Chapter 14: The Woman

      The woman stood on a balcony overlooking the Royal District. The towers of Ayrst Palace were the only features of the city that reached higher than her perch. She surveyed the city below with some small measure of disdain: the place was full of vermin, but many of them were useful vermin. They were ignorant of the uses to which they could be put, but the woman knew that the power to manipulate them was the power to control the twin forces of history and destiny.

      The sun was just beginning to meet the horizon off to her right, and so lamps were beginning to come on below her. The Temple servants would be lighting the lamps in her own chambers, soon. The autumn breeze carried with it a hint of the coolness to come: the time when the Ice Aspect of the Lord of Invincible Light would reign. The people would celebrate this with their festivals – meaningless rituals to soothe their superstitious minds, an abstract light to ward off the darkness in the recesses of their own souls. Whatever gets them through their paltry lives, she thought.

      She was a short woman with very dark hair and eyes. She was also petite and very pretty, with a generous mouth that curved up at the corners making her seem ever on the verge of a smile, even when she was in a cloudy mood. She wore flowing white robes with gold embroidery about the neck, sleeves and hem that made a whish as she strode back to her chambers.

      The servants had already been. They'd lit the lamps, and brought her fresh water for washing. There was also a new carafe of chilled red wine and a glass on a silver tray by her bedside.

      She poured herself a glass and drank down the contents in one gulp. She then filled it again, but this time she sat it on the night table. There was much to be done tonight, but first she had to speak to that miserable Dvergar. She went to her wardrobe to choose her attire for the night. She first pulled out her favorite green silk corset, but upon examination she realized that there was a tear in it. Should she even bother to have it mended? I'll just have another made. She tossed it aside. Where is that aberrant little circus freak? She hated waiting.

      There was the sound of a sharp knock, followed by silence, then two more together, then one alone again. At last!

      She glided to the chamber door where she pushed a bolt in place to lock it. Then she went to the east wall and pulled aside the edge of a large tapestry to reveal the polished marble that made up the entirety of the Tower of Sol. She found a place where there was an imperfection in the stone – a small chip where three yellow veins came together and inserted her finger into it. There was an audible click, and a portion of the wall gave way, swinging inwards, to reveal an unlit chamber.

      There stood the disheveled Dvergar. He swept past the woman and looked around him.

      "Where in All the Hells have you been? You know I don't like to be kept waiting."

      "Had bus'ness wit' da Troop."

      She threw up her hands. There was no use arguing with the diminutive miscreation. He was here now, and that's what mattered. "Are you ready, then? Have you scouted out the place?"

      "Yea."

      "Well?"

      "It's called the Seabreeze Tavern. Nice place."

      "That's awfully close to the last one. Look, Sticky, next time I need you to find a place a little further afield. Maybe try in the House District."

      "Yea. But this time by the river. Lots o' young nobles likes to 'slum it' there, as they say."

      "Fine. It'll do for this night. I'll meet you at the tavern's stable."

      "Yea. An' here's the drug." He reached her a small vial of blue liquid.

      "Good. Now be gone. I need to finish preparing."

      The Dvergar returned the way he came, closing the hidden portal behind him. The woman straightened the tapestry in its place.

      She went back to her wardrobe and decided on a black leather corset over a white blouse and indigo skirts. She looked at herself in the tall stand mirror. Who would be the unlucky soul tonight? Sticky had better be right about the clientele at the Seabreeze. No one would panic if the details didn't get out, but if the victim were someone of importance ... well, the Watch would hardly be able to keep it under wraps this time, would they?

      Once she was dressed, she exited through the same passage Sticky had used. From there she followed a spiral stair on its lengthy course to the base of the tower. She slipped out into the stables via means of another secret portal. Looking swiftly about her to see that no one was there to witness her egress, she walked around the back of the Cathedral into an alley that led to the Mayrand Way – the main avenue that led between the Cathedral Square and the Palace. Once on the street, she slipped into the crowds and continued on towards the river.

