Sea of Death

CHAPTER FIVE

Tresslar, Hinto, and Solus walked side by side along the street, the human and the halfling flanking the psiforged. Though the Kolbyrites they passed continued to glare at them, their animosity seemed somewhat muted now. Tresslar guessed Solus was using his psionic abilities to blunt the citizens' anger, and before he could ask, the psiforged said, "Yes, I am. I have been doing so since we made port."

Tresslar was taken aback. If Solus had been protecting them since their arrival in Kolbyr, did that mean psiforged was the only thing that had been keeping the citizens from attacking them? And if so, what did that mean for Diran and the others now that they no longer had Solus to shield them?

"Fear not, my friend," Solus said. "The protective aura I extended around the others will linger for some time yet, and the citizens of Kolbyr have much experience at resisting the dark magic that hangs over their city, though I sense that it is stronger this day than usual. We should all be safe enough-for the time being."

Tresslar nodded, though he could've done without Solus's qualification of "safe."

"So where are we going?" Hinto asked.

Tresslar didn't want to answer the little pirate's question, but he knew if he didn't the halfling would only keep pestering him.

"Tinker's Room."

"Is that a tavern?" Hinto said. A chill breeze wafted down the street, and the halfling shivered. "It's a bit early in the day to start drinking, but I could use a little something to warm me up inside."

"No, it's not a tavern, and Tinker's Room isn't its real name. It's a customary nickname. There's a Tinker's Room in every city across Khorvaire, and while they're a bit rarer in the Principalities, Perhata has one, and so does Kolbyr."

Hinto frowned. "If they're that common, why haven't I heard of them before?"

Before Tresslar could reply, Solus said, "Because you aren't an artificer, my friend."

Tresslar scowled at the psiforged. "It's impolite to read people's minds without their permission, you know."

Solus bowed his head. "My apologies, master artificer. I'm finding it more difficult to block out the thoughts of my new friends than I anticipated. The more time I spend in your company, the more my mind becomes… accustomed to yours, causing me to sense your surface thoughts without intending to."

Tresslar, somewhat mollified by Solus's referring to him as master artificer, decided to accept the psiforged's apology. "Very well, but I'd appreciate it if you would allow me to keep my thoughts to myself in the future. Now, to return to Hinto's question, while the existence of Tinker's Rooms isn't precisely a secret, it's not something that artificers go out of their way to publicize. While both wizards and artificers work with magic, wizards deal with the more theoretical aspects of the craft, while artificers take a practical approach. Wizards research and study magic for the sake of acquiring knowledge and increasing their own personal power. Artificers, on the other hand, use magic, applying it for practical purposes. Wizards tend to work in isolation and guard their secrets jealously, but artificers-because of their more pragmatic approach to magic-are much more open about sharing their knowledge. Hence the existence of Tinker's Rooms, places where artificers gather to talk shop, admire one another's craftsmanship, and trade for materials and supplies as needed."

"And you hope to learn something of your missing wand at the Tinker's Room in Kolbyr?" Solus asked.

Tresslar shrugged. "No one at the Tinker's Room in Perhata had any news about my wand, but someone here in Kolbyr might. Whenever an artificer is unsure how to begin tackling a problem, we have a saying: 'Go to your room.' So that's what I'm doing."

"Are you sure the people there won't mind if we accompany you?" Hinto asked. "Neither Solus nor I are artificers."

"Don't worry," Tresslar said. "While outsiders aren't encouraged, they aren't forbidden." He then smiled at Solus. "In fact, I think you will be especially welcome, my bejeweled friend. Psiforged are extremely rare, and there's nothing artificers love better than seeing a magical device-or in your case, a construct-that they haven't encountered before."

They continued walking through Kolbyr, and though Tresslar had never been here before, he'd received directions from artificers in Perhata before setting sail for this side of the gulf, and after a short time the three companions stood before a domed building with a single wooden door hanging slightly askew on its hinges.

"This is it?" Hinto said, eyeing the building skeptically. "Kolbyr's artificers must not be very good if they can't fix a simple door."

