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.

11: Shamira

It had come as no surprise to Calleslyn when Almandar had returned to the villa in the morning, and looking as if he had not had much sleep the night before. She had not met Raylana, but the inference about what had happened was a fairly easy one to make. It had been rather more surprising, however, to realise that Dolrim had also returned home at around the same time. It seemed unlikely, from what she knew of dwarves, that anything of a similar nature had happened to him - and, indeed, if it had, she would have expected him to appear rather more cheerful than he actually did.

But, instead, he had shut himself away in his room at the villa, brooding on his own. Presumably he was looking over the secret dwarven documents that he had acquired, wanting to look over them before he shared them with the rest of the party. When Almandar had returned, a couple of hours later, he had briefly tried to talk to the dwarf, even going into his room, but he had obviously been sent out again almost immediately, apparently without much of a word of explanation.

Still, it was not long after that that Dolrim had finally emerged, looking somewhat sheepish, and bringing the documents with him. Much of the writing was in dwarvish, so although the maps were reasonably clear, actually fitting them to the above ground street plan was probably going to take a while. So they left him to examine the maps further with Vardala, and Calleslyn had suggested that, in the meantime, she and Almandar try to find out what they could at the Wizards’ College

Almandar had, in fact, slept much of the morning, which suggested a certain degree of vigour on Raylana’s part, but now they were both here heading across the lobby towards the College library. The Wizards’ College was, in effect, a guild, although, unlike most others in the city, apprentices were often taught on the premises, rather than in private businesses elsewhere. Almandar himself had learned magic here, many years ago, although Calleslyn had only joined after her own education was complete.

10: Ostrid

[Start from the beginning]

“I am sorry,” said Ostrid, “but the only thing here for you are the plans your party requested. Raylana is not here; I am afraid that she has misled you into believing that you were…” she blushed slightly, looking down at the ground, “…here for some other purpose. That is not the case.”

Almandar had, of course, been surprised, on opening the door to Raylana’s home to discover the dwarven woman there, rather than the merchant. Her presence alone made it unlikely that anything interesting would occur, and now she had confirmed that Raylana was not here at all, and was not going to be.

“So what has happened?” he asked, still unsure of how events were unfolding.

“You should come in,” she said, instead of replying, and still having some difficulty looking him in the face. This was clearly something she felt uncomfortable discussing, but at least she looked embarrassed, rather than deceitful. “The plans you requested are in here,” she added.

“I thought you were giving them to Dolrim. Didn’t your family insist on it?”

She nodded, her shoulders slumped, but said nothing further until they had reached the main room of the house. It was a wide open space, with a balcony above, with a divan, and numerous cushions and tables. Ostrid headed for a dresser on one side, where a carved wooden box was sitting. She picked it up gingerly, holding it close to her chest.

9: Reylana

[Start from the beginning]

The dwarves had been in Haredil long enough to have carved out their own quarter of the city. Despite having lived in the city all his life, it was an area that Almandar had rarely been to; unlike the elves, dwarves only rarely performed magic, and the close-knit and prudish nature of their culture gave him little other reason to visit. In fact, Lady Tarissa was probably more familiar with the district than he was, because of their quality armourers. And there was Dolrim, of course.

Looking around him at the blocky buildings with their small windows, he almost wondered why he had volunteered to come. But, if they were to obtain plans of the ruins beneath the city, his knowledge of Haredil’s ancient history might help, along with Dolrim’s natural feel for architecture and stonework. Nonetheless, he could not help but feel that the dwarves were a dour people, far from the fun-loving and carefree nature of the elves, or even, to an extent, the gnomes. It was the nature of their culture; they were master-craftsmen, spending all their time in dedicated work to improve their art, leaving no time for gaiety.

Lady Tarissa was leading the way as they walked through the dwarven streets, laid out in a square grid, as regular and monotonous as the buildings around them. As a paladin, she probably approved of the dwarves’ dedication, and even Almandar had to admit that they were an honourable and courageous people – Dolrim had saved his own life more than once. The previous night, Tarissa had invited round some friends of hers from the Temple of Pardror for a pleasant evening of food and conversation out in the courtyard. They had not discussed the apparent threat to the city, but the Temple were potential allies if ever they needed them. Calleslyn had brought a friend too, by the name of Messandra, but he knew enough about women to tell that she was not attracted to him.

8: Spying

[Start from the beginning]

Zarenis woke up as the sun began to dip in the sky, casting its orange light through the narrow window in her garret apartment. She had slept through much of the day, which was not unusual. She preferred the night over the day, when harsh sunlight could make things all too visible. At night, she could see better than humans, or even elves, could, allowing her to see without being seen.

That much was practical, especially given her chosen stock in trade, but there was also, she thought, beauty in the night. Haredil’s skies were often clear, an advantage of its arid environment, allowing the stars and moons to shine brightly amidst the velvet blackness. And darkness was so much more beautiful than harsh light. The way things shrunk into the shadows made them somehow cleaner, purer, than they were when their reality was exposed by sunlight.

Her diabolic heritage might also have been relevant, of course.

She slipped out of the bed, pushing the thin sheets back into place, and quickly dressed. She did not have a wide range of clothes, just enough spares to ensure that some would always be clean, and her tastes were simple – and practical – enough. Perhaps if, one day, her job should take her to some high class party in disguise, she might have to buy an expensive dress, but the thought held no attraction for her.