To Twilight's eyes, the room was empty, and that was precisely her concern.
'Cast a scrying and see for yourself. This room's changed since last night.'
Taslin lifted her hand to draw upon Corellon's blessing, but Davoren shoved it back down. 'Save your power. The might of the Nine is infinite,' he said.
He intoned a string of dark words. The others, excepting Twilight, flinched at the vile syllables. When Davoren had completed the chant, he cast his gaze about the room.
The sun elf favored him with a glare of pure murder. The death of Asson had changed her, and the doll seemed to have removed her last cache of serenity. Indeed, Twilight reflected-after that day and night, Taslin had been edgy, sharp, and quick to temper. Yet she was forgivable-Twilight understood heartbreak.
And as Taslin weakened, Davoren grew stronger. 'Asmodeus's might is with me. I see no wards active.' Davoren laughed, and Twilight wondered if she needed to cow him again. 'Yet you delay?'
'That's the very matter,' she said. 'There should be wards active on that door'-she pointed at the opposite exit-'and possibly beyond. Something's been here before us, and it tripped the wards.' She bent and scanned the floor.
'The word of a thief,' Davoren observed, 'is worse than worthless.'
'There's no sign?' asked Liet, hunkering down beside Twilight.
Twilight shook her head. 'I don't see any new tracks, nor is the dust disturbed,' she said. 'But I know there were wards active on that door. I saw them.'
'Saw them?' scoffed the warlock. 'Magic is not so simple that a gutterkiss can 'see' it. Or is there some other power you hide, filliken?'
Twilight shot an angry look at him. She thought about threatening him again, but since she hadn't followed through the first time, her threats meant much less. She rose silently and stared down the dark hallway, standing close to Liet.
'We should go back,' she whispered.
'Why?' the youth asked. 'We explored this way yestereve.'
'Was that all that transpired yestereve, I wonder?' Davoren asked.
She wouldn't let that nettle her. 'Something's come this way and lies in wait.'
'How can you know that?' Taslin asked.
'Truly,' said Liet. That was a shock, but Twilight buried the twinge of hurt. Of course she couldn't look offended that he didn't take her side. She almost would have preferred his comment to be vindictive, but his eyes held nothing but cold logic.
'A feeling.' Twilight paused. 'But I know 'tis a true one.'
Davoren chuckled at her 'feeling,' and broke into a full laugh. 'Well, we don't know that. I say we press on.'
'I see no reason to turn back,' said Taslin. 'We have only just begun the day.'
'I don't know, she could be right!' Slip said. Davoren and Taslin both glared at her. 'Or… not.' She looked up at Gargan, but the goliath said nothing. Slip looked back and forth between the two opposing camps and followed his suit.
'Liet?' asked Twilight, not wanting to. 'What say you?'
The youth looked at her for a long breath, rubbing at his sheathed arms. Finally, he shrugged. 'If something tripped the wards and survived,' he said, 'logically, 'twould have attacked us as we slept, watch or no. At least we'd find a trace. Since it didn't do so, and we didn't find any sign, I say you could well be wrong. Perhaps the wards merely expired on their own and needed no help. Regardless, there's no reason to go back.'
Twilight bit her lip. She shouldn't have cared, but it still hurt.
'Here!' exclaimed Slip from just beyond the once-enspelled doorway. She stood inside a narrow alcove off the corridor. 'Look at this! Some manner of markings!'
Fighting the discomfort that came from being contradicted by Liet, Twilight knelt down beside the halfling. Sure enough, something had been etched into the inside of the doorway-four roughly vertical lines with dashes, crosshatches, and markings that rose parallel to one another, almost like tally marks.
'What are they?' asked the halfling.
'Qualith,' said Twilight. 'Illithid. Crude. Scratched with a talon, mayhap.'
'A mind flayer wizard?' Davoren said doubtfully.
'Sorcerer, more likely.' The warlock just shrugged as if to dismiss the distinction. 'I've seen stranger things.'
'You say that often,' said Liet.
'And 'tis true every time,' Twilight said, eliciting weighing looks. Mystery was comforting-he'd come just a little too close to her that night.
'Believe it or not, these are the marks of the Illithid language. They record emotions and thoughts.' She ran her fingers over the markings.
'What need has a race of mind mages for written words?' Davoren scoffed.
'Telepathy has a limit,' said Twilight. She laid her hand flat against the writing. 'And this message was left for someone.'
'Can you read it?' asked Liet.
'Qualith is amazingly complex, meant to be read by illithids themselves. It would take extraordinary talent or decades of study to decipher these markings,' said Twilight.
'So which do you have?' asked Liet.
Twilight smiled. It was hard to stay angry at the youth. Perhaps she could forgive him his lack of support. Later, perhaps, once he had well-and fully-atoned.
Eyes shut, she traced her fingers down the four lines.
'Anything?' asked Slip, shifting anxiously.
'Resentment,' said Twilight, 'at being imprisoned. Rage, at the writer's captor. A touch of fear, at the power of those above. And a name.' She scrunched her brow in thought. 'This illithid was a prisoner of a place called Negarath.'
From the way the warlock reacted, Davoren knew the name somehow.
'You recognize this word?' asked Twilight.
Davoren bared his teeth. Their battle had certainly made him less guarded in his contempt for everyone and everything.
'Never you mind,' he snapped. 'This prisoner is long gone, as is anything else in this wizard's sanctum. There is no danger.'
Twilight cast a supplicating look back toward Liet, longing for support, but the youth merely shrugged. Twilight bristled.
'Very well, then,' said Twilight. 'We move forward, against my judgment. I want that noted.'
The others nodded, and only Gargan looked at Twilight with something approaching uncertainty. Not that he acted on it.
What good are you if you don't speak up? Twilight cursed.
The corridor beyond the back chamber of the wizard's sanctum turned out to contain many such alcoves for holding prisoners-in magical stasis, Twilight reasoned. The alcoves were empty and appeared to have been so for some time. Twilight felt no magic active anywhere in the corridor. The dark pathway terminated in another portal, this one complete with a stout stone door.
Twilight could hear no sounds through the door, so she examined it. She found no hidden needles or pressure plates, and while the device used a dozen sliding bars in a complex design-a dragon grinning as though bemused- the actual lock seemed simple enough. She slipped out her picks and fell to work, springing the device in a few breaths.
'Sand. Something feels wrong,' Twilight said as she stood and stepped back for Gargan to push the door open. The door cracked and creaked, then swung open on its own into darkness, lit only by dim candle flames. 'I think-'
'What's the worry?' Slip asked. She smiled at Gargan. 'It's just-' she gasped.
Twilight looked into the darkness, as did the others. In the chamber beyond, four startled lizardmen blinked at the companions, roused from their game of bones.