"I told you, Tinker's Rooms aren't advertised," Tresslar said. "The door's state of disrepair is no doubt intended to help disguise the building's true nature." Which was possible, but it was equally possible-and Tresslar had to admit, more likely-that Kolbyr's artificers hadn't even noticed the door's condition. If there was nothing magical about the door, there wouldn't be anything about it to interest artificers. "But you don't have to take my word for it."

Tresslar removed his backpack, reached inside, and withdrew a small metal ring with a wooden handle attached. Tresslar held the device, which resembled a magnifying glass that had lost its lens, up to the stone wall to the right of the door. He moved the device slowly up and down until a golden light began to glow within the center of the ring. The glow grew brighter, and the illumination began to take on a distinct shape: a hand grasping a tool that looked like a small trident wrapped in a coil of wire.

"Behold the Tinker's Mark," Tresslar said. He held the revealer steady for a moment while he gazed upon the mark, his mind filling with fond memories of the many Tinker's Rooms he'd visited over the years-especially back when he'd been a young adventurer sailing on the Sea Star with Erdis Cai. Without a doubt, those had been the happiest days of his life, and he missed them.

Tresslar sensed he was being scrutinized, and he turned to see Solus looking at him, though it wasn't always easy to tell when warforged had their artificial eyes trained on you. He was certain Solus had been reading his thoughts, purposefully or not, and he turned away, embarrassed. He deactivated the revealer and the golden image of the Tinker's Mark winked out. Tresslar put the revealer away, slid his pack over his shoulders once again and, without looking at either of his companions, pushed open the door. The hinges creaked and the door wobbled, but it opened smoothly enough. Tresslar stepped inside without hesitation, and Solus and Hinto followed.

This was Tresslar's favorite part of entering a Tinker's Room: seeing what the outer chamber looked like. Tinker's Rooms always had a legitimate business as a front in order to conceal their true nature and to create a plausible reason why people-quite often strangers such as themselves-would be entering and leaving at all hours. In his time, Tresslar had seen Tinker's Rooms that had such wildly diverse disguises as a chandlers' shop, a garment merchant, and once even a taxidermist's. But this rivaled them all.

The outer chamber was set up as a shop, with a main counter and display shelves. But the wares for sale were like nothing Tresslar had ever seen before. At first he thought they were some sort of glass sculptures, but after a moment's inspection, he realized that the beautiful arrangements of translucent blue-green orbs were, in fact, structures created out of water bubbles. The bubbles were of various sizes, configurations, and hues, but the arrangements all had two things in common: the bubbles were frozen in space without any visible sign that anything was holding them up, and they were all set atop triangular jade bases. A number of the bubbles glowed with soft, gentle light, providing illumination for the room.

A beautiful woman in her late forties or early fifties emerged from a back room behind the counter. She had long flowing hair that was tinted blue and bereft of the usual beadwork favored by most Lhazaarites. Her dress-if that was the right word for her garment-was made from the same blue-green bubbles as the sculptures that filled the room, though hers were less translucent, providing only a suggestion of the body they concealed.

She took Tresslar's breath away. She was the single most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and considering how widely he'd traveled during his youth, that was saying something.

"It may be rude to read people's minds without permission," Solus said, "but if I'm not mistaken, it's equally rude to stare."

Tresslar felt his cheeks burn, and he knew he was blushing.

Hinto ignored the exchange between the artificer and the psiforged. He walked over to one of the displays and rose on his tiptoes, stretching out his hand to touch the nearest sculpture.

"Please don't," the woman behind the counter said. "Those are actual water bubbles harvested from the sea. The spells that keep them intact and in place are quite fragile. A single touch could well disrupt them and destroy the sculpture."

With an almost childlike expression of disappointment, the halfling lowered his hand and came back down on the flats of his feet.

The woman came around from behind the counter, moving with such easy grace that it seemed that she didn't so much walk as glided toward them.

"My name is Illyia," she said. "Are you art lovers? It may be immodest of me, but I daresay my sculptures are among the most unique objects to be found in the Principalities." Her voice was like the breaking of gentle surf upon a sandy beach.

A moment of silence passed before Tresslar realized everyone was waiting for him to speak, and when he did, his voice was huskier than usual. "Indeed, though the word I would use is spectacular."

