James Davis - Circle of Skulls

Jinn finished the letter swiftly and turned to the next, scanning their contents and shaking his head in disbelief as the secret tryst between Allek Marson and Rilyana Saerfynn unfolded before his eyes. He couldn't understand why Allek had never mentioned the young woman or her troubles with her brother or Lucian Dregg. Passages concerning Callak Saerfynn he began to study more closely.

Callak disappears without explanation almost every night. Though he returns home smelling of ale and wine, or worse, there is something in his eyes, the way he dismisses his behavior, that disturbs me. More and more he is visited by Archmage Tallus and that simpering toad of an apprentice, Gorrick. I am kept away from their secret meetings, however each time Tallus looks at me I feel the need to scour his lust from my skin with boiling water…

Jinn noted the date of the last letter as being within the previous month. Folding the letters again and tucking them back in his coat, he leaned back, the names and events described tumbling through his thoughts as he wondered at the game he had been drawn into.

"This is madness," he whispered, though his words were amplified by the acoustics of the sewer tunnel.

"Pardon?" Quessahn asked.

"What do you know of the Saerfynn family?" he said, standing and eager to be on the move again.

"I suppose it depends on the day and the rumor," she answered, nervously glancing to the northwest passage as she spoke. "The siblings are alone on their estate, sole heirs to their family's fortune. Callak is an arrogant drunk, and Rilyana seems to have a different man-or woman-on her arm at every outing, though many seem to think this is only to anger her jealous brother."

"Jealous?" Jinn pressed.

"It is rumored that she and Callak are far more than just brother and sister," she replied quietly, as if the statement alone might conjure an image of the implied perversity. "Why do you ask?"

"Most peculiar," Jinn muttered, ignoring her question. "Come. We still have another house to visit before dawn."

"No, not yet," she said, stopping him. "There is someone we should speak to first."

"We have no time. Tallus is already-"

"Under the impression that we are dead," she said, sharply finishing his words and fixing him with an almost accusing stare. "And we still have no idea what he is planning."

"And you know someone who might?"

"Perhaps," she said, turning away. "But we'll need to go deeper."

Jinn stood still, watching her navigate the narrow ledge alongside the dark green muck that flowed through the sewer. The letters weighed heavily in his pocket, another name added to his list of possible conspirators, and he wondered if any of the names would matter at all in the end. He had not come to chase murdered bodies of the upper classes and the more he learned of those who might be involved the more he felt drawn away from his true task. He eyed the bobbing light of Quessahn's dagger suspiciously as she pressed deeper into the sewers beneath Sea Ward.

"This 'someone,'" he called out to her. "They live in a sewer?"

She paused and turned, approaching close enough that he could see the determination on her face, her earlier nervousness, the hesitation he sensed, gone.

"I have seen Mara's true form," she said coldly. "How is it a night hag comes to an alliance with a deva?"

He matched her cold stare for several breaths, crossing his arms defensively as the spark of an old shame flared to life. He had made his peace with the decision long past, justifying any means he felt were necessary to hunt Sathariel, but in Quessahn's eyes he briefly recalled his view of the world as it had been before he had made such a dark pact. It was both encouraging and saddening that there were still those who might judge his choice.

"We share a common enemy," he finally answered.

"Sathariel? The angel?" she asked.

"Asmodeus," he replied, a grim silence falling between them at the uttering of the devil-god's name, but he broke it easily, holding no reverence or superstition for the names of even the darkest of gods and needing no unspoken secret to protect him from Quessahn's judgment. "Maranyuss hurt him somehow, and he cursed her, took from her all she had earned, and forced her to live among mortals, cut off and abandoned by her kind."

Quessahn stepped closer, nodding quietly in understanding, though a hard look remained in her eyes.

"I'm not judging you-not entirely-but do not think you are the only one with less-than-scrupulous allies," she said and turned back on her path, her dagger growing brighter. "Tallus can wait, as can your angel, but I need to know more about the murders and how to stop them if I am to be of any help to you."

"And how do you propose to find this out?" he asked, reluctantly following her, the stench of the sewer fading with every breath he took.

"By speaking to someone who was here three hundred years ago when the murders first started," she answered as their footsteps echoed through the winding tunnels.

Gorrick stood in the shadows of a well-tended garden, fantastical topiaries populating the inner walls of the estate as he watched silhouettes dance and laugh within tall, decorative windows. Casually he straightened his robes and fixed his short, golden hair, smiling as he pictured the effect his presence would have on the lady of the house, his arrival meaning nothing less than a direct order from Archmage Tallus.

He strode along the garden path confidently, nodding knowingly at nervous guards as he approached the grand double doors. Few of the older families had survived the Spellplague, but the one that resided there was one, old name and wealth stretching back centuries, waiting upon his call. It was a bloodline prepared at his word to lay down gold and status to answer the summons he bore.

The doors opened without a sound, a doorman averting his gaze as Gorrick entered the front hallway lined with ancient paintings of ancestors above a white marble floor. The house seneschal arrived to conduct the affairs of the family and see to the initial needs and comfort of their expected guests. At sight of Gorrick, the tall, thin man sneered, stopping in his tracks and folding his white-gloved hands before turning to summon the lady of the house.

Gorrick returned the sneer, though only to the arrogant seneschal's back. He had no time for rebuking the staff; Tallus's business took precedent over such petty concerns. A side door opened, and a burst of music and conversation rushed into the entrance hall. Lady Lhaerra Loethe swept through the door, her voluptuous curves wrapped in crimson, lace, and jewels, a Winterfirst mask dangling casually from her hand as she turned, smiling, to meet her guest.

The door closed behind her, and her smile faded, her jubilant demeanor and self-importance slipping away at the sight of the apprentice wizard. Gorrick smiled at her discomfort.

"It is too early," she said sharply, regarding him with a half-lidded gaze.

Gorrick scowled in disappointment. "Things are moving swiftly, Lhaerra," he said, eyeing her finery in disgust. "The archmage has little time to spare for your… festivities."

Lhaerra drew closer, the powerful scent of her perfume burning his nose as she gracefully crossed her arms, gesturing to the secret door that hid behind a large painting on the southern wall. Gorrick imagined he could smell the blood and sweat emanating from the secret chamber if not for Lhaerra's overzealous attempt to smell like an entire rose garden.

"Tell your master that all is prepared for the rite," she said, "and that we shall be ready within a bell."

"I shall," Gorrick replied. He turned to leave. "Make sure to have the entire family present for the ritual."

"Truly?" Lhaerra asked, a sudden lilt of hope in her voice.