Thieves of Blood

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The amphitheater was empty now. The stone floor was once again in place, for the punishment was over, and Erdis Cai’s undead crew had been fed. The citizens of Grimwall had gone back to whatever duties were theirs to perform within their subterranean city. Even Onkar and Jarlain had departed, leaving only Makala and Erdis Cai. Makala sat staring at the amphitheater’s stone floor, Zabeth’s final screams replaying over and over in her mind.

The vampire lord stood looking down at her, head cocked slightly to the side in puzzlement. “Your friend fought most valiantly. You should be proud of her.”

“What difference does it make how I feel? Zabeth is dead. Nothing can change that.”

Erdis Cai continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “The shifter would’ve proven most worthy if it hadn’t been for her age. While strength of spirit is an important quality, youth and vitality are also necessary.”

“You and Jarlain keep talking about worthiness,” Makala said, unable to keep the hatred and rage she felt out of her voice, “but old or not, Zabeth was infinitely more worthy than any of you lot could ever be!”

The vampire lord’s eyes flashed blood-red for an instant before returning to their more muted crimson color. “Perhaps you’d appreciate your friend’s sacrifice if you understood what she died for.” He considered for a moment before turning and beginning to ascend the amphitheater’s steps. “Come,” he ordered without looking back at her.

Makala had no intention of doing as Erdis Cai commanded, not caring whether her defiance would lead to her own punishment on the amphitheater floor, but as if of its own accord, her body rose to its feet, turned, and began following after the vampire lord. Makala struggled to stop, to make her body obey her once more, but it was no use. Whatever spell Erdis Cai had cast on her, she had neither the power nor the will to resist it.

She followed him out of the deserted amphitheater and through the city streets. At first she thought he was leading her back to the stairs they’d taken earlier, then she realized they were heading in the opposite direction. Before long they reached the far side of the underground city. The braziers were few here, the light dusk-dim. Erdis Cai continued walking until he came to a craggy section of cavern wall that hadn’t been made smooth like so much else in Grimwall had. He stopped, and though he issued no command for Makala to do the same, she did anyway. She no longer knew if her body remained under Cai’s spell or if she duplicated the action simply because she could think of nothing else to do. She watched as the vampire lord pressed his gauntlet-covered hand against the wall, and though she could see nothing to mark this section as different from the rock surrounding it, Cai pressed and was rewarded with grating sound of rock sliding against rock. He removed his hand as a door shaped in a half-circle slowly swung open in front of them.

“I can’t tell you how many years I’d been using Grimwall as a base of operations before I discovered this door. I know I was still mortal at the time, though.” He started to walk through the door, then paused and glanced back over his shoulder at Makala.

“This set of stairs spirals downward and can be somewhat tricky for mortals to negotiate. Remain in physical contact with me as we descend.” He offered his arm in a gentlemanly gesture, but when Makala made no move to take it, he said, “Suit yourself,” and passed through the opening in the wall. Makala, whether of her own desire or not, followed.

As they began going down, the door closed shut behind them, leaving Makala in total darkness. The stairs wound sharply and steeply downward, and it wasn’t long before Makala found herself becoming dizzy. Despite her earlier reluctance to take Cai’s arm, she now reached out and put a hand on his armored shoulder to steady herself, being careful to avoid touching the jutting spike there. She gasped as her flesh came in contact with the metal. It was freezing cold, so much so that it was painful to the touch. She tried to yank her hand away, but she couldn’t pull it free no matter how hard she tried. She kept on trying as they wound down ever deeper into darkness but without success. After a time, the cold hurt so much it burned like fire, and soon after that, her hand began to go numb. By the time the darkness finally gave way to a flickering greenish glow, she couldn’t feel any sensation from her fingertips to her elbow.

They reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped into a chamber lit by the same greenfire braziers as much of the rest of Grimwall. Makala’s hand was still stuck fast to Erdis Cai’s shoulder. As he came off the last step, she stumbled and nearly fell onto him, but terrified of what might happen if her body collided with his armored back, she gripped hold of the stairwell wall, tearing her nails on the rock.

