"Do you…do you know where you're going?" Aerie asked.
"You wound me — of course I do," Yoshimo said with a grin. "All we've been running into is a small complication or two. We'll stop here for a moment and see if it's safe to proceed."
Larry let out a long groan.
Minsc said, "Why should brave heroes such as ourselves keep beating retreats when there's no evil in sight?"
"You can't give a battle cry if you can't breathe, Minsc," Aerie said.
Minsc held his little hamster to his ear, then nodded. "Boo says he would be most embarrassed under such conditions! You are so smart, little Aerie — that's why you will be a fantastic witch."
Shortly after they'd left the Five Flagons, they descended into Athkatla's underground network of storm drains through the back entrance of the Copper Coronet. They'd traveled through these underground paths for a couple of hours, drawing closer to their destination, or so Yoshimo said.
Yoshimo had never been to Mekrath's lair himself, but he knew it was near the boundary line for the River and Docks District. He knew the paths beneath the earth better than most. How he came by this knowledge, he would not say, but he kept insisting they were close.
It seemed like a simple matter to travel to the edge of the district and wind along the boundary, which above ground was only a quarter-mile or so wide. The trouble was that the path underneath their feet was unmarked and filled with right turns, so wayfinding was a mind-bending affair with no apparent solutions.
Though they weren't traveling through the sewers themselves, that hardly made the storm drains any more pleasant a road. Unfortunately, Aerie hadn't had time to prepare the relevant spell to protect their feet, so they were forced to march through ankle-deep water, hoping their efforts wouldn't result in too many blisters and keeping to the sides of the drains whenever they could.
In some places, too, it was downright dangerous. Most of the time, the storm drains were traversable but foul-smelling, as though someone had distilled the dirty, sewer-laden water from the Alandor River into something eye-watering.
But patches of foul air down here were common, especially in places where water flow was hampered or blocked or in small off-shoots and eddies where it pooled and was allowed to fester undisturbed, rendering it able to suffocate unwary travelers in minutes.
To detect this particular danger — especially after he'd heard about the close call some of the Company had the last time down here — Yoshimo had visited his favorite trap-maker and picked up a set of what appeared to be a dozen wooden spheres, about two inches thick and covered with thin carved rings. He still had half of them on him when they descended. Now, he was down to the last one.
The three of them were down a long tunnel swallowed by a void before and behind them. As far as Yoshimo knew, they were going south toward the river. He hoped, in any case, he wasn't wrong, or they'd have at least half an hour's worth of backtracking to do.
He removed the last wooden sphere from a hidden pocket and palmed it, peering ahead into the darkness and drawing a breath. He coughed, a burning sensation creeping into his throat.
Aerie held the lantern aloft from behind. From what he could see, the tunnel stretched unbroken, with no entrances to side tunnels.
Even though his sense of smell had grown accustomed to the scent of the storm drains, Yoshimo noticed it was particularly foul here and retreated a pace or two backward.
Without hesitation, he threw the little wooden sphere about twenty feet, noting the spot where it splashed into the water and bobbed on the surface, making dark ripples that stretched out to where the tunnels ended ten feet on either side.
For a moment, the little wooden ball floated there, inert. Then, it started clicking and darting crazily atop the water's surface, furiously shooting a thick plume of sickly yellow smoke.
The cloud lingered and spread, stretching itself out over where Yoshimo stood before abruptly stopping.
He knitted his brow in frustration. The little spheres only triggered and released smoke when the air was toxic enough to be impassable.
Aerie sighed in audible frustration.
"And you're certain you don't have a spell that could help?" Yoshimo asked her.
She shook her head.
"If that's the case," he said, "then all we can do is backtrack. It's foul here and likely only to get worse."
The three of them turned aside from the way they came, tracing their steps as they began slogging through the water again. At first, Yoshimo didn't pay particularly close attention to his surroundings as he silently pieced together what alternative routes might be available to them.
But then he heard it as well: their feet traveling through the water reverberating down the tunnel far more than it should.
He held up a hand, quietly saying, "Stop. Do you hear that?"
