As they stumbled through the doors of the tavern, dragging the man between them, they were met with a pungent odor of sour beer and old sweat mixed with smoke. A small desk was set up near the door, a young woman standing behind it. She was clad in nothing but a beaded skirt, but blue and white fish scales were painted (or tattooed - he couldn’t tell) over a large percentage of her skin. She held some sort of cigar in her hand, a swirl of smoke wafting from tips up to the rafters. Her skin gleamed with perspiration, her eyes were red and bloodshot, and a faded flower was stuck in her raven hair, pinned behind her ears.

Taking a long drag from her stogie, she exhaled slowly, the smoke filling the space between them before she finally addressed them. She looked at the two men, the assailant propped firmly against Jasper’s shoulder, and then at Ihra.

“If you want to bring the fun with ya,” she drawled, nodding at Ihra, “it’s going to cost you extra. Ten silvers for the room, fifty for a girl, a hundred to bring your own.”

Jasper shook his head quickly, cutting off Ihra before she began an angry tirade. “We’re not here for that; I believe an employee of mine is staying here - a man named Bā’er, along with some other hunters?”

The woman stared dully for a moment, then shrugged her shoulders, pointing through the arch beside her. “The tavern’s through there - don’t be thinking you can do anything with the girls for free though - if you want the fun, you’ve got to pay.”

Jasper stepped through the arch, almost choking as the smoky air hit him. The tavern was dark and crowded, the babble of voices, laughter, and drunken singing filling the large room. They slipped through their crowd, supporting the man between them, as they searched for their compatriots.

“Heelllo, my lord.” A big hand fell on Jasper’s shoulders as the slurred greeting reached his ears. Turning around, he found Bā’er standing behind him, a large glass of grog in his hands, a grin plastered across his face.

He gently pried the burly man’s hand off him. “Can you take us to your rooms?” Jasper nodded toward the subdued man leaning against his shoulder.

Bā’er looked at the man, confusion in his eyes, as he shifted back and forth between the man and Ihra. “I did not think you went that way, my lord.”

Jasper blushed as he realized the implication. “No, no-“ he hastened to object, but the hunter waved him off, stumbling as he turned around.”

“No worries, my lord. I’m not one to judge. Follow me.”

His ears burning, they followed the drunken hunter through the crowded tavern. They exited into a long, dingy corridor. A faded scarlet rug lined the floor, its once plush surface now nearly threadbare from the endless stream of customers tromping through the hall. Strips of wallpaper had peeled off the walls, revealing the smoke-darkened plaster behind, and only a row of candles lit the dark hall.

The man raised the mug of grog to his lips, guzzling a long draught as he led them down the corridor. “Can’t say I expected to see you here, my lord. A place like this is fine for me and the boys, but for a lordling like you?” The man shook his head. “I expect you’re used to a little finer of an establishment. Unless, of course,” the man turned, winking, “ you like slumming it.”

He stopped at one of the dingy doors, swinging it open. “Here we are.”

They pushed past the hunter. The room was awash with a dozen competing colors, a riotous assortment of odds and ends. A nude woman lay sleeping on the dingy bed, and Bā’er shook her awake roughly. “Time to go.”

A rope was attached to the headboard and, cringing a bit as he touched it, Jasper and Ihra quickly tied the man from the market up while Bā’er slurped down his drink, a bemused look on his face. When Jasper was satisfied the knots were tightly bound, he turned back to the hunter.

“Do you remember what I asked you to back at the ruined village, Bā’er.”

The man scratched his shaggy beard. “Uh, hire some boats for you?”

“Well, yes, but no, the other thing. I asked you to gather the possessions of the bandits?”

The man nodded slowly, shuffling his feet. “Yeah, about that…”

Jasper frowned. “What?”

“Weelll,” the hunter slurred, “You didn’t ask about them when we got to port, so me and the boys kind of figured you forgot them. We already pawned them off.”

Jasper sighed, rubbing the space between his rub. Damn it. Truthfully, he had forgotten about it, until they were attacked, so he couldn't exactly blame Bā'er too much.

