Loyalty of the Tiefling

by JHMLYNDALE

The events of Mask of the Betrayer, but with the twist of Neeshka having managed to follow her harbour-boy… who is hers rather than Elanee's. Prologue, 25 chapters, Epilogue.

6. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The guards at the gate and the people of Mulsantir who were still awake despite the lateness of the hour gazed at Okku with a mix of fear and worship as he entered the town and the torchlight picked highlights off his colourful form. He was a spirit of their land and he was a god of the spirits of their land, but he was also a huge and terrifying bear with a reputation for being ill of temper. Okku glanced around him at the people and at the bustle of town life parting to clear their path.

"Hmm," Okku muttered deep in his chest. "The city smells even worse on this side of the walls."

Blake glanced at Okku, considering asking if it was the fear or the sewage he smelt, but remained silent as they climbed the hill and passed through the inner gates on it. The two Berserkers duelling outside their lodge in a patch of lantern light paused a moment to look at them as they passed. Their friends had noticed the foreigner and his companion and boasted a little of how the pair had circled away from them. They hadn't noticed, or hadn't mentioned, that the companion was someone that not even a heavy hooded cloak could hide was both female and moving with attractive grace.

By itself that would have been reason to take a breather and more of a look but that this foreigner had been the one for whose blood the bear-god had been howling demanded that they judge his worth as a warrior. It was not impressive as he had coward-helmet and coward-shield to hide behind and those were both lacking in more than a very few scars of valiant-combat. There was some danger in his walk that showed he had some little training but it was a great surprise that Okku walked at his side rather than having carried his broken body away in victory. Infamous Gann-of-Dreams was also walking with them, which was remarkable as he normally walked alone.

The Witches also saw their approach and frowned as the four of them entered their sacred grove with its three statues. What could be seen in the lantern-light of the face of the bitter voiced witch below her mask seemed even more hostile now than it had before Blake had made peace with Okku. The oldest witch regarded the group calmly while the youngest held back a little way in fear or respect of Okku. That they appeared less welcoming rather than the reverse made Blake wonder if their 'watching' had been close enough they had seen his curse awaken in the darkness outside the gates.

"Abomination!" accused the bitter witch, spitting the word at Blake like some dragons spat acid and confirming his suspicion. "I warned you, Sheva. I smelled the wrongness upon him at the theatre."

"She can smell anything over that cheap perfume?" Neeshka commented to Blake very quietly, forcing him to bite down a laugh.

"Tell me the truth, foreigner," the eldest witch, Sheva, asked calmly. "Did you know what you were when you came to our city."

"No, and I still do not. Nothing but the title and that Okku and Gann have said that title is a literal description of what those such cursed do."

"You are a spirit eater, an abomination," said the other witch unhelpfully, "an affront to the spirits and the gods. You are a monster out of ancient tales."

"Yes," Blake said flatly. "That much I have already gathered from being called 'spirit-eater' and 'abomination' and the simple logic that eating spirits would make me an affront to them. Do you have anything useful to offer?"

"Only my willingness to kill you."

Blake raised an eyebrow, realising he was still wearing his helmet. "I said something useful. Not something that would leave details of Thayan plots unknown and, since it seems to have survived the deaths of previous spirit-eaters, this curse undestroyed."

"I swore an oath to another with this affliction," Okku rumbled, "one who also spared me his hunger and sought my help in ending the curse of the spirit-eater."

"And what more do you remember, god of bears?" demanded the bitter voice of that witch as she turned her scorn towards him. "His face? His name? Your memories have fled like birds before a storm."

"Do not insult my ally, Witch," Blake warned. "You might choose to treat foreigners with derision but Okku is a god of your land, a spirit you claim to serve, and I find his honest attempts to kill me preferable to the insults you fling from the safety of your rank and position."

"I remember the prayers of the dockside girl, before she donned her mask," replied Okku, calm despite his reputation and the witch's disrespect. "I remember how she begged the spirits to make her pretty, so that the sailors might whistle at her… might even pay her for her company…"

"Lies!" the witch almost shrieked. "Sheva, these are lies!"

"Yeah," Neeshka agreed, not very quietly, "she'd have had to pay the sailors… a lot."

The witch glared at Neeshka who gave her a predatory smile, promising death if the woman that had threatened her harbour-boy made the wrong move. The witch turned away, rather than meet those eyes, and to her superior. "The monster has tainted Lord Okku's memory…"

"Enough Kazimika," Sheva said, cutting off the protests. "Lord Okku, we meant no offence, and it is not our place to question the mind of a god."

"How did I become a spirit-eater?" asked Blake, hoping to gain some insight from the older, calmer, and apparently wiser witch. "It seems likely it was something that happened in the barrow, but how?"

"Perhaps you can answer that question best, monster," Kazimika retorted before Sheva could give a more measured reply. "Did you anger our gods? Defile our land? Few punishments are truly undeserved…"

"Hush, Kazimika," commanded Sheva, her calm with her subordinate beginning to wear thin, before replying to Blake. "Some say that the curse passed from one spirit-eater to the next… but no spirit-eater has been seen in over a hundred years. Beyond that we know little. Those who kept such secrets are many years dead."

"Passed one to next… the skeleton…" Blake said with dawning recognition, thanking Oghma for the inspiration and turning to Okku as he spoke. "Okku, you said you were sharing your grave with the previous spirit-eater and that ghost-wolf…"

"Nakata, little one," interrupted Okku with a growl. "Remember her name well as I have not forgotten what you did to her. Nor forgiven."

Blake nodded. "And Nakata said a hunger had been imprisoned in the cavern where I had been placed and where I awoke next to those bones."

"Hmm," Okku rumbled, "and so it passed to you and in your strength and in your ignorance you defied our attempts to keep you below."

"I didn't anger the gods, I didn't defile the land, I got kidnapped by Red Wizards," Blake stated to Kazimika flatly, turning back to the witches.

"So you say," said Kazimika, contempt in her voice for the idea Blake could be telling the truth.

"Yes, so I do," Blake calmly replied before looking back to Sheva. "The hunger within me, can it be controlled?"

"Perhaps, if children's stories are to be believed, your hunger can be directed," said Sheva thoughtfully. "But it will grow if indulged, and it will finally overwhelm you."

"And if you resist it, the hunger will destroy you anyway," Kazimika added, sounding very doubtful Blake would even try. "You will starve, and your own hunger will turn upon you, consuming you from within."

"You know," said Blake in surprise, looking again at her, "that is the first useful thing you have said amongst the insults, must have been accidental." Kazimika spluttered but Blake had already turned back to Sheva, "I don't intend to devour anyone else, willingly or not. Is there some sort of cure or advice to be found?"

"If any is to be found it would be amongst those who have fought your kind," Sheva replied. "Amongst spirits, not mortals."

"My sister speaks of the Wood Man, the living soul of the Ashenwood," sneered Kazimika, trying to rally back to her insults. "He fought your kind and he brought them all low."

"It makes sense such a spirit would know much," said Blake to Sheva before asking, with some suspicion of a trap, "but if this Wood Man fought spirit-eaters then why would he agree to help me?"

"He may not, child," Sheva admitted, "even if you have good intentions as it seems you might."

"Still sounds worth the risk," mused Blake, glancing to the others to see if they agreed, "and if he is the living soul of the Ashenwood it sounds like he would be bound to that place." Sheva nodded and Blake continued. "So I can try to flee rather than fight if he is hostile."

"Flee to escape your rightful fate," Kazimika taunted, her tone branding Blake as coward.

"Flee to avoid killing or injuring the Wood Man," Blake calmly corrected, ignoring Kazimika's sneer at the idea he could pose any threat to that spirit. "Where is this Ashenwood?"

"The Ashenwood lies several days walk upriver, to the north," replied Sheva, adding "and the winter snows have already begun to fall there."

"So I shall need a boat if I am to travel there," Blake concluded, "as roads will be becoming impassable."

"I shall send word to our shipwright, Vaszil, that he should make one available for trade," said Sheva. "Look for him at the docks and tell him that I sent you. We have an outpost on the Ashenwood shore, led by a Witch called Dalenka. She is a hard-bitten woman, and distrustful of foreigners."

'As opposed to what?' Blake wondered, glancing at Kazimika.

"Sounds like she won't be much help then," commented Neeshka. "Unless Gann can woo her…"

"Ah, you do recognise my talents…" Gann said smoothly, "but there are limits even to me."

"However little trust Dalenka might give you when you speak to her," warned Sheva, "it will be more trust than if you attempt to enter the Ashenwood without her permission and her Berserkers would be more than happy to enforce that lack of trust."

"I shall speak to her then," Blake said, "and thinking of speaking, what of Magda? You said I could talk with her once I had made my peace with Okku."

"I have already released Magda and she has returned to her theatre," replied Sheva. "Though it is late they are likely still clearing up the mess you and the Red Wizards made. My sisters disagree with me in this…" Kazimika snorted. "But I shall trust your good intent for now. Find the Wood Man foreigner, learn the secrets of your kind, and you might escape their fate… or at least not be such a blight on the land as they were before you die."

"Ah, one more thing," Blake nodded, pulling an envelope from his pouch, "I found this letter on the leader of a group of men in the Shadow Plane."

Sheva took the letter, her lips thinning as she saw the address of a Guildmaster in Thesk and then as she read that Shelvedar had been a spy she hissed in exasperation. "So that was why he abandoned his wagon and sneaked out of Mulsantir," said Sheva, glancing at Kazimika who had assigned this to fear of the spirit army, and then fixing Blake with a stare. "A shame this letter was not brought to us sooner."

"My apologies Madam Whitefeather," Blake replied insincerely, implying he had read the letter closely enough to note Sheva's surname or had made other enquiries, "you made it clear when last we spoke I should not return until after Okku and I had settled things."

They looked at each other for a few moments, Blake maintaining an expression of polite attentiveness and Sheva scowling and trying to draw an admission from him. Sheva blinked and looked away as Blake proved impervious to her scowl and willing to let the silence stretch rather than fill it with words. Without letting his expression slip and show any triumph Blake nodded and bowed slightly.

"If you will excuse us?"

"Go," Sheva replied tersely.

Blake nodded and smiled with exquisite courtesy, his tolerance for the witches eroded enough by weariness and Kazimika for him to fall prey to the temptation of showing exaggerated and therefore sarcastic politeness. He moved a short way down the hill and stowed his helmet away, swapping it for his hat after lowering his chainmail hood, and transferred his shield from being strapped to his arm to being on its carrying straps over his shoulders. Blake spared a moment to pluck at his cloak where the shield-straps had rucked the material up and then continued down the hill.

