Part 2
I considered backing off – all my
anti-psionic devices were at the House, and I had no desire to get my mind
blasted open and my brain eaten.
Maybe
it's friendly. It smells a little
different, anyway.
Llyrx,
you need your head checked. This is a
haszak we're talking about…what does smelling different have to do with
anything?
How
should I know? And besides, It hasn't blasted us yet, and it knows we're here.
How
do you know it knows?
Because
I can feel its mind here…
I do wish Llyrx would mention these sort of
things early. Cursing under my breath, I put my hand on my
dagger and opened the door, half-expecting some sort of rush.
The haszak stood at the side of the desk, long, skeletal clawed fingers
tapping impatiently. It turned large,
almond-shaped milky eyes to me, squid-like head a revolting shade of leprous
white, tentacles twisting gently into little spirals at the tips. The robe it wore, as in the traditions of
its kin, only served to enhance the 'underfed' appearance of any haszak, and it sported elaborate designs
in muted colors.
I did not see haszak often, but one thing struck me – this creature's skin was
not slick with slime, but dry and crinkled like crumpled old parchment. I frowned, and wished I had paid more
attention to monster identity classes in Melee-Magthere.
I've
never seen a haszak with skin
problems before.
Master,
that's not a haszak, that's an alhoon!
Eh?
An
undead haszak.
Vith.
I attempted to smile pleasantly at the
creature. "Vendui…if you are here to seek the services of Investigations, I am
sorry if I have kept you waiting."
The alhoon folded its arms, and a new voice spoke in perfect drow in my
mind, flat but edged with sharp amusement, firm and determined. :I
have not waited long. I wish you to
follow me to Manyfolk to speak with my leader. Your pet may stop cowering in your clothes – I do not eat Dreix
imps. The amount of perversity…ah,
dirt, one could say, in Abyssal minds makes consuming the brains not
worthwhile.:
I smirked as Llyrx let out a muffled
squeak of mixed dismay at discovery and indignation at being called a 'pet',
then climbed up to sit warily on my shoulder. "I think I like it already." I murmured to the imp.
For once, Llyrx seemed too overcome
to reply, so I spoke to the alhoon again,
trying to sound as if finding powerful undead creatures appearing in my office
was as common as nobles in Narbondellyn. "Lead, then." Automatically, I made as if to open the door.
:Needless
walking is but an activity for those not gifted with enough magic, Ti'erlfein
Ilith'vir.: The creature stared at the wall, and a large rectangle of it
took on a glassy texture. Odd, no
frills or elaborate gestures had been involved in the spell.
:Such
'frills', as you say, are only required when there is a need to impress another
with one's power, and you already seem sufficiently aware of that fact. Come.: The alhoon glided through the
rectangle. As I would rather be invited
there than to be forced over via some ingenious mind-control spell, I followed,
holding a part of Llyrx's wing to keep the imp from trying to escape.
I hate mind readers.
The teleport was much smoother than
a 'conventional' drow teleport – i.e., it did not make one feel as though one
should be disgorging all of one's internal organs. I only felt mildly dizzy, as if I had been spinning around on one
foot. The alhoon did not have an expressive face (if you could call something
resembling an upside-down squid a face), but I had the feeling it was
entertained by my unsteady stagger.
When the world stopped its crazed
spinning I noted that the part of it with me in it also contained a half-sphere
room carved into rock and polished until the surface was burnished, traced with
veins of adamantite as thick as a drow finger, in mind-numbing patterns. The significance of this I did not
understand, and did not particularly wish to. There was also no apparent door, a fact that a non-magic user as myself
always finds depressing.
The alhoon glided over to the nearest wall and caressed it with its
claws. Immediately a portion of the
veins of adamantite seemed to melt and flow away from their positions, forming
a thick band outlining the shape of an archway. A second touch, and the rock enclosed by the band blurred away,
to reveal a second, larger half-sphere room that I followed the alhoon into.