The hunter held out an unsteady hand, a look of worry on his face. “I’m sorry, my lord. I’m sure we can scrape together the money; we didn’t think you’d care much - there was nothing too valuable there.”

Jasper shook his head. “No - I don’t care about the money.” Sighing, he fished the amulet out of his bag and held it up. “Did any of the men have something like this - an amulet, a tattoo, anything.”

Bā’er squinted at the amulet, which gently swung back and forth between Jasper’s fingers. “Yeah, that looks familiar.” He reached into his pockets and pulled out a long chain. A ring dangled from the chain, which he handed over to Jasper. “I kept this to give to my woman. It’s got something similar on it.”

Jasper examined the ring. Made of silver, a large shard of black onyx was set into its face, on which was inscribed a familiar emblem - two scythes and a skull. He tossed the ring back to the hunter. “Keep it - that’s all I needed to see. Bā’er, do you mind stepping out? We need to have a private chat with this gentleman here.” He nodded at the man bound on the bed and Bā’er grinned.

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“No problem. Let me know if you need me, my lord.” Taking another long draught of the grog, the man sauntered out into the hall.

“Well that’s not good,” Ihra said as the door closed behind the hunter. “Looks like we stumbled into something a bit larger than we realized.”

Jasper sighed, scratching his head. “This was supposed to be a simple little quest to take out some bandits, but it’s starting to look like a hornet’s nest.”

He scrutinized the amulet again, before tossing it back in his bag in disgust. “I don’t get it though. The harbormaster thought this belonged to the cult of Nahremah, the same cult Kas̆dael sent me to investigate. Is it just coincidence that we happened to stumble onto a criminal gang somehow associated with them, or is there a connection?” He sat down on the well-used bed, which sagged beneath his weight. “If it isn’t just a coincidence, how could they possibly know I was coming?”

Ihra sat beside him. “Divination, maybe?” she offered.

He shook his head. “Divination would help them find us, I suppose, but they shouldn’t know they need to use divination, right? They shouldn’t know we’re coming.”

“Maybe they don’t, and it's just a big coincidence?”

Jasper's eyes fell on the man, who was lying there quietly, the dopey grin still on his face.

“I guess let’s find out.”

It turned out that getting the drugged-up man to respond was more difficult than he anticipated. The man’s grin didn’t fade as they shook him, not even when they slapped him across the face. Ihra even held a knife to the man’s throat, threatening to slit him open, with no results. At last, they sat back, defeated.

“How long do you think this lasts?”

She snorted. “You mean if it doesn’t just kill him?”

Jasper’s eyes widened, and he sat forward with a renewed agency. “You’re right, it might just be a slow-acting poison.” Looming over the man, he grabbed the hand where the syringe had entered. Flipping it over, he saw the area around the insertion was slowly turning black, where a dark pool had grown beneath the skin. It squished beneath his fingers, and he reached his hand out to Ihra. “Here, hand me your knife quick. I want to try something.”

With her knife in hand, he cut into the black spot on the man. A black, oily substance spilled out onto the bed, a horrible, acrid smell accompanying it. Lifting the man’s hand up in the air, he drained the liquid, cutting away at the rotting flesh. Slowly the grin faded off the man’s lips as comprehension returned to his eyes. A scream broke out, quickly muffled as Ihra clapped her hands over his mouth.

He bit her, and she pulled back, cursing, before slamming a pillow over his face. His muffled screams continued until he felt the cold prick of steel against his throat. Slowly, she lifted the pillow off him, the man glaring murderously at them, despite the fear welling up in his eyes.

Jasper sat down beside him, a spell on his fingertips. “Now, we just have a few questions to ask you.”

In a bluster of bravado, the man spat at him. “I ain’t telling you nothing.” Jasper pressed the dagger harder, the sharp steel cutting into the man’s skin, releasing a bead of blood.

“There are other things I can cut.” He let his eyes trail downward, and the man paled, catching his implication.

“What do you want to know?”