The duelling Berserkers gave them a suspicious look as it became clear they were not going to walk past this time and intended to approach the lodge. They did not move from where they were training though and barely paused in their strike and counter-strike. Gann-of-Dreams had reputation as lover rather than fighter and it seemed unlikely that Okku would intervene on the outlander's behalf so they had faith their brothers and sisters within would be able to handle any trouble the strangers might start. A spirit-badger that had been napping just outside their front door was less sanguine about the intrusion however, leapt to its stubby powerful legs, and bounced towards Blake hissing its anger.

Blake had mixed feelings. He rather liked animals so he didn't want to hurt the little fellow and especially not as he knew it was his curse that was, as Okku had put it, 'driving this spirit wild'. On the other hand having a spirit-badger hissing and snarling at you and blocking your way was annoying. It could just be that he'd not been able to do a similar thing to Kazimika but there was the temptation to kick it in the nose and solve the problem by that direct method. The spirit-badger did seem to have a far more pleasant personality than the Witch though so it did not deserve to have those feelings transferred to it.

"Allow me little-one," Okku rumbled before releasing a roar that rattled the door behind the spirit-badger on its hinges.

The spirit-badger squeaked and fled around the corner of the lodge. The two duelling Berserkers had been enjoying the discomfort of the outlander and jumped at the roar but looking at Okku they subsided. That spirit-badger was the pet of their lodge and thus had the right to hiss and snarl at any visitor it wished to, but that bear was a god of bears and unlike the outlander had the right to object to the hissing and snarling. Proper dominance had been respected so they shrugged slightly to each other and returned to their training.

Blake pushed the door open and carefully looked inside, surprised to see nobody had been startled into hostility by Okku's roar from outside. In fact the Berserkers seemed to be barely noticing that they had visitors, even with one being a bear-god and another a Hagspawn who was a legend in his own mind. There was a large knot of men around one whose air of authority marked him as likely the leader, a drinking contest taking place to one side of the rear of the lodge, and a huge but dim-witted looking Berserker sitting at a table flexing one massive arm.

Neeshka sidled up to Blake and craned her head to whisper in his ear. "Watch your step in here harbour-boy. Even if they don't figure out you're cursed Berserkers are still almost as keen to brawl as Khelgar."

This good advice Blake acknowledged with a nod as he finished looking around. Two youthful Berserkers were skirting the edges of the group around the leader like nervous puppies looking for meat from the table. Blake glanced to his right and to his surprise he saw a bath with a female Berserker standing beside it. The smell of the lodge had not suggested regular bathing and that did not look very private… or very warm as it was at the opposite end of the lodge to the fire… so this was enough to draw Blake into looking at it for too long.

"By the three, I have never seen you do so well, Aleksei," commented a Berserker as another threw a dart across Blake's line of sight and into the target against the wall. "I lose again, I can't bele… Oh… hey there, outlander. Have you seen this amazing winning streak that Aleksei is on?"

Blake dragged his eyes away from the mystery of the bath and gave a slight but friendly smile. "I have only just arrived and only saw that last throw so I'd have to say no, friend. How many times in a row is it he has won?"

"Well, it would have to be five… no, six times I would say," replied the Berserker, "and even with only seeing that throw you would have never guessed, I bet outlander, that Aleksei is, was, one of the worst dart players in the lodge."

Aleksei looked slightly nervous as Blake turned his head, looked at the dart still embedded in the centre of the target, and frowned slightly. "Those enchanted darts probably aid him in hitting what he aims for. Do you play with such to get used to how they fly?"

"No," the friendly Berserker said slowly as he took a step forward and his eyes narrowed as he peered at the dart, "and I think you are correct outlander. I did not notice it before, but now I take a closer look… something is not right about those darts. You have a very sharp eye… for an outsider anyway." Blake did not have time, or much willingness, to take offence at the condescension before the Berserker whirled and glared at Alexsei. "With the aid of the outsider I have seen through your trickery. I cannot believe that you would cheat and steal from your own brethren."

"Ah, you whine like a babe Yagor!" Alexsei defended himself. "It was you who decided to place bet on what was supposed to be friendly game. You never had problem in past, when you were winning."

"Your lies disgrace yourself, your family, and worst of all, the lodge," accused Yagor, jaw jutting in judgement. "Come, let us go to the Ethran Katya. She will straighten this out."

"Fine by me, Yagor the whiner," Alexsei replied, unyielding in his attitude, "but once it is proved that I haven't been cheating I want every last gold piece that you owe me."

Yagor scowled at the lack of remorse. "Come to your humiliation, Aleksei," he almost growled.

"Watch your tongue Yagor," Aleksei threatened, scowling back before turning that scowl onto Blake, "and I am watching you outlander."

Blake did not look particularly intimidated or, if his memory was right and Katya was the rather fluttery young Witch, have as much faith as the Berserkers that Katya would be able to resolve the matter. The two Berserkers departed, still scowling at each other, as Blake watched them go. There was still the mystery of the bath, but that went out of his head again as Neeshka grabbed a handful of beard and pulled his head down rather than go slightly on tiptoes to speak in his ear.

"Harbour-boy!" Neeshka hissed, irritated at Blake not having taken her warning.

"Sorry," said Blake, his voice slightly distorted by how his cheek was pulled out of shape, "he was being friendly."

"Well," Neeshka replied, relenting and releasing her grip, "you didn't have to be so helpful."

"There," pointed Gann, trying to distract the pair from arguing further, "at the back of the lodge. That is Nak'kai with who we should speak, without further diversions."

"Hmh," Okku rumbled. "And there beside him is the head of a bear mounted upon their wall…"

Blake looked and frowned as he saw how crowded the lodge was and how difficult it would be for Okku to get through. It was going to be hard enough for him or Gann to get past all those Berserkers without spilling the ale they were swilling from the tankards in their hands, and spilling someone's pint was a traditional excuse for starting a brawl with them. Neeshka of course would be able to wriggle through, and most of the Berserkers would enjoy that process, but there was the problem of if they got a look under her hood as she passed and had some quarrel with Tieflings.

"Okku, Neeshka," Blake suggested quietly, "please stay here. Rather crowded for you Okku and we don't want a Berserker grabbing at Neeshka as she passes and therefore needing to be gutted."

"They would get out the way for me, little one," growled Okku, "and enough out of the way your mate would be safe from such attentions."

"As strange as it seems I agree with old father bear," Gann added, "they respect the spirits and so would part at his approach."

"Perhaps," conceded Blake, "but as strange as it seems we appear to be being ignored despite, as you would put it, being two legends and two outlanders…"

"Three legends," Neeshka corrected, winking at Blake, "at least once the bards get to work puffing up your deeds."

"Two legends and two outlanders," Blake said firmly, "and I would prefer to talk to this Nak'kai and depart without them paying attention to us."

"Very well little one," rumbled Okku, "I shall remain here and guard your mate from being sniffed around while you and the Hagspawn speak to this man."

"I don't need guarding, I can protect myself," Neeshka argued, frowning prettily.

"Yes my sweet, but to draw your sword you need to pull back your cloak, and you know that could draw attention."

Neeshka reluctantly nodded and Okku looked puzzled at this until, as Blake and Gann started cautiously moving towards Nak'kai, Neeshka bent slightly and whispered in one of his furry ears. A hrmph of surprise escaped the bear-god as he was informed that what was so obvious to his nose, that Neeshka had Infernal blood, could be hidden from these humans by a cloak over her horns and tail and spotted forehead and temples.

Blake attempted as much diffidence as a man in full plate armour moving through a crowd of people in furs and leathers could. His armour meant he had rather hard elbows and shoulders to use to clear his path but Neeshka's warnings and his own sureness that Berserkers liked any excuse to brawl limited their use. Eventually though they were through and into the area of clear floor between the drinking and the shaman who was ignoring this in favour of staring into the fire. Gann touched Blake on the arm lightly to gain his attention.

"Be mindful," Gann warned quietly, "Nak'kai walks the same path as I do, but he is further down it. Try not to address him as you would townsfolk, he is not of their kind."

"I will treat him with the same politeness I treat anyone," replied Blake, somewhat nettled, "until and unless they prove unworthy of good manners."

Gann nodded, acknowledging this was as much as he could hope for, and raised his voice to a normal level. "Nak'kai, how do your spirits fare?"

"Gannayev, Gann-of-Dreams," greeted Nak'kai as he turned. "My spirits are content. Do yours still stir dreams as you walk your path?"

"How can I not?" asked Gann. "It is the land I walk Nak'kai." Gann gestured, "This is Blake, he is of the 'civilised' lands, but he is not blind to our traditions."

"Then may our traditions keep you Blake," Nak'kai said politely before adding. "You show little wisdom in travelling with this one, but at least his spirits have more sense than he."

"In travelling with me?" protested Gann. "This one is cursed, Wise Nak'kai, not I. Or should your name be Blind Nak'kai?"

"Enough of your big insults, little shaman," Nak'kai replied as Blake wondered whether Gann should have taken his own warning to mind his manners. "My ears are not wide enough to fit them. What is this curse you speak of?"

"I am a spirit-eater, recently become."

"Ah," hissed Nak'kai, somewhat shocked, "it is a great evil you bring to this lodge and Gann-of-Dreams speaks unusual truth. You are indeed cursed."

'So I have noticed,' Blake thought before saying, "What do you know of this curse?"

"The curse…" mused Nak'kai, shaking his head slightly as he thought and recovered from his surprise, "it is an old thing, a plague brought down by your gods onto the Rashemi people nearly a thousand years ago."

"What Gods would do such a thing?" Blake asked, his eyebrows raising slightly. "And why?"

"Unfortunately I know very little of your gods," admitted Nak'kai, "I cannot say with certainty which were involved. All I can offer is the whispers that wind and spirits have brought me over these many years."

"Any knowledge you can offer would be welcome," Blake replied encouragingly.

"The curse is said to have appeared after the rebellion of a Myrkullite priest against the gods," said Nak'kai, drawing a frown from Blake. "It was believed it was a punishment upon Mulsantir and Rashemen, in retribution against this Akachi… but those stories are largely forgotten now, and no one knows for certain if they were ever true and if this was how the curse began."

"Akachi," muttered Blake, his frown deepening in thought. "I have heard his name, seen mosaics and a book depicting his rebellion, spoken to a ghostly scribe who was involved and to a half-celestial who seeks to investigate it. Oghma seems to be granting me a lot of knowledge of this, near a thousand years ago could be about right, and Myrkul did have a reputation for his punishments."

"Kaelyn the Dove," Gann said, adding to Nak'kai, "the half-celestial, would know the exact date if any was recorded and know more of the aftermath."

"Perhaps," admitted Blake, "though she seemed as surprised as any of us, except Okku, when this curse flared up. If there is a connection, which seems likely, then it is not something she has discovered." Blake sighed. "That it has existed for almost a millennium is not heartening news, but there must be a way to end this curse."