Illyia smiled, and a mischievous gleam came into her eyes. "Are you speaking of my bubbles?"

Tresslar had to force himself to keep from gazing at the way her garment clung to her chest-and wondering if those bubbles would be "disrupted" by a single touch like those that comprised her sculptures. "Everything I see here is spectacular."

Hinto rolled his eyes. "You've spent too many years on Dreadhold, Tresslar. That line is as stale as decade-old sea rations."

Tresslar glared at the halfling, but Illyia continued smiling. "Just because something is… seasoned doesn't mean it's no longer good. Often, quite the opposite is true, wouldn't you say…?"

"Tresslar. And these are my companions, Hinto and Solus."

Illyia nodded briefly to the halfling, but she took her time regarding Solus. "We don't get many warforged here in Kolbyr, Solus, and I doubt we've ever had any quite like you."

Solus bowed his head. "I shall take that as a compliment."

Illyia's eyes twinkled. "Good, since that's how I meant it." She turned back to Tresslar. "So, you spent time on Dreadhold. You don't look like a hardened criminal, but then looks can be deceiving, can't they?"

Tresslar smiled. "I worked there as an artificer, helping to maintain the facility's magical wards and defenses."

Illyia hmphed. "You must've had your work cut out for you, then. The artificers of House Kundarak aren't exactly known for their attention to detail."

The dwarves of House Kundarak were responsible for running Dreadhold, but while most of the prison staff were members of the House, many-like Tresslar-were not.

"I must admit, I did have occasion to double-check their work from time to time," Tresslar said, trying to sound more modest than he felt. A sudden realization hit him then, and he forgot all about the artificers of Dreadhold. "You're being nice to us."

Illyia laughed. "Why do you find that so surprising?"

"Up until this point, we haven't had the warmest of welcomes here in Kolbyr," Tresslar said.

Illyia's merriment ebbed and she grew serious. "I'm afraid you've experienced the effects of the curse that plagues our city. We call it the Fury."

"It hasn't seemed to have affected you," Hinto said.

"It's her dress," Solus said. "It radiates a field of mystic energy that protects her from the curse's effect."

Illyia spread her arms and slowly spun around, as if modeling her dress for them. "Stylish and practical, that's me."

"Indeed," Tresslar said with appreciation. "It's a most impressive piece of work."

Hinto groaned, and it took all of Tresslar's self-discipline to keep the artificer from striking the halfling.

"The Fury is like the weather," Illyia said. "Some days it's worse than others. On mild days people are merely more rude and brusque, but on bad days people brawl in the streets. On extremely bad days, the streets run red with spilled blood. We don't leave our homes on bad days and try to avoid contact with anyone else, lest we find ourselves in the grip of a murderous fury."

"It sounds awful!" Hinto said. "How can you live with it?"

Illyia shrugged. "If you grow up in Kolbyr, as I have, you become accustomed to it. The effects of the curse are manageable, though it does take some effort to resist them. Newcomers to the city, such as yourselves, are the most vulnerable to the Fury. Since they aren't local, there's less reason for citizens to care about not harming them, which makes it more difficult to resist the Fury. Newcomers aren't affected by the curse right away, but the Fury is both powerful and insidious. Over the space of just a few hours, it will slowly worm its way into your heart without your realizing it, and it will fill you with anger… anger that you have no experience at managing. Newcomers often succumb to the Fury within their first day in Kolbyr. It's why we're so leery of strangers, as I'm sure you noticed as you made your way through the city."

Tresslar didn't feel any anger building within him. All he felt was the general irritation he often experienced at the annoyances presented by day-to-day living. Was Solus-?

The psiforged's voice whispered in Tresslar's mind.

I cannot counter magic, but as we first approached Kolbyr, I used my psionic abilities to strengthen everyone's emotional self-control to help slow the effects of the Fury. So far, my efforts seem to have been successful.

Tresslar's first impulse was to chide the psiforged for altering people's minds without permission, but he decided not to worry about it, especially since it did appear to be working. Still, before long someone would need to explain to Solus that it was a good idea to ask before using his psionic powers in such a fashion-especially on friends.

