'You are a fool,' a hollow voice thundered, sending chills down his spine. Shadows lengthened through the room, encroaching along the walls and ceiling, crackling like dead leaves. The darkness pressed against him, edging him closer to the pane of glass. Tallus imagined he could hear distant wails and screams, the thousand or more souls trapped within the innards of the angel, imprisoned by foul and ancient magic.
'Sathariel,' Tallus managed. 'You should not come to this place. You risk too much.'
'Your wizards do not care.' Sathariel chuckled, the sound rumbling in Tallus's mind, scattering his thoughts. 'They have their studies and spells, desperate for what magic they can grasp in their greedy minds. The world will have been long burning before they think to research rituals of water.'
Despite himself, Tallus nodded in agreement, suspecting few of the idiots downstairs could see far beyond their own noses, but he knew there were a few who watched and listened, who still imagined themselves a part of the world beyond the walls of the house. Quessahn was a threat. Willful and often disobedient, she sought magic not for herself, but for others, wasting her talents on those who would never accept her, never trust her.
'Beware the deva, Tallus,' the angel whispered in his ear, the words stinking of decay. 'Leave him and the moon elf be.'
Shapes fluttered at the edge of the crawling dark, brushing against the walls like long, black feathers. Motes of disturbed dust drifted down from the ceiling.
Tallus pushed back from the window slowly, forcing himself to stand against the inexplicable heaviness of the angel's presence.
'They will get in the way and slow the process down,' he said. 'I cannot risk their interference.'
'Alas, it is your pride you fear to risk,' Sathariel replied, chuckling again close to the back of Tallus's neck without breath or humor. 'Pardon my amusement; I have some appreciation for the vices of mortals.'
'My pride shall be satisfied by following the correct course of action,' Tallus shot back angrily. 'The deva must be removed. As for his allies… well, all in due course.'
'I shall leave you to it, then,' the angel said softly. 'But do not neglect your obligations to me, wizard. Let the nine skulls of the circle be an example to you. Should you fail me, you will not be as fortunate as they.'
The shadows receded, the sound of blown leaves being withdrawn as the angel's wings disappeared into nothingness. A forgotten candle guttered back to its false light, leaving Tallus to watch as shambling figures wound their way down Pharra's Alley, scattering themselves throughout the ward. He shuddered at their miserable fates and absently rubbed at the crimson tattoo on his left arm beneath his robes.
The Vigilant Order might rise again or fall to the depths of the Nine Hells, all on his success or failure in the next few days. His gaze rested at last upon the innocuous cobbles before the gates of the House of Wonder. He placed thoughts of the angel at the back of his mind and focused instead on the circle of skulls, preparing himself for their service.
As he did so, he smiled, a plan forming that would end his concerns about the deva and leave him to finish his great work in peace. Breath shortening, he coughed, a stab of pain rushing through his chest. He gasped as his heart seized and fluttered. He stumbled backward, leaning against the edge of his desk, breathless and wide eyed, gritting his teeth until the pain passed. The recurring attacks had grown more persistent, leaving him weak and clutching at his chest for what seemed an eternity. Recovering slowly, he breathed deeply and looked forward to the moment when such debilitating ailments were no longer his to worry about.
FOUR
NIGHTAL 20, THE YEAR OF DEEP WATER DRIFTING (1480 DR)
Sunset did not last long, dark clouds rolling in to steal the sky's red-orange, replacing it with deep blacks and undulating purples. Pharra's Alley was thinning out, the usual crowd of merchants and hopeful students meandering away from the wizards' gate, revealing the bare stones where the skulls were said to appear. Rorden Allek arrived, disturbing Jinn from his study of the rumored spot. He was not entirely convinced the circle existed at all.
'Master Jinn,' Allek said, seeming more rested that the previous night but no less weary.
Jinn opened his mouth to respond then spied Quessahn approaching from behind the rorden. She handed him back his sketches, causing Allek to regard Jinn with a glowering, curious stare.
'Forgive me, Rorden Allek, this is Quessahn Uthraebor,' Jinn said swiftly before either of them could speak. 'I have asked her to assist us.'
Allek glanced at the moon elf briefly before gesturing toward the end of the alley. He led them north through the ward as lamplighters gathered at street corners, long, iron hooks slung over their shoulders for the oil-pot lanterns that lit the city by night. Small, portable merchant carts rolled by, their wares folded away until the following morning's business. Horse-drawn carriages, well shined for the appearances of their wealthy occupants, set out from walled mansions, heedless of those foolish enough to get in their way.
'You call this discreet?' Allek said at length, eyes forward and in step beside the deva.
'She already knew about the killings,' Jinn responded quietly, 'and I suspect we'll need her insight.'
'Insight?' Allek asked. Then he sighed, shaking his head. 'A wizard…'
'Warlock,' Quessahn corrected.
The rorden paused, turning to face the pair with a defeated expression. Jinn had gone against Allek's wishes, but they had both known the exclusion of arcane insight could not have lasted long.
'Well met, then, Mistress Uthraebor,' the rorden said, though he glared at Jinn. 'Let us be swift before the whole of Waterdeep knows our troubles. Then we'll be up to our eyeballs in wizards and the gods know who else.'
Across the street from the corner of Stormstar's Ride and the Street of Glances, Allek stopped, gesturing to the tavern on the northwest corner.
'The Storm's Front,' he said, 'a popular gathering place for the young and wealthy. Many of the most recent victims were last seen here. The Watch has staked it out before with no success, but I'm hoping that between the two of us-'
'Three,' Quessahn added quickly, studying the two-story stone and wood tavern as a well-dressed couple slipped inside. Scents of roasted meats wafted from the open doorway, and Jinn noted several patrons already seated, getting an early start on the evening's revelry.
'Three, yes,' the rorden said. 'I was hoping we might spy something of note, something the average officer might not notice.'
'Is this all?' Quessahn asked. 'After a month, this tavern is all you have?'
'I've added an extra man to each patrol and an extra patrol after evenpeal,' Allek said angrily, keeping his voice low. 'Beyond keeping our eyes, ears, and feet busy, I've little else to go on at this point.'
'Fair enough,' Jinn said, glaring at Quessahn as Allek made his way across the street ahead of them. Jinn caught Quessahn's elbow, holding her back a moment. 'Any luck with the sigils?'
'Some but nothing very helpful,' she answered. 'Likely more than the Watch has uncovered yet. If they'd just trust a wizard long enough to-'
'We'll talk later,' he replied and followed the rorden. 'Until then try to keep in mind that the last victim was Allek's niece and that you're not the only one who cares that people are dying.'
Jinn did not look back to see her reaction, though he felt the effect of his words in her ensuing silence. He was not fond of the general distrust of magic some people held, but by the same token, he despised the knee-jerk reactions of magic-users who suspected prejudice at every turn-an effective circle of ignorance begetting yet more ignorance.
Laughter and bright lanterns greeted him as he entered the Storm's Front, a large, curved main floor contoured to the shape of the street, the opposite end bearing a double stairway to a second floor and more private gathering rooms. The interior was well decorated with polished wood tables and chairs, candles at every seating, and an elaborate bar serving cold drinks and hot meals. It seemed to reflect what Jinn suspected to be a wealthy clientele, but it was also less than what he had been expecting. That he and Quessahn had entered without being stopped at the door was evidence of an inclusiveness that some finer establishments of the ward lacked. Several weapons of an ocean-themed nature hung on the walls and a wooden plaque over the bar bore a storm-cloud design over a crude wave of water. The tavern had an air of false roughness, alluding to a true sailors' tavern,