Erdis Cai started to turn then, but the motion was awkward, and he realized that the flesh of Makala’s hand had adhered to his armor.

“My apologies. I’ve worn this armor for so long that I often forget I have it on.” He removed the gauntlet from his left hand, then reached over his shoulder and took hold of Makala’s wrist. Gently but firmly, he pulled her free of the freezing-cold obsidian metal and then released her wrist.

Makala fell backward onto the steps, landing painfully on her rump. She cradled her useless right arm, unable to feel anything up to the shoulder now. When Cai had pried her off his armor, she’d expected the skin of her fingers and palm to peel off and stick to his shoulder in a raw bloody handprint, but her skin was intact-smooth, pink, and healthy-save for the total lack of sensation, of course.

Erdis Cai put his gauntlet back on. “You will recover in time. One of my armor’s abilities is the power to drain the life-force of an opponent and feed it into me. It’s more efficient than drinking blood, if not as satisfying, but we weren’t in contact for long, and I did not consciously attempt to drain your lifeforce, so there should be no permanent effects.”

“Should?” Makala said, though in truth she was already beginning to feel tingling in the tips of her fingers.

“Forget your arm and look around you, lass. We have arrived at the very heart of Grimwall, the site of the greatest treasure it has ever been my good fortune to discover.”

The braziers here burned low, but at a gesture from Erdis Cai the green flames blazed higher, driving back the shadows and clearly illuminating the entire chamber. Once they had, Makala wished it had remained dark.

They stood at the outer edge of a circular stone chamber two hundred feet across. It was more roughly hewn than the rest of Grimwall, the wall, ceiling, and floor uneven and cracked in numerous places. Recessed areas eight feet high and four feet wide had been carved into the wall, and standing upright in each of the alcoves was a corpse garbed in full armor. Their flesh was dried, withered, and papery, drawn close to the bone. Though the creatures’ bodies looked ancient, their armor appeared new and highly polished: breastplates, backplates, helms, shields vambraces, and gauntlets. Their weapons were also in excellent condition: swords, battle-axes, pikes, war hammers, spears, poleaxes. These were warriors of death, standing guard through the ages deep within the rock of Grimwall, but whatever they had been in life, they hadn’t been human. They stood six-and-a-half feet tall, orange-red skins covered with dark reddish-brown hair. They had flat noses and chins, pointed ears, and sharp yellowed teeth. Worst of all, though their eyelids were closed, Makala had the impression that the desiccated things weren’t so much dead as sleeping.

“Magnificent, aren’t they?” Erdis Cai said. “There are twenty-five alcoves, each containing a squadron of eighty hobgoblin warriors.”

“Eighty?” Makala imagined one armored corpse standing behind another, and another and another… “That means there are-”

“Two thousand in all,” Erdis Cai said. The vampire lord’s voice held more emotion than Makala had heard since meeting him. He sounded excited, eager, almost like a small child impatient to open a long-anticipated present and start playing with it.

In the center of the chamber was a large circular pool full of a thick blackish substance that resembled pitch, though it didn’t have the acrid smell. This liquid gave off a coppery tang than seemed familiar to Makala, though she couldn’t identify it. There were four greenfire braziers in the chamber, set at regular intervals around the circumference of the pool. A narrow walkway stretched across the pool to the base of a stone dais engraved with strange runes located in the exact center of the chamber. The dais reminded Makala of the obsidian table in Emon Gorsedd’s Chamber of Joining, and she feared the comparison might be too close for comfort. Shallow channels less than a foot wide had been carved into the floor-twenty-five in all-running from the edge of the pool and extending beneath the feet of the dead hobgoblin warriors, and presumably beyond so that all two thousand were connected to the pool of black liquid. However, the channels were dry, for the surface of the ebon liquid didn’t quite reach up to floor level.