I did not see if the alhoon replaced the rock, for the room
commanded my attention as easily as an accomplished weapon master would command
his soldiers – by fear and awed respect. The rock of this room was not a dull gray like the portal room, but an
unusual muted hue of purple-green, in what seemed like a thousand different
shades, from the darkest nearest the floor to a bright spot at the highest
point of the ceiling. More veins of
metal, though this time of what looked like expensive mithril, in geometric
patterns. On the ground the veins
eventually sank into the burnished obsidian dais at the center, on which was a
chair draped in a tapestry that from what I could see seemed to depict a dying haszak.
Other alhoons surrounded the dais at intervals, and I counted at least
eight of them, milky eyes scrutinizing me, tentacles writhing subtly, with no
apparent arms or wands. They did not
need any, if my estimate of alhoon
power was correct.
Odd
for so many alhoons to be in one
place, especially in Manyfolk with all its inquisitive neighbors.
Is
that what you find odd? I find the fact that Investigations is not aware of
them odd, Llyrx.
Alhoons
shouldn't be this sociable. I'd think a
group of six would be large already…and I have a feeling these aren't the only
ones in this group.
Now
I feel so much more confident. Bel'la dos, friend imp.
I
try.
A single alhoon sat on the chair. Its skin was more wrinkled than the others, its eyes yellowed, and its
robes more elaborate, with the same geometric design as the room. Its thin right arm was covered in a thin
plate-armor of silver, carved with spiraling designs interspersed with black
opals, but for what reason other than decoration I knew not. In its left claw it held a small sculpture
of a Hell Hound, carved out of jasper. It did not seem very surprised to see me, but by the sudden relaxation
of its posture, I deduced that my appearance was at least satisfactory.
The alhoon that had
brought me here moved in front of me and bowed. :Here is Ti'erlfein
Ilith'vir as requested, Lord unpronounceable word.:
Lord Something pretended to notice
me for the first time. :Well done, unpronounceable
word.: Its voice was stronger in my
mind, with the hollow 'feel' that came with multiple mental projection Its speech in my racial tongue seemed formal
and pedantic. The alhoon that had taken me here stepped to the side.
I supposed it was my turn to
speak. "You have a service for
Investigations?"
:No,
I brought you here to scrub the floor. Of course I have a service.: Ah, another alhoon with a sense of humor. Maybe undeath is good for haszaks
after all.
"What would you like accomplished?"
:Someone,
or something, has been killing alhoons
in Menzoberranzan.:
To my horror I spoke before I
thought of consequences. "Are you not
already dead?"
:Very
droll, Ti'erlfein. No, we can be
'terminated'. We have been finding
members of our band inanimate, as you would say, over the past few weeks, with
their brains…removed.:
"It is well known that the essence
of an alhoon brain, if you forgive me
for saying so, is a component for spell-writing inks and the creation of
magical items…"
:We
are well aware of that fact, Ti'erlfein. However our members are highly trained mages, and only a very powerful
mage or mages would be able to take down one without alerting the entire
band. This…killer entity, if you would,
has even managed to lure the now deceased members alone into deserted areas, a
feat that I would like to think is very difficult. This has only happened over the last week, and we have existed in
Menzoberranzan for a significant amount of time. Find the one killing our kin.:
"Do you wish me to…assassinate him?"
:That
is not required. unpronounceable
word here will journey with you, and
it will undertake that task.:
I could hear Llyrx whimpering in my
mind. "I do not entertain…"
:I
trust that he will not be in your way, and if this…killer has strong magical
abilities, you may find it useful to have an alhoon of unpronounceable word's
caliber with you.:
I decided to refrain from pointing
out that I did not even intend to
encounter something that could kill alhoons,
only to find it. "Do you have the bodies of the slain?"
:I
had anticipated that request. Follow unpronounceable
word and it will guide you around
this place, and offer you more details. A word of warning – do not stray away or try to 'explore'. What we can do to you, you most possibly
already are aware of. I will send a
communication disc to your House to inform Matron Ilith'vir and speak about
payment. Now, a token of my
appreciation…:
It tossed the small sculpture to me,
and I nearly ducked, but had enough control of myself to catch it instead. It felt warm to the touch, and again I had
to fight not to drop it on instinct.
