24: Davnait

[Start from the beginning]

Almandar was surprised to find Dolrim apparently standing guard behind the doorway to the villa. The dwarf looked grim – even more so than usual – and was still dressed in full armour, his weapons at the ready.

“Where have you been?” his fellow adventurer asked gruffly, “we expected you some time ago.”

“Seeing to Skirina’s security,” he replied, conscious that he had been doing rather more with the young woman than that, “as we agreed. Has something happened?”

The dwarf simply nodded, “you had best see Tarissa. She is in the kitchen..”

The urgency in Dolrim’s voice convinced Almandar to head there straight away. It sounded as if something very serious had occurred, perhaps here at the villa, while he had been away enjoying himself. And for what? After they had had sex, Skirina had simply upped and disappeared. There had been, he now realised belatedly, something very strange about her, something that didn’t quite fit the image she had been trying to project.

When he had discovered the note that she must have left for him just before she left, it had only confirmed that she had been keeping secrets. But whatever the truth was, he doubted he would see her again.

23: Kaeranna

[Start from the beginning]

“Thank you for inviting me over,” said Kaeranna, stepping into the kitchen, “it’s been a while.”

Fentik nodded; there had been a number of reasons why he had not seen the gnomish woman recently, and many of them were ones he did not want to admit to. Nor was he going to admit to his ulterior motive for inviting her to his house tonight. Instead, he simply said, “I agree, it’s been too long, but with one thing and another… well, I hope to make up for it tonight. Just you and me… you don’t mind that, do you?”

“No, of course not,” she said, smiling, “I think the last time we really met was at Lugdan’s, and it seemed that half the gnomes in the city were there. It will be nice to have a bit more quiet…” her eyes widened, as she saw how he had decorated the table, with a white cloth and his best cutlery, not to mention two silver candlesticks, which cast the only the light in the room aside from the roaring fire in the hearth. “All this in honour of me? I’m impressed.”

“Thank you,” he said, “as you said, it’s been a while, and I wanted to make up for that. I hope you like the food as much.”

He pulled out a chair, and motioned for her to sit. As she did so, he rested his hand briefly on her shoulder, feeling her warmth through the white cotton of her blouse. He kept it there just a second longer than was strictly necessary, but she did not respond. Was that a good sign, or a bad one? Possibly good, he thought, but he would have to see how the evening played out.

22: Skirina

[Start from the beginning]

Skirina awoke slowly, her head feeling muggy. She was lying on a hard surface, not her usual pallet, and it took a few moments for her to gather her thoughts. The last thing she remembered was taking a drink from her canteen… she had felt woozy, stumbled a short distance, and then collapsed. Somebody had poisoned her canteen? Yes, that had to be it, and now she had woken up somewhere else.

The shocking realisation brought her fully awake, and she tried to struggle upright. No sooner did she do so than she realised that her hands were bound in front of her, tied together with some thick cord. She had been captured! But how, and by whom?

None of it made any sense. Why would anyone want to imprison her, and how could anyone have possibly drugged her water supply? Nobody else should have had access to it, except possibly the other members of her warren, and they were hardly likely to do such a thing.

21: Break-in

[Start from the beginning]

Zarenis tightened the cords on the leather jerkin she had put on over her regular clothes. If she got into a fight with the adventurers, it would make very little difference, but against anyone else it might at least help a little. And hopefully, she would not be facing the adventurers themselves at all. In and out, as quickly as possible, while they were away from the villa – that was the plan.

She pulled a chest out from under her bed. Made of a plain dark wood, it was exceptionally sturdy, the place to keep her most important possessions. It took a little while to disarm the traps and open the locks she kept on it, but soon she opened it and removed the items she would need for the mission.

First came a pair of boots made from a pure black, felt-like material. She pulled them on, savouring the softness against her skin, wiggling her toes against the fabric for a second. Comfort was not the purpose of the boots, of course… but that didn’t stop them from feeling good. She pulled a pair of fingerless gloves on next; they were made of especially supple leather, and their contact made her fingers tingle for a moment as they adapted to her hands, working their magic.

Then there were two rings, looking much like regular jewellery, although they were anything but. Onto her right ring finger went a band of silver clasping a small sapphire, and onto the other hand a plain, but slightly heavier, golden ring. A small ceramic vial went into a pouch at her belt, along with the greyish wand that she had recently bought from Nyvara. Neither was a regular part of her equipment, but both would be needed for the approach she had in mind.

20: Jiranda or Ravette?

[Start from the beginning]

The temple to Sarlene was by no means the largest in the district; the minarets of the temple of the Sun God cast their shadows over it during the morning. But it was one of the more beautiful, at least if you preferred graceful lines over austere majesty. Green vines ran across the outer walls, twining between the bas-relief carvings. The carvings were not, as in some other parts of the world, openly erotic; they showed scenes of marriage and demure affection, all of which were, of course, well within the goddess’s purview.

