Stan, who shared the room with him, was already snoring.
Edgin lay in bed, tossing and turning as he went over everything he had learned. He could faintly sense an invisible whirlpool of conspiracy looming over this bleak rainy-season stopover.
Everyone in the inn had their own thoughts. Before the mysterious man named Skyl arrived, a conspiracy had already been fermenting in the middle of that downpour. Back then, people had merely been indifferent, not afraid.
Then the first Red Wizard of Thay died, and the devil's shadow descended.
Why was the devil clinging to Skyl? Was it trying to take his soul, use him for some blasphemous scheme, or steal that silver scepter?
The Red Wizards' goal was clear. They wanted the silver scepter. Whatever the scepter did, it had to be important, or it never would have drawn the rulers of Thay here.
And that female elf was also watching for the scepter's whereabouts.
It seemed to be the center of the whirlpool.
Something that important had been handed to a halfling cook.
Edgin did not understand Skyl's decision. If it had been him, he would have taken the scepter and hidden away, or stashed it somewhere no one could ever find. Tawna was curious and ignorant. Giving her the scepter would only invite disaster.
Beyond that, he still had not figured out how the Red Wizard had died. Skyl said it was suicide, but had it been voluntary? Devils were always good at tempting people's hearts. Maybe it was tempting him right now.
"Damn it..." he sighed before he realized it. Outside the window, the rain was still falling without end.
He felt that someone was lying, but he was not sure who.
Only a corpse could not lie. With the third-level spell [Speak with Dead], a corpse could be made to speak and answer five questions.
The Red Wizards were gathered in their room, their companion lying on the floor. Even the undead could die. Even the mightiest lich would perish if its phylactery were destroyed. In the eyes of necromancers, death was both terrifying and fascinating. By fleeing death, they had obtained the secret of undeath.
"He failed Szass Tam's trust, but we will know the secrets he kept while he was alive."
A stick of spellcasting incense was lit. The spell was chanted. A Red Wizard formed the proper gestures and drew on the power of the Weave.
The dead man's eyes suddenly opened, and he let out a long sigh.
"Only five sentences," the Red Wizard said, glancing around at his companions. "Do not speak in the form of a question. Remember that."
"We understand."
"How did you die?"
The corpse thought for a moment, then said, "I obtained that scepter and tried to cast a spell to escape... Something must have gone wrong with the spell. I couldn't teleport away. I felt the tattoos on my body burning. Szass Tam killed me."
The Thayans looked at one another.
"When did you obtain the scepter?"
"After the warlock returned to his room, I created a Major Image to deceive all of you. Then I turned invisible, found that halfling alone, and demanded the scepter from her. She gave it to me."
"Where did you hide the scepter?"
"On me."
The Red Wizards stripped their companion bare. From head to toe, apart from a component pouch, a dagger, an arcane focus, and a packet of rations, there was only a small dinner fork.
"This fool. He was deceived."
"It seems he truly was tempted by the devil... An evil being from the Nine Hells has set its sights on this artifact."
"What should we do?"
The corpse automatically answered when it heard the question. "Take the artifact and leave this place. Flee somewhere Szass Tam cannot find."
"Shut up."
"That is already enough."
"One last question. Why did you act alone?"
"I wanted to break free of Szass Tam's control. He is a cold tyrant. With the artifact, I could have gained powerful magic and no longer needed to be driven like a slave by a lich." After saying this, the dead man lay peacefully back down.
The room fell into a brief silence. Every gaze in the room seemed full of hidden meaning.
By tacit agreement, none of them mentioned Szass Tam again, as if they were still utterly loyal to the old lich.
"If he truly had the artifact, then someone most likely took it from him. Those two bards, or the druid, are all suspects."
"When do we act?"
"...As soon as possible. Before the warlock's final battle with the devil. Otherwise, we will fail Szass Tam's expectations."
The Thayans lowered their heads and shivered silently.
The room's doors and windows were shut tight. Every sound was blocked by a ward, and those in the hallway could not hear the conversation inside.
Late at night, the dwarf uncle and nephew crept out of their room on short legs. Their fine steel armor made a faint scraping sound. Thanks to the endless rain, the clatter of the armor plates was masked, and they did not cause much of a disturbance.
Barenda Horn tightened the straps of his backpack and whispered, "Uncle, can we really get out? The devil is watching us."
