Chapter Thirteen

(*)

Acherai was not a moron.

Fighting a cave full of wyverns at melee range was a moronic thing to do. But, he considered, invading a hidden mine populated by an unknown enemy force was also kind of dense. He had been planning to do it, certainly, but only because he had few other options, and (bluntly) he had been planning to sacrifice Shar-teel and Edwin in order to improve his position if needed.

(Viconia could stay. He was starting to realize that yes, he could find a drow physically attractive, even if she had the personality of mud. It turned out ingrained racism only went so far when she had fantastic legs)

But then he had some time to think. He had some ideas. And an avenue became clear.

Edwin might still die, mind you, but one needed to be willing to accept that.

(*)

The Seven Suns was...wrong.

Sephiria could think of few other words for it, as she entered at Dynaheir's side. She may not have been a very good paladin, but Torm had not yet seen fit to strip her of her status, and the building made her skin crawl. She could not say, specifically, what it was; some aura of ill-ease that permeated the building, as if she was being watched from all sides even though she saw no eyes on her.

And in fact, was that not a bad omen all on its own? A merchant coster should have been busy, with folk moving in and out at all hours. Why was this building so empty?

"Approach, noble merchants! Approach and hear the words of Minsc's mighty witch as she seeks commerce!"

Other than fear of Minsc, that was.

A door across the grand hall opened, and without fanfare three men entered. All had the look of successful merchants, at least; fine clothes, gems on display, a certain... What was the polite way to put this? A certain roundness. Everything she would have expected to see.

Instinctively, she moved so she could watch Dynaheir's back while simultaneously ensuring her own back was against a wall. Something was just wrong.

"Welcome to the Seven Suns. We are not open for business. Please leave," the lead merchant said, his voice smooth and warm to contrast the blunt dismissal.

Dynaheir drew herself imperiously to her full height (which nearly made Sephiria laugh out loud because the woman was still a foot shorter than both her 'bodyguards,' at least) and said, "I have come far, good man, to foster relations 'tween Rasheman and the peoples of this region. 'Tis appalling to consider you would turn away a diplomat without even hearing her proposal."

"Be that as it may, the Seven Suns is not open for business. We are...reconsolidating our resources, and taking no new clients, nor funding new caravans. Even if we were, trade routes to Rasheman hold no interest to us. Perhaps go speak with the Iron Throne?"

Dynaheir arched an eyebrow. "You send me to your competitors?"

The man smiled. "Our influence does not stretch as far as Rasheman, we have no agents or caravan routes to that distant land. The Iron Throne does. They can help you. We cannot. Please leave."

The merchants turned to leave without another word, the height of rudeness had Dynaheir actually been a negotiator. More to the point, Imoen would have likely only just started her infiltration. They needed to keep attention on themselves, because something was very off.

"Please, sirs," she said, taking a risk. "My father, Gorion, often spoke of the fairness and savvy of your coster. Are you sure you cannot aid my lady? She has come so far."

The three men stopped. As one, they turned and favored the young paladin with identical smiles. "Well, then. A personal referral from an old friend. That changes much," the leader said, and Sephiria could not help but feel like a mouse that had just made too much noise near a cat. "Please, follow us."

"And close the door behind you, if you don't mind."

(*)

Drasus had worked for Rieltar as a merc for a long time, and he knew the score. Do your job, do it well, and don't piss off the boss or his creepy son, and you'll be paid ridiculously well and be allowed to do anything you want.

Guard an iron mine? Worked for him, pay was pay. The workers were slaves and and the mine was illegal? It was fine, Drasus had no morals. Kill or enslave any adventurers that happened by, especially a red-haired girl? Drasus hated women, children, and especially female children. Too whiny for his tastes. Always screamed when you killed them to take their money.

And so Drasus stood near the bridge into the palisade surrounding the mines with his boys. It was pretty good work; nice weather, good trees. They had killed a few druids the other day, that was always fun. And carrier pigeon had brought a note; pay was doubled if they gutted the brat who had taken down Tazok. Overall, Drasus and his boys were having a good day.