Illyia frowned slightly, and Tresslar wondered if she were somehow aware of the telepathic communication that had occurred between Solus and him. But when she spoke, she said, "So, have you come to acquire one of my sculptures, or are you perhaps here for a different purpose?"

"We're friends of Tinker," Tresslar said.

"Tinker?" Hinto said, scowling. "Who's…?" He trailed off, a sly smile coming onto his face. "Oh… right." He winked knowingly at Tresslar.

Now it was the artificer's turn to roll his eyes.

Illyia laughed. "Come with me, and we'll see if Tinker is home."

She turned and, for the briefest of instants, Tresslar thought the bubbles of her gown turned transparent. But before he could get a good look at what lay beneath, the bubbles returned to their blue-green hue.

Illyia headed toward a door at the back of the shop, walking with perhaps a bit more sway in her hips than was strictly necessary, and Tresslar, Hinto, and Solus followed. Suddenly Kolbyr-curse or no curse-didn't seem like all that bad a place to the artificer.

Not bad at all.

Yvka stood across the street from a two-story building decorated with elaborate stonework. Intricate designs of sea creatures had been carved into the building's face, a quartet of granite gargoyles perched upon the roof, and a pair of manticore statues flanked a huge oak door at the top of marble steps. Casual passersby would appreciate the building's beauty, but few would realize that, should the need arise, the gargoyles and the manticores would come to swift and deadly life.

There was no sign to indicate the name or even the nature of this establishment, but then none was necessary. Only those who already knew of the Culinarian sought it out, and few of those were permitted entrance. And of and those who got inside, even fewer knew the restaurant's true nature.

Though Yvka hadn't let on to her companions, this wasn't her first time in Kolbyr. She had no specific reason for not telling them the truth, and she wasn't sure why she'd kept that information from them, and especially from Ghaji. Habit, she supposed. By necessity, operatives of the Shadow Network lived by a strict code of secrecy, but living by that code came with a price. Operatives couldn't afford to get too close to anyone, even other members of the Network. Stay silent, stay guarded, stay alone, stay safe. That was an operative's motto, and while Yvka had never come out and directly admitted to belonging to the Network, her friends knew the truth. That was why she stood out here hesitating. It was possible-no, almost certain-that the man she had come here to see was aware she'd become too close to Ghaji, Diran, and the others. The question was what, if anything, he planned to do about it.

She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and started across the street.

She walked casually, seeming relaxed and comfortable, but inside she was tense and alert. As she approached the stairs, she had to force herself not to look at the gargoyles and manticores. She could feel their cold stone eyes upon her, and though she knew it was probably her imagination, she sensed displeasure in their gazes, as if even the guardians knew of her failure to remain detached and professional.

She reached the steps, ascended them, and stopped before the oak door. There was no knob, no handle, no device for signaling those inside. Yvka simply stood there, and after several moments-a bit longer than strictly necessary, she thought-the door swung inward, and Yvka stepped inside. She found herself standing at the end of a narrow corridor lit by tiny everbright lanterns hovering close to the curved ceiling. The lanterns gave off a soft blue light that only dimly illuminated the way, but they provided more than enough light for elvish eyes to see by. Yvka started down the corridor, and she didn't look back as she heard the door close behind her with a gentle snick that sounded all too final to her ears. No one came forward to greet her, but that was normal here. If the door opened for you, you already knew you were welcome in the Culinarian.

The corridor ran straight for a few dozen yards before opening onto a vast dining hall. The hall was illuminated by cerulean everbright lanterns floating in the air to simulate an underwater environment, and saltwater aquariums filled with exotic sea creatures were placed in various locations around the hall to further enhance the illusion. A long table constructed from coral stretched the length of the hall, and spread out on its craggy surface was a buffet of seafood dishes: lobster, shrimp, squid, crab, clams, mussels, mullet, salmon, scampi, prawns, grouper, conch, blowfish, octopus, halibut, monkfish, and many more. Dishes were served raw, baked, broiled, and fried, along with a wide assortment of vegetables.