      The Seabreeze Tavern was a simple two-story construction on the High Street which was separated from the river and the High Street Bridge only by a Moneychanger's and a small alleyway. The alley that ran between the two buildings led to a stable behind the Tavern itself. It had few rooms to let, and thus was primarily used as a tavern hall. The stables were, in fact, larger than the Tavern, and the proprietress, Arya Seefer, made more than a little coin through trading in horses as a result.

      Upon reaching the tavern grounds, the woman immediately followed the alley to the stables. She waited until the stablehands were busy talking with another patron to surreptitiously enter one of the buildings. She went to the last stall on the right, passing several horses on her way. There sat Sticky.

      "Took ya long enough," he said, looking up at her from his seat on a bale of hay.

      "Yes, well let's bear in mind that my time is far more valuable than yours."

      He grunted. "As you say."

      "Have you the mask?"

      "Yea. And th' other thing ya asked for." He reached behind him into a large sack that was mostly covered in straw.

      "Oh, very good. Did you have much trouble finding it?"

      "Nay. Our man out at the farm has been bringin' 'em in by the crate." He handed her a small glowing crystal. Its light shone faintly amber.

      "Let's just be sure our man doesn't get himself caught with them. More importantly, be sure he never knows my name."

      "Don't ya worry yourself none, Archpriestess. He don't even know my name."

      "You be careful using titles like that, you fool!" She rounded on him. "If the wrong ears were to hear … let me just say that I would not be alone on the pyre!"

      The Dvergar chuckled. "Don't get your skirts in a twist. I was just havin' a joke. Ain't no one here now but horses on any account."

      She glared at him as though to murder him with her eyes. "Well no more jokes of that sort."

      "Yea."

      "Just you be ready with that mask and cloak. I doubt I can get a room at this place, so I'll bring someone out here to the stables. Do you have an escape route planned?"

      Sticky nodded.

      "Good. This time, be sure someone sees you before you vanish. I want the description on every wagging tongue in all of Ayrst by tomorrow morning. Do you understand?"

      "Yea."

      She left Sticky alone in the stable to wait. As she walked to the tavern, she thought of all the ways she might kill the filthy little Dvergar. He knew far too much to be allowed to live. And he has far too loose a tongue.

      Inside, the Seabreeze Tavern was a dank, smelly shit hole. Young nobles come here? It hardly seemed possible. The smell alone would drive out most commoners, let alone the delicate sensibilities of the upper classes. Nevertheless, there were more than a few young people dressed every bit as well as – if not better than – she was. The little fool knew his taverns, at least. There was a trio of musicians playing in one dingy corner of the room. They were surprisingly good, considering their surroundings.

      She searched the crowd for a likely mark. There was an attractive young man playing dice and laughing much too loudly. He would likely end up in some sort of trouble whether she took any interest in him or not. There was a group of well-dressed young people sitting at a corner table together. They seemed to be chattering amongst themselves – the way young people often do – about the manners and dress of the other patrons. It would probably be difficult to separate the weak member out of that flock. Ah! Just there on the edge of the group sat a young woman who was obviously trying to fit in with them but didn't quite know how. The little clique was ignoring her for the most part.

      She was a pretty girl, though she clearly didn't know how to use it to her advantage. Her clothes were expensive but rumpled, and her blush was applied incorrectly – it was the wrong shade for her light skin tone in any case. She also seemed to pay more attention to the women dancing around the room than to the men. Was she jealous of the way they danced so freely or the way they carried themselves? Or did her tastes in pleasurable company lean somewhat outside the norm?

      In any case, it shouldn't be too difficult to get the girl alone for a few questions. The woman noticed that the girl's glass was nearly empty, so she went strait to the first serving girl she saw and tugged on her sleeve.

      "Yes?" The poor girl looked flustered. Evidently tonight's crowd was a bit much for her to handle.

      "Listen to me carefully, and I will make it worth your efforts."

      The serving girl stopped short and gave the woman her full attention. "Go on."