"I do not know if it is even possible," Nak'kai warned. "All I know is that none that came before you have had the power to life the curse. Many have tried, but none have found a cure. Your affliction is proof of that."

"True enough," replied Blake, "but would you know anyone who could help? At least in telling me what has been tried so I can, perhaps, avoid travelling down a path that was unsuccessful before."

"Sadly I do not, but there may be something I could do to help. It is not much but it is all that I can offer."

"You have already been of help," Blake assured him, "but what is it you can offer?"

"There is a ritual I can perform to strengthen Okku's spirit," replied Nak'kai, "but in order to perform it I shall need three brilliant spirit essences."

Blake nodded dubiously, not quite hiding his surprise. "That… would be helpful. Would help him fulfil the oath he transferred from the previous spirit-eater to me."

"And make sure when you return to have Okku by your side," added Nak'kai, gesturing to where Okku and Neeshka were still waiting, "the ritual would after all be for his benefit."

"Farewell then," Blake said forcing a smile.

Blake returned through the crowd, his distraction clear in the lack of care he took about this compared with his approach to Nak'kai. Fortunately one Berserker was drunk enough that by the time he realised he needed to offer to hit Blake it was too late as he was already out of range and it was too much bother to chase him rather than just continue drinking. Another Berserker was less drunk but he had seen the outlander talking to Nak'kai and he knew that when you spoke to the Shaman you often found your head hurt and you were not able to think right for a while. He knew this bump was not the outlander's fault and that he had talked to Nak'kai for longer than it would take to be told to go showed he was not one to brawl with.

With just a nod Blake continued past Okku and Neeshka and outside, remaining silent until they were in a pool of lantern light away from the lodge. "This curse might be the work of Myrkul, former God of the Dead, as one of the punishments he inflicted after Akachi's rebellion."

"The thing that half-celestial is so interested in?" Neeshka asked, some of her low opinion of Kaelyn leaking through.

"The same," confirmed Blake, "though I am reluctant to speak to her again."

"Why?" Gann asked, looking slightly puzzled. "Oh, I agree that you are likely right in what you said that her surprise outside the gates meant she had not seen mention of this curse… but surely it is worth a few minutes to be sure."

"I have reasons," Blake replied flatly.

Gann looked at Blake in the dim light of the lantern and the moon, trying to read the blank expression despite the shadow the brim of the hat cast over the top of Blake's face. Then he glanced at Neeshka and nodded in understanding despite her features being even more concealed within her hood. He did not need to see her face or expression to remember what she had said about the half-celestials making her skin crawl. "Very well," Gann said smoothly. "You have reasons and those are good enough for you. We shall not bless Kaelyn with the joy of my presence again then."

"Hmm," Blake said, wondering if Kaelyn would feel as much joy as Gann would hope, before changing the subject. "The shaman, Nak'kai, also offered a ritual to strengthen Okku, but said that would require spirit essences."

"What troubles you, little one?" asked Okku as Blake's frown deepened.

"Just… the only way I know to get spirit essences would be to use my curse rather than restrain it. I was not expecting a shaman to suggest I devour three spirits for him."

"Hmm," mused Okku. "In life I drank deep of the heartsblood of my prey and in devouring their flesh I grew strong. Your restraint does you credit though."

Blake nodded as a thought occurred. "There may be a way to provide Nak'kai. On the Plane of Shadow there is a Furnace haunted by the spirits of condemned and executed criminals, and there was a resonance between that Furnace and this hunger."

"You think they might be acceptable victims?" asked Gann. "That they are not innocents and so can be consumed?"

"I think them more acceptable victims than others," Blake said, not sure whether Gann was objecting or asking, "if devour spirits I must."

"Be careful, little one," murmured Okku in caution, "your hunger would not care for innocence or guilt, only that it was being fed."

"Good advice, though even if I do not feed to satisfy either the hunger or the request by Nak'kai I think it worth re-visiting the Furnace. Now I know how I am cursed I may learn something from how this curse is reacting to the spirits there."

"As you will," conceded Okku, "but remember I travel with you to end this curse, not to watch you indulge it."

"First though Magda, and then since the portal in that theatre opens during the day I think some rest."

They continued down the hill between the patches of lantern light and past those few people still on the streets at this hour. As in most towns a lot of those people were either drunks making their way home or those that would prey on them, but neither drunks nor muggers wished to get in the way of Okku. Soon they were passing through the doors of the Veil Theatre to find it was, as Sheva had said, still active. The noise of banter between the actors and the cheery light of the interior was a welcome change from the dark unfriendliness outside. They seemed to have finished cleaning and to have moved to rehearsing as three were on the stage while Magda and the fourth of her people, who now Blake was not distracted by Red Wizards and Gnolls he noticed seemed to be an Air Genasi, were standing below.

"Pipe down you rogues!" Magda bellowed. "And give some thanks to the man who saved our lives."

"Alas," said one actor, using all his skill to infuse his tone with a deep sadness, "our thanks are all we have to give, for a cruel-hearted Dwarf hoards our meagre profits."

"Aye!" added the Air Genasi, gesturing up at his friend. "And squanders our earnings on love potions, to steal the heart of Sweet Wallace."

"Honestly, milord," Magda said, planting her hands on hips made ample by age as well as being a Dwarf, "it's like chasing a pack of dockside waifs with a broomstick. And that's when we're not trying to put on a play."

Blake smiled slightly, he found himself liking these people but reminded himself they were actors and thus skilled at creating the impression they want in an audience. "I've come about Lienna," Blake said calmly. "I think she might have been involved in my abduction and have known something about the curse I now suffer from."

"I thought it might be that," replied Magda, looking pensive, "there's not one of us that didn't love that woman, but she'd been acting strange, it's true…"

"And the blood, Magda," said the second actor, hamming it up slightly with his next words, "those ghastly droplets of red, upon her white robes."

"Mm," nodded Magda, looking unimpressed at the turn of phrase. "I'd nearly forgotten the blood…"

"Blood?" Blake frowned. "What blood?"

"No more than the day before you saved our hides, milord," said Magda, "Lienna comes bursting out from that shadow-door of hers, all covered in blood."

"Covered in blood, aye," Sweet Wallace added, "and not a drop of it hers."

"And before that, I saw the other woman hanging about," continued Magda, ignoring the interruption with the ease of long practice, "the red-robed lady, bald as a squalling babe. The both of them were up to some sort of mischief, that's all the red lady was good for if you ask me, probably behind the door of that secret room."

"Mischief... Mischief?" Blake said, repeating himself in anger. His eyes hardened and he took half a step forward before he felt Neeshka's hand on his arm and her touch helped him to regain some calm and continue in a more normal tone. "Mischief is what you call it? I have seen Lienna's operating table, that was very likely my blood she was covered in."

"Your blood? And cutting you, mayhap?" said the second actor. "Magda, what if we've been harbouring some… mad vivisectionist."

"Pfft," snorted Magda. "Lienna was no monster, Lothario, and you know it well. Sheltering the likes of us for twenty years, and never an unkind word! A bit odd at times, but never a monster."

"You will excuse me if I am less convinced of that after seeing the table and remembering the knife going into my chest," Blake stated with quiet menace. "Now, what of this red robed woman? What can you tell me of her?"

Magda looked at Blake a moment and remembered how this armoured man had turned Gnolls and Red Wizards into so many corpses. She doubted he would deliberately harm her or the others but she could see the anger in his eyes and the fatigue eroding his control of this. "Only what my eyes have told me," Magda said cautiously, "her face was so like Lienna's I thought them sisters, but her head all covered in runes."

Blake nodded when Magda paused to see if he would comment.

"I saw her but twice, no make it thrice," Magda continued. "The first time was years ago, I awoke to voices in Lienna's bedroom, so I peered inside, thinking it might be robbers again. Instead, who do I see but a red-robed lady, chatting away with Lienna. I'm certain they knew I was watching… scared me silly, you understand. Red robes mean naught but trouble. But Lienna trusted her so I let the matter pass. I saw her a second time, perhaps a year ago, before the two of them disappeared for a long while."

"Disappeared?" asked Blake, before adding the question. "And the third time?"

"I don't know where they went," Magda said, "but the third time was just before the Wizards came. I saw the red lady near the portal, when Lienna came bursting out of her room, all covered in blood."

"You mentioned a secret room," said Blake, continuing when Magda nodded. "Where is it and how would I get inside?"

"You'll have to pass through the shadow-door, into the reflection of Lienna's bedroom," replied Magda. "On the east side of the room there's a door and she's always kept it locked. That's the secret room, the one she wouldn't show me, and to get inside all you need is the key and I have it right here. When the Wizards came Lienna pressed it into my hand and told me to keep it safe. I'd half a mind to swallow it and make those wizards go picking through my innards for it."

"I am glad that you didn't," Blake said simply.

"So am I milord," replied Magda, looking at the size of it. "That would not have been pleasant to pass. Here is the key, but I'll not vouch for your safety if you are bent on going inside. I've never as much as peeked beneath the door."

Blake took the key and feeling the weight of it decided 'not pleasant to pass' was a distinct understatement. "Thank you," was all he said though.

"And milord," added Magda, in an almost motherly tone, "if you care to use it for the night Lienna's room is yours. There are extra blankets in the wardrobes."

"Thank you again," Blake replied politely. "We could use rest before we continue."

They moved back through the door at the rear of the stage and towards the rear of the theatre, Okku having a little trouble getting through the door as he filled it so. Neeshka glanced at Blake a few times before speaking. "Er, harbour-boy," Neeshka finally said, "you do remember there is a portal in that room? Which is why we came here?"

"True, but that portal leads to inside the shadow version of this theatre rather than outside, like the portal in that inn room. Besides there is one other difference which makes sleeping here safer than it would have been before in that other room."

"Which is?" asked a dubious Neeshka.

"Do bear-gods need sleep?" Blake said, answering Neeshka's question with a question to Okku.

"Not like mortals," rumbled Okku, "my sleep would be to release my form and return to my cosy barrow for which I long. And this I cannot do while my oath is unfulfilled so I would remain awake."

Neeshka slowly nodded, having a watch-bear would make a difference. She was not sure if she trusted Okku enough to sleep in the same room as him and whether his oath was as reliable as Blake seemed to think. Fortunately she had experience of sleeping in thieves dens, where inattention could get your throat or the strings of your coin-purse cut, so she was confident that if Okku tried anything he would find himself with a rapier in the eye.

"So," Gann commented as they entered Lienna's bedroom, which was one end of the large room that filled the rear of the theatre rather than a separate room. He cast a glance at the bed, "this would be quite a squeeze, and normally when I have been three in a bed it has not been with another man… or not for sleeping at least"

"Neeshka gets the bed," said Blake flatly, "we get the floor."