Right up until two elves, one with dark hair and a nasty smirk, and one with weird eye makeup, both covered in blood, ran out of the woods, threw something at their feet, and ran away, melting into the shadows with hardly a ripple in the leaves.

"The Hells?" Drasus said.

"Were those elves?" Genthore, his second in command, asked. "We need to kill 'em, they saw the mine."

"How we gonna find them, ye arse? Damn tree-lovers move through a forest like squirrels," Drasus snapped. "Kysus! What did they drop? Make sure it ain't some magic trap."

The mercenary band's mage knelt over the strange, damp object. "Not at all. In fact...rather disgustingly it, it appears to be little more than a half-eaten chunk of deer carcass."

Drasus blinked. "... Hells. Kysus, what ate it?"

There was a loud, trilling shriek overhead, and Drasus heard the flapping of great, leathery wings as the first wyvern descended like lightning. Kysus never even had time to scream.

Drasus did, however, calling out the alarm, calling for archers and medics to the surface. A quick glance up confirmed at least three more of the damn things, full-grown and furious.

Not how I wanted to find the answer to my question.

(*)

*Imoen giggled as the lock slid open. "Told ya I had it."

"Imoen, please. Stop. Talking so loud." Jaheira hissed.

"Jarry, really, whispering carries further than normal talking. It's magic. Or science? I forget which."

"That is c-correct, Imoen, but volume is still a concern," Khalid said.

"As if I could be louder than Minsc," Imoen said, rolling her eyes. "Here, help me steal stuff. Look at all these contracts! Routes to Sembia, Cormyr, Waterdeep... bet we could ransom them real good to someone."

Jaheira arced an eyebrow.

"Could! I said could," Imoen added quickly. "But anyway, look. All these documents are like, old. The parchment's going yellow, and the cabinet is all covered in dust. They haven't done any new business in months."

"Suspicious, but it could be proof of simple failure as easily as foul play," Jaheira said. "We need more."

Imoen, choosing another door, began to work at the lock with a pair of picks. "Well. This door has blood on it, does that help?"

"What?!"

Imoen smirked. "Jaheira. Please. Stop talking so loud."

Jaheira growled under her breath as Khalid patted her on the back. "P-please elaborate, Imoen."

"Bloodstain in the wood, near the bottom there. Like the door was opened into a puddle or something," Imoen said. "Dried out and hard to spot against the wood, but I remember how to check from that one time I thought a deadly murderer was staying at the inn." She chuckled. "Turned out he just liked to hunt in the woods when he wasn't studying. Bloody outfit was for skinning deer. I really regret getting him arrested."

Khalid and Jaheira said nothing, because sometimes there was nothing to say.

"Man, this is a good lock. And...yeah, there's a wire hidden behind it that will set off a trap when the door is opened. I can see it past the tumbler. I think we found a good door, guys!"

Once again. Only so much to say. The couple chose to stay silent, waited until the door clicked open, and followed Imoen down the stairs that was revealed.

They stopped at the bottom, entering the basement of the coster, and stared for a few seconds.

"So, um," Imoen said slowly. "Let's say that there is a pile of gnawed human corpses in the corner. And a guy covered in blood chained to the...to the wall. Would that be, y'know. Evidence?"

"Dammit. The other team is in danger. Stealth is no longer an option," Jaheira snapped. "I will heal this man. The two of you, get up there and warn them."

Upstairs, there was a crashing...followed by the shrieking, furious wail of something not remotely human.

Imoen winced. "I think they don't need that warning anymore."

(*)

Sephiria felt a bit like a fly that had just not merely been seen by a spider, but had actively chosen to taunt said spider's family.

The merchants, who she couldn't help but notice had still not given their names, had split up upon reaching the conference table; one sat at the head, while the other two took up positions on either side of the room.

Flanking them, Sephiria couldn't help but notice.

"Now then," the head merchant said with a smile that did not reach his eyes. "We can begin negotiations as soon as sir Jhasso arrives with his retinue. They have been summoned, it should take only minutes."