:These
are quite popular among you Menzoberranyr, if I am correct? A few times a day you may summon a Greater
Hell Hound to serve you. Its aid may be invaluable if you encounter
the murderer.:
A powerful gift indeed. "Bel'la
dos," I said gratefully, and wondered how much treasure this band had if
they could afford to give away such 'tokens of appreciation' so lightly.
:Now
you may leave, but remember my warning.:
In the face of such a gracious invitation, I could not but
follow my guide, who bowed once again to Lord Something and moved to the
nearest wall.
This time we ended up in a room that
seemed almost normal, which lightly surprised me. The air was as musty as the other rooms – alhoons did not need to breathe, after all, and so apparently did
not believe in ventilation. The reddish
coloring of the rock seemed to take on an organic quality, making me feel as if
I was standing inside a warm-blooded creature. Five steel tables stood neatly in the center of the room (alhoons seem obsessive in this aspect),
with another table at the head of them, on which was a tray of dissecting
equipment. From the chains and manacles
attached to the walls, and the empty cages stacked at one side, I gathered that
this was one room in which I was glad I was in not under to coercion.
On each table was an alhoon corpse…er…body…let us just leave
it at 'body' and stop all those snide jokes, shall we? They had either been
recently…killed…or a spell of preservation had been cast on them, because they
had not started on the stages of decay as yet.
:Spells
of preservation. They are not so
difficult.:
"What can I call you? Your name is
too difficult." The silence of the alhoon
habitation was getting on my nerves, and besides I wanted to get out of here
before the little air in this chamber was used up. Suffocating inside an unknown alhoon
stronghold was not one of the ways in which I would like to leave this
existence.
:Perhaps…'Priol'
would be simple enough for you.:
"Bel'la
dos for that view on my mental capacity, Priol." I had the bad habit of
being cocky towards powerful creatures that cannot harm me. I shifted my shoulders – Llyrx had a death
grip on them - and approached the nearest table.
The corpse had not been mutilated in any way except in the portion of
the head, where it was missing the portion that roughly contained the
brain. That had been precisely sliced
away, as if with a very sharp blade. The alhoon corpse showed no
signs of a fight, nor did the others, which had been afflicted, ahaha, with the
same occurrence.
"Where were these found?"
:The
one closest to you, and the one on the table to the right, were found near
Donigarten, hence at first we believed that drow patrols in charge of watching
over the farms had been responsible. However, the one to its right was found in the Braeryn, the next at the
outskirts of the city, and the last at Eastmyr, too dispersed to have been the
work of the same patrol.:
"You seem convinced it is the work
of drow hands?"
:There
are no beholderkin in the city, we know of all the haszaks, and the only liches here are drow. The only creatures here powerful enough to
kill alhoon, and have a clear motive
for doing so, are also drow. No other
races dare to take us on.:
A generalization, but I decided to
leave it. It was well known that alhoons only had three mortal enemies –
beholders, liches and haszaks that
were alive, so I had expected the suspicions to fall on those first. "Any
specific suspicions?"
:A
group of mages killing for profit.:
"Not one mage?"
:If
so, that one mage would have to be what your kin call a Mage Lord.:
Definitely not a prospect I would
like to entertain. "Do you know where
each body was found?"
:I
was one of every party sent out to recover the bodies quietly.:
"Why you?"
:I
am new to the band. This matter is the
quest given to me to prove myself worthy to membership and its privileges, to
put it in terms plain enough for you to understand.:
"And I was beginning to like you,
too."
:You
believe your opinion of myself actually matters? And Lord something had such high hopes of your intelligence…:
If
it weren't alhoon I'd like it.
"Shut up, Llyrx. I will have to look at the places where you
lot found the corpses…"
:I
gathered that from your questions before this.:
"Well yes, let us pretend that I
have to constantly, audibly reassure myself of what I think of. Is that suitably drow-like behavior for
you?"
:You
left out the unnecessarily obvious statements and the egotistical assumptions
of self-worth, but basically, yes.:
"Can I ask one more stupid question,
then?"
