The hawk and falcon followed the songbird’s flight over the darkening city. They flew past several loud parties that had spilled onto the street. Whether it was due to his enhanced avian senses or just the nature of the gatherings, Joe felt there was a weird energy around these festivities, as if they were trying too hard to be boisterous and merry. The laughs sounded strained, and the drinking was fierce. Likely it was the current of fear that would come tomorrow night which was underlying the raucous behavior.
Eventually, they left the taverns behind and flew past streets of apartments and mercantile buildings. These they left behind as well, traveling over an area dominated by warehouses. Finally, Jink led them to a neighborhood of townhouses. He soared down into a quiet plaza dominated by a central fountain.
The warbler-shaped elf landed on the rim of the pool, before holding up a wing in a ‘wait’ gesture. He closed his eyes, and, almost immediately, the transformation began to unravel. As he reverted back to his elfen shape, his clothes seemed to flow over the man’s body, molding and growing with him. In seconds, Jink sat on the edge of the fountain dressed in his flamboyantly purple outfit, huge floppy hat, and all.
“Your turn, my friends. Just focus on the enchantment and will it to end. In no time at all, you will resume your natural state, and we can be on our way to visit the seer.”
Joe turned his senses inward and, sure enough, he could feel the transformation spell nestled inside himself. It felt a bit like one of Hah’roo’s woven charms, knotted tendrils of magic woven together. He focused on the magical knot and wished for the spell to untie itself. There was a slight bit of resistance, as if the effect was checking to make sure he really wanted it to cease, which Joe found reassuring. He was glad a passing thought would not have ended his metamorphosis while he and Hah’roo had been zipping over the rooftops. Joe pushed his will a little harder, and he felt the effect come apart. His weight returned, as his body stretched back into his human shape.
Joe sighed as he stood next to the huntress, suddenly feeling heavy and clumsy in his own body. He looked to the galeing and saw the same pout on her features. Joe promised himself he would look into buying another one of those potions when this quest was over and spend a day soaring over the city, just for the fun of it.
“We will have a bit of a walk still to go, but this was my closest stash to where Madam Zanthiss resides. I cannot imagine that gold will be her price, but it seems silly not to have some cold currency on hand just in case she is feeling mercantile this evening.”
Jink fidgeted with one of the stones in the fountain, and a moment later, it popped free. He reached into the newly made hollow, and Joe heard the distinctive click of coins as the elf withdrew a small money pouch. After putting back the stone, Jink tossed the bag to Joe before gesturing for them to follow him.
“Off we go,” the elf proclaimed, crossing the plaza and entering a small alleyway.
“Wait. Why did you give me this?” Joe asked as he jogged after the long-legged elf, while Hah’roo glided along beside them.
“You are the quest-bearer. My job is to get you there, as it is this lovely white lily’s duty to protect you. Yet in the end, it is you and you alone who must seek the way forward.”
“I’m going alone?”
“Didn’t I just make that clear? Please, Joe, focus. Oh, and remember, when you are meeting with her, focus is of the utmost importance,” the elf warned. “If you let your mind wander, then Madam Zanthiss may pick up something completely unrelated and give you a reading about something other than what you truly seek. You must not let events flummox you in her presence, as you seem to want to do quite frequently.”
Joe felt his chest flutter at this. At the end of his life on Earth, he had developed a terrible habit of overthinking things or letting himself get distracted. To be honest, for the last few years, Joe had been actively trying to maintain a state of distraction, rather than dwell on the pain and degradation the cancer was doing his body. Staying focused was something he was highly out of practice with.
“I’ll do my best, Jink,” Joe muttered, sounding unconvincing, even to himself.
“That was a rather lackluster commitment, sir. If you truly want to make the most of this errant errand, then I would suggest you dedicate a bit more moxie to the idea than ‘the good ole schoolboy try,’ Just Joe.” Jink’s voice was not harsh, but there was more resolve than his usually flippant tone possessed. Joe looked over at his companion as they walked but Jink did not return the look, instead focusing solely on the way ahead.
“You’re right. Sorry,” Joe replied “It has been a long time since I was responsible for much of anything. I just had to make it to the next day alive, and that was a win. I do understand, though. I will stay focused on the Night Skinner.”
“Better, though it could still use another healthy dollop of resolve, but I guess it will have to do,” Jink tsked. “Now I hope you ate well. You have quite a grueling last leg in front of you.”
Their guide stepped up to a doorway set a few stairs below the street level. Instead of touching the handle, the elf slid one of the hinges to the side and then pushed. The door swung inward on hidden hinges on the handle side of the door.