And they will come in through the only door, letting them surround us, Sephiria thought, giving Dynaheir a warning glance. The witch's calm expression did not waver, but she gave a slight nod to show she recognized the issue. "Actually, I feel we could begin n-"

"Your opinion was not asked," the man snapped. "Sir Jhasso is an old friend of Gorion. It is only in honor of the man's memory he negotiates with you at all."

Sephiria stepped back, ensuring she could block the man on the left, and said, "Interesting. Because my father was not a merchant, nor did he deal with them regularly."

The man twitched slightly, just short of a wince. "You yourself claimed him a friend of the coster."

"Something anyone who knew him," she said quietly, "would know as a falsehood."

"Well. I am sure you can discuss that with Jhasso when he arrives. He will have many things to say to you, I am sure. You have become something of a celebrity in certain circles," the man said. He tilted his head to one side, a curious motion. Like a lizard that had spotted something it wanted to eat.

"I think we shall be leaving, actually," Dynaheir interjected. "I find this atmosphere most distressing."

The merchant smiled, and his mouth stretched too far across his face to be natural. "I think you shall be staying. Our brethren will miss the feast, but that is preferable to letting you leave.

"Kill the apes. Leave the eyes for me, you know I love the texture."

And that was when Dynaheir, smiling angelically, slid a slim, orange wand from up her sleeve, leveled it, and said a trigger word.

The explosion pretty firmly showed how she felt about being eaten, thank you very much.

(*)

Acherai smiled as the wyverns tore into the guards in a bloody frenzy. The creatures were reacting on furious instinct at this point, lashing out madly with intent to kill anything that moved for the violation of their nest and not particularly caring that the mine guards had nothing to do with it. The men were putting up an admirable fight, and more kept running out of the mines to join the fray, but a single sting was a death sentence and it had taken them far too long to organize archers. They may yet bring the creatures down, and indeed one had already fallen, but perhaps a tenth of them would live to enjoy the victory.

"And there you go," Acherai said with a smile. "One wyvern slain, as per the terms of the arrangement. Now that they have proper archer support they may even bring the other three down. Good for them."

"Well. Not how I envisioned things, but it did get results. Good show!" Coran said. "I don't suppose those chaps would be kind enough to let us collect the head from the fallen beast?"

"Well, we're gonna kill any that survive, so that counts as permission," Shar-teel said. "Anyone got a skinning knife? Bandit scalps and hobgoblin ears are going for fifty gold each in Beregost these days."

"You are a horrifying woman," Coran said helpfully.

"Good. Means you know better than to try getting in my pants."

"Well, I wouldn't go that far."

"Hmmph. Inbred barbarians one and all. Wyvern venom is far more valuable, and far easier to carry," Edwin said. "(In addition, it will give me something to pour into the meals at camp when these imbeciles finally push me too far.)"

Acherai, maintaining a cheerful smile, sidled up to Viconia and whispered in her ear, "You, myself, and Kagain. Focus on healing the three of us when we enter the mines. The rest of these people are disposable."

Viconia smiled sweetly. "Please. You are all disposable to me."

"Fair. How about this: He is our most useful warrior in terms of sanity, so his survival impacts yours."

"And you?"

"Clearly, I am the handsome one."

She actually laughed at that one. "Well, you don't lack for confidence. Were you not so sickeningly pale, I might consider keeping you as a pet."

"My dear, if you are holding out for a nice drow male to abuse, you will likely spend your surface life celibate," he replied cheerfully. Then, more loudly, he said, "Well then! Is everyone ready to move on in? This is going just beautifully."

(*)

"This is not going beautifully!" Imoen squeaked as the smoke began to roll down the halls.

The building was on fire, which she supposed wasn't a huge shock; they tended to be a destructive bunch. The issue was that she also heard, over the sounds of people running the other way, a distressing number of people heading toward the fire, on the floor below them. Seffie might be big and lumbering like an ox, but she was a fuzzy bunny on the inside, and...

Imoen turned a corner, finding the steps down, and stopped.

She and Khalid had reached the stairs at the same time as what appeared to be two of the serving staff; a plump older lady in an apron, and a little freckled boy who couldn't have seen more than twelve summers.