Then Makala realized that the substance in the pool wasn’t black. It only seemed so because of the eerie greenish light given off by the burning braziers. The liquid that filled the pool was red, because it was blood. Gallons and gallons of it.

“The goblinoid empire lasted for eleven thousand years,” Erdis Cai said, “but these warriors refused to perish along with their civilization. All two thousand of them sacrificed their lives so that they might enter into a state of living death, and here they have slumbered for centuries, waiting for the day when they would be called upon to fight once more.” A sly smile twisted Erdis Cai’s lips. “Of course, I’m sure they thought they’d be summoned to serve their own kind, but then death-just as life-is full of little surprises.”

Makala turned to Erdis Cai. “You intend to wake these… things?”

“Of course. It’s what I’ve been working toward for the last four decades, but I’m not doing it for myself.” He touched the blood-red symbol on his chest and bowed his head in reverence. “I’m doing it for Her.”

As if in response to the name, the blood within the pool bubbled for a moment then fell still.

Erdis Cai raised his head and when he looked at Makala, his crimson eyes gleamed with mad fervor. “Can you imagine it? The Black Fleet sailing under my command, holds filled with these warriors, all two thousand of them restored to life and ready to do whatever I ask of them. It shall be glorious!”

“Glorious? It’s appalling!”

Erdis Cai went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “The enchantment upon the warriors is a complicated one, however. In order to wake them, one life must be sacrificed for each warrior, and none shall so much as raise a hand until the two thousandth sacrifice has been completed.”

Makala stared at the nearly full pool with a sudden sick feeling. “How many…”

“One thousand, nine hundred and ninety-seven,” Erdis Cai said matter-of-factly. “The magic of this chamber keeps the blood fresh, and a good thing, too, for it’s taken a long time to collect it all. We’ve had to be careful not to take too many candidates for sacrifice at a time, lest we anger the Lhazaar Princes enough to cause them to put aside their differences and come together to stop us. Not just anyone is suitable for sacrifice, otherwise we could’ve resurrected the warriors years ago. A sacrifice has to be a warrior as well, or at least possess the spirit of a warrior, but in and of itself, that isn’t enough. One must possess-”

“Strength and vitality,” Makala said as the awful implications of what Erdis Cai was saying began to sink in. “That’s what makes a person-” she took a deep breath-“worthy.”

Erdis Cai smiled, clearly pleased. “Precisely! That’s why you should honor your friend’s death. She gave her life so that we could identify the most important sacrifice of all.” The vampire lord’s smile stretched into a feral grin. “The last one.”

Makala felt light-headed and she feared she was on the verge of passing out. “But… you said you’d only sacrificed one thousand, nine hundred…”

“And ninety-seven,” Erdis Cai supplied. “That’s correct, but to make matters even more complicated, sacrifices can only be made during certain times of the month. We identified two other worthy ones several weeks ago, but we’ve been waiting for the next time of sacrifice to arrive before… using them. Luckily, we found you before that time, lass, so now we can sacrifice all three of you together and complete the rite at long last.”

“When?”

“Two night’s hence.”

“At midnight, I suppose.” Makala’s mind was working furiously. She couldn’t allow Erdis Cai to sacrifice her. It didn’t matter if she died, but she refused to allow her death to give Erdis Cai and his foul mistress control over an army of undead hobgoblin warriors.

“Half past, actually, though to be honest, I’d prefer midnight. It’s much more dramatic.”

Makala looked once more upon the blood pool. Erdis Cai had said a sacrifice didn’t count unless it was performed at the right time. If she died before that time…

She started running toward the pool, intending to throw herself in and drown, but Erdis Cai reached out with inhuman speed, caught hold of her hair and yanked her backward, bringing her to an abrupt and quite painful stop.

“Don’t make this any harder on yourself than it has to be,” the vampire lord said. “You should take consolation in knowing that your death shall serve a higher purpose, that you will play a pivotal role in the history of the Principalities. Who knows? Perhaps the history of Khorvaire and even all Eberron itself!”

