driven his ambitions and desires. Only the moon and the rats kept him company as he waited, filled with dread-the only real feeling he had been allowed to keep-for the beating of its wings, the call of his master's voice.
Others shifted closer, their once-fine robes almost unidentifiable, covered in the filth of miles of sewers. Dull eyes led them to share in Essirel's moonlight, to watch for the shadow across the moon, to listen for the thunder of the angel Sathariel. They crawled closer on hands and knees, pressing close at Essirel's shoulder, the stink they brought swallowed by the pervading scents of the sewer. He swayed as they crowded around him, blank faces upturned to the glow.
A terrible will was gathering them, bringing them to clean streets and wealthy homes with the promise of redemption. Essirel gasped at the thought but was left slack jawed a breath later, drool stringing slowly down his chin. There had been a moment, seemingly eons ago, when he'd seen the bright spark of himself, watched it glow, tethered to him by ephemeral strands of being before it had been ripped away. Every moment since, every breath had been the same, lost in the moonlight, moving to the will of some distant mind, shuffling through the streets to that place, far from the dark altars of the Vigilant Order.
Heavy ripples flowed through the sewage, and Essirel's eyes widened, his gut twisting in pain as a quiet rumble of thunder resonated through the tunnels. In that breath he felt his soul shudder in its prison, writhing in the guts of his lord's servant, the devouring angel sent to punish him and his brethren. The bodies around him stirred and began to rise, reaching up with filth-encrusted hands, ready to serve if only for the chance at forgiveness. The clarity held for a moment, and Essirel resisted the call, drawing breath to scream and clutching at his chest where he'd last seen the spark of his existence torn from him, but the scream never came.
His hands fell to the damp stone beneath him, and he pushed himself to his feet, reaching for the rusted rungs of an old ladder, and pulled. Soulless and directionless, he followed the rumbling voice of an angel, determined to serve, called to hide among the cold streets until the time of the Flensing when he might glimpse the terrible face of his god.
And the time was near.
Jinn paused before the gates of the House of Wonder, studying the symbols on the wrought iron and steeling himself for what lay within. The sketches of Alma's body seemed to burn a hole in his pocket, teasing him. Like found gold, he clutched them close on the walk from Westwall, certain he was close to his quarry and half expecting Sathariel to come for him any moment. He was tired of the constant questions and cryptic answers. He had no care for the blood spilled in Sea Ward and had quietly promised whatever Power might be listening that he would walk away from the strange killings happily if he might do so with Sathariel's angelic blood on his blade.
Sighing, he resigned himself to the slow hunt and raised his hand to the house's gate.
'Are you a wizard, saer?'
Jinn spun around, hand on his sword, only to find an officer of the Watch at his back, a lean man with a sharp, wolflike face, half-lidded eyes, and a thin smile set on his wide mouth. A pair of crossed, diagonal slashes on the officer's tabard declared his rank. At the officer's back, a patrol of seven men had paused, glancing toward the pair at the gates, but talking low among themselves. Jinn let his hand fall away from his sword.
'Not at all, Swordcaptain,' Jinn answered. 'Merely visiting, Officer…?'
'Dregg,' the man replied. 'It's a bit late for a visit, isn't it? Streets can be dangerous after dark. Lots of undesirables hanging about lately.'
Jinn narrowed his eyes at Dregg's ignorant comments. There were some in Sea Ward who referred to any race other than human as undesirable, sneering at the so-called lesser races as unworthy upstarts, usurpers of human wealth and safety. At each meeting with an elf or dwarf in the streets, they scowled, considering the high walls of Waterdeep a failure for allowing such trash to contaminate their communities.
'You speak true, Swordcaptain,' Jinn said with a threatening smile, gold eyes flashing. 'One would do well to avoid such confrontations, wouldn't one?'
Dregg's smile faded, but he did not avert his gaze. He took a step forward, looking Jinn up and down with a cold sneer.
'Jinnaoth,' Dregg said as if spitting the name. 'You are Rorden Allek's pet, are you not?'