“She does love her misdirection,” he noted. “This is where we part, my good man. The fate of nights to come is in your hands now. Firm that spine and speak with the authority vested in thee in yon lair of the unknown.”
“Are you trying to freak me out, Jink?” Joe groused at the eccentric popinjay. “You could have just said ‘good luck’ or ‘be careful’ instead of your load of ominous dread and the weight of the world.”
A firm hand gripped his shoulder and turned him to face her. Hah’roo’s eyes met his. She nodded and squeezed and simply huffed, “Good luck and be careful,” before turning him back to the yawning stairwell. With a gentle push, she propelled him toward the yawning portal.
The door opened to a long stairway descending into darkness. They were not steep, actually, the steps were so much shallower than he was used to, he kept stumbling over his own feet. After almost tripping a third time, he knew there was no way he was going to make it down these stairs in the dark without some light.
Thankfully, he still had the SAK, Standard Adventurer’s kit, that Gurda Eldauk had sold him. He had found aboard the Tide Dancer that the lantern had not survived his ride down the Andoo’ak River. He had already used up the oil fighting the Beguileburr anyway, The torches were spent as well, but there were four candles he had never used.
Joe dropped a [Heart Fire] at his feet and began rooting through his bag. When he found the tapers, with the flint and steel, he realized he had another problem. He had no idea how to light a candle from a flint spark. He tried anyway for a good minute before sighing and throwing everything back in the bag.
“[Heart Fire] it is,” he grumbled to himself. The campfire gave off plenty of light, the only problem was it was stationary. Joe peered ahead and was able to make out a landing twenty yards below himself. He dropped a new [Heart Fire] there, extinguishing the one at his feet. He headed down to the new light and began the process of leapfrog lighting his way down and down the seer’s long stairway.
After half a dozen [Heart Fires], Joe tried to figure out just how far below ground he was. Guessing at the number of steps and landings he had passed, he estimated he was at least eight floors below the street. The stairs grew damper the lower he went, which was not much of a surprise given that Peregrine Harbor was a coastal city.
Finally, the steps ended, but where they ended was completely unexpected. Joe looked through a doorway-sized opening at the base of the steps into a beautiful underground grotto. Globes of light hung from chains stapled into the ceiling. These lights reflected off sources of water everywhere throughout the cavernous chamber. There were natural pools spaced randomly around the floor. Some of these were large enough for a couple of people to bathe in, others were only a few feet across. Interspersed between these pools were basins, tubs, barrels, and vats. These, in turn, were surrounded by dozens of chalices and cups. All totaled, the cave must have held well over a hundred bodies of water, from large to tiny in size. The light of the globes reflected off all the various liquid surfaces, giving the area a sense of motion. A curving path, rubbed smooth, twined its way around the grotto. Joe could see how the path would allow someone to check in on each of the pools or clusters of vessels.
As Joe stepped off the last stair, the surface of the largest pool in the center of the cavern stirred. A creature rose silently from the water. At first, Joe thought it was a giant golden snake but the serpentine form gave a lazy stretch, spreading out a pair of long-scaled humanoid arms. This must be Madam Zanthiss.
There was something feminine about her features and movements, but Joe could not be completely certain, even though the serpentine being wore nothing in the way of clothing. Her face was a mix of snake and humanoid characteristics. Tilted amber eyes hovered over slitted nostrils, which stood above a long angular jawline. She had no hair. Instead, a hood extended from her cheekbones, up over the top of her head, and tapered down to the top of her shoulders.
Her scales varied from pale gold down her front to patterns of bright gold and darker antique gold along her back and arms. She reached out and grasped a robe hanging from a hook by the stairs and wrapped it languidly around herself. Her manner clearly stated she cared nothing for modesty but that the robe was simply for propriety's sake.
“I am intrigued. I sssaw Jink’sss arrival with the white-wind-woman, but they wait above. You, I did not sssee,” the naga hissed skeptically. “How can thisss be? How are you hidden from me even in my presssencsse?”
“Greetings Madam Zanthiss,” Joe replied, tipping his head into a small bow. “Um, a gift from the One Above. Divinations and assessment don't work on me.”
“Well that isss most irksssome. I find I quite dissslike one with hidden fatesss coming into my home. I think you ssshould go back wencccce you came, ssstranger.” The golden-scaled woman wriggled back a few feet, and her hood flared a tad wider menacingly.
“Wait, please. The One Above gave me a quest, and Jink said that because of that, you could do what no other diviner has been able to do.”
“I would not trussst much that ssshyssster utters, but I am now curiousss. What isss thisss quest of yoursss?” the naga asked, coiling herself into a position where she was both seated and the seat itself.