“Some consolation,” Makala muttered.

She struggled to pull free of Erdis Cai’s grip, but it was no use. She made up her mind to yank her head away from his hand hard enough to tear her hair out by the roots, then she remembered what had happened when she’d touched her hand to Erdis Cai’s armor on the stairs.

Instead of pulling away from the vampire lord, Makala ran forward and threw her arms around him in a full body embrace. At first Erdis Cai just stood there, puzzled, then he roared with laughter.

“You’re trying to drain your own lifeforce by grabbing onto my armor! How clever! Since I’m aware of your contact, I can keep my armor from taking more than a minuscule amount of your energy. You could hold onto me like this for an entire week without experiencing more than mild fatigue.” He laughed again.

Swearing inwardly, Makala released her hold on Cai’s armor and made a grab for his black-handled sword, but the vampire caught her hand before it could get close to the hilt.

“I had hoped you might appreciate the dark majesty of my plan,” Erdis Cai said, sounding disappointed, “and perhaps even join us. I could use a woman with your spirit by my side, and I can find another sacrifice, even if it means waiting a bit longer to see my efforts come to fruition.”

Makala tried to pull free of the vampire’s grip, but it was no use. He was far too strong.

“I’d rather die than join you!” she said.

Erdis Cai looked at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Very well then.”

The vampire lord’s eyes began to glow with red flame. Makala tried to close her eyes, tried to turn her head, but she was unable to do either. She felt a great sleepiness coming over her, and though she struggled to stay awake, her efforts only made it worse. As her eyes closed, the last thing she saw Erdis Cai smiling at her.

“See you in two nights, lass. Rest well.”

Then her eyes closed all the way and she knew only darkness.

“There it is!” Hinto said, pointing. “Dreadhold!”

“Aren’t you supposed to say ‘Land ho’?” Ghaji asked, but the halfling just stared at him.

Ghaji, Diran, and Hinto stood at the Zephyr’s bow while Yvka sat in the pilot’s seat, steering the vessel and keeping the elemental active. Ghaji would’ve preferred to be back there with her, especially after their “rest break” in the cabin earlier, but he wasn’t on this voyage to enjoy himself, though he had, and quite a bit at that. He was here because he had a job to do, so he kept his gaze forward and took his first good look at the island prison of Dreadhold.

Ahead of them a desolate mass of rock rose out of the sea. On its surface was a forbidding stone fortress that looked as if it had grown out the rock instead of having been purposely constructed. Dreadhold was legendary throughout Khorvaire as the place where the most dangerous criminals were incarcerated, including a number imprisoned for wartime atrocities. The prison was managed by the dwarves of House Kundarak, which carried the Mark of Warding. House Kundarak contained two major organizations: the Banking Guild and the Warding Guild. It was the latter-experts in both magical and mundane security-that operated and maintained Dreadhold. The prison had the reputation for being inescapable, and it was easy to see why. The island itself was completely barren-no grass, no trees, not even any gulls in the vicinity. Thus if by some miracle a prisoner did manage to get out of the main cellhouse, there was nowhere to hide, making him or her an easy target for the archers stationed atop the cellhouse roof. In the extremely unlikely event an escapee made it to the shoreline alive, where would he or she go? The nearest land was Cape Far, miles to the south, and the water here was too cold to swim in for more than a few minutes without freezing. Add to that all the regular patrols of sailing vessels in the area whose task it was to keep potential escapees in and potential raiders out, and it was clear that Dreadhold’s fearsome reputation was well earned.