"But…" Neeshka protested.

"Ah, I think our leader is worried about fire," smiled Gann, gaining a slight frown of puzzlement from Neeshka, "the sort of fire that might happen if you rub… two sticks… together."

"More like a fire-drill," Neeshka grinned in return, "one stick, one hole… at a time, and vigorous use of one in the other."

"Miss!" Gann said, infusing his voice with fake shock as Blake's jaw dropped.

Neeshka looked at her harbour-boy and decided to not say how a fire-drill worked better if there was a good fit and the right amount of friction. The blush that had seeped across Blake's face looked hot enough to ignite kindling already. Winking at Blake she busied herself with gathering armfuls of blankets and passing them out. Once the floor between the bed and the portal had been a little padded they began to undress. There would have been more room had they been on the other side of the bed and had let Okku have the portal side to himself but Blake wanted to be between the portal and Neeshka. He also wanted to be between Gann and Neeshka, which gave the Hagspawn the pleasure of sleeping next to the god-of-bears.

Blake started stripping off his armour with efficiency and the lack of embarrassment that sharing a campsite with people on so many occasions had given him over this. He paused as he saw Gann hesitate and steal a glance at Neeshka as she started to also undress. Gann realised he had been seen and with a wry smile of amusement at himself went back to removing his leathers, he was not as used to undressing while a lady undressed without that being for purposes of mutual pleasure. Soon the three of them were down to what they felt comfortable sleeping in and Neeshka was snuggled down under the covers on the bed. Okku settled himself between the bedding and the portal like a furry wall and Gann, with one last look of longing at the comfort of the bed, which he was fortunate Blake did not misinterpret as one of longing for the contents of the bed, reluctantly settled next to Okku.

Blake considered a moment and then spoke. "My apologies for the delay god-of-bears, I know you are tireless…"

"Sleepless, not tireless, little-one," Okku corrected. "Though you drew back that attack it did drain my strength, as did the fight. I shall not sleep but some time to rest and allow the land to replenish me is welcome."

Blake nodded and lay down, trying to drive from his mind that one side of him was the woman he loved and the other side was a bear-god that had tried to kill him. And in neither case was there much of a barrier either, it would be as easy for Blake to draw back the covers on that bed as it would be for Okku to draw back a paw and reach across Gann to strike. Paranoia and desire warred each other into exhaustion and Blake finally slept.

Morning came and brought with it pain. Blake groaned as he sat up, it felt like he had been in a drinking contest with Khelgar's entire Dwarven clan. No, it felt like fifteen sick Orcs had been sneezing on him every day until he caught what they were suffering from. No, Blake decided, it felt like he had been afflicted with a millennia old god-spawned curse so he supposed he should be grateful he felt no worse.

Neeshka sat up in the bed, the covers falling back from her upper body in a way Blake would normally find enticing. He smiled to try to dispel the look of concern in her eyes but it was a rather weak effort. She looked if anything more concerned after the smile as she leaned towards him, even the way this made her breasts sway under the thin undershirt she had, at some point, stripped down to not lifting Blake's spirits as much as normal.

"Harbour-boy?"

"Seems…" said Blake with a slight cough, "seems as well as us needing some breakfast that this curse is telling me it also wants breakfast."

"Hrmm," Okku murmured from the other side of the still sleeping Gann, who grumbled and dug himself further under his blankets.

Blake turned to look at Okku and Neeshka took the chance to dig under the bedding and retrieve her breast-strap. More comfortable to sleep without that constraint, but far more comfortable to keep things from jiggling too much and rubbing against the inside of your armour while fighting. They'd bought clean underwear but this one could last a day or two longer or until they found a bathhouse and wanted to put clean on clean.

"I do not make light of the curse, god-of-bears," said Blake, as Neeshka swiftly strapped herself up and put her thicker shirt on over the undershirt. "It is hungry though, and for that I am grateful as there was the fear it would try to feed on you while I slept."

"It seemed as asleep as you were," Okku rumbled back, his voice causing Gann to make another wordless protest as he fought against waking up. "Or as the Hagspawn still tries to be."

Blake glanced back and saw Neeshka was decent. This was disappointing for him but also meant there was no need to leave Gann asleep. Blake stood and pulled the blankets off Gann and began folding them to put to one side. For a moment Gann looked almost innocent, sleep having robbed him of his normal caustic attitude, but then as awareness came of the fact he was no longer nicely warm his body language shifted.

"Not the most unpleasant awakening," said Gann, turning and sitting up in one smooth motion and nodding to Neeshka, "especially with such company to wake up to. Of course I am comparing it with those mornings I have been confronted by angry fathers or brothers or indeed mothers."

"Not sisters?" Neeshka asked tartly.

"Sisters are more often jealous rather than angry," winked Gann.

"Of course," Blake agreed politely, putting the blankets to one side and muttering his morning invocations of those spells he had learned to make persist. Gann watched this and then frowned as Blake reached for his chainmail.

"You are simply getting dressed? Not washing first? Or changing?" asked Gann, a look like a neatly washing cat would give a muddy but happy dog coming to his face.

"There is likely fighting ahead," Blake replied, "what sweat we wash off now will soon be replaced, what clean clothes we don will soon be sweaty."

"Even so…" protested Gann.

"Gann," Blake interrupted, "directly after this we have a lake voyage to the Ashenwood; plenty of lake water to wash our clothes and ourselves and which I can at least take the chill off with magic."

"I concede your point," smiled Gann with a nod. "Very well, let us remain slightly pungent for a little longer. Perhaps it will help to repel our foes."

Blake frowned, glad that Gann had stopped arguing and was reaching for his leathers but not sure he liked being called pungent, even slightly. With a shrug though he went back to donning his armour and, that done, digging out a few rations.

"Let me guess," Gann semi-complained, taking a strip of dried meat and wondering what it had been, "food can also wait for the voyage."

"Not quite," said Blake, "on our way through the docks we can find if the Sloop Inn has better meals than rooms."

Gann opened his mouth to suggest they found out now rather than after they visited the Plane of Shadows, but then he looked at Blake. There was a tightness around the human's eyes, a cast to the tone of his skin, and despite the chill a very slight sheen of sweat. Blake did not look well and Gann decided it was better to fight on a slightly empty stomach than have Blake having to fight nausea from a full stomach as well as whatever other foes they might encounter.

Soon the three humanoids were dressed and they had tidied enough to almost remove the evidence they had slept there. Magda had been hospitable enough Blake did not want to leave her another mess to clear up, even if sleeping did not cause as much mess as fighting Red Wizards and Gnolls. The portal flared into existence again at the closeness of the stone Magda had given Blake and with some misgivings they stepped through and Neeshka approached the door to the east. Swiftly she checked it over for traps again in case someone, like Kazimika, had placed one there since the last time she had checked.

"No traps that I see," Neeshka reported, "and we know the lock is rather tough."

"Here," said Blake, lobbing the key over.

Neeshka snagged it deftly out of the air and then gave it a sad look in her hand. "Almost seems cheating to use a key, no fun," she said with exaggerated regret, "but I suppose we are in a hurry."

Blake smiled, as much as he was able with how ill he felt. Moving about had made him feel better but he was still rather aware of the way the curse was making his belly roil and seethe. The lock of the door clicked and it swung smoothly open without anything springing out of it at them. It was still with great caution Blake moved to enter this secret room though and only when Neeshka beckoned him forward after casting an eye over the floor for traps.

"Smell that?" murmured Okku as he squeezed through the doorframe. "There is blood on the floor… the trail leads to one of the portals."

"Aye, I see it," Blake replied, "if that is mine…"

"It is," confirmed Okku.

"Then that seems to confirm these portals are those I passed through while unconscious," Blake continued "I wonder if that Golem has anything to do with them, it seems to not be doing anything else but stand there."

The hulking Clay Golem had not reacted to their entrance and continued to not react as they approached. It just stood there, an expression of mindless placidity on its broad face and its thick arms hanging limply and its legs set in a perpetual semi-crouch. Blake looked at it a moment, if it was as dead as its lack of reaction suggested it seemed likely it would have fallen over.

"Be ready in case this triggers hostility," Blake muttered to the others as he stepped closer still to the Golem. "Can you speak?"

Silence was the only answer. Blake nodded and slowly reached out a hand, if he very gently pushed the Golem's chest then he could feel if it felt like pushing an inert statue or like something that would compensate to keep its balance. As his fingers touched the Golem though he drew them back suddenly as if he had touched metal that was hot enough it was only just not glowing to reveal its heat.

"That felt odd…" said Blake with understatement.

"What is it?" Gann asked. "I felt a twitch from your hunger as your fingers brushed the clay."

"It could feel a spirit in this Golem, but a weak one that is almost gone," replied Blake, biting slightly at his lower lip in thought. "Hmmm…."

Blake braced himself and then drove his hand forward and into the gut of the Clay Golem. The dried clay fractured, dust cascading to the floor as Blake continued to shove his gauntlet deeper into the Golem until his arm was embedded to the elbow in it, like a farmer feeling if a cow was pregnant but making a hole rather than using the existing one. Blake half closed his eyes to concentrate on his sense of touch as he groped around and then he found what he sought and withdrew his arm.

"Did you just rip its heart out with your bare hand?" Neeshka asked, looking at the small black round thing her harbour-boy had pulled out.

"Sort of," admitted Blake, "but this 'heart' is almost lifeless. It might gain fresh life though if I put it in this Enchanter's Satchel with…"

Blake stuttered to a stop, one hand holding the Enchanter's Satchel he had taken from the Red Wizard and the other hand holding something Okku had fixed his yellow eyes on as soon as Blake withdrew it from his magic bag. For a moment the two of them looked at each other before Okku made a growl of resignation.

"Go ahead, little one," rumbled Okku. "Not using her essence for this will not make Nakata any less dead."

"Er-ah," Blake said, he'd been so concentrating on the feelings from the curse, hoping this was Oghma's inspiration rather than Besheba's random mischief, he had almost forgotten the source of the Spirit Essence. "Anyway, I think this curse can let me fuse these and rejuvenate the Golem's Core."

Placing both essence and core within the satchel Blake reached down inside himself to take hold of rather than beat down the curse. It writhed as his will shaped it to form the tool he wanted but once he was confident it felt right he opened a channel to let that measure of its power flow out. Like a great snake constricting its prey the curse wrapped itself around the core and the essence and squeezed, but Blake seized it before it could do more than crush those together and forced it back down.

A moment or two of making sure the barrier of his determination was again seamless with no weak spot where the channel had been and Blake reached into the Enchanter's Satchel again to withdraw the core. It had been wizened and dark but now it almost seemed to be glowing with replenished power. Blake moved back to the Golem and put his hand back into the hole he had made. An almost imperceptible slackness removed itself from the Golem's stance as Blake released the core and the Golem was again as alive as it ever was.