As the water stilled around their feet, the sound of splashing continued. Then the sound of a woman's voice, then a man's. The voices echoed down the sides of the stone-walled tunnels; they almost sounded ghostly when they reached the Company's ears.
Yoshimo's hand immediately went for his weapon, his trusty katana that he'd brought with him from his own country. They all knew that all kinds of misfits — some benevolent, plenty of others not so — found the sewers and storm drains a haven.
Though this was the first sign of anyone else down here, they also knew many creatures could pass unseen, especially since the Cowled Wizards' watchful eyes couldn't see beneath the city streets, their automatic contingency spells only triggering above ground.
For a few moments, they stood still, listening for the voice and the sounds again.
Nothing happened. Yoshimo visibly relaxed, slackening his fingers.
Then, suddenly, the tunnel filled with bright golden light, dazzling them. The burst, which seemed as bright as the sun, was accompanied by the sound of feet sliding and crashing through the storm drain's waters.
The light faded as soon as it had overwhelmed them; its source turned away from them by a hand about two feet from the ground.
As their eyes recovered, a mellow, somewhat high-pitched voice spoke: "If it isn't one of my favorite customers! Even Uncle Scratchy would call you a sight for sore eyes, though his own were withered worse than a Moonsea mummy's. As my cousin Gilfried Deadeyes always used to say…."
The hand holding the light belonged to a gnome about thirty years old, with a gray-speckled black beard and keen dark eyes. He was wearing goggles on his head and a set of leather armor in the most lurid colors any of them had ever seen: peach-pink, golden, light blue.
Yoshimo called out to the gnome, interrupting his story mid-sentence. "Jan Jansen — good to see you. What brings you down here?"
"A bit o' business, you know how it goes," he replied. "But then I heard the sound of one of my fine products at work — the Jansen AdventureGear Miasma Detectors; I'd know their little hum anywhere," he said, nodding towards the female drow and the red-robed mage accompanying him. They seemed bored out of their minds before he'd finished the first sentence.
"And I said to myself, 'Jan, the only two people it could be is either Golodon the Unmanned or one of my customers, and Golodon doesn't traipse through sewers.'"
He opened his mouth again, but Yoshimo interrupted, "As it turns out, we've got some business down here as well. There's not much else in these gods-forsaken tunnels, so I assume you're also looking for Mekrath?"
The red-cloaked wizard spoke up. "I should place a fireball down your gullet for interfering with our mission or bringing this oafish Rashemaar along." He muttered to himself: "Yes, take the stronger approach, and you'll get the best of these fools yet."
He addressed Minsc directly: "Dynaheir is not among you, I see. Have you finally misplaced her for good, ranger? Does she linger amidst the worms where she belongs?"
"Edwin!" Minsc roared. "You will not speak of sweet Dynaheir in this fashion! Terrible hamster justice will be wreaked upon you! Go for the eyes, Boo, go —"
"Minsc!" Aerie cried out, agitated. "I'm sure this wizard was mean to you, but we can't fight them here. We've got someone we need to save, or at least we need find out more about whether he's alive or not. Isn't trying to protect someone helpless more important?"
"I... yes, you are right," Minsc said. "Righteous fury will wait for now, but one day the wizard shall pay for his words with blood! So swears Minsc!"
Edwin said nothing but was visibly gloating, folding the arms of his faded red robe. The drow rolled her eyes in his direction, though behind his back, idly shifting from one foot to the other.
Jan watched the commotion with some amusement. He turned to Yoshimo. "As for Mekrath, you made an astute observation, good Kara-Turan," he said. "As it turns out, the wizard's lair is our goal as well."
He glanced to where Edwin and Minsc were still glaring at each other, with Aerie making feeble efforts to physically restrain Minsc. "Now, while our companions shouldn't be going into the turnip-peddling business together anytime soon, I think we could fish some cooperation out of them. It'd make both our goals a mite easier if they can keep it together. What say you to that?"
"I hope you're right," Yoshimo said. "As long as we can put some distance between your people and mine, we should manage."
"Good," Jan said. "Now, as it turns out, up ahead the wizard puts up a nice little cloak of stink for himself, in order to keep his lair hidden. A Dispel Magic should set it aright. Once we find the doorstep, let's see what trouble is afoot."