:You
want to know how to use the Hell Hound. You need to invoke it by speaking the name of the Hell Hound geased to
it.:
"Let's pretend I'm really
retarded. What is the name?"
:You
need not play at pretense at something that is already blatantly true. You will only be told the name when you
prove to me that you are of some
worth. Of which I am currently in the
opinion that unless you undergo full brain transplantation, you may be of as
much worth to this 'case' as a cancerous growth would be to a creature.:
"Ah, I knew there was a catch. Actually, I have another ongoing
investigation, so we can kill two darthiir
with one stone and go to Eastmyr."
:If
you wish.: Priol, as he had bluntly 'spoken' earlier, was not willing to
actually admit that a race of lower intelligence could be of any use to the alhoon band, and radiated an air of
condescending good-humor.
Sometimes
I find it hard to believe that people actually pay you to solve their problems,
myself.
There
are several dissecting knives in reach. Would you like to bet if you can portal away before I hit you with at
least three?
If
you only bring me along to insult me, I'd return to the House.
You're
here because Matron Ilith'vir made it compulsory to bring a Dreix into any
field investigation, and certainly not out of my whim.
I
should think so, or you Ilythiiri
would certainly seem to be setting new
standards in the realm of perversity.
Shut
up, Llyrx.
**
I managed to follow Priol's caustic
directions to the area that it insisted on calling the 'scene of the crime'
without even collapsing once, meditating all the way on how I hated traveling
via portals.
Eastmyr, the home of the relatively
poor (not rich enough to live in Manyfolk and higher places, not poor enough to
have to languish in the Braeryn), was a sprawling, dirty excuse for a
habitation, though the streets were still as cleared of rubble as those in any
other part of the city (excluding, perhaps, the Braeryn). Ostensibly such that a city dedicated to
Lloth would be elegant, etc, but it was unspoken fact that the lack of rock and
stones meant the lack of handy weapons for the riff raff.
Priol wore the guise of a commoner
Investigations ragar noamuth, and
walked slightly behind me, so as to keep up the pretense that I was of a higher
rank. I tried to ignore the idea that I
should have worn several inches of adamantite plate between my shoulders, and
concentrated on his mental directions.
:Now,
you turn left at the next junction. Left. Do you not know your left
from your right? Left!:
"I was only avoiding that group of
mercenaries," I muttered, eyeing said group's backs with relief. It was not that I did not know how to defend
myself – it was just that I did not feel like mustering enough effort to
actually do so. In my current state of
dizzy misery, I would almost welcome several inches of cold steel and thankful
oblivion.
I firmly hung on to the idea that
the alley I turned into was empty. Nice
and empty, with no mercenaries looking for quick money or some outlaws…
A sudden flash of cool, light gray,
metallic, and I automatically drew my dagger, blocking efficiently, metal
shearing off metal. By the little I
could see of the opponent's blade in the infra red, he had one of those nasty
small curved blades that one holds between two fingers and uses in punching
motions, to try and trick the opponent into believing that one is unarmed. I silently gave thanks for my heightened
awareness due to the uneasiness that I felt with Priol at my back – for if I
had not parried, I would have suffered a nasty stab.
No time to feel relieved, for the situation did not have much else in my
favor at present. The mugger had
apparently acquired, somehow, a piwafwi,
so I couldn't see him at all…
Llyrx…
Yes Master. Coming, Master. I tremble with
joy to obey your command to launch myself at a bigger and armed creature,
Master.
One of these days I will weigh you down with
sandbags and heave you into the monster-infested Donigarten Lake.
Such incentive! I'm absolutely expiring with
eagerness to carry out your order…
I think I have some spare throwing knives
around here somewhere…
The abrupt lack of weight on my
shoulder signaled that Llyrx had launched into flight, and was attacking by
scent – the sudden cry of pain somewhere in front to my right gave me all the
direction I needed. My left hand moved
before I thought – it was such a practiced motion, like toweling down after a
bath, that it was instinctual.
There was a choking gurgle, and hot
orange-red flowers spurted into the infra red vision. I wished that Eastmyr had invested in better lighting…
A jade-green ball of mage light spun
into existence above the fast-expiring mugger. Priol had finally decided to do something useful other than watch.