The main cellhouse was a long rectangular building two stories high without windows. The front entrance was the only way in or out of the prison-at least, that’s what Yvka had told them. Ghaji had a difficult time believing it, though. The warden and guards had to have an alternate means of getting out of the cellhouse in case of emergency, though such an exit was bound to be well hidden. Near the cellhouse was a walled-in enclosure that served as an exercise yard, and next to that stood a high water tower, also with archers stationed on a walkway circling the top. In front of the cellhouse entrance was a stone lighthouse, and not far from that was a small stone building that Yvka had said was the warder’s house. A larger building sat off to the side, though it was still only a quarter the size of the main cellhouse. These were the staff quarters, and downshore from there was the boat dock, though no craft were berthed at present. Probably to avoid providing any temptation for the prisoners to attempt escape, Ghaji thought.

“Everyone ready?” Yvka called out.

Ghaji looked at Diran, who’d been intently studying the layout of the island ever since it had come into view. Without looking at his half-orc companion, the priest nodded.

“As ready as we’re going to get!” Ghaji called back.

Yvka gave no spoken command or made no gesture, but the Zephyr angled toward the dock and surged across the slate-gray waves. As the island grew steadily closer, Hinto said, “Do you really think this is going to work?”

“I have no idea,” Diran answered. The priest looked down at the nervous halfling and smiled. “But we’ll soon find out.”

Hinto looked up at Ghaji for reassurance, but all the half-orc said was, “Welcome to my world.”

Yvka maneuvered the Zephyr into a berth and commanded the elemental to bring the vessel to a gentle stop. She then removed her hand from the arm of the pilot’s chair, and the elemental’s glow dimmed as the containment ring once more became nothing more than a circle of metal. Hinto vaulted over the starboard railing and landed on the dock. Ghaji tossed him a line, and the halfling quickly and skillfully tied the rope to an iron cleat bolted to the dock. He then moved over to the port side, and he and Ghaji repeated the procedure. Diran lowered the anchor.

When they were finished, Yvka unlocked a section of the railing on the starboard side and swung it inward. She then lowered a small gangplank and Hinto came back onboard. The four companions then stood in front of the gangplank as Diran and Ghaji made ready to depart.

“Be prepared to cast off at a moment’s notice,” Diran said. “If something goes wrong-”

“Which it usually does,” Ghaji interrupted.

“-we’ll need to make a swift departure,” Diran finished.

“Are you sure it’s wise to go ashore unarmed?” Yvka asked.

Ghaji had left his axe in the cabin, along with Diran’s cloak of daggers. Diran had several blades concealed in his boots; those were the only weapons between them.

“It’s better that we avoid any appearance of hostile intent,” Diran said. “Besides, a few more daggers and one axe wouldn’t be enough to help us against all the guards in Dreadhold.”

“I suppose not,” Yvka said, though she clearly wasn’t happy about it. Truth to tell, neither was Ghaji, but he knew it was a necessary precaution.

Hinto gave them a salute. “You can count on us, Captain! Try not to scowl so much, Greenie. You’ll put the guards into a worse mood than they already are.”

“Come here, Hinto,” Ghaji growled. “Let me give you a goodbye hug.”

The halfling took a step backward and half hid behind Yvka. “Thanks, but I’m not really one for hugging.”

“I am,” Yvka said, smiling at Ghaji. “Though perhaps this isn’t the best time or place.”

Ghaji felt his cheeks burning and Hinto laughed.

“Maybe I should start calling you Reddie!”

Diran took hold of Ghaji’s arm then, which is the only thing that saved Hinto from acquiring any number of broken bones.

“Let’s go, my friend,” Diran said. “Makala and the others are counting on us.”

Ghaji glared one last time at Hinto, gave Diran a nod, then they started down the gangplank. They’d barely set foot upon the dock before a dwarf came hurrying to them, a trio of guards following in his wake. The leader was no doubt the dockmaster, and he was clearly not pleased to see unexpected visitors to Dreadhold, but he’d only brought three guards with him, so it didn’t appear that he considered the Zephyrs crew much of a threat.

“Stop right where you are!” the lead dwarf commanded. “You have not been authorized to disembark!”