      "I want you to drop whatever you're doing and go to the bar. I want a bottle of the best mead this place has and two glasses brought to me over there in two minutes." She pointed in the direction of where the girl was sitting. She then pressed a gold mark into the serving girl's hand. "There will be another of these when you've done as I ask."

      "Right away, Mistress!" The serving girl scurried off to the bar.

      The woman came close to the sitting girl, who was oblivious to her approach.

      "That's a lovely dress you're wearing. You should keep better care of it: it would more finely complement your figure."

      The girl looked up at her. "Pardon?"

      "Your dress. It's very nicely-tailored. I think with just a few adjustments you would outshine any other woman in the room."

      "Well, I uh … I mean to say, thank you. It's an old dress." She blushed.

      "I quite like it. How did you come by it?"

      "It was my mother's … before she Passed into The Dream."

      "Oh, I'm sorry to hear. How long ago was that?"

      "It's been nearly two years now, I think."

      "My own mother Passed in birthing me, so I never knew her."

      "I'm sorry to hear, as well." She brushed a lock of her auburn hair out of her face.

      "So what brings you to this little pit this evening?"

      "Oh, well some of the others were going slumming, and I thought I'd tag along."

      "This lot here?" The woman nodded to the circle of young people seated around the table nearby. "Why ever would you tag along with them? If anything, they should be trailing you like needful pups."

      The girl giggled. "You've clearly not spent much time among the newly rich."

      "Oh, is that what they are? I think the term pretenders fits them better."

      "Oh, you're a wicked one!"

      "You have no idea." The woman noticed that the serving girl was approaching them. "Here, your drink is nearly gone and I'm quite thirsty myself." She took the bottle of mead and the two glasses from her and handed her another gold mark. She examined the bottle and filled the glasses, handing one to the sitting girl.

      "Here, try this. It's mead from Kraycia. Perhaps not the best in the world, but likely the best you'll find in a filthy dive such as this."

      "Thank you," she said to the serving girl. "Be on your way now." The serving girl left them alone, bowing her thanks.

      By this time, the pair of them were beginning to attract some attention from the clique of chattering young nobles at the table. One of the boys in particular – a tall lad with dark hair and bright green eyes, wearing a coat of the finest blue velvet with silver scrollwork up the sleeves – stood and bowed to the woman.

      "Is she bothering you, madam?"

      "Not at all," replied the woman.

      "Surely I can provide you better company."

      "Surely you can take a hint and put your overly privileged arse back in its chair." She waved him away as though dismissing the lowliest of servants.

      His mouth dropped open in shock. "Do you have any idea who you're talking to?"

      "Do you have any idea how very little I care? Now leave us be." The girl stood up, laughing and very nearly spilling her drink. The woman led her a little ways away from the group.

      "You've gone and done it now, Miss," said the girl. "That's Michel Friedland. His father's the-"

      The woman cut her off. "Head Master of the Tradesman's Guild."

      "Yes. How did you know that? Have you met him?"

      "No, we've never met, but I know the name – and the reputation."

      "I'm sorry, but who are you, exactly?"

      "Please forgive me. My name's Lily." She bowed to the girl.

      "Just Lily? That's not much to go on."

      "You know, the polite thing to do when someone introduces herself is to introduce yourself in turn."

      "Judging by your behavior just now, I didn't think you put much store in politeness." The girl grinned broadly. "Nevertheless, I'm pleased to meet you. My name's Aliquah. And until I know more about you, that's all you're going to get. Fair is fair, yes?"

      "Very well." The woman nodded. "Then I propose that you and I and this bottle find somewhere else to sit and get to know one another a bit better."

      "I'll agree to that. Where do you propose we go? The place is rather crowded, and I think my seat's been taken already."

      "How about the stables, then?"

      "All right. It's bound to be quieter there, and we can hear each other talk."

      "Also, I expect the company of horses to be much pleasanter than that of cocky young noblemen."

      "Agreed," laughed Aliquah.