"Visitors," the Golem said slowly, still not moving, "still wait… at the First Door."

"Visitors?" asked Blake. "Who are they?"

"They are the couriers," the Golem replied. "They have been waiting… for some time."

"Couriers? What couriers?" Blake pressed.

"The couriers… who brought you here…" came the Golem's impassive reply, "from across the world."

"Those Gargoyles?" Neeshka asked, a light of battle entering her eyes.

"Unknown," said the Golem, showing it could hear more than Blake. "They are voices… hissing, whining… flattering. All creatures are voices… commands to be obeyed or ignored… nothing more."

"They might have answers," Blake said to the others, strapping his shield onto his arm as he spoke, "but stand ready in case they decide to fight."

"I hope they do," replied Neeshka with a bloodthirsty grin, "we owe them for the trouble they have caused us all harbour-boy."

Blake nodded in agreement, checking his sword was loose in its scabbard but not drawing it. "Golem, open the First Door."

"The seals are withdrawn," the Golem replied, "the way is open."

A slight mist formed within one archway, its glow either dim or dimmed by the effects of the Shadow Plane. Three Gargoyles stepped out of the mist and as they noticed who was waiting for them their expressions changed from over-humble servility to fear and they pressed back against the stone of the arch and into the mist. The portal seemed to only be one way though, had only let them arrive rather than retreat, and then even that chance vanished with the mist. The Gargoyles darted fearful glances around the room as with a slight hiss Blake drew his sword.

"It is them!" Neeshka said with satisfaction, breaking the silence and proving that unlike most people she could tell the difference between individual Gargoyles.

"Hsst! You!" said one Gargoyle, ignoring Neeshka as it stared at Blake.

"We're trapped, my brothers," whined the second, "snared!"

"Please," the third begged, "we did as we were told… we thought you were dead…"

"You are the creatures that carried me from the Vale of Merdelain?" asked Blake, knowing the answer.

"Forgive us good master," the third replied, "we were poor slaves, shacked and bound to our white lady's will."

"We crept across the world, tracked the scent of your blade," added the first, almost grovelling, "watched you from the shadows. In your keep, through your war, and in the umbral dark of Merdelain, our eyes were never far…"

"Better not have been watching everything," Neeshka muttered.

"And then you stopped simply watching," frowned Blake, agreeing silently with Neeshka.

"Our white lady told us to wait," the third Gargoyle whined, "to bide our time until… we are sorry good master…"

"When the rocks smashed your bones we saved you from death!" said the first, trying to put conviction in its voice. "Had we not borne you away, to Lienna and her red twin… you would have ended like your comrades…"

"His minions more like," the second Gargoyle sneered, forgetting to keep its tone subservient. "They followed him blindly to their deaths like chattel, like willing slaves, I do not pity them."

"And I don't pity you," said Neeshka tartly, "especially since you lie so poorly."

"Hsst," the second Gargoyle said, finally focussing on Neeshka. "It is one that was there, that followed him."

"One you just called a willing slave," replied Neeshka with a threatening smile.

"Leaving that insult to her aside… for now… when you brought me here," Blake asked, before the Gargoyle could start grovelling to appease Neeshka or him, "what happened then?"

"Lienna took the silver blade from your hand and the silver shard from your chest," said the first Gargoyle, confirming the vision Blake had seen. "And she told us to bring you to the barrow, to lay you in that… chamber."

"We dared not tarry in the cavern of runes, good master," the third and most whiny Gargoyle said. "We feared what lay within, feared it even more than our white lady and her red twin together."

"And so you should," Okku growled. "You have unleashed a curse upon this land and undone the deeds of a god of bears."

The Gargoyles recoiled at Okku's snarl, even in the dimness of the Plane of Shadows his colours flared and his great teeth glinted and a gleam of satisfaction entered his eyes at the proper respect they were showing for his wrath. Blake let them cower for a few seconds before speaking again.

"Enough of your tales and your grovelling," Blake demanded, his voice only slightly less harsh than Okku. "And your lies and your insults. Why did Lienna bring me here, and why did she choose to leave me to be cursed in that cavern?"

"Please, don't make us betray her…" pleaded the cowardly third Gargoyle.

"Be silent, brother," the first Gargoyle ordered. "Can you not feel, now we are here, that the link is gone. That she is dead?" The other two Gargoyles murmured in confusion before the first continued, "In truth, we don't know. We were slaves and not privy to our mistresses' schemes."

"But we do know when those schemes took root, don't we brothers?" pointed out the second Gargoyle, a note of bartering tinting the subservience. "We know who planted the seeds in their minds. And we will tell you, good master, if you let us leave in peace."

"No bargains. You tell me what you know and I will decide whether that is sufficient to remove my need for vengeance."

"True, we owe him brothers, for carrying him from his land, and for leaving him in the cavern of runes…" the second Gargoyle conceded, returning to a more servile attitude. "It was the nine hags… the Slumbering Coven. Lienna visited them, together with her red twin. They heard the hag's counsel, and they returned with plans…"

"The Slumbering Coven?" asked Gann, with recognition. "That circle of hags is involved?"

"Yes, the Coven!" confirmed the third Gargoyle, trying to buy mercy with enthusiastically offered information. "They lair to the east, along the shores of Lake Mulsantir, in the depths of a city, half-submerged beneath the waters."

"A city beneath the waves. Curious," mused Gann. "I have dreamed of such a place. I should like to accompany you to this city Blake… if you will have me."

"This lank-haired shaman is a Hagspawn, yes? There are many of his kind in the sunken city," the third Gargoyle said, before adding a touch of flattery, "but few as pretty as him."

"Few?" asked Gann, mildly insulted at the idea there could be any. "I would say likely none."

"And what else dwells in this city?" Blake demanded, wondering if this could be as much of a trap as the Ashenwood might be.

"We don't know, good master," whined the third Gargoyle pleadingly. "Now let us go."

"No," said the first, some determination awakening, "after a century as her slaves Lienna owes us, we want to tear her things and break her shiny masks."

"Yes!" the second almost demanded. "And give us Lienna's corpse! Let us ransom her body to her red twin, my brothers, for an end to our servitude."

"Your luck is poor, perhaps on both counts," Blake replied, before amplifying. "If the red twin is who I think she is possibly dead in a coup at her Academy and Lienna destroyed herself so her body is nothing but ash."

"Noooo," cried the second Gargoyle, "we need her corpse in case the red twin still lives! The red lady loved her dear Lienna, she'd bargain with us and set us free…"

"Stop whining, little brother. He speaks the truth," the first Gargoyle said repressively, "our white lady is a smear of ash and our chance to barter is gone."

"But there is a lie amidst the truth, brothers," said the second Gargoyle, projecting his own deviousness onto Blake. "I think this one burned her… let us have our satisfaction on his corpse instead. We have naught to lose."

"She burned herself rather than be taken by Red Wizards," Blake corrected, before smiling wolfishly and continuing, "but I am glad you decided to fight. Mercy is good for the soul, but enemies are best left dead."

"And it saves me hunting you down," added Neeshka, with a matching smile, "which I'd have done if he'd let you go."

"Only if you had moved faster than the spirits," Okku growled, flexing his mighty shoulders in preparation.

Gann remained silent. He'd not been kidnapped, not had his love kidnapped, and not had his oath spoiled so he had less reason to care whether these Gargoyles died or simply left. But being willing to not kill them was not the same as being unwilling to kill them and he shifted his spear ready to strike. The Gargoyles suddenly looked less sure of themselves as they realised their brother had done what three of the four facing them had wanted and which the fourth did not mind. For a moment it seemed they might return to grovelling, backing away from what the second Gargoyle had said, but then that moment passed as there was a blur.

Blake uncoiled, his sword striking out without warning. It took a lot of practice to be able to launch a blow without betraying your intent by a flicker of the eyes or a tensing of the muscles. The solid basic skills the West Harbour Militia had given Blake had only improved though with each battle and with practice against his Sergeants at Crossroad Keep. His sword entered the first Gargoyle's belly, was twisted in the wound as its magic discharged, and pulled back almost before anyone else realised Blake had moved.

One clawed hand grabbed at its belly as the first Gargoyle shrieked. This was not as fatal a blow to it as it might have been to a more mortal foe but it still hurt and it still wanted to keep its guts where they should be. The second Gargoyle hissed and tensed to spring but before it could Okku moved. One paw as large as the Gargoyle's head swung out and almost severed the Gargoyle's arm its shoulder was so thoroughly shredded. The Gargoyle bounced off the wall behind it, its wings absorbing some of the impact. Okku had dipped and twisted his head and as the Gargoyle staggered back towards him Okku's massive jaws closed on its midriff.

Pain and fear erupted from the Gargoyle's throat as Okku twisted his head back and the Gargoyle found its feet leave the floor and its weight supported by the teeth in its belly and back. Okku's jaws worked for a moment to get a good firm grip and then he started shaking the Gargoyle about. The Gargoyles wings beat slightly at the air as it tried to get free but all this did was provide extra resistance for Okku to push against in working his teeth through the magically resilient flesh.

The first Gargoyle turned to rake the hand not clasped to its stomach across Okku's flank as its 'brother' began to slowly come apart in the middle. As its hand came down though it met Blake's sword coming up in a backhanded blow. This was not the most precise strike Blake had made, catching the Gargoyle in the middle of the forearm rather than, as he'd intended, at wrist where it was easier to cut through. However the power of the collision and the enchanted edge of his sword proved equal to the task as Gargoyle bone splintered and Gargoyle flesh parted rather than his blade becoming stuck. The first Gargoyle barely had time to stare in shock at where its arm now ended and the rest of its forearm and its hand barely time to hit the floor before more pain coursed through it as Neeshka struck. Her rapier sank into the softer flesh between the Gargoyle's ribcage and hipbone, angled slightly upwards to drive into where most creatures kept their vitals.

Gann meanwhile was more than holding the third Gargoyle's attention. Fluid leaked down one cheek from the ruin that had been its eye as it hissed and batted at Gann's spear. Gann flicked his spear out in short motions that made it hard for the Gargoyle to judge until the last moment each time if he was aiming for the other eye or the Gargoyle's neck. Slightly desperately the Gargoyle jerked its head to one side and away, throwing off Gann's aim enough that all the edge of the spearhead did was open its cheek to the bone. It howled, some of the air bubbling through the wound, and tried again to grab at Gann or his spear but Gann was back to his patient flicking.