The man was squat, broad-shouldered and muscular as was common for his kind. He stood three feet tall, a bit short even for a dwarf. His head was bald, but he sported a neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper beard. He wore a purple jacket with fur trim over a white shirt. Brown leather pants and black boots with gold buckles completed his outfit. The dwarf appeared to be unarmed, but then he didn’t need to carry weapons, not when he was accompanied by three guards in full armor. And what armor it was! Crystalline structures appeared on various areas of the metal, and Ghaji knew that meant it was Stonemeld armor. A Khyber dragonshard had been implanted in the armor, the mystic crystal allowing an earth elemental to be bonded to the metal, in much the same way the air elemental was bound to the containment ring aboard the Zephyr. Ghaji had never worn Stonemeld armor himself, but he’d seen it in action during the Last War. It gave its wearer extra resistance to physical attacks, as well as the ability to merge his or her body with stone. Such an ability seemed perfectly suited for dwarves, let alone ones working in a stone fortress on an island of rock. Of course there were the rumors, which Yvka had refused to confirm or deny, that House Kundurak operated a secret mining facility beneath the prison to harvest Khyber dragonshards.

Ghaji exchanged a look with Diran, and the half-orc knew his friend’s thoughts were running on a similar track. What better place to operate an illicit mine than beneath the most secure site in Khorvaire?

Each of the dwarf guards carried a weapon-all three axes, Ghaji noted with approval. Unlike his, these axes had Khyber dragonshards set into their pommels. The presence of the smoky-colored crystals with dark blue veins meant the guards’ weapons were magical, though Ghaji couldn’t tell what specific properties the axes might possess simply by looking. Ghaji tried not to stare at the axes with obvious envy. He’d wielded elemental weapons on the battlefield during his years as a soldier, and he’d often thought how useful one would be in his current line of work. Too bad neither he nor Diran was wealthy, else they might have been able to purchase one, but as it was, he’d have to make do with his own mundane axe.

When the dockmaster and his guards reached them, Diran executed a small bow. “Good day to you, sir. My name is Diran Bastiaan, and this is my associate, Ghaji. To whom do we have the honor of speaking?”

“I am Bersi, dockmaster of Dreadhold,” the lead dwarf said in a low bass, “and as I said, you two have not been given permission to leave your vessel.”

The guards gripped the hafts of their axes more tightly, and Ghaji thought he detected a faint burning smell in the air. The axes were flaming weapons then, and the guards were more than ready to give their two unscheduled visitors a close-up demonstration of how they worked.

“Our apologies, Master Bersi,” Diran said. “This is our first time visiting Dreadhold, and we were unaware of the proper procedures.”

Bersi looked them up and down, scowling all the while. “I. don’t see any weapons on you.”

Diran smiled. “We’re scholars. We don’t normally have much call to use weapons. Besides, it didn’t seem prudent to attempt to enter Khorvaire’s most formidable prison armed.”

Bersi let out a short bark of laughter, though the trio of guards remained grim-faced. “You got that right! You’d have been dead before you set foot on shore.” He frowned then.

“Scholars, you say? What would a pair of scholars-” at this the dwarf glanced at Ghaji as if he couldn’t imagine a half-orc reading, let alone being a scholar-“want here?”

“Our research interests lie in the field of history and folklore,” Diran said. “We have a letter of introduction from the chancellor of Morgrave University.” Diran started to reach for his shirt pocket, and the guards’ axes burst into flame.

“Go easy,” Bersi warned.

Diran nodded. With exaggerated care he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small leather wallet. Holding it between his thumb and index finger, he held it out for Bersi to take.

One of the guards stepped forward and examined the wallet closely. When he was satisfied, he stepped back and all three of the guards relaxed, though not much.

Bersi shook the wallet, opened it, and withdrew a folded sheet of vellum. He handed the empty wallet to a guard, then unfolded the letter and read the words written thereon in the chancellor’s ornate script.