They stared at her. Just stared. The building was on fire, and they barely seemed to react to the presence of intruders? You didn't need to be a master adventurer to spot something wrong there. "Um, Khalid...?"

"Back, Imoen!" He snapped, stepping past her, shield raised, even as the little boy hissed at her like a viper and charged. The fighter caught the boy on his raised shield and was pushed back, the impact stronger by far than a scrawny child could have managed, and to her distress, she saw the kid had claws, that he was trying to dig into the shield with his damn fingers and rip it apart. Khalid thrust his blade to the side of his shield, cutting into the kid's shoulder and drawing blood, before stepping forward to slam the boy back.

The 'child' fell back a few steps, bleeding thick gray gel, and narrowed eyes that had gone hollow and quicksilver. "Hsssss...fighting meat. Back me, Thalsirel."

"We have our orders. The target is downstairs, and we are needed with the others," the old woman said, and her tone was neither female nor noticeably human.

"They'll devour her and we'll get nothing. Help me bring this meat down, and you can eat the big one."

"Hsssssss, fine, lets just gut the damn primates," the old woman snarled, her words garbled by the mouth full of needle sharp teeth she had grown.

"... I feel like I missed something," Imoen said dully, as the creatures began to shift and warp, their flesh flowing like water into something else...

(*)

"Well, the slaves seem happy," Coran said cheerfully as a scarred, emaciated man brought his pick down on the head of one of the few remaining guards. As it turned out, the wyvern plan had brought an unexpected benefit; when there were over one hundred miners in the tunnels and only about fifteen guards, even the dumbest of the slaves could do the math. Mining picks and chains might not have been ideal weapons, but when you had ten miners swarming every armed overseer, they added up fast.

"And that matters why?" Kagain asked.

"Well, beyond the fact that slavery is vile? Letting them revolt is certainly making our job easier."

"Easy," Shar-teel grumbled. "I was hoping for some blood, dammit."

Coran turned to Acherai, and said, very slowly, "Where did you find these people?"

"Recruiting for substance over style produces unusual results," Acherai admitted. "They do good work, and they haven't started randomly slaughtering slaves yet. Consider this a win."

"Ain't been a winner since I joined up with this lot," Kagain muttered.

"I am sorry, but is not your literal only motivation money? Do I not pay you? And look at this!" Acherai said. "We have started a slave revolt in a secret iron mine, and that is fine, but it also means the mine will be empty soon. Iron is in short supply, man. We can sell the location for a lot, and the odds of starved, abused slaves beating us back to civilization? Through a forest full of wyverns and spiders and those ridiculous ettercap things?"

"... Ye always know how ta cheer me up, elf."

Coran blinked, and leaned in to whisper to Shar-teel, "Are things always like this?"

"Touch me and I'll stab you."

"... Yes, then," Coran said, stepping over the body of a fallen slave with an arrow through his eye. The bowman appeared to have been beaten to death with several lengths of heavy chain, so avenging him wouldn't be an issue, at least.

"Found the stairs down," Acherai called out. "We must be close to finding the overseer's quarters. Maybe the slaves can help us break in, or..."

He stopped, trailing off as he reached to the bottom of the steps, and found a disaster.

The slave revolt on the lower levels had not done as well those above, apparently, but not due to an abundance of guards. It had been stopped by one man. He stood among a dozen burned corpses, shadowy monsters flanking him on either side, a shimmering violet barrier surrounding him and his features blurry and indistinct...though a pair of icy cold eyes were easy enough to make out. The only other living thing in the room, a blonde-bearded dwarf who looked like his arm was only barely still attached, huddled defiant and doomed behind a cracked pickaxe in the corner of the artificial cavern.

The mage turned from his current victim to look at the new arrivals. "Breaking in to the overseer's quarters, you say?" he asked in a voice that promised horrible, horrible pain, "I fear that would require the overseer be hiding in his quarters. He is most clearly not.

"My name is Davaeorn. These are my mines. And you are all in a lot of trouble."