The first Gargoyle felt like he was in serious trouble. One hand was holding his guts in and the other hand was gone. Even so he was not as badly off as his 'brother' whose shrieks were fading with each passing second. Then there was a clack as Okku's teeth met and the second Gargoyle came apart and the two halves were flung in opposite directions by the force of the shaking. The thud of those on the walls and floor were joined by another as Okku, with an expression of disgust, spat out the foul mouthful he'd been left with.

Neeshka reacted almost instantly. Knowing Okku was now free to attack the first Gargoyle she shifted her attention to the third. Her attacks were, for her, quite clumsy and the Gargoyle quite easily managed to sidestep them. That however was all Neeshka wanted. She'd driven the Gargoyle further from its ally and diverted its attention to her and away from Gann. There was a slight thunk as Gann shifted his aim and drove his spear into the Gargoyle's leg just above its knee. The Gargoyle staggered, wings beating a little to try to help it keep its balance.

Blake thrust his sword forward and the first Gargoyle twisted to avoid the blow. It succeeded but this was acceptable to Blake since as well as avoiding his blow this twisting also brought its wing around closer to Okku. The claws of one huge paw snagged into the wing membrane as Okku dragged the Gargoyle down and to one side, forcing it onto one knee and the hand it had taken away from its gut wound. For a moment the Gargoyle's torso and neck were almost horizontal as Okku kept its wing pinned to the floor. Blake stepped forward and brought his sword down in a straight vertical arc like an executioner.

As the head of its brother bounced on the floor the last Gargoyle hissed in fear. Neeshka and Gann moved simultaneously to strike. Its thigh wound was slowing the third Gargoyle but even had it been at full speed that would have not been enough. Neeshka's rapier stabbed into its heart, was twisted as its magic discharged, and then drawn back in one smooth motion. Gann was not quite as fast but his spearhead made a broader wound as he thrust his spear into the Gargoyle's neck and jerked it back, having almost stabbed hard enough to get his spearhead trapped between the vertebrae.

The third Gargoyle fell backwards and as it thudded to the floor Neeshka and Gann moved again. Gann's spear plunged into the Gargoyle's chest, almost into the wound Neeshka had made but widening it and with enough force Gann had to brace one foot on the Gargoyle to pull it out again. Neeshka was subtler and ran the edge of her rapier across the Gargoyle's neck, slicing it to the spine just below where Gann had stabbed it to that. Gann nodded to Neeshka, taking the same lack of offence at her making sure of the wound he had inflicted as she took at him doing the same with hers.

"At least these don't leak much," Blake commented, looking at the Gargoyle fluids beginning to pool.

"They leak enough," replied Neeshka with a moue of distaste.

Blake nodded and looked at the stone arches. "This one says 'disposal'," he said, pointing at that doorway, "Golem, how does this portal serve as a disposal?"

"It leads," said the Golem slowly, "to a place of fire. All that passes through is consumed in flame."

"Well, burning these sounds good," Gann commented, frowning down at the chunks of Gargoyle scattered about. "Or cremating them if you prefer to use that term."

"Places of fire often have Fire Elementals," mused Blake, "and Red Wizards are fond of trickery."

"Let anyone order the Golem to open the door," Gann said, raising his eyebrows in enquiry as to if this was what Blake was thinking, "but have your own extra little trick that makes the portal one way and so safe to throw things through?"

"Something like that," admitted Blake. "I could be being paranoid but let's just stack these into that doorway for now rather than risk Beshaba being able to amuse herself with our misfortune."

"Very well little one," Okku rumbled, bending his head, seizing the almost complete body of the first Gargoyle in his teeth, and then with one flick of his neck and shoulders flinging it neatly across the room to land in that doorway.

Blake tried to not look too impressed by that feat of strength as he grabbed the lower half of the second Gargoyle and strained slightly to semi-drag that across. Gann looked at the remains in some disgust before stabbing his spear down into the piece of Gargoyle Okku had spat out. Neeshka picked up the head of the first Gargoyle by one horn and then waited patiently while Okku flipped the third Gargoyle onto the pile made by the other one and a half corpses. Gann shook the Gargoyle chunk off his spear and Neeshka popped the head on the top while Blake strained again to get the upper half of the second Gargoyle across and onto the pile.

It was quite a stack and Blake wondered whether it was enough obstruction to block the arrival of a Fire Elemental. The problem would be that in doing that the corpses would probably catch fire and burning-corpses were one of the very few things that were worse than corpses to have in a room. Neeshka quickly searched the bookcases and chests and a few more scrolls vanished into their bags before they moved back into the portal room. As they entered the room with the operating table Okku paused, sniffed, and grumbled. Blake nodded to confirm what Okku's nose had detected and the bear-god gave a fractional motion of respect.

"Oh my," said Gann, from where he had gone out onto the stage in the next room. "Certainly seem to be filling this shadow-theatre with bodies, hmm?"

Blake joined Gann on the stage and nodded again as he looked around. As well as the charred skeleton of Lienna there was the acid-dissolved corpse of the one Red Wizard, the two slain by Neeshka's blade that looked fairly neat, and the one he had decapitated. Blake had not thought he was coming back and had been in a hurry so these lay where they had fallen. There was still a clear path down one side of the stage and across to the doors.

"This… plane… feels hostile to life," Blake commented as he led the way. "Things rot and decay to release their essences back to allow new life to come, but here it does not feel like these bodies will perform that service."

"So you just leave them?"

"They are not in the way," Blake replied, "they don't need burning or burial to prevent pestilence, and the dirt floor under them is already dirtied by absorbing their fluids so why dirty another patch of floor by moving them elsewhere?"

"Just… seems so untidy," said Gann with a small moue of disdain.

Blake nodded in agreement. "I'd feel better honouring Jergal and giving these proper burial, but the funeral customs of Thay are not something I know."

"Nor something the people of Mulsantir care about," Gann smiled slightly, "they are no more dishonoured left here than disposed of in the Rashemeni way. Weighted and off the docks like those unfortunate pirates."

Blake nodded again as he opened the doors to the outside. As they travelled through the dim streets of Shadow Mulsantir he was relieved there was nothing to block their path. Those streets seemed almost well lit compared with the gloom inside the Death God's Vault as though it was no darker the weight of centuries of death and near-abandonment was almost tangible. Blake was mildly surprised that Kaelyn was not back at her post staring at the door and hoped she would also not be staring at the Priest. It would be hard enough to control and assess this curse without the distraction of concern over the pain Kaelyn might be inflicting on Neeshka.

"A strange place little-one," Okku murmured as they moved through the rooms towards the Furnace. "Death is natural and simple, something that just happens rather than needing to be ornamented."

"Humans… and elves, and dwarves, and other of the two legged persuasion need their ornaments father-bear," said Gann. "The more macabre they can make death seem, the less simple and natural, the easier they find to not dwell on it."

"A waste," growled Okku. "Death will come whether they dwell on it or not."

Somewhat ignoring the discussion of philosophy Blake approached the Furnace where the Priest-Spirit still stood. A flicker of his eyes before he went back to staring into the distance, at a point partway to where the horizon would be if there was not a wall in the way, was all that betrayed he had seen their arrival. Blake looked at the Priest-Spirit for a few minutes, considering waving one hand in front of the spirit's eyes, before speaking.

"Priest," Blake said, reluctant to try experimenting with his curse if there was another way, "speak to me." Silence was his only answer so Blake gathered his will and muttered. "Very well then."

Reaching down into himself where the hunger roiled Blake let a tendril of it out to brush across the Furnace like an Octopus arm testing if something should be grabbed and brought back to its mouth. The curse twitched within him as he prevented it from snagging or squeezing the spirits as it tasted them through this tendril and as Blake felt this taste and felt their minds. Some of those within were innocents and some were mere petty thieves that most would consider not deserving of eternally burning. There were Murderers though, aside from the Brute, and Rapists and others also more worthy of the fate of being bound within the Furnace.

"Wait," cried the Priest-Spirit, almost breaking Blake's concentration, "what are you doing? I can feel the power you possess. What are you?"

Blake took a moment to withdraw the tendril of power back within himself before answering the Priest-Spirit, letting him wait as he had let them. "The victim of a terrible curse, a spirit eater."

"A spirit-eater?" asked the Priest-Spirit, looking blank for a moment before his eyes widened. "I have a vague recollection. When I was still living I was Myrkul's High Priest. The god always mistrusted me, because my predecessor Akachi…"

"Yes, yes," Blake said impatiently, "he led a Crusade against the City of Judgement. I'd not realised that was so close to when Myrkul was slain, but many people have mentioned Akachi to me since I arrived in this land and became cursed. I do have other questions, now you are deigning to speak to me."

"What must I answer before you will leave us in peace?" demanded the Priest-Spirit.

"First, what is this place?"

"This is the Crematorium of Myrkul's Vault," said the Priest-Spirit simply, but with dignity. "The furnace I stand before is my home, and the home of thousands of others who were cremated here."

"Why were you cremated?"

"Soon after my god Myrkul was slain by Mystra followers of Cyric assaulted this vault," the Priest-Spirit replied. "We barely were able to seal the lower levels before they burst through the entrance. Cyric's raiders slew everyone but me, I was tortured for days that they might learn how to open the gate to the lower vault and plunder Myrkul's most precious treasures."

Neeshka perked up a little at the words 'precious' and 'treasures' but then subsided. However nice that sounded she did remember her own advice about things that were precious to a cleric not necessarily being precious to anyone else and that robbing holy sites could bring more trouble than almost any amount of treasure was worth. It was simple to evade the sight of mortal guards but far harder to evade the sight of a God and even a minor deity had more followers than a major noble.

"I did not relent," continued the Priest-Spirit, "so eventually they cast me into the Furnace to suffer the same fate as the many I'd sentenced here myself. Of the memories that are left to me only the most painful remain clear, but I'd like to think it was not in vain. Were it not for my actions, and my rather painful sacrifice, Cyric's followers would have got through the gate to the lower level and completely desecrated Myrkul's vault."

"It was not in vain," Blake said a little consolingly, "even now the lower level remains sealed."

"That is… good to hear," said the Priest-Spirit, his face relaxing a fraction towards peace. "I have endured such torment, both prior to death and after. Though I may never be released from this Furnace I can endure it easier knowing my sacrifice meant something."

"I know that look harbour-boy," Neeshka accused Blake as he looked at the Priest-Spirit, "you are thinking something."

"I am thinking of Nolaloth," Blake replied, turning to look at Neeshka, "and how we released him so his soul could finish its journey to death." Turning back to the Priest-Spirit Blake continued, "Priest, this curse I endure may be able to be used to release you. To grant you rest, rather than devour you, and end your suffering."

"Truly? Eternal rest seems an impossible dream for the damned servant of a dead god," said the Priest-Spirit, more hope coming to his face as he spoke and tried to convince himself of the chance. "But if it is within your power, then I beg of you… grant me rest!"