Jasper raised his hands, allowing a bit of fire to play between his fingers, the fear growing in the man’s eyes. “I’m an inquisitor - I will know if you tell me a lie - so I expect you to stick to the truth.”

The man nodded glumly. “Whatever you want, boss.”

Casting the Scales of Justice, Jasper leaned back. “So, what group do you belong to?”

The man’s eyes darted nervously between the two of them. “You’ve seen the amulets, no doubt. I’m from the Cult of Nahremah.”

Jasper felt the hesitation in the spell. It was the truth, but also, not the truth. He shook his head, clucking his tongue, as he slowly dragged the dagger down the man’s chest towards his nether regions. “Now what did I tell you about lying?”

“It’s the truth, the truth I swear.”

The man’s eyes were wide with panic, as Jasper cocked his head. “But not all of it.”

“I’m also part of the Brotherhood of Yas̆gah, within the Cult of Nahremah” the man blubbered. The words resonated in the spell, and Jasper leaned forward, his interest peeked. “And who is Yas̆gah?”

“The hypostatization of Nahremah we worship, the goddess of the maddening darkness.” He frowned. Darkness could describe Kas̆dael, but maddening? It sounded more eldritch than anything else.

“Who sent you after us?” Ihra asked.

“A priest of the brotherhood. I don’t know him, someone from down south.”

“Why we were targeted?”

The man shook his head. “I don’t know. I was told you were a blasphemer who had offended the goddess; I was supposed to capture you and bring you back to the priest.”

Jasper pressed the dagger down a bit, as he growled out the words. “Where?”

“Outside the city.”

He stood up. “You’re going to take us there.”

But the man shook his head. “There’s no point. I was supposed to have already sent a signal if things went well. No one will show up now.”

Jasper cursed as the spell confirmed the truth of the man’s words. He sat back down slowly, resuming the interrogation. “Did you know Sellâ?”

Genuine confusion was mirrored in the man’s eyes. “Who?”

“Do you know anything about a group of bandits, fellow cult members, whatever, that were luring people out to ruins and killing them?”

The man shook his head. “We’re not like that. The Cult of Nahremah is an officially ordained cult.”

The words were true, but Jasper could sense there was some hesitancy in the spell. “And the Brotherhood?”

“We’re part of the cult!” the man wailed. “I’m just an initiate.”

Jasper and Ihra shared a look. The interrogation had revealed less than he hoped, although perhaps it had given them a place to start on Kas̆dael’s mission. Now, though, they had to deal with the man bound on the bed.

He sighed, preparing himself for what was to come. “I’m going to cast a spell on you. It’s probably going to hurt.”

The man’s eyes widened as he struggled vainly against his bonds, slamming the headpiece of the bed against the wall in a cruel mockery of the sounds of pleasure. “No, please, no.”

Jasper cast Purge.

Nothing happened. He waited. Still, nothing happened. Frowning, he cast Purge again. The man’s throat remained curiously unburned. Jasper stepped back, unsure how to proceed. The man had tried to kidnap them, but if Purge wasn’t working, that meant he wasn’t evil. Could he really just kill him?

Motioning for Ihra to follow him, the two stepped out into the hall. “What do we do?” he asked.

Ihra shrugged. “Kill him.” Her tone was more uncertain than her words, though.

Jasper sighed. “I wasn’t expecting Purge to backfire. I'm not really comfortable letting him go free and have the chance to come back and harm us later but...killing someone you know isn’t evil? That's a hard pill to swallow.”

"If a tiger attacks you in the jungle, is it evil?" Ihra asked.

"No?"

 "But you still kill it, because it's a threat to you."

"It's not the same, though-"

Their discussion was cut short by the sound of a crash in the room. Yanking the door open, they rushed back in. The bed was empty, the severed ropes sprawled uselessly across the well-worn mattress. Shards of glass lay across the floor, scattered from the now-shattered window.

“Whelp. I guess that solves that issue…for better or worse.” He grinned halfheartedly. "Here's hoping it doesn't come back to bite us."