26 Flamerule

Imoen used the spell with a snap of her fingers, the fire quickly spilling from her hands against the hobgoblin, downing it in an instant with a burn across its chest. Then she began chanting; she juggled three almond shells between her hands, and at the moment of effect the casings vanished in a haze of bright pink light. The hobgoblin I fought stepped back, his stance wavering; of the two that Shar-Teel stood between, one fell to his knees as though trying to pray to her, and the other dashed away. There was no change in the one battling Ajantis, but a sling bullet from Faldorn hit heavily in its skull.

The Burning Earth went up and through the hobgoblin's throat; the blade seared enough of the flesh and bone that I could shift it out by cutting left. He fell. Shar-Teel stabbed into the shoulder and down toward the heart for the one who knelt. Viconia's crossbow pierced the neck of the one that ran away; lightning gathered around the bolt, and the hobgoblin collapsed. The last of that group.

They attacked us first. We were nearly to Ulgoth's Beard once more. Ajantis' left shoulder was wounded; I went to him and touched it, healing.

"I lost my gifts as a paladin—" he said (—because you're a murderer, of course—), "and you—"he snapped—"I have seen you are granted the ability to do this?"

"It's not from a god. Odd; but useful," I said. I remember my great-aunt Cincilla had a second cousin who was a wizard; just because there's no magic on the Silvershield side doesn't mean...

"Sorcery." His outrage was apparent by the set of his chin and the glare of his eyes.

Imoen came up to us, wiping a hand across her forehead. "What's wrong with that? She's had it a while. All we can do is say, it's weird. Or we could always send a little note to that Anchev bloke asking why's-on-earth-does-he-care-about-a-little-healing-charm." I needed to tell her what I'd wondered about Anchev having actually done, before—

"Far inferior to Shar," Viconia judged. "You bore me, children."

Imoen sighed, her shoulders slumped; she looked tired. "I can do Agannazar's fire spell instantlike now, no components," she said. "Mebbe in me it's that Dyna taught me that one, one of the first I learned. But it feels creepy. P'raps I won't use it too often." She brightened slightly. "But Islanne's confuse-everyone spell, beardy's not such a bad teacher, it hurts my head but I know I'm going to get better—even better," she said, running a slightly smoked hand through her hair. Ulcaster had taught her three complicated castings from Islanne's scrolls: the confusion, a second one about swords, and the one she'd had trouble understanding. "Know how everything's vulnerable to me now, too..."

"Go through the bodies," Shar-Teel called impatiently to me. Hobgoblin bands usually carry a bit of gold. It's unwise for an adventurer to just leave resources behind, even if one might feel no immediate need at all...but it's still not particularly pleasant to search a body one just executed. One had worn a human-made silver necklace as a bracelet, a crudely-sculpted swan ornamenting it. Impossible to find the original owner, of course. Thirteen gold and almost twice that in silver for the end of seven creatures.

To Ulgoth's Beard. There was a chance we'd beat the word Clair De'Lain had sent to Therella; caravans had to be riding again by now, since most of the bandits were gone. It depended on when the next one had left Nashkel; and the larger ones travel more slowly than smaller ones, and can't take the same shortcuts as small groups on foot. Eddard took twenty-five days on his first caravan trip to Athkatla, and only fifteen to return... We regathered our equipment; Shar-Teel patted the hilt of the dagger that dwarf wanted. An ugly thing, really; I have seen dwarven work that was far better designed. A grey-coloured metal with dark red—glass, it looked like—set into the handle, just below the surface. Once supposedly wielded by Arlo Stoneblade (The brave Arlo Stoneblade was Durlag's man-at-arms...It came to pass that Durlag Trollkiller and Arlo Stoneblade ventured into the bowels of the Great Ryft and they fought the hideous tanar'ri...); ancestral value. Not an instrument I would have picked at my nails with.

The sun had set, and the sky was a dark orange by the time the smoke of Ulgoth's Beard chimneys rose ahead of us. Another night in an inn with a real bed. Imoen sighed in anticipation.

The inn had hardly changed, though of course it had not been particularly long since that last time. It was quiet on that night, all but one room vacant; the brown-coloured stew they managed was cold but well-spiced, more heavily so than the last time. I slept easily; Imoen studied her spells, and sank into the bed beside mine. We'd knocked on Therella's door in the village and told her that her son was safe; she'd been happy, no longer twisting her hands in worry and fear, joyful and satisfied. In one thing I helped to do something right, me and Ajantis. The night was cold when we got to bed, but the blankets were warm and clean.

Then it was still dark and cold, and there was a pounding noise.

"Tooearlyfortraining..." I muttered; in my sleep, Shar-Teel came at me with her sword raised.

The pounding on Shar-Teel's armour—no, it was something stonelike—did not stop. I burrowed further into the pillow.

The pounding continued. The stone door was rather thick. "Waelen! I know you are there!"

"Mtiredjustabitlonger..." Time to go back to sleep. Dreamless, preferably.

"Our ilharess commands," the distant voice spoke. "Come! Or by Shar I shall break this door to a thousand pieces."

I was drifting closer to waking. "Coming..."

Imoen shifted, starting to move; I could hear her indistinct voice. It was still dark.

"Obey orders. Now," Viconia said. I shambled out of the bed; I saw very clearly that night remained. The door slowly opened, Imoen behind me. "Whatdyouwant?" I stumbled sleepily out. Viconia's unfastened boots were the first I saw of her. Then at the top of her bare legs a loose tunic began, and above its abbreviated neckline her white hair flowed freely across her face and shoulders. That was stained, the strands held together by a sticky red. In the passage was blood: the smell of death. I came to my senses quickly.

"You see, then." Viconia pointed. It was three, I think, that we could see, three bodies lying some distance from our room, two sets of dead feet and one bloodied torso from the door of the room Viconia and Shar-Teel had shared. Imoen gasped beside me. A thick door—

"She interrogates the hargluk in the dining room. Go while I wake the druid and the fallen one."

Imoen grasped at her mage robes, to wear over her nightdress; I took a long tunic, rushing out and combing my hair with my hands. What all this meant—

The dwarf was seated at the inn's table. Shar-Teel stood over him. Blood soaked her shirt and her breeches were half unlaced; her sword was naked in her right hand, dripping red from its purple sheen. She grasped the dwarf by the collar with her free hand, lifting him close to her face. "Tell it all, male."

"The dagger—" he wheezed. Imoen started forward, as if she was about to make Shar-Teel drop him. "—They call it Soultaker—"

Imoen stood by her, watching; I waited beside her.

"Taken by friends of yours?" Shar-Teel snarled.

"No—my grandfather—" the dwarf continued.

This must be Hurgan Stoneblade, then; the dwarven grandson.

Durlag slew only the demon's body. He entrapped its soul in an enchanted dagger.

I'd read it all along.

"—Please—" the dwarf said, small and grimacing, but it wasn't for his own life that he pleaded. Faldorn and Ajantis appeared behind Viconia, Faldorn rubbing her eyes and Ajantis bearing Varscona. "They have captured it. Help me take it back to keep safe. Spare the coast from—"

—Unthinkable evil. The demon's gaze that is not a gaze, but a look into your soul—

—