The diners sat at smaller tables in groups of two, three, or more. Like the main table, the diners' tables had been fashioned from coral, with animated centerpieces enchanted to resemble seaweed drifting in an underwater current. Servers moved constantly throughout the room, some bringing new dishes in from the kitchen, others carrying plates loaded with food to diners too lazy-or self-important-to serve themselves. The diners themselves came from all strata of society. Some were clad in expensive finery and adorned with jewelry of rare craftsmanship and incalculable value, while others were barefoot and wore torn, dirty rags that could only charitably be referred to as clothing at all. But despite the variance in dress, the rich and poor-or at least, those who appeared to be so-often sat at the same tables, talking, laughing, and behaving as equals.

Yvka stood in the great hall's entrance for a moment as she scanned the tables searching for the man she had come here to see. It didn't take her long to spot him sitting at a table alone, almost as if he had been expecting her. He probably was, Yvka thought.

Zivon was a handsome man who appeared to be in his mid-forties, though Yvka knew he was older, perhaps quite a bit so. Half-elves weren't as long-lived as full elves, but their lifespans were significantly longer than those of their human cousins. His brown hair was pulled back and bound with a leather thong, and he sported a neatly trimmed goatee with more than a bit of gray mixed in with the brown. Full elves didn't grow facial hair, but half-elves could, thanks to the human side of their ancestry. Zivon wore a fine silken robe of aquamarine with white trimming the color of sea foam, in keeping with the Culinarian's underwater theme.

Zivon smiled with what appeared to be genuine delight when he spotted Yvka and waved her over to his table. Yvka returned the smile, acknowledged the invitation with a nod, and began making her way across the room toward Zivon. As she drew near, she saw that the capillaries in the half-elf's eyes were tinted purple, and she knew that he'd been indulging in urchin-sting, a common narcotic enjoyed in the Principalities. She also knew that he was far from the only one in the great hall who had done so this day. Sitting on the table before him was a plate piled high with seafood delicacies, and before Yvka could sit across from him, a server brought her a plate similarly loaded. As soon as that servant departed, another appeared carrying a wine jug. She refilled Zivon's mug, then moved to fill the mug already sitting at Yvka's place, but the elf-woman waved the servant away and the woman moved off to tend to other diners.

As Yvka took her seat, Zivon said, "I'm surprised you declined the wine. You know I select only the finest vintages for my cellar." The half-elf's voice was steady, though his words were slightly slurred.

"I also know you lace your wine with urchin-sting to blunt the effects of the Fury," Yvka said. "I'd rather my perceptions remain undulled. Besides, if all goes well, soon no one in Kolbyr will need to worry about resisting the Fury any longer."

Zivon took a long sip of wine, and when he put his mug back down, the veins in his eyes looked thicker and more purple than they had a moment ago. "You speak of course of your friend the priest."

There was something in the way Zivon said your friend that made Yvka uncomfortable. Half-elves were known for their silver tongues, and Zivon was no exception. He used words with rapier-like precision. He was undoubtedly making a comment about Yvka getting too close to her companions.

Zivon lifted an oyster to his mouth and swallowed it in a single deft motion. He set the empty shell aside and took another sip of wine. Half-elves tended to be thin, though not as ethereally slender as full-blooded elves. With his hybrid metabolism Zivon could regularly eat twice as much as a human without putting on excess weight, which made the Culinarian a perfect place for a devotee of fine dining like him to serve the Shadow Network.

"We were aware of the priest's vow to lift the curse on the House of Kolbyr moments after he made it," Zivon said.

The half-elf was exaggerating, Yvka thought, though probably not by much. The Shadow Network knew virtually everything that happened in the Principalities-in some instances, before it occurred. "Then you also know that Diran stands a good chance of succeeding."

"You're not eating," Zivon said, the merest hint of disapproval in his voice. "Try the mussels. They're delectable."

Yvka wasn't especially hungry but tried a mussel for the sake of not offending her host.

"Well?"

Yvka chewed, swallowed. "It's good."

"Good? I have some of the finest cooks in the Principalities working in my kitchen, and all you have to say in response to experiencing their art is 'good'?"

Yvka shrugged. "Very good."

Zivon shook his head and laughed. "Fortune save me from uneducated palates!" He took yet another sip of wine, set his mug down, then pushed his plate aside-an indication that he was ready to get down to business. "You truly believe the priest is capable of dispelling the Fury?"

"His name is Diran, and I've seen him do remarkable things."

