Брюс Корделл - Oath of Nerull

“Hennet, are you going out for breakfast?”

Hennet shook his head and stepped into the hallway.

He hissed back at Nebin, “There’s trouble, be ready!”

A few other groggy travelers milled about, and more exited into the hallway from their rooms looking as disheveled as Hennet. The largest group stood near a door at the end of the hall. A small, human woman pushing a cleaning cart was crying loudly. People were comforting her. Hennet pushed his way through the press. No one hindered him, and he peered into the far room. It was another guest room, very much like his own—except for the body.

A woman lay half-on, half-off her cot. She was clearly dead. Her left leg was missing from mid-thigh on down. What remained of the stump was tattered and charred, as if it had somehow been melted away. Hennet felt bile rising in his throat, so he turned away. Looking back down the hallway toward his own room, he saw Nebin gazing out with wide eyes. The sorcerer shook his head sadly and made a slashing motion across his neck. Nebin’s eyes narrowed to slits.

He doesn’t seem surprised, mused Hennet.

Like so many of the wizard’s mannerisms and habits, this one was well known to the sorcerer. The gnome knew something about this murder.

Ember, Brek Gorunn, and their captive made good time after leaving Volanth, hiking along a well-traveled road toward New Koratia. The Fair Warrior Inn was a welcome respite to camping along the road. Ember shared a room with Brek and their captive for security. But in the morning, a scream disturbed Ember’s sleep.

She rose from her cot, reaching smoothly for her sandals. One was laced up before she realized that Brek was gone. And the prisoner was gone, too! Ember uttered an oath and laced up her remaining sandal in record time, then dashed into the corridor outside the room. Several people stood near the end of the hallway.

If Brek rose early, she wondered, why would he leave and take the prisoner with him?

A dark-haired man in a cape stood in an open doorway. He signaled to someone past Ember’s room, a sleepy-eyed but scared gnome standing in the doorway of another guest room near the opposite end of the hallway. There was only one way to interpret the gesture; someone had died.

Ember called the dark-haired man. “You, with the cape! What’s going on?”

The man looked at her, glanced back into the room, then moved up to stand next to her. She noticed his bare feet and legs, plus an interesting tattoo of two dragons on his chest.

“I am Hennet,” said the caped man. “I’m afraid there is a murderer among us. A woman lies dead in that room. And she died by unnaturally cruel means. She looks partly melted.” The man hesitated as he spoke this last bit, obviously unsettled.

limber stiffened at the news. She pushed past Hennet to take a look herself. At her back, she heard the taverner tramping up the stairs, yelling for guests to return to their rooms. Ember paid him no mind. In the room, she saw the scene described by Hennet.

She’d half hoped to also find Brek Gorunn (but, gods preserve, not as the victim). Brek spoke of those slain in her own order as partly dissolved as if by alchemical acid—the similarity of this woman’s condition couldn’t be a simple coincidence.

Where has that dwarf gotten to? she wondered.

The taverner looked into the room and told Ember, “Clear out! The authorities are on their way.”

Ember didn’t care to see the grisly scene any longer, anyway. She left the room and accosted the taverner. “Has anything like this happened before?” she asked.

Ember noticed that most of the guests were returning to their rooms, happy to let someone else deal with the problem. Only the caped man, Hennet, and his friend the gnome remained interested.

The taverner gave Ember an appraising look. “Happened before? Of course not. What an idea!” he said, rubbing his nose nervously.

Ember continued, “Fine. Have you seen my companion out and about this morning? You remember, the dwarf I arrived with last night? It is unsettling to find a murder and a missing person on the same morning—I’m worried about him.”

Hennet moved to stand closer to the taverner, fixing him with a penetrating look, and a few beads of sweat broke out on the man’s brow.

“Why ask me? I haven’t seen your dwarf friend or anyone else this morning. I just woke up. Perhaps he went outside for a breath of air.” The taverner rubbed his nose again. Ember tried to meet his gaze, but the man stared determinedly at the door to the victim’s room. He continued, “Now, excuse me, I must investigate—the Duke’s Rangers must be told of this tragedy. Stand aside, let me pass.”

Ember gave ground with poor grace, allowing the taverner into the murder room. The gnome from the end of the hallway moved up to Hennet and handed him some leather leggings and boots. Hennet dressed himself without embarrassment in the hallway. Ember paid no attention; she watched the taverner. All that nose-rubbing and sweating…the man was hiding something.

The taverner walked without much confidence into the room, gazed on the sight, and gagged. When he turned away, his eyes were glazed. He was whispering to himself, apparently forgetting Ember’s presence at the door.

“I’ve got to get them out of here. Out! No amount of money is worth more of this.”

With a wheeze and a gasp, he rushed back into the hallway and thundered down the stairs two at a time.

Ember glanced at Hennet, who was fully dressed, and said, “The taverner—he knows what happened.” Without another word, she glided down the stairs after him. The man and the gnome followed her.

The stairs emptied into the common room on the main floor. It held neither Brek Gorunn nor the taverner. Ember heard a clatter in the kitchen. She darted through the half-doors separating the two rooms. Fire danced in a fireplace, and herbs and meats hung from the ceiling. A scattering of iron pots and pans lay on the floor near a wooden rack on the wall. Otherwise the kitchen was orderly and empty.

Hennet and the gnome followed her in, both breathing hard.

“Wait, we want to help!” said Hennet. The gnome looked surprised but said nothing.

Ember paused, then replied, “Fine. What do you suggest?”

The gnome lowered a pair of goggles over his eyes and said, “I’m Nebin Raulnor, a wizard of the arcane arts. Last night I saw something odd in the hallway. I thought it was a dream.” The gnome ducked his head, as if ashamed.

Hennet clapped

The gnome on the shoulder. “Are you saying you went out into the hallway last night and saw something there? Why didn’t you wake me?” As he spoke, Hennet studied the kitchen. “Those fallen pots seem strangely untidy, compared to the rest of the

place.”

Ember rushed to the utensil rack from which the pots had fallen. The wall seemed slightly off kilter, as if its foundation was sinking unevenly—or as if the wall had been moved slightly from its proper place. She put a hand against the iron rack and pushed. With a click, the wall swung way, obviously on a hinge. Beyond was a lightless stairwell leading downward.

Hennet looked into the darkness and said, “How did you know the wall was false?”

“Lucky.”

Nebin approached more slowly, looking down the stairs. “You want to go down there?” he asked, looking at Ember, then Hennet.

In answer, Hennet spoke a few words of magic, and his index finger burst into light, bright as a torch, though it gave no heat.

“Show off,” sniffed Nebin.

Ember took the lead, followed by Hennet, then the gnome. The stairs were old and worn smooth. Dust was heaped along every margin and corner. Hennet’s enchanted light showed a clear path of footprints through the dust.