him the small, neat parlor that was almost never used in the winter. The family preferred the big common room off the kitchen during the coldest months, she explained to Gustin, as the heat from the two kitchen chimneys kept that room nicely warm. 'As does having a dozen Carvers stuffed in there at any given time,' she added. -
'I've noticed your family tends to the large size,' he replied.
'All except me and Myemaw,' agreed Sophraea, crossing the parlor to pull open the not-very-secret door built to look like a fireplace cupboard. A stack of candles sat on the table at the top of the twisty dark staircase leading down. Looking up at the wizard, Sophraea asked, 'Can you keep track of time in your head?' 'Fairly well,' replied Gustin.
'We can't be gone forever,' warned Sophraea, lighting a candle and shoving it into a holder. 'But there's always a lot of chatter and chores after a big meal. We should have time to get under the tomb if we hurry.'
'So where does this stair go?' asked Gustin, following close behind Sophraea. Shadows cast by her candle flickered upon the wall beside him. Within two turns of the stair, a glance back over his shoulder showed the door to the neat little parlor was lost to view.
'To the lowest basement,' she replied. 'Step carefully, sometimes things get loose down here.' 'Things?' said Gustin.
'You know, corpses that aren't quite settled in their coffins yet. Unusually large reptiles slipping in from the sewers,' said Sophraea as she drew back the bolt of a door bound with three bands of iron. It swung open silently on well-oiled hinges. The air from the lower depths smelled drier than many dungeons that he had been in, but still had that tang that let him know they were heading underground.
'But the boys did a cleaning down here a few days ago,' Sophraea continued, 'all the way down the stairs to the bottom basement. Myemaw insisted.'
'Did they find anything?' asked Gustin, trying to sound as nonchalant as her. One thing he had figured out on his first day in Waterdeep was to never show any surprise or astonishment to its citizens. Even though every step down the most ordinary street made him tighten his jaw muscles just to keep his mouth from dropping open at the sights and sounds of the city.
Look at their earlier walk through the City of the Dead. A functioning topiary spell, a casual conversation with a thorn about the possibility of the dead moving around on their own, and the sure signs of some major ritual or curse surrounding those two tombs. That was just in the north end of the graveyard, the area that his guidebook said was quiet and of little interest to travelers.
And look at the girl tripping down the stairs so lightly in front of him. None of what they had encountered had surprised her. Perhaps startled or more likely annoyed, especially when she landed under that topiary dragon's paw. But she'd remained completely calm in that Waterdhavian way that made him feel like he was twelve again and had just rolled off a farm wagon with hay still stuck to his hair.
'Mostly they cleaned out some rodent nests,' she answered his question. 'And a couple of lizards. But nothing too nasty.'
Gustin reached into his tunic, tapping for a reassuring moment his guidebook to Waterdeep. But he didn't need the large spells and rituals hidden there. It was just a gloomy staircase leading into a basement stacked with coffins and corpses. Perhaps a few rodents or a lizard. Nothing to bother a well-traveled young wizard like himself. Sophraea wasn't the only one on this staircase who could exhibit an unruffled attitude.
A scrabbling of claws sounded overhead. A glance toward the ceiling revealed a flick of a scaled tail before whatever it was disappeared back into shadows.
'See,' said Sophraea. 'Just a lizard or two. You get them down at this level. They help keep down the bugs.'
'I don't mind bugs,' he said, shaking his wand out of his sleeve. He tapped one end against the back of his left hand and a small white flame sprang up. At least that allowed him to see his feet as they followed Sophraea round another bend in the stairs.
She stopped to unbolt another thick wooden door. 'Last one between the stairs and the basement proper,' Sophraea said.
'I keep forgetting this is so heavy,' she added, pulling the massive door toward her. Gustin reached easily over her head and grabbed the door's edge to shove it open with his free hand.
They emerged in a dark cellar room, lit only by one guttering candle on a table near the door. Two men sat at the table, making loud slurping noises as they finished the last drops of something dished out of the iron kettle resting between them. Even in the dim light, neither could be mistaken for fully human. One had tentacles instead of hair and the other had scales instead of skin.
The big man with tentacles writhing around his head pushed back his chair, rising quickly as soon as he spotted them in the doorway. The smaller man, who resembled a two-legged fish, pursed open his mouth as he turned in his chair toward the girl, revealing a double-row of sharp pointy teeth.
The tentacled man hurried forward, his arms opened wide, a dripping fork in one hand.
Gustin grabbed the girl in front of him and, ignoring Sophraea's squeak of protest, pulled her behind him. He joggled her hand, causing her to drop her candle. The little flame winked out, leaving the basement full of shadows, the only light the single candle burning on the table.
The stranger's tentacles fanned out around his head, whipping back and forth like a snake about to strike. The one with two rows of teeth sprang out of his chair to follow his companion.
Gustin's hand flew up and the flame flared at the end of his wand.
Sophraea latched onto his wrist, shoving down his hand. 'Wait,' she cried as she had in the graveyard when she wanted to protect the topiary dragon.
He began to pull away but Sophraea shifted her grip, pushing at his wand to direct the flaming tip away from the man advancing toward them.
'Don't… be careful…' Gustin warned the girl.
Trying to take the wand out of Sophraea's grasp without hurting her, Gustin lost his own grip on it. In fact, as had happened once or twice before, he was sure that the cursed thing twisted deliberately under his Angers. With its usual spite, the wand spun out of his hand. Swearing under his breath, Gustin made a flailing grab for it. The flame detached itself from the end of the rod, rolled itself into a ball of sparks, and whizzed out of reach.
Sophraea squeaked as the ball of sparks sped past her nose. The strange little ball ricocheted off the wall, and bounced back over his head. He waved his arms wildly, trying to deflect it away from his hair, trying to call up a shield between them and the out-of-control ball of sparks as quickly as he could. The spluttering ball of light flew upward, colliding with the ceiling.
With a sharp crack, a chunk of plaster broke loose and fell from above, hitting him squarely on the top of his head.
His knees buckled and he fell back onto the sputtering Sophraea. Just like a farm boy falling off the barn roof, he thought a little incoherently as he tumbled into the girl that he had hoped to impress with his quick wits and magic.
There wasn't much of her but what there was cushioned parts of him nicely as they both landed on the hard cold stone floor. Still, she wasn't very long and Gustin cracked his chin on the top of her head and, then, the back of his head on the stones below them.
After one more breathless squeak underneath him, Sophraea balled her hand into a tight little fist and punched his closest ear.
'Ouch,' Gustin groaned. The girl might be tiny but she could hit hard.
'Get off me!' Sophraea cried.
And the big man with tentacles for hair lunged at Gustin.
For the second time that day, Sophraea found herself pinned to the ground by a large body. Gustin was a dead weight that wasn't actually dead. As a Carver, she knew the difference. -
'Sophraea, Sophraea, are you all right?' She looked up into the concerned faces of the gravediggers Feeler and Fish. She hadn't expected them to be in the basement. Usually they went out after dinner for a drink in the Warrens.
Feeler grabbed Gustin's shoulder and rolled him off Sophraea. Fish reached down a scaled hand to help her to her feet. After a quick 'thank you' to Fish, she bent over Gustin. He struggled to sit upright with his head between his knees. Muffled groans emitted from him with greater drama than she felt was necessary. After all, he'd hit her on the top of the head when he fell and she could feel that lump forming. And she had not punched him that hard.