"Rumor has it that you've seen his partner do a few remarkable things as well."

Yvka felt her own rage take hold at Zivon's remark-a rage that had nothing to do with the House of Kolbyr. But before she could say anything, Zivon held up his hands in a placating gesture.

"You've managed to maintain our code admirably-until the night you met Diran Bastiaan and his companions in a seedy tavern in Port Verge. At first you joined them in order to discover the secret of the Black Fleet, for information is the Network's lifeblood, is it not? But it didn't take long for you to come to admire your new companions and, despite your many years of experience at maintaining professional distance from others, for the first time in a long time you found herself becoming close to others, didn't you? Especially the half-orc.

"Oh, you made excuses, told yourself that the best way to gain your new companions' trust was to appear to become friends with them, and your association proved even more beneficial than you'd hoped when, after you'd defeated Erdis Cai, you informed us about the vampire's hidden lair in Grimwall. We were quite pleased with the treasures we discovered in the ancient goblinoid city. And if you'd had a little fun with the half-… with Ghaji in the process of performing your duties, what was the harm? You received a new assignment not long after that, and when you were forced to say goodbye to Ghaji, you pretended that parting from him didn't hurt. And you almost managed to make yourself believe it.

"But a few months later you learned that Aldarik Cathmore, one of Bastiaan's former teachers in the art of assassination, had come to the Principalities, and you used that information as an excuse to rejoin your new friends once more… as an excuse to see Ghaji. Once again, your association with the others benefited you: you informed us of the existence of the creation forge within Mount Luster, and our artificers are even now investigating the facility to ferret out the delicious secrets it holds. You've done well, Yvka. Quite well, indeed." Zivon paused a moment before adding, "All things considered."

Zivon's tone remained pleasant enough, but his words sent a chill rippling down Yvka's spine. "You're speaking of the Zephyr."

"A valuable asset. One that we are disappointed to have lost."

"Makala took it." It was as much a question as a statement.

"Yes. Though she wasn't alone."

Yvka frowned. "Who else was with her?"

"A lich and a barghest. The same barghest, we believe, who stole the wand of your artificer friend."

"A lich?" Could it be the same one that Diran, Ghaji, Tresslar, and Hinto had slain in the mountains outside Perhata? How could it be any other? The barghest had been her servant, after all. But how had the lich been resurrected, if that was the right term to apply to the reanimation of an already undead creature? Had the barghest somehow used Tresslar's dragonwand to perform the task? Yvka supposed it didn't matter how the dark deed was done. A more important question was why Makala had joined forces with the lich and her servant, and most important of all, where were they bound aboard the Zephyr? Aboard her ship?

Anticipating her question, Zivon said, "The three set sail from Perhata in the dead of night, appropriately enough, bound for the open sea. They did not make port here in Kolbyr, but otherwise I cannot say where they went. Given their last heading, my guess is that they intended to leave the gulf entirely, but it is only a hunch, based on no solid information."

Yvka smiled. "Your hunches are better than most people's facts."

Zivon acknowledged the compliment with a slight nod.

Yvka decided she'd gotten all she was going to from Zivon, and she'd better not push her luck any further.

"My thanks. Knowing that the Zephyr and the dragonwand are together will make things simpler. If we find one, we'll find the other." She started to stand, but Zivon gestured for her to remain seated. Yvka gritted her teeth. She didn't like being told what to do, but the Culinarian was Zivon's domain, and so she had little choice but to do as he wanted.

"I wish you all success in regaining possession of the Zephyr. But before you leave, there is another matter we need to discuss."

Yvka didn't like the sound of this. "If it's about my companions, I assure you-"

"It isn't," Zivon said. "At least, not primarily. As I said earlier, we are greatly pleased with the treasures that you've delivered unto us, thanks to your most profitable association with Diran Bastiaan and his friends. But you know our philosophy: too much is never enough, not when it comes to information and power. In the end, they're really both the same, are they not?"

Yvka was disturbed by the sudden turn this conversation had taken, and she dreaded Zivon's next words.

"If you wish to find yourself in our good graces once more, not only will you recover the Zephyr, you will bring us two things more: the artificer's wand and the psiforged called Solus."