The sky was just beginning to brighten when Tawna's scream shattered the fragile peace the Way Inn had finally managed to gather.
Before going to sleep last night, the travelers had hoped a feast would wash away their fear. After a restless, uneasy night, what awaited them was a second tragedy.
In the common room, the inn's servers carried the body up from the cellar.
The dead man's eyes were open, and he wore a pleasant smile, as if he had seen something joyful just before he died.
"I've never seen a man smile after having his throat cut," an old mercenary said in a low voice, his bloodshot eyes tight with strain.
"It must have been the devil. The devil tempted him. The devil is here. None of us can escape."
"We have to drive that bastard out. Anyone who disagrees can be driven out with him!"
Skyl led Mia down the stairs. The undead kept letting out inhuman, uneasy growls. Everyone turned toward the warlock, and the hatred in their expressions was no longer hidden.
The devil had yet to descend, but people's hearts had already created one. Now they were acting in the devil's name.
Skyl looked around at them. He had slept well last night. In the second half of the night, the pouring rain had softened into a steady patter, and the thunder had rolled away into the distance. The white noise of the surroundings had been quite pleasant. Compared to the cold stillness of a magical mansion, sleep closer to nature was better for restoring the spirit.
By contrast, the travelers trapped in the Way Inn had spent the night gripped by fear, and it had been hard to endure.
Standing at the foot of the stairs, Skyl said loudly, "I know you resent me for bringing the devil here."
His answer was cold silence. A crowd's fury was not always violent. Sometimes it was only a wordless stare.
Edgin hesitated. He wanted to speak on the warlock's behalf, but did not know where to begin. He had doubts of his own.
Stan wore a broad smile, completely confident in his companion.
The elven druid was not here. Many of the Red Wizards were missing as well.
Certain undercurrents were still flowing, but Skyl was already preparing to continue his journey south and leave this troublesome place behind. He had rested well and slept soundly. In the inn, the only people as carefree as him were Stan and the halfling Tawna.
"I'm telling you, the devil has not descended yet. When it does, I will kill it. Many of you think I'm raving, but every word I've said is true."
"How are we supposed to believe you?"
"You can choose not to believe me, of course. You can choose to hate me too. But I can guarantee that no one will die by the devil's hand."
"Nonsense! This corpse is right here! It's the best proof!"
Skyl took a stick of incense from his component pouch. "I can cast [Speak with Dead] and let the corpse answer five questions. Whether he was killed by the devil, murdered by one of us, or committed suicide, we can ask clearly."
The people who did not understand magic looked at one another.
"Before we begin, I need to remind everyone seriously. Do not speak in a questioning tone. There are only five chances. Remember that. Mr. Edgin Darvis, that especially includes you. Stay quiet in a moment."
The bard, who had suddenly been singled out by Skyl, was baffled.
"Got it," he said.
Skyl had already remembered who this bard named Edgin Darvis was. He was the main character of Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves. When his companions cast [Speak with Dead], this fellow had contributed a classic stretch of useless chatter and wasted all five questions. It had been funny, but it was not suited for a serious situation.
The incense was lit. The incantation was chanted. Gestures were made. The warp and weft of the Weave trembled, and faint echoes stirred in the air.
Without realizing it, the agitated travelers were calmed by Skyl. The steady presence radiating from the warlock made them trust him unconsciously. Even those who still suspected he had evil intentions were willing to let him try casting the spell.
"Whew," the dead man exhaled as his eyes opened.
Skyl stepped forward and pulled the dagger from his throat. Strictly speaking, as long as a corpse had a mouth, it could answer questions. Even if it had rotted down to a skeleton, it could still speak. But clearing the airway made it look a little less unpleasant.
"First question. Who killed you?"
"The dwarf Join. He attacked me in the cellar. A crossbow bolt went into my throat, and then he stabbed my dagger into it, that cesspit-soaked bastard."
The crowd began whispering. Many people noticed that the dwarf uncle and nephew were not present.
"Quiet. Second question. Why were you in the cellar?"
The dead man scratched his head and sighed. Perhaps even he thought his death was ridiculous and shameful. But the dead did not lie, so he answered honestly. "I was almost out of money, and that crooked merchant Jamal took the chance to raise prices, so I went to the cellar to steal something to eat. There's plenty of food in the cellar. Don't believe his crap."
The crowd's murmuring grew louder, and everyone cast accusing looks at Jamal.
The innkeeper's eyes flickered, and he pretended not to hear anything. There was no merchant without a little fraud, my friends.
"Third question. Why did they kill you?"
"I wanted the diamond they had on them. I happened to run into them when they came to the cellar to steal food too, so I tried threatening the dwarf Barenda. I just couldn't beat him."
Skyl raised an eyebrow. He really did need a diamond.
"How did you know they had a diamond?"
The dead man looked around the crowd and pointed at one person. "He told me."
The man he pointed at turned pale. He glanced left and right, then suddenly snorted coldly and said, "Plenty of people know about that. Of those who stayed here, six out of ten want that diamond."
"Don't slander people!"
"What nonsense are you talking about?"
"Everyone came here for the diamond. Stop pretending to be good people."
The travelers, who had only just been united in hatred, fell into infighting again.
Skyl smiled. He suddenly thought of Middle-earth, where the jewel of the Lonely Mountain had likewise brought death through greed. It seemed this inn had already been lively enough. Even if he had not come, there still would have been a murder.
"All right. Last question. Before you died, did you hear the devil's voice?"
The dead man stopped speaking, and the arguing crowd in the inn fell silent as well.
Silence.
Outside, the rain intensified again. Perhaps the world had already become an ocean.
The undead Mia's frantic struggle reached its peak. Her hood and scarf fell away, revealing her undead appearance.
The people backed away in terror.
The dead man shouted, "I... heard it. It's here. It's here!"
The moment he finished speaking, Mia went completely still.
Skyl drew in a deep breath. His expression relaxed, and he said in a low voice, "I hope it hasn't made me wait for nothing."
He looked around, then suddenly moved through the crowd and strode toward the door.
As he walked, he said, "All of you stay here. The fighting won't reach the inn. Stan, look after these people and don't let Mia run loose. Tawna, make me a serving of spicy potatoes. I'll eat it when I get back."
"Where are you going?" Edgin shouted.
"To kill the devil."
The warlock pushed open the front door. The bay horse had already walked out of the stable. He swung himself into the saddle and lightly pressed his heels to the horse's flanks. That mass of smoldering fire carried the man in white into the torrential rain, charging straight into the storm.
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