Blake took a deep breath, his fists clenching as again he crushed the curse to his will. The hunger struggled like a boar on a boar-spear, trying to work its way off the head or past the crosspiece and up the shaft to gore and trample the hunter. Blake anticipated the flailing of his curse and drove it down, crushing the boar to the forest floor and then beating it with the iron-banded club of his anger and frustration. In this mindscape the squeals of rage were replaced by squeals of pain and the crunching impacts by dull thuds as fewer and fewer unbroken bones were left to crunch.

Little of this struggle and anger and unrelenting violence showed on Blake's face though, he looked quite calm as he finished breaking the curse into the shape he wanted. "Lost soul, be at peace."

"Thank you…" replied the Priest-Spirit, his voice trailing off as he faded.

Neeshka drew her rapier as more spirits appeared, glancing around them she frowned and complained. "You remembered Nolaloth, did you also remember the Dragons that objected to us doing that for Nolaloth?"

"These spirits don't want to fight," Blake replied calmly, tilting his head slightly as he felt their intent, "they want to be released also." Then Blake's eyes narrowed as he saw a spirit he recognised.

"Child, come now!" demanded the Brute. "The Many flocks to the flesh-receptacle who exorcised the Priest!"

"I am here, and I see," the Child replied.

"We must slay it now before it disperses the Many. Before we meet the same fate as the Priest."

Blake drew his sword. Neeshka glanced at him, this did not fit in with what he had said about the spirits not wanting to fight, and then moved closer to his side to protect his flank. Gann and Okku shifted their positions, the great spirit-muscles of the bear-god tensing in readiness and the spear of the Hagspawn being brought ready to use rather than to just lean on.

"Wait," said the Child, seeing those preparations, "I will parlay with it."

"The Child and the Orc the Priest spoke to have appeared," Blake muttered to the others, "the Orc said they should slay us but the Child wishes to speak… which could be a trick."

"Hah," snorted Neeshka, "maybe we should tell this Orc what happened to the last few tribes of Orcs that threatened you."

"What did happen?" Gann asked politely.

"They were blocking trade routes to Neverwinter through the mountains," said Neeshka, smiling sweetly towards the Furnace, though not quite managing to aim this smile directly at the Brute. "Now they aren't blocking anything, except the bellies of scavengers with how tough their meat would be."

The Brute growled but Blake spoke over him, and Neeshka, to the Child. "The spirits here cry for release and I can grant that…"

"No," replied the Child quickly, "the Priest said something terrible would become of me, should I ever be exorcised." Calculation replaced fear on the Child's face and in his voice as he continued. "But you have great power, and therefore command the respect of the Many. We can help each other. You wish passage through the gate to the lower level of this vault, and we crave to be free of this Furnace we are bound to."

"I have no desire to reach the lower portion of this place. I only returned as I'd felt a resonance between the curse and this Furnace, but if you crave to be free then what are you proposing if not to be granted rest?"

"The Many is complacent and comfortable," said the Child contemptuously. "Though some wish release, others huddle within the Furnace, refusing to come out for any reason. Under the threat of destruction these Spirits will be forced to flee the Furnace. And when all have left the Many will be free and separate once more."

"The Child spirit suggests I use the curse like a stick on a wasp nest," Blake muttered over his shoulder, "to simply drive the spirits from the Furnace rather than give them rest."

"I do not think that is wise," Gann muttered back, leaning forward a little. "I can sense a multitude of spirits within and that many are malevolent."

Blake nodded to Gann. "How would this benefit me, Child?"

"You may not want to reach the Lower Vault now but needs change," said the Child in a wheedling tone. "We can feel the power this curse has over us so it must he connected with death or those that have died but still 'live'… and you could learn much from the archives below. For that you would need the key the Priest hid in this Furnace long ago. However it cannot be retrieved until the Spirits of the Furnace are freed, until then the fires of this Furnace will burn eternally."

"Then… freedom they shall have," Blake said, making his decision, "by being given rest for their sake rather than any possible future need for some key."

Blake reached out with his power, letting it seethe through the Furnace like a mass of snakes writhing over each other. Some spirits flung themselves into the mouths of the snakes, desperate for release, while others succumbed to being coiled around or bitten and were also devoured. Blake could feel them being released but could also feel his hunger lessening by being close to this flow, like a thirsty man standing by a waterfall being drenched with spray. He did not have much time however to consider this or for his concern over whether his hunger was lessening too much as the Child was speaking again.

"You should not have done that," the Child sneered, almost all his false innocence dissipating as his voice and body language became more evil. "You destroyed the weaker spirits, but the stronger ones remain. And we will rebuild the Many, starting with you!"

"Attack us Child," warned Blake, "and die, again."

"Attack?" Gann asked quickly.

"The Child wishes to replace those spirits given Rest by taking ours", replied Blake, smiling evilly at the Brute.

"Hrmm," Okku rumbled as more spirits faded into view. "They are ambitious, little one, but that will serve them naught."

"Hhhraaaggghhhhh!" roared the Brute, becoming visible in his rage as he threw himself at Blake.

Blake reacted, his speed greater than that of the Brute as Blake was a soldier rather than a murderer and his skills were not eroded by centuries of disuse within a Furnace. The sword's tip carved lightly across the Brute's form as Blake sidestepped and parried the Brute's attack. The Brute vanished and Blake's head twitched as he glanced around for his foe. This could be tricky if they could appear, disappear, and appear again to ambush.

"Careful," Blake warned, "the Brute has vanished, returned to invisibility."

"No," replied Gann, "he is dead, dissipated by your blow."

"What?" Blake asked in disbelief. "I barely hit him…"

Blake's voice trailed off as he saw the fear on the Child's face and that the other, more shapeless, spirits had paused in their attack. Okku roared and took advantage of this, springing into the midst of a group of them, crushing three beneath his paws and then whirling and knocking more aside. Even the relatively glancing blows of Okku's whirl seemed enough to cause some of to dissipate. Blake looked at this success in some disbelief.

"I think you became too used to Telthors in the barrow, or in the army, of a bear-god," Gann said, sweeping his spear around to slice the edge and tip of the spearhead through a few more spirits.

A Lesser Missile Storm erupted from Blake's hands as he muttered the invocation. The spirits glowed slightly at the impact points and as the magic of the missiles discharged into them. Some dissipated even from this rather than merely being slightly wounded. "But these are the stronger spirits?" Blake protested, dabbing his sword out and through another foe.

"The stronger spirits of a furnace of the condemned," replied Gann, his spear flicking out rhythmically, "rather than spirits considered strong and worthy enough to live with or aid a bear-god, and to share in his and each other's might."

"You think I would share my barrow with such as these?" Okku growled, snapping at spirits like a dog snapping at flies and with the spirits providing as little resistance to his teeth.

"It appears their strength depended on the others," continued Gann, "depended on being part of 'The Many' which you broke."

"I mistrust appearances," Blake snarled, slicing at another ghost. This vanished though even against a mortal foe, and even with the magic on Blake's sword, that would have been nothing more than a nasty cut across the upper chest. "Are you sure they are being dispelled rather than just hiding?"

"Yes!" replied Gann, nettled at this doubt. "Can you not feel the energy dimming like a field of candles in a rainstorm?"

Blake tried to feel this, his hunger's attention was more taken by the blaze of strength that was Okku but it could sense the other spirits. He could sense them being extinguished with each passing second. "Child," Blake said, "you seem to have overestimated your… child?"

Neeshka stabbed another ghost where its throat would have been. She had seen little boys like that before. The sort who would happily cut your throat, or something else, as you slept so she had felt no compunction over dealing with him. Her harbour-boy was still kind hearted though, just the sort of sap who would give shelter for the night to an 'innocent child' and then find that child had opened a window for others to enter and loot his home. He'd proven that with how he had allowed Wolf and the other street children first into the Sunken Flagon and then allowed them to live at Crossroad Keep. Blake might have hesitated over what needed to be done so Neeshka was happy to have saved him that decision and even happier that he'd been distracted by Gann's words from seeing her do this.

"That appears to be the last of them," Gann judged calmly.

Blake slowly nodded and began moving towards the Furnace. "The Child Spirit said the key to the lower vault was here."

"Does it matter?" Neeshka asked. "I thought we agreed that was best left undisturbed and you said you didn't need it."

"There are mysteries here though," replied Blake as he knelt and began to sift through the ashes. He paused as he found something large and then grasping its handle he drew it out and stood and shook the ash from it, "Not least of which is why the key seems to be a replica of the Sword of Gith."

"So now what then?" Neeshka said as Blake fell silent.

Blake looked at the replica for a moment longer. "The Ashenwood would seem our best chance to learn more of the curse, the Sunken City to learn more of the plot…"

"And of my dreams…" Gann pointed out.

"And of Gann's dreams," Blake said, accepting the correction. He nodded slightly to himself, "Both require us to depart this gloomy plane though so I think, if she is still easily found, that Kaelyn should have this… key. Giving her this may ease the anger she felt over my holding her siblings to their bargain."

"Who cares?" Neeshka interrupted. "Had worse people angry at you before harbour-boy."

"She might have some information on this curse, my sweet," Blake replied, before admitting, "and besides… We owe her little, but I would suffer a twinge of conscience were we to return to this Vault and find she had also returned and had spent yet more days staring at the Gate because we had the key."

"What if we returned and found her corpse below?" enquired Gann. "If in giving her passage you had given her passage to her death?"

"Aye, there is that," Blake said slowly, "but it would be her decision to use or not use the key rather than our decision to have not shared it with her."

"Even my harbour-boy can't save everyone if they want to be stupid," Neeshka pointed out, her expression showing clearly how little she thought of Kaelyn and the idea of speaking to her again.

"That wasn't quite how I'd put it," said Blake slightly chidingly, "but… yes."

"And of your other purpose here?" Okku rumbled. "You do seem to have learned to channel your curse, twist it further to your will."

"Yes, and it did feel like it was doing what I wished, it felt merciful, it felt right," Blake replied, looking troubled. "But in releasing the Priest I did gain an essence, and if this much of his energy remains here in my possession then how much of him did I actually send to his rest? However it felt if the result is the same, a vanished spirit and an essence remaining, then can it really be so different?"

"It can, I think," mused Gann. "Rather than a whip across my mind it was more like a gentle stroke from a farmgirl's finger… though not as enjoyable of course."

"Nonetheless," Blake replied, a little comforted by Gann's words, "I think that, even with needing another two essences for Nak'kai, unless the victim is both hostile and evil I shall avoid using this power."

"That would be wise, little-one," rumbled Okku.

Blake looked at Okku for a moment, wondering if that was threat or advice, but then decided that whichever it was it would be wise to heed. "If the flames here still burned…" he began to say.

"You'd not have that strange key," Gann commented.