'Allek is an old friend,' Jinn replied, sensing something other than mere racism in Dregg's demeanor- something personal, though he had never met the man before.
'The rorden thinks you may be of use somehow, though I cannot imagine why.' Dregg stared down his nose at the deva. 'Perhaps he is more desperate than I thought.'
Jinn clenched his fists and half turned back to the gate, determined not to fall prey to the man's baiting. Should he strike an officer under Allek's command in full view of a Watch patrol, he would find his task in Sea Ward doubly difficult to accomplish. Collecting himself, he raised his hand again to the gate, assuming their conversation to be at an end.
'Careful,' Dregg said. 'They'll not just let any stray from off the street darken their doorstep.'
'Indeed,' Jinn replied and quickly traced a sigil over the gate latch, the iron glowing softly where he touched it before producing an audible click. As the gate swung inward, Jinn stepped inside, turning to close it behind him and adding, 'I trust I'll not see you within, Swordcaptain Dregg.'
He left the human glowering at his back as he calmly made his way through the wizards' well-tended courtyard, measuring his stride beneath the tall towers of the House of Wonder. Dregg joined his patrol at length and disappeared down the street. Jinn stared after him, composing himself before entering the house and wondering when he might encounter the swordcaptain again.
He had a feeling that no matter when it occurred, it would be far too soon.
The tall, ornate doors of the House of Wonder opened with a welcoming rush of warm air but left Jinn standing alone in the shadowed entrance hall. Though it was late, enchanted candles still flickered in sconces along the walls, scents of jasmine and sandalwood drifted on the air, and voices echoed softly nearby in whispered conversation. The distinct hiss of turning pages drew his eye to an archway at the far end of the hall, the main library, where he might begin his search for the origins of the sigils that had been carved on Alma's stomach, but he stood still, not venturing beyond the dark, patterned carpet within the front doors. The House of Wonder was not without its guardians.
In moments the air before him thickened, wavering as a misty shape coalesced an arm's length away. White eyes stared at him from a nearly featureless face, though he could see, through the specter's haze, the fading details of a once-proud wizard in long, flowing robes. An unnatural chill surrounded the ghostly figure as it regarded him blankly.
He repeated the sigil he had traced on the gates, drawing it in the air.
The specter nodded and faded away. As it did, the whole of the hallway shimmered, an illusion giving way to reality. The arching doorways changed places on the walls, and the length of the hallway doubled, revealing yet more doors and a tall, winding staircase at the end. Jinn smiled at the old magic, putting his meeting with Swordcaptain Dregg to the back of his mind, and made his way to the library's familiar arch, on the opposite wall from where it had appeared earlier and more brightly lit than before.
Several figures sat huddled over old tomes, their faces lit by the house's seemingly endless supply of enchanted candles. No one looked up at his arrival, too engrossed in their studies or quiet conversations to bother themselves with guests. He turned to the tall windows in the southern wall. Where one might have expected to find a view of the surrounding gardens, the high wall, and the city skyline beyond, the windows showed only rolling fields of waving grass beneath a brilliant, moonlit sky full of stars. A familiar figure in simple, dark blue robes stood before the easternmost window, twisting a long braid of dark red hair through her fingers as she gazed upon the false stars, her moon elf skin almost glowing in the illusory light.
Jinn took a deep breath, and though he approached her quietly, she turned almost as if she were expecting him. Her pale blue eyes regarded him without the least bit of surprise.
'I had not thought to see you so soon, Jinnaoth,' she said, 'though the stars have, of late, told me otherwise.'
'Quessahn,' Jinn said quietly. 'I am sorry to disturb you, but-'
'No, you are not,' she said sharply with a tight smile. 'You are a single-minded bastard with little thought for anyone or anything that gets in your way.'
Jinn noticed several nearby students look up, eyeing the pair before returning to their studies. He bit back a curse and wondered if he had made a mistake. It would not be the first time where Quessahn was involved.
'Then I pray you forgive my futile attempt at formality,' he replied.
