Part 2

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