"You really believe that man's nonsense? The devil is just a lie. They're a group of swindlers conspiring together. Their goal is to get our, lower your voice, diamond."
As Join Horn passed Skyl's room, he quietly spat, then continued onward. When they passed the Thayans' room, he saw a rat lingering outside the door. His face twitched, as if he had remembered something painful, and he quickened his pace.
"There's a rat here," Barenda whispered.
"What inn doesn't have rats? You... Barenda, you need to be steadier. Your father's position has fallen onto your shoulders. One day, you will have to bear everything for the Horn clan."
"I know, Uncle. I just thought of the mine. Little rats would keep us company." Barenda frowned. Working in a mine meant one could always run into underground poison gas, and rats were the living tools miners used to test the air.
"Stop thinking about the mine. We won't go back, and the people there won't come out either. Once the clan warriors arrive and meet up with us, we'll return home immediately. We've stayed here too long. The greedy flies are getting restless."
Barenda pressed his lips together and said nothing. He reached behind him and, through the cloth of his pack, touched the hard, massive stone inside.
He raised his hand before his eyes and studied it, feeling as if he could see the blood of his father and the clan miners. The bodies buried beneath the collapsed mine seemed to be staring at him dimly from the darkness.
The uncle and nephew quietly went down the stairs. One old wooden step let out a shrill creak when they stepped on it.
They both froze for a moment and listened carefully to the sounds around them. When they realized they did not seem to have drawn anyone's attention, they continued down.
The common room was pitch-black, like the stomach of a monster. The dwarf uncle and nephew slowly walked into the kitchen.
"There's only some bread and raw potatoes here. The food is all in the cellar."
"You go down and get it, Barenda. You know I can't crawl underground. I'll start shaking."
"Of course. Fine." Barenda sighed.
He climbed into the cellar and was pleasantly surprised by the stockpiles there. "That Jamal lied. There's plenty of food here. He was just taking the chance to raise prices. Crooked merchants ought to be crushed by rocks."
Barenda excitedly stuffed food into his backpack, completely unaware that danger was approaching.
A cold, gleaming dagger reached around from behind and pressed against the dwarf's throat, one of the places his armor did not protect.
"Quiet," a hoarse voice said. "My dagger is poisoned."
"...Who are you? What do you want?"
"Make the short one outside come in." The hoarse voice trembled slightly.
"He won't come down. He's afraid of enclosed spaces. Whatever you want, you can say it to me."
"No. If you don't call him down here, I'll cut off your ear." The dagger shifted slightly. Barenda suddenly exploded into action, raising his hand to seize the attacker's wrist before following through with a shoulder throw, slamming the ambusher to the ground.
The sound of the fight caught Join's attention. From the cellar entrance, he asked in a low voice, "What happened?"
"A thief attacked me. It's fine, Uncle."
"Deal with him quickly. We need to leave at once."
"I know, Uncle."
Barenda pinned down the masked man and pulled off his face covering, revealing a panicked young man.
"You can't kill me. If I shout and wake everyone up, none of you will be able to leave."
"It's you! Why did you attack me?"
"Because, because you're rich. You have a diamond." The young man cried as he begged, "It wasn't me. The devil tempted me into doing it. Please let me go. I know I was wrong."
Barenda hesitated.
A crossbow bolt pierced the young man's throat.
Join came down with a lantern and a hand crossbow in his hands. "Barenda, your father would be disappointed to see you. What should we do to thieves?"
"Punish them without mercy... Uncle, why did you come down? Aren't you most afraid of places like this?"
"If I hadn't come down, you would have messed this up again. I can endure it, as long as I don't think about your father's face."
Join pulled out the crossbow bolt, stabbed the dagger into the wound in the young man's throat, and then placed the young man's hands on the dagger. During the whole process, the man had not yet died and writhed like a live fish.
Barenda turned his head away, unable to bear the sight.
"There. Now he's just a fool who was tempted by the devil and killed himself. Even if the others guess the truth, we'll already be gone. Damn weather... We'll have to wait somewhere else. Daggerford might do." Join smiled smugly and dragged Barenda away.
The young man twitched on the ground. Blood spraying from his throat flowed across the floor, moving through the darkness like a living snake, gathering into one evil, horrifying sacrificial rune after another.
The air trembled. The sulfurous stench of Hell faintly emerged. The young man's despairing face gradually calmed, then revealed a cold, possessed smile, exactly like the dead Red Wizard's.
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