looked down at him from their perches over the lintel. Their mirrored eyes caught the last dying light of the day and reflected it back in such a way that they seemed to glow with their own inner radiance.
As he mounted the white stone steps, the great valves at the front of the Temple opened, pushed aside by two children: a boy and a girl. They both wore loose-fitting, sleeveless robes as white as the snows of Pellham. Each had a small scimitar tucked into the blue-and-silver sash they wore around their waists. They were both blonde and green-eyed with strong arms, heavily corded with muscle. Apart from the fact that the girl stood slightly taller than the boy, they could have been twins.
"Thou hast arrived too late," the girl said, looking down her nose at Finian in a way very much like Abernathy.
"Nasser-Udeen hast already healed this day all that the Queen whilt allow," the boy chimed in. He looked defiantly at Finian, his hand on his scimitar. "Be gone from my sight!"
The Archer bit back on the anger building in his chest, took a deep breath and said, "I'm looking for my friend. Her name is Soriah. I believe she may be here."
The boy and girl exchanged a look that told Finian that they knew the name.
"The Caste-breaker?" the girl asked, her mouth twisted as if the very word tasted awful.
"She is not here," the boy said. "She is-"
"Gone," another voice said from inside the Temple and the two children bowed their heads.
A huge man, came forward out of the shadowy interior of the building. He was dressed in an elaborate padded robe sewn everywhere with small rectangular mirrors. He wore two large scimitars at his hip, and an oversized symbol of Shaharizod - two crescent moons surrounded by stars - hung about his thick neck. He had a cluster of stars tattooed around his left eye.
"She didst come before me seeking atonement. Seeking the Curwauch," the man said in his deep, rich voice. "She didst come guilty of the 12th violation of the Caste. She hast gone now, seeking the Queen's forgiveness through Quest."
"Where-" the Archer started, but the priest cut him off.
"I am Nasser-Udeen, and I alone act as the Queen's voice and will within this Temple," he said. "I alone know where the Caste-breaker hast gone. And until she hast completed the task that the Goddess bade me set before her, none shall know where she is nor what she does save I. If indeed the Caste-breaker is thy friend and if thou in truth dost seek her thou shouldst do so in thy prayers, for thou whilt not see her face again until she hast succeeded in her task."
Saying that, Nasser-Udeen nodded once and turned back toward the inner Temple.
"Wait!" Finian called out. "I am diseased! I need healing!"
"Then return on the 'morrow, diseased-one," the girl said as she began to swing the doors closed.
"The cost is 1,000 nobles to one such as thee," the boy added and the great valves clanged shut leaving Finian alone in the twilight.
A sharp pain on his nose jolted the mage up to consciousness. He sat up, rubbing his nose and looked around, blinking.
"Sorry about that, Kirnoth," said a strange, yet somehow familiar voice.
He looked around for the source of the voice. Gordigan looked at him, sitting upright on his haunches with his webbed, orange feet held against his black chest.
"I hope the bite didn't hurt too much," the duckbunny said in flawless elvish. "But I thought you'd want to be awake for this part."
"W-what?" the elf asked, shaking his head. he rubbed his eyes in disbelief.
"Come on," Gordigan said as he dropped back to all fours and hopped a few feet away. "The spell won't last forever."
The smoke from the brazier hung motionless in the air, frozen in a dusky helix suspended from charcoal to ceiling. In fact, the only thing moving in the room besides the mage himself was the duckbunny. And Gordigan was heading rapidly for the hallway leading out of the room.
As if in a dream, Kirnoth scrambled to his feet and moved to follow him.
Finian stood at the top of Crescent Street and stared into the early evening gloom. The street curved downward toward the Tyredemia Sea, and was crowded with commoners on their way home for the night. He walked eastward down the hill, thinking about his situation. He couldn't afford 1,000 gold pieces. That was outrageous! Perhaps he could try another Temple. There had to be others in Barnacus. In fact, he seemed to remember Afendemar saying that six of the seven Greater Gods had Temples in the city, so-
He stopped in front of the Crescent Street Hospital. The windows and doors had all been boarded up, and someone had defaced the facade with some messily-scrawled graffiti. the words: REJOICE, FOR SHE IS COMING were written across it in letters two feet high. The Archer stood there staring at the words with a prickle of fear building at the base of his skull. He'd seen those words before...