"Didn't want to help?" I barely
flinched as Llyrx alighted clumsily on my shoulder, its thoughts laced with
receding adrenaline. Stooping down
fastidiously to avoid the blood, I managed to retrieve my triangular knife with
only a few stains on my gloves that would be easily removed, wiped the blade,
and secreted it back in its hiding place. The mage light faded back into darkness.
:You
were coping well enough by yourself. I
would have been greatly disappointed, even with my current assessment of your
ability, had a mercenary of such low skill been able to cut you down.:
There wasn't much answer I could
find to that, and by the short time I had 'enjoyed' his company so far, I knew
there I had not a chance in a verbal match against Priol. I decided to disregard the insults and
pilfer the few coins I could find on the corpse, ignoring the piwafwi – too cumbersome - and we moved
on before the carrion crawlers came.
We finally came to a dead end
sandwiched by the back walls of crumbling buildings. Rats and worse scurried or slithered away as we gingerly looked
around – or rather, I poked around while Llyrx tried to hold its nose and Priol
stood in the roughly cleaner adjoining alley.
"Some light would be greatly
appreciated." I called to Priol.
:Never
thought I would hear a drow say such a thing.:
"Never thought I would actually be
on speaking terms with your type." Eastmyr had ears, and Priol knew well enough what I referred to.
:I
would hate to break your illusions…:
"Really."
:…but
in the face of your glaring misunderstanding of our relationship, I feel I
simply must express the truth in terms simple enough for you to understand…:
"Bel'la
dos, I think."
:You
think? I am shocked…simply stunned. However
I digress. I would have given no
thought to devouring your brain had we met in different circumstances.:
"I foresee the start of a…great and
beautiful understanding." I walked carefully in a grid pattern, to quarter the
scene as efficiently as possible as the
mage light grudgingly swirled back, bright enough to see details but not bright
enough to attract unwanted attention.
:Perhaps
I would not devour your brain in any circumstances after all.:
"My turn to be shocked, Priol. A change of heart?"
Master,
have you ever heard of the word 'suicidal'?
Shut
up, Llyrx.
:Of
mind. The heart is but a muscular organ
for pumping blood, in case you were not aware of that. Eating your brain might have a high chance
of making me more stupid.:
"Influential even in death. Compliments already."
:You
Ilythiiri constantly astound me with
your grasp of language, especially your own.:
"We are known to be notoriously intelligent, more so than mere
vitally-challenged haszaks."
:I
wonder if killing you now would be considered self-defense.:
I snorted. My scrutiny had yielded nothing. No footprints, even in the dust, other than my own. No handy murder weapons or evidence, and
even more inconveniently, all traces of the effect of the attack (fluids and
such) had been cleaned away, probably by the alhoons themselves. The
attacker must have levitated – which meant magic. Now I had something I could grasp…
Fumbling in my pockets under Priol's
curious, lofty gaze, I found the indicator, a fingernail-thick bit of paper as
long as one of Llyrx's claws. I waved
it around in the room, slowly, then waited.
The essence that was a part of the
paper turned color when in contact with residues of magical energy, and by
whether the hue was bright or dark, one could also tell roughly how old the
residue was.
"How long ago do you think the
murder was committed?"
:Mayhap
seven days, eight at the most.:
The paper was now tinted with what
seemed like random splashes of color. Strong shades of grayish turquoise with hints of green – I assumed that
to be the effect of Priol's illusion spell and mage light. Some very light warm brown, what I knew to
be background magical radiation of the Underdark, shades of grayish umber with
speckles of carmine ranging from faded to very faded, and more tinges of what
was apparently Priol's magic. None of
the red-purple of drow magic. Very,
very odd…
:Well?:
I schooled myself to think of gray
blankness. Even Llyrx kept its mind
perfectly neutral. "The indicator is
not very accurate, and hardly tells us which shade corresponds to what creature
or race – we make assumptions based on earlier experiments…"
:I
should add 'long-winded' to the list of drow traits.:
"Fine, be that way. There are only a few magical 'signatures' I
can make out for the past week. There's
yours, of course, with the other alhoons,
and a very faded one, which I assume belonged to the…deceased, then there's the
Underdark's. No drow."