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“The Night Skinner, Ma’am,” Joe stated, keeping his mind clearly focused on that one thought. “I need to know where he will be tomorrow night. Or at least one of the nights of this full moon, if it can’t be tomorrow.”
“The Moonlight Ssslayer. I have ssseen him in my visionsss. You are not the first to ssseek me out. I turned the othersss away. What makesss you think you will gain my guidancccce?”
“Did the others have a directive from The One Above?”
“True, they did not, but ssstill, I sssee no benefit in thisss for me. Why ssshould I give thisss to you?”
Joe studdered. He had been afraid he might mess things up, but he had not expected to have to justify this request. It seemed obvious why the vision was needed. “The thing is killing people. Don’t you want to see that stopped?”
“Bah! I have ssseen ten generationsss of humansss live their livesss. I expect I will sssee ten timesss more. What are a few deathsss in the light of the being of prophecccy?”
“What being of prophecy? The Night Skinner?”
“Yesss!” Madam Zanthiss reared up, lifting her body on her long snake tail until she towered over Joe. Her voice took on a deep timber, causing it to echo ominously around the cavern. “The Night Ssskinner isss no mere villainousss killer. He hasss the potential to shape hissstory. I, for one, very much wish to sssee what the eighteenth omen will bring about in hisss possssessssion. Long before anyone has the chance to ssstop him, hisss destiny will be complete. And I will witnessss it.”
‘The eighteen omen?’ Joe recalled that Rozzetta had called his Mark of Death the Thirteen Omen. Did that mean the Night Skinner also had a prophetic mark?
“So, you want to see what the Night Skinner will do because of his … or her prophetic mark?”
“Correct, ssstranger. What could you posssibly offer that could bessst being able to witnessss that phenomenon?”
“What if you could witness something even rarer?” Joe asked. “I’m sure you have watched the fate of those with Prophetic Marks before.”
“I have and I will tell you there isss nothing more fulfilling than watching one who bearsss a Mark of Dessstiny.”
Joe pulled back his sleeve. “How about watching two prophecies duke it out to see which one comes out on top?” He raised his arm high up over his head. The flickering lights that filled the grotto caught on the golden motes in the sign Joe bore, causing it to throw back its own glinting reflections.
The seer’s eyes gapped wide at the sight of the black rose. Even with the alien cast of her features, Joe could read a deep hunger in the pained expression that fell over the naga’s face. He tried not to grin and piss her off, even though he knew he had her.
The seer’s eyes gaped wide at the sight of the black rose.
“Two. There were no visionsss of two Marked Ones before," she hissed, coiling her body in such a way as to seem to shrink in on herself. “Everything could change.”
“Exactly,” Joe agreed. “This could be something you may never see again.”
She rounded at his voice. “But no. I cannot sssee it now.” Unfurling, the naga prophet loomed over the pair, her head practically touching the ceiling of the grotto. “If you are cloaked from my sssight, why should I aid you?”
“Um. Wouldn’t you be able to see events from the killer’s perspective?”
“Unacceptable,” she hissed. “ It would be asss if attending a play with my earsss plugged. I would only underssstant sssnippetsss but the true picture would essssscape my underssstanding. I would rather sssee the Moonlight Ssslayer complete hisss destiny than a muddled fraction of you and him in conflict.”
“What if you could track someone with me? Would that do it?”
“No. There isss but one way I will make thisss accord. You mussst allow me a window into your future asss well. A few dropsss of blood or a lock of hair, willingly given, should do it.”
Alarm bells rang out in Joe’s head at her words. The number of books or games he had encountered where horrible things occurred after letting a spellcaster gain access to some of your body was too many to count. This was one of those truly terrible circumstances, like trying to wish on a monkey’s paw. It always went badly.
Just as Joe was about to reply with ‘Hell no!’, a small worried thought chimed in. ‘What other option do you have?’ That idea stopped him cold. Even as anxious as that tiny voice was about the plan, it was right. Joe had this one gamble to bring something to the table, something no one else could.
Maybe the rules here were different. Joe was not going to blindly make himself vulnerable, without at least trying to get some confirmation. While the serpentinite oracle impatiently waited, Joe ignored her and reached out to Hawking.
‘Hey? What does willingly giving blood or hair allow someone to do to you?’
Willingly given body samples allow practitioners of magic the means to bypass your innate and magical resistances. In your case, your [No One] racial ability, [Iron Mind], and damage resistances would be severely compromised.
‘Could she use it to cast other spells on me too?’
Correct. Any spell she cast using your body sample would be empowered against you.
Note that harmful magic abilities also harm the material that is being used to form the connection. Unless the body sample is contained by a magical vessel, such as a phylactery or simulacrum, it will be destroyed by any effect that inflicts harm equal to or greater than the sample’s durability.