"And we'd have somewhere to cremate the Red Wizards and Gargoyles," continued Blake. "Kelemvor though might have disapproved of those that had died under his aegis being cremated in a furnace of his predecessor."

Gann waved one hand and gave a slight sneer. "You know my feelings on these supposed gods so I find it hard to think their opinion important."

"Never thought I'd wish Qara was here," Neeshka said, speaking quickly before Blake and Gann could argue.

"True, she could have easily burned those bodies with the great affinity Kossuth granted her for fire," nodded Blake, being successfully distracted and adding after a little thought, "and with it being Kossuth that blessed her those flames might have been purifying flames and been suitable."

There was a long pause before Blake shrugged with a clank and, having rejected the furnace, led the others back out of the Death God's vault and to the nearest portal which happened to be one that led to outside in Mulsantir. They had not slept late and had not spent that long on the Shadow Plane so the morning was not far advanced and the pleasant, though winter-weak, sunshine was a welcome change. Having swapped helmet and chainmail hood for hat and a bare neck the cooling breeze could be felt on Blake strapped his shield to his back and decided to head for the marketplace. If nothing else it would let them buy some more supplies before their meal and seeing if a boat was awaiting them at the docks.

To Blake's pleasure, and Neeshka's annoyance, there was a distinctive figure wandering the stalls. The ruckus of the marketplace seemed to dwindle wherever Kaelyn went, her half-celestial serenity smothering the rough life of the mortal world and the bartering. She glanced across as Blake approached her but her face showed no welcome and no anger and no curiosity. "You have returned," Kaelyn said in her detached voice. "Why?"

"Two reasons," Blake replied, "the first being that the Priest Spirit spoke to me when we realised my spirit-eater curse might be used to grant him rest."

"Ah, that is good," said Kaelyn, almost managing to sound pleased rather than indifferent. "He had suffered long."

"Indeed," Blake agreed, reaching into his bag, "and in the ashes of the Furnace we found this." Kaelyn's eyes actually widened very slightly as expression almost came to her face when she saw what Blake was holding out. "It is not the actual sword," he continued, "but it may be the key to the lower levels you sought. There seemed, at least, nothing else in the Furnace that could be the key the Spirits said was hidden within."

Kaelyn carefully took the replica. "You have my thanks then, and my search may continue."

"Be cautious," Blake warned. "The Priest also mentioned those levels had been sealed since the time of Myrkul's death, when followers of Cyric assaulted that vault, so whatever lies below has been trapped there for centuries."

"Your concern touches me," said Kaelyn, though her emotionless voice made that sound sarcastic, "but with Ilmater's blessing I will succeed. There is too much I need to know, too much injustice I need to fight, for me to falter now."

"Very well," Blake replied. "My second reason is to simply ask whether you had heard of this spirit-eater curse in your research of Akachi's Crusade?"

Kaelyn frowned as she thought a moment, "There were references to a hunger that could never be sated, to eternal longing, which could be fitting to your plight. Why?"

"The shaman at the Berserker Lodge said the spirits had told him of a connection."

"Then there may well be one," admitted Kaelyn, "but not one I have any true insight to offer on, save that I have heard nothing to contradict that."

"Then the luck of Tymorra be with you in your quest," Blake replied, "may Oghma grant you knowledge and the inspiration to allow you to best use it."

"And those blessings to you in yours," responded Kaelyn politely, "and I pray Ilmater helps you endure your suffering as you seek your answers."

Blake nodded respectfully to her and then moved away from Kaelyn to where the others were waiting. Neeshka of course had kept her distance and Okku had judged the marketplace too crowded for his presence. Gann seemed to have just been people watching, admiring the wives and daughters and sisters shopping and relying on the natural reluctance of the husbands and fathers and brothers to do more than glare at someone standing next to a bear-god.

They moved down the short hill and into the Sloop Inn. As they entered Zorah gave them a slight glare as known troublemakers but then her warning expression changed to one of shock as Okku squeezed himself through the door. The main room was quiet and relatively tidy. The actors were somewhere else, perhaps sleeping off their drunkenness of the previous night, and the remains of the pirates and the evidence of their slaughter had long since vanished. Blake, Neeshka, and Gann sat with Okku settling down near their table. After a few moments, during which a waitress shook her head several times, Vladek approached them.

"Hello again my friends," Vladek said, looking at Okku and not really blaming his waitress for her reluctance to approach, "I hope no more fighting today."

"So do I," replied Blake, "though I do also hope for a good hot meal to travel on."

"That we can provide," Vladek said, before adding, "even if our kitchen is not as fully staffed as it would be if we had people staying in the suite. We did lose those guests though, a few hours before the guards searched the room and shortly after you spoke to Shelvedar."

"What a strange coincidence," commented Blake, "I hope they did not break anything."

"They were very careful," Vladek replied.

From her post by the door Zorah grunted and nodded. The guards had been rather too eager about the idea of searching and too puffed up with their own mission and importance. After she had held their leader off the ground by his throat and, while his face turned purple, informed them they were liable for anything they broke or that went missing they had been more inclined to behave, especially as she had followed and watched their search with occasional scowls.

"For your meal what would you wish?" continued Vladek. "Certainly can feed three of you though I am doubt we have enough in our stores for honoured Okku."

"I need no food," Okku rumbled, "and if I did regain the ability to eat I'd not want it cooked or even for it to have been dead for longer than the few seconds since I killed it myself. I am no scavenger to feed on meat dead for hours that I did not take myself."

"A relief that is great-one," replied Vladek, "would take gold and haggling to have an extra delivery to refill the storeroom."

"Bacon," Blake ordered. "Eggs, either scrambled or fried. Toasted bread with cheese. Beef sausages… do you have cold cuts of pork and chicken?"

"We do," said Vladek, nodding as he memorised the order.

"Then some of those as well for later," Blake replied.

Vladek began to turn away and then paused. Blake looked at him, put some gold coins on the table, and looked at him again. Reassured that Blake had the coin to pay for the meal the inn owner hurried off. A few minutes, and some shouting at the kitchen drudges and the reluctant waitress, later the waitress approached the table with some thick toasted bread and some hunks of cheese. Blake frowned but accepted this rather than insisting the cheese be toasted onto the bread as there were platters of bacon and sausage and eggs both scrambled and fried approaching.

Some haggling over the price of the meal and much happy chomping later the edge seemed to have been taken off the hunger enough to speak. Neeshka had looked quite impressed as Blake worked his way through such a large breakfast, though also a little concerned. If they had been able to find privacy this appetite would have been worked up more honestly, but as they had not this might be an effect of the curse.

"Despite what the Gargoyles said," Blake finally commented, swallowing a mouthful of toasted bread and sausage, "still Ashenwood first I think. The Red Wizard scheme would be hard to untangle and the 'red lady' won't get any more dead if she has been killed and if we delay."

"Hmmm," mused Gann, "I would, as I said, like to see this Sunken City but very well. Perhaps, in the time we spend travelling to seek the Wood Man, I will dream more details of that city that will aid us."

"Or perhaps you'll just dream of yet more willing farmgirls," Neeshka said, her worry for Blake leading her to distract herself by gibing at Gann.

"I can but hope," replied Gann smoothly, "though I shall not dream of unwilling Tieflings."

"You had best not," Blake muttered.

"Now, now… I am used to that reaction from anxious fathers, so I will not take it amiss but I assure you, despite what the Witches say, I do not go where I am unwelcome."

"Surprised you go anywhere then," Neeshka said with mock sweetness.

Blake nodded and chased a bit of fried egg around his plate with some toast as Gann half bowed his head in the manner of a fencer acknowledging a touch. Gann could tell Neeshka was worried and so he did not take her comments to heart. If this banter took her mind off her concerns then being a target for it was a service a gentleman could provide. Eventually even Blake could eat no more and after thanking Vladek they left. The docks of Mulsantir were not as extensive as Neverwinter's so it was only a short walk down them to the other end where a man was standing watching their approach. He seemed to be expecting them so Blake took a guess.

"Are you Vaszil?" Blake asked.

"That I am," replied the old man, "and I know who you must be. The Witches say you need a boat. A faster way you won't find to the Ashenwood, unless you know Witch-magic." Vaszil turned and bowed his head in respect, "An honour it would be for you to take my boat as a gift, great bear-king."

"Hmh. I could swim across the river but…" Okku rumbled in reply before admitting, "carrying even one of you with me would be difficult and Ashenwood is far to the north."

"This boat will carry you true to the forest, three day journey if the winds are kind," claimed Vaszil, his tone humble before the bear-god, before turning back to Blake and speaking more normally to comment, "though you don't have the look of a sailor about you."

"Not much water in a swamp that's not mixed with mud," Blake admitted. "I should be able to manage though, if I can attune myself to the magic that has been placed on that craft."

"A fair warning you've been given then," replied Vaszil, not that concerned for the outlanders or the Hagspawn as he knew Okku could swim well. "May the winds be at your back, so you've no need to tack… The command word to activate the boat is 'Wendersnaven'."

"'Wendersnaven'?" Neeshka commented as Vaszil left. "Like those invisible things Grobnar wanted us to look for?"

Blake shrugged and approached the boat. "Ahem, 'Wendersnaven'…" Blake said, adding after a pause, "ah, that worked."

The boat quivered as Blake spoke the command word. The difference was subtle, the boat did not move, but it was like the difference between seeing a corpse and seeing that same thing in a deep sleep. It seemed to be riding the small waves of the lake rather than simply floating on them. Blake paused a moment as he drew in a deep breath and drew in some insight into how the weave was winding itself around this craft.

"Quite lively," Blake commented, "and the magics feel quite eager to sail, like a horse too long between gallops."

"Let's just get onboard," smiled Neeshka, "at least we don't have a Dwarf to get seasick."

"Technically here it would be lake-sick," Gann pointed out.

Neeshka stuck her tongue out at him as they boarded. The planks of the deck creaked as Okku tried to find enough room and then there was a thump as he settled himself down. Blake checked the boat over and nodded as he found some supplies in barrels and crates within the small deckhouse. Casting one last look at Mulsantir he started removing some of his armour so he could swim a little better.

"Take us to Ashenwood," Blake commanded, once he had removed the plates and was down to chainmail.

The ropes tying the boat to the jetty writhed and withdrew themselves back into coils on the deck. Other ropes loosened and let themselves pass over blocks so the sails unfurled and were set to the right angles. Neeshka jumped slightly to dodge as a boom swung so the light wind could fill that sail. Slowly the Witchboat began to move. A little of the magic moved it directly to give it some steerage way and get it out of the wind-shadow of the town while most of the magic worked on ropes and rudder to sail the boat. Blake nodded in satisfaction and went back to undressing and sorting himself out some light armour for the voyage.