:What?:
"There are no footprints, so the
assassin must have had been skilled in magic. Perhaps he found a way to wipe his magical residue."
:I
could find if that is possible.:
"Are my ears deceiving me? You
actually…and this I can't believe…offered
help?"
:There
is as much stake here for me as there is for you, you half-witted excuse for
drow.:
"Perhaps you are right…not for the
latter bit of your statement, though."
:I
thought that even one so blind to evident fact as you would have seen that.:
"I give in to your superior
vocabulary," I held up my hands in mock surrender. "Since there are no other apparent clues here, let's go to the
races. I need to check something
there."
Priol shrugged illusory drow
shoulders in a gesture of magnificent indifference.
**
We entered the main grounds of the
large racing pits through one of the many side entrances, as I did not want to
attract any more attention than was absolutely necessary.
Since space in a large densely
populated cavern is at a premium, more often than not space was created –
downwards. I did not know what to
expect, having never visited this sort of gambling pit before (a surprise,
no?), and so was not surprised at the elaborate carvings and designs on the
walls and pillars. The foyer through
which we meandered across was busy, though not crowded – from snatches of conversation
I gathered that a race was starting soon.
A sign on the wall detailed the
structure of the pit – the racing tracks, the stables, administration,
restaurants, restrooms…too many to search at one go.
:And
who, or what are we looking for?:
"Tyfein Taek'tharm." No harm telling
Priol – better that I do it willingly than for him to pluck the information out
of my mind.
:And
what would he be doing here?:
"Gambling. Apparently it's one of his addictions – and it may be in our
favor that a race is starting soon – he may be around here somewhere."
:The
spectator stands look immense.:
"I was sort of hoping we could find
him in a less busy environment…"
:This
Tyfein is important?:
"Relatively. He used to be Weapon Master for House
Taek'tharm."
:Then
perhaps we could look in the more 'elite' areas. There should be some around here – all gambling pits have them.:
"Hmm…"
Try
the stables.
"Llyrx, have you been taking drugs behind my
back?"
:The
imp may actually be speaking sense. Since these riding lizards are part of the core for such lucrative
gambling, they would be very valuable. And it is my experience that only certain creatures of certain rank are
allowed into a radius of such valuables.:
"You don't have to hint so heavily,
I get it…"
:Good,
I was wondering when you would.:
Gathering the shreds of my dignity
around me, I stalked off in the direction of the stables, with Priol chuckling
in my mind.
The fact that a race was starting
proved inconvenient later when we finally found the entrances to the stables,
and the guards refused entry to us, apparently on suspicion that we would try
to rig the races. Priol proved more
useful than a movable source of lighting, and we got through when the alhoon tired of watching me argue with
two exasperated guards.
As a further precaution he 'cloaked' us as we walked in the
stables. Stable hands, owners, jockeys
and the presumably more important hangers-on walked around us without seeing us
(always exceedingly useful). I did
manage to switch from flinching each time someone passed in a finger's width
radius to observing my surroundings…eventually.
I looked carefully at each face and
peeked into each stall as we walked slowly in the seemingly endless corridor,
but no Tyfein. The stables were a floor
below the races, with stalls interspersed on the outer wall of a wide corridor
that formed the perimeter of a large circle. The inner wall of the circle surrounded a mushroom field with two
guarded exits, where riding lizards were led to warm up.
Not all of the stalls were used –
mostly just those close to the exits at one end of the circle – those deeper in
were usually abandoned and not even cleaned. The warm, pleasantly lit stalls near the exits, which housed the riding
lizards running for the upcoming race, gradually faded into a darker, more
forbidding environment. Occupied stalls
became fewer, there were fewer creatures around, until finally we were alone
and our only illumination was Priol's mage light.
I was beginning to feel an agreeable
sense of boredom (in Menzoberranzan, excitement usually has potentially lethal
undertones) in the empty place. Tyfein
was not here – perhaps we could check out the spectator…
I
smell something really bad…
"Specifics, Llyrx." My voice sounded
unnaturally loud in the still atmosphere.