‘I guess that is something. Still, she could infect me with some sort of Zombie Rot spell, and even if the sample rotted away, I would still be screwed if the rot had already taken hold of me.’
Correct. Willingly giving body samples carries significant risk.
‘Is there another way around my [No One] ability that has less dire consequences?’
Affirmative. There are numerous magical artifacts that could be employed.
‘Such as?’ Joe waited a few seconds and realized that Hawking was not going to answer. Explaining the rules was one thing, but Hawking had been pretty clear lately regarding his stance on giving out free lore.
When he refocused on the room again, Joe noticed Madam Zanthiss was staring quizzically at him. He felt his face heat up a little, realizing he had blanked out longer than he intended to.
“Sorry about that. I had to really think that through. What kind of guarantees will I have that you will not use my blood or hair to harm me or give it to someone else who might?”
“I have what you need, Changebringer. There will be no negotiationsss.”
“And I can block you from seeing a once-in-a-very-very-long-lifetime occurrence. I think there is some wiggle room here. Swear an oath that you will not use what I give you to bring me harm.”
“And jussst who would you have me ssswear thisss oath to?” she fumed crossing her arms over her chest.
“How about Onhur?” Joe posed. “He is the god of oaths and truth, right? I’m pretty sure you don’t want your visions to start filling up with bullshit. My guess is he is not a god you’d want to break your promise to.”
Madam Zanthiss leveled a look at Joe like she was chewing on lemons. Practically spitting, the next words seemed like they were forced out of her throat. “Very well sssign-bearer, I will make the vow. I sssswear by Onhur that I will not ussse your sssample to caussse you any harm.”
Joe had watched too many players make djinni wishes that went completely afoul because of careless wording. He was going to make sure he closed as many loopholes as possible with this one.
“You’ll have to do better than that, Madam. Do you swear that you will not allow the blood or hair I give to be used to do me harm?”
“You are jussst trying to muddy the waterssss, boy. I have made my oath, and I ssstand by it.”
“And what in your oath stops you from selling it to someone else who could use it against me?” Joe entreated, spreading his arms wide.
“You did not give it to another willingly. You are giving it to me. The power it holdsss over you would not work in sssomeone elssse’s handsss,” she hissed annoyedly.
“Hadn’t thought of it that way,” Joe muttered.
He tried to think of anything else he had missed, but the prophet had reached the end of her patience.
“Now give me what I asssk for or leave, manling. You will get no further dealsss from me.”
“Very well I accept your oath,” Joe stated, trying to sound more confident than he felt. He drew the goblin knife off his belt and sliced off a curl of hair.
“We have an accord then. Listen well, Changebringer,” the golden-scaled seer asserted as slid up to him. Using a sharp nail, she lifted a thread from her robe and used it to bind the brown lock. “First know thisss. The Night Ssskinner will never face the city’sss militia. Should you enlissst them, you will never find the prey you ssseek. If you bring anyone not tied to your quessst with you, the Ssskinner will not be where I sssay. It can only be you and those directly enjoined into your quessst. Do you underssstand?”
“I do. Just me and the four champions,” Joe answered. “Where do I have to go?” he asked.
“On the northern edge of the city isss the old tower of Vhyne, the God of Grapesss and Wine. It isss here that Sougath the Night Skinner will call forth the remnantsss of power left in that sssite. The Fearmonger will try then to bind that divine puissance to himssself through his blood sssacrifice. You must not arrive until he hasss begun hisss ritual. Too sssoon and he will be aware of you. After the sssun has fully ssset but before the midnight bellsss ring, that isss your window.”
Joe was not thrilled about the idea of letting the murder start his blood ceremony. Saving the victim once the killer had started the sacrifice seemed like a pretty tall order. Still, Madam Zanthiss had given him a time and place this time.
“Thank you, Madam,” Joe offered. “You have been …”
“I need not your platitudessss. Only your destiny concernsss me. Now go. I have much to witnessss tomorrow. I need to cleanssse myself of your influenccce.”
Without looking back, she let her robe drop to the ground and slid into the waters she had emerged from. Joe stared at the rippling surface of the pool for a moment, a bit shocked at her immediate departure. After a few seconds, he shrugged and turned back to the grotto entrance, a small sense of pride warming his chest.
It may not have been all that much, but for once, he had managed to take control of his destiny and make something of it. He now had a path leading toward getting him out from under the mess that had been stalking him since arriving in Illuminaria. While, unfortunately, that path included Azbekt, at least it also included Hah’roo too. With her as an actual ally, and with him leading the quest, maybe they could rein in the worst of the psychopath's tirades.