It was not the common reputation that the temple had, of course. Many assumed that it was a place of debauchery, at least when regular marriage services were not being conducted there. But that view was mistaken, for while Sarlene was, among other things, a goddess of passionate sexuality, such things were not a part of her regular worship services. Impromptu, private, worship services, though… well, that was a different matter.

It was the last free day before the exploratory mission into the subterranean caverns beneath the city. Tomorrow, the adventurers would make their final plans, have a good night’s rest, and then, perhaps, finally learn what was really going on under their feet. Dolrim and Vardala were staying at the villa, while Calleslyn paid a visit to her friend Messandra – Almandar wondered how many of the others had worked out the truth of their relationship, but had no intention of talking about it himself.

19: Messandra (2)

[Start from the beginning]

Messandra glanced around as she allowed Calleslyn into her home, and swiftly closed the door behind them. The human woman was still shy about their relationship, nervous about what her neighbours would think, although Calleslyn suspected that none of them even guessed anything was occurring. Thankfully, her partner’s shyness was not at all apparent when they were alone together. But human cultural mores were what they were, and she supposed that they had to be respected here, in a human city.

“What do you think?” asked Messandra, raising her arms and giving a twirl to show off her new dress.

It was sky blue in colour, clinging tightly to her curves, sleeveless and almost backless, held up only by straps around the back of her neck. Calleslyn’s eyes were first drawn to the long flowing skirts, swishing around as Messandra moved, and deeply slit up the right side to expose half of one shapely leg. Unbidden, a vision of those thighs tangled in her own leapt to her mind. The truth was that she had been looking forward to this evening all day, fantasising about what they would do together in bed, aching for her lover’s touch.

“It looks lovely,” she said, honestly, “you make me feel plain.”

“You could never be plain,” replied Messandra, “trust me. But I am glad you like it. Oh, and you are exactly on time – dinner is just about ready.” They kissed, gentle and affectionate, even though Calleslyn’s body was already demanding much more than that. She would just have to wait.

18: Ashabi

[Start from the beginning]

Almandar pushed open the door to the shop, taking a step down into the cool interior. The windows were small and high up, letting light into the room but not too much heat. It would not do for the stock to spoil, after all.

Remkar was an alchemist, a man who made his living selling magical potions to those who could afford them. Naturally enough, the adventurers had, over the years, been regular customers, although his clientele also included the local military and aristocracy. Tonight, they would be planning the full details of their intended explorations beneath the city, which made this one of the last opportunities to buy some healing potions, among other supplies.

The contents of the sales room looked impressive, although Almandar was aware that they were largely for show; most of the genuinely good material was kept somewhere out back, behind locked and magically protected doors. To anyone less aware of those realities, however, this room certainly looked the part. The shelves and cabinets were stacked with bottles of all shapes and sizes, some empty, but others full of brightly coloured liquids, some of which swirled or bubbled, seemingly of their own accord. Alchemical apparatus adorned the benches on either side, stills and retorts, crucibles and braziers, and strange items of glassware whose function Almandar could only begin to guess at.

17: Preparations

[Start from the beginning]

The little alley was always quiet, and was even more so at this hour of the early morning, after the last of the prostitutes and drug peddlers had departed. Above, the sky was a clear dark blue, already lightening on the eastern horizon. The lesser moon was just visible above the rooftops, a small, baleful, yellowish half-disc, insignificant in the pre-dawn twilight.

Only creatures of the night were active at such a time, but Zarenis was hardly the only such person in the city. Another was the woman she had come here to meet, Nyvara. Even so, the tiefling hoped that she had not arrived too late, for Nyvara was human, and even she had to sleep at some time.

There was only one other person in the alley, a skinny and sallow-looking woman sitting hunched on a doorstep, lank and unwashed hair framing her thin face. The stranger did not acknowledge Zarenis’ presence, looking away with disinterest. It was always unwise to pay too much visible attention to passers-by in this part of the city, for few people here wanted attention.

16: Ansreal (2)

[Start from the beginning]

“I heard you were looking for Lady Tarissa?” asked Callelsyn, “I am afraid she is not in at the moment.”

Horvan had told her of the arrival of the visitor at the villa, and was now standing a discrete distance away as she invited Ansreal inside. She had met the young elf not so long ago, of course, for a meal in the courtyard with Tarissa’s other paladin friends. She herself had invited Messandra, but that had made her human lover uncomfortable. The cleric and paladin would most likely not have approved of their relationship, and Messandra has not wanted to give them any reason to suspect it, which had made things awkward. At least Ansreal would have understood… although, as a paladin in training herself, who knew what her actual attitude was?

And now here she was, stepping into the foyer of the villa, holding what appeared to be a sealed letter. She looked a little uncertain, glancing around as if looking for someone. “Is… uh…” she began, “I mean… are you on your own?”

15: Ansreal

Almandar had been surprised to receive the letter from Ansreal, the would-be paladin that Lady Tarissa had introduced him to a while ago. In it, she had asked him to meet her at the Silver Crown inn, but not to tell the others. It was a public place, and the woman was a devotee of Pardror, god of chivalry, so there seemed no reason to suspect an ulterior motive. But if so, why the need for secrecy? He had decided to go, of course, but he could not help but wonder what it was all about.