Something's
dead.
"Well yes, just look behind us."
:Very
funny. I believe the imp meant that it
smelt a rotting, inanimate corpse, yes?:
Eep!
Er. Yes. Rotting. Inanimate. Definitely corpse. Um.
"Stop having hysterics, Llyrx. Priol, I think this inanimate thing is
catching among alhoons…"
It's
not an alhoon…it smells like…drow…
Very, very bad feeling.
**
I swatted away flies from my face as
I peered into the murky gloom of the stall where the stench was apparently
emanating from. Priol obligingly moved
the mage light into the stall and brightened it – and my stomach began to
regret that it had done that.
What struck me was that the scene
was incongruously orderly and normal, if one ignored the liberal splashes of
dark copper-scented blood. The
fungus-hay had been evenly flattened down such that it resembled a carpet, and
precise designs had been painted onto the wall with a dry, crackling brownish
substance, which looked depressingly like blood. The corpse was on its back in the center of the stall, naked from
the waist up, from what I could still see of it, the former owner was a
well-built male drow. The removed
clothing was in a folded pile in a corner of the stall, as were the weapons,
stacked on top of the fabrics and armor…and the remaining details got simply
more gruesome.
The drow had been eviscerated –
sliced precisely from neck to stomach by a sharp weapon and the
edges…pulled…open, as if opening the flaps of a bag. Inside was a crude red, nothing else…
All
the stuff's in the corner to our right that we can't see. You know, internal bits.
My answer was interrupted by the sudden need to
stumble into one of the adjacent stalls and throw up.
When I sheepishly recovered control
of myself, I was surprised to find that Priol did not have some caustic comment
along the lines of thinking that drow should be inured towards this sort of
gore – instead, the alhoon glanced
once into the stall then seemed to grow bored with the spectacle.
Need
a sketch of the scene?
"For files," I determinedly emulated Llyrx's
businesslike air, and the imp got to work. "From the face, that is very obviously Tyfein. Dead for…not yet a day, recent. Lloth, the flies…"
If
House Taek'tharm is looking for something on the body – yes, I heard your
message disc – I hope it wasn't on the front.
"Perhaps…that…vith, wait." I closed by eyes and took deep, measured breaths. "Okay. Maybe the chest was just a distraction. Look at the right arm."
Under the stains, one could make out
geometric designs, that had been cut into the arm, extending from the shoulder
to the elbow, though a large patch had been left alone, giving the sense that
something had been there.
Perhaps the something that House
Taek'tharm was so obviously trying to find on their Weapon Master? But what
would need such a…ritualistic killing and removal?
:And
now?: Priol sounded impatient. :This has no apparent relation to the murders
of my kin, and I would much rather be off investigating those matters.:
Talk about a sudden change in
attitude. I shot it a sideways glance,
decided to take my chance, then took out another indicator, swallowed my bile,
and stepped in.
Llyrx made the equivalent of
exclamation marks in my mind at the results.
The only magic that had been present
in the scene other than the current mage light, illusion and Underdark
emanation sprang into color, but I had expected the shades, only needed
confirmation.
Quickly I crumpled the paper in my
palm and backed out of the stall, enfolding my mind back into neutrality, then
turned to Priol to make some harmless comment…
…except that it was not there.
Then I felt a hard force against my
skull, and staggered forward, then another, and I fell on my face. The last thing I saw before I was claimed by
a deeper darkness was the indicator paper, that was flushed a clear grayish
turquoise – Priol's magic…
-----
Translations and
References:
Alhoon: Undead illithids, also known as illithiches. Only discernable difference is that their skin is dry and wrinkled,
not smooth and slimy like a 'true' illithid. They are accomplished psionics, and may even take 'true' illithids over
with the force of their minds. Enemies
are liches, beholders and other illithids. Their brains, disgusting as it seems, contains elements used for writing
magical scrolls, and are also an essential part for the creation of powerful
magical artifacts.
Darthiir: surface elves