The letter was legitimate, after a fashion. Chancellor Luchjan had indeed penned a general letter of introduction for them, but only because they’d helped save the life-not to mention the soul-of one of the university’s true researchers who’d gotten herself into a bit of trouble in Q’barra a while back. More than once this letter had smoothed the way for Diran and Ghaji when, for whatever reasons, it was better not to let people know what their true purpose was.

Bersi read the letter over several times before handing it and the wallet back to Diran. As the priest replaced the letter and tucked the wallet back into his pocket, the dockmaster said, “The letter appears legitimate. From time to time institutions of learning do send representatives here for various reasons. I’ve seen Chancellor Luchjan’s seal before, and I recognize it on your letter.”

Ghaji felt like grinning but wisely restrained himself. It looked like the letter was going to work its own special brand of magic for them again, but then Bersi gestured at the Zephyr and said, “Tell me how a pair of university scholars can afford passage on an elemental vessel?”

Diran and Ghaji exchanged looks, then Diran said, “Research grants, of course. The university is fortunate to have a number of wealthy patrons who are only too glad to fund expeditions like ours.” He leaned closer to Bersi and lowered his voice, as if about to share a secret. “Armchair adventurers for the most part, you know, but their money certainly comes in handy, right, Ghaji?”

Ghaji hated it when Diran decided it was his turn to talk during these sorts of deceptions. He could never think of anything to say.

“Money is good.”

The dwarves looked at him as if he were feeble-minded, and Ghaji kicked himself mentally for playing to their stereotype of a dumb orc.

Bersi turned to Diran once more, as if deciding it would only be a waste of time to speak with Ghaji. “What is the specific purpose of your visit?” the dwarf asked.

“We’re in the process of compiling a new biographical study of the life of Erdis Cai,” Diran said. “We’ve been led to believe that one of his former crewmembers lives and works here, an artificer by the name of Tresslar.”

Bersi’s only reaction to hearing Tresslar’s name was a slight narrowing of the eyes, but that was enough to tell Ghaji that the dockmaster was surprised, and Bersi didn’t strike Ghaji as a man who was overly fond of surprises.

“An artificer named Tresslar does indeed work here and has for forty years or more,” Bersi said. “He’s nowhere near as skilled as the artificers of House Kundarak, of course, but he makes himself useful by helping to maintain the enchantments on the inmate cells. I’m not aware that the man was ever a sailor, let alone that he traveled with someone as famous as Erdis Cai.”

The dockmaster exchanged glances with the three guards, and it was clear they found the notion of Tresslar being a former adventurer amusing.

“Perhaps the information we gathered was incorrect,” Diran said. “Even so, we’d still very much like to speak with Tresslar. We’ve come a long way to do so, and research is about uncovering the truth, whatever it might be. If it turns out we confirm that the man never sailed with Erdis Cai, then we will have learned something of value from this trip.”

Bersi looked at Diran for several moments, as if considering the “scholar’s” words. Ghaji was beginning to think that the dockmaster was going to deny their request, when the dwarf reached into his jacket pocket and removed a metal token embossed with the seal of House Kundarak-a winged manlike beast flanked by flames. The dockmaster handed the token to Diran, who accepted it with a gracious bow.

“The guards will escort you to the main entrance. This token will gain you passage into the cellhouse. After that, you’ll have to show both the seal and your letter to the sergeant. He’ll be the one to decide whether or not you’ll be able to make your request directly to Warden Gizur. It shall be he who ultimately approves or denies your request to speak with Tresslar.”

“You have our utmost thanks, Master Bersi,” Diran said. “You’ve helped make a significant contribution to the always vital pursuit of knowledge.”

The dwarf waved Diran’s words away. “Just doing my job.” From the tone of his voice, Bersi sounded secretly pleased.

Diran and Ghaji then fell in with the guards-one in front of them, two behind-and the armored dwarves began escorting them to the cellhouse. It looked as if they’d found their way in, Ghaji thought. He just hoped they’d be able to get out again.