He did not know the Silver Crown very well, although he was aware of its location within the city. It was an expensive inn, catering to wealthy merchants and the like, which he supposed suggested that Ansreal herself might be well-connected. In front of the building was an open courtyard, dotted with tables and chairs around an ornate fountain, and it was there that he found her.

She raised her arm as she saw him arrive, and he waved in acknowledgement as he stepped over to the table, noting that she was alone. She wore the same plain white dress that she had when they previously met, the hemline reaching to her ankles, and the neck open only to her collarbone. It was, he gathered, some sort of uniform, a simple and unadorned costume symbolising the purity and dedication of aspirant paladins.

Unusually for a follower of Pardror, Ansreal was, of course, an elf. Her blonde hair was cut short in a bob, exposing her pointed ears and long neck but, he suspected, chosen more for practicality than looks. Glancing her over, with a slight touch of guilt, he could not help but think that some more colourful or revealing clothes might suit her better. For she was quite attractive, certainly compared with most humans. She was a little on the skinny side, perhaps, but her lips were full, her nose dainty, and her cheekbones high. He could not see her hips clearly from this angle, but the swell of her breasts beneath the white fabric was promising… or would be, were it not for her chosen calling.

14: Fentik

Vardala had been in something of quandary since it became clear that the adventurers would be exploring the passages beneath the city. The magical eye that she had found on their last expedition could prove tremendously useful now. It would give her a perfect opportunity to scout ahead, and see exactly what was down there without actually visiting herself. The problem was, of course, that nobody knew she had it.

She regretted now, more than ever, not having simply shown it to the others, and hoped to gain it as part of the group treasure. She had, in a way, betrayed her companions. And for what? To secretly catch a glimpse of Horvan’s naked body without him realising. Might she have somehow achieved that, even if they had known she had the eye? It was not, in retrospect, as if they would have thought she would use it for that sort of thing.

It had seemed a good idea at the time, but once she had really thought it through and realised her mistake, it was too late to go back on it. And here she was, with a magic item that could really help her companions, and no way of admitting to them that that was the case. She still did not know how she would resolve that in the long run, but at least for now she had a plan that might achieve something.

She had decided to go to one of the hidden entrances herself, without the knowledge of the others, and use the eye to find out what she could. She had selected the entrance closest to the gnomish quarter of the city; not only would it give her an excuse to be there, but if she learned something useful, she might be able to pass it off as local knowledge suddenly remembered. It had to be worth a try, if nothing else.

So here she was, standing in an alleyway at the back of a tavern, looking about for the entrance shown on the maps that Dolrim had acquired. Even at this time of the evening, it was easy enough to spot, when you knew what you were looking for. At the side of the alley was a wooden manhole cover, a metal grill next to it, peering down into the dark. Slight wisps of steam wafted up from the grill, signs of the hot springs beneath the city. Doubtless the manhole was there because of the connection between the city’s genuine sewage system and the deeper passages beneath; she would have to send the eye through the former to get to where she really wanted.

13: Demon

The rosy dawn light outside could barely penetrate the thick curtain that Zarenis had placed over the window to her one-room garret apartment. For her, whenever possible, the day was a time for sleeping. She pulled the thin sheets around her body, resting her head on the pillow and closing her eyes to shut out the view of the little room.

One day, perhaps, she could live somewhere better, but for now this dismal little hole would have to suffice. She spent as little time here as she could, using it only for sleeping and washing. And for now, after a long night of activity, sleep was all she required.

It came quickly, enfolding her in its peaceful arms. And soon, Zarenis began to dream…

The city was spread out below her, stars twinkling in a night sky above. She seemed to be flying, a cool breeze ruffling her hair as the city slowly moved by beneath. She was fully dressed, she realised, not in the sleeveless nightdress that she had worn to bed.

There was something odd about that, wasn’t there? Before her train of thought could follow that idea, she noticed something else strange: the city was not quite right. Some of the buildings were different, with less stories or newer roofs. In fact, newer seemed to be the right word… this was the city as it might have been years ago. Quite when, she had no idea, but supposed that it must have been before she was born.

12: Reception

The Emir’s palace stood near the centre of the city, its three golden domes as distinctive as the minarets of the grander temples. From here, the rulers of Haredil administered the city, and claimed fealty from the more sparsely settled lands around. The palace fronted onto a great plaza, close to the market that was the city’s lifeblood. No visitor could fail to be impressed, the Emir and his government making a clear statement about the wealth and power of their domain.

Lady Tarissa had been here many times before, but this time she had to admit that she felt a little trepidation. From what Almandar and Calleslyn had discovered at the Wizards’ College, the threat mentioned in the ancient documents was very real. The College made no direct mention of events, which doubtless explained why this aspect of history was so unknown, but it corroborated much that the old parchments said. They referred, in part, to a time when demonic influence in the city had been strong, and then faded away suddenly for no apparent reason, dismissed as little more than the natural waxing and waning of the infernal powers.