      The woman took her hand and they swept out of the Seabreeze and into the cool evening air.

      "That place was getting too stuffy anyway," said the girl. "And this mead's going to my head. A little fresh air will do me some good."

      "Yes, those kinds of crowds are a bit ... much. Come, follow me." She pulled Aliquah behind her and led her around the tavern to the stableyard, where she stopped short. "Wait just a moment."

      "What? Why?"

      "I like to play a little sneaking game, you see."

      "A game?"

      "Yes. See those two men over there?"

      "They're stablehands, I think."

      "Yes. Well, let's see if we can sneak into the stables without them noticing us."

      "But, why? There's no reason for them to stop us going in."

      "Oh, I know that, but I still think it's fun."

      "All right," Aliquah arched an eyebrow at Lily. "If you say so."

      The pair of them ducked behind a fence and waited. The two men were talking to one another, but the women couldn't hear what they were saying. A man on a horse rode into the yard and dismounted. The three men all turned their attention to the horse as they led it to the far stable.

      "Now!" hissed Lily. The two of them sneaked into the first stable. Once inside they both began giggling.

      "Well, Lily, I guess you were right. That was fun!"

      "Of course I was ... and I'm always right!" Aliquah snorted at this assertion before Lily once again grabbed her hand and pulled her down the rows of stalls to the end. She opened the empty stable to the left where a lamp was lit. "Here, we can sit on these bales of hay and have another drink."

      As Aliquah entered the stall Lily turned and looked into the one across from it. It appeared to be empty. Where had that Dvergar got himself to now? He was supposed to have been waiting there. Surely he would come back soon. Probably went to get himself a drink, the fool. She had returned more quickly than even she had expected, but that was no excuse for him to keep her waiting.

      Lily sat on the nearest hay bale and gave it a pat. "Here, have a seat next to me." 

      Aliquah sat. "You know, Lily, there's something strange about you."

      "You think? Tell me, then: what is it?"

      "Well, you carry yourself like a proper noblewoman, but ..."

      "... but what? I don't act like one?"

      "Something like that, yes. You remind me of what my mother used to say: 'Act your age, young lady!'" She laughed again. "But I never wanted to. Perhaps it's because you grew up without a mother to tell you those things, that ..."

      "That I don't act my age."

      "'Yes."

      "Well what age do you suppose I am?"

      "At first I thought you were my age, but I see now you're a bit older."

      "Oh, really?"

      "But not by much, I don't think. And regardless of your physical age, I think you're much younger than that at heart."

      "Oh, I see. So, you think I'm an old woman playing at being a girl, do you?"

      "No, not at all! You're not too old ..."

      "Too old? Who said  anything about too old? Too old for what, exactly?" Lily leaned in close to Aliquah.

      Aliquah swallowed. "Too old for me to notice your eyes."

      "What about my eyes," Lily whispered.

      "How they're so ... dark and deep. And beautiful."

      "Oh, my dear ... if my eyes are deep because they've seen things. If they're dark, it's because they have secrets." Their kiss was warm and soft, at first, but as their lips pressed harder, Aliquah pulled away.

      "Wait, Lily."

      "What ever is the matter, my sweet?"

      "Who are you? Why are you paying such attention to me?" Suddenly her voice grew cold. "Did someone put you up to this?"

      "Why no, not at all. Who would do such a thing?"

      "Some of those fools in the tavern would."

      "Well, I've never met any of them before tonight. And to answer your question, I'm paying attention to you because you deserve it. You may take care not to draw too much attention on yourself, but I have a keen eye for beautiful things -"

      "Oh, I see. So I'm just a thing to you?" She stood up in a huff.

      "That's not at all what I meant, dear Aliquah." Where was that bloody dwarf? She was going to lose this one if he didn't return soon. "Please, sit down."

      "Why?"

      "Because I want to get to know you better. There's something special about you, and I can't quite put my finger on it."

      "I get the feeling you've used that line before."

      "No. Please. I won't try to kiss you again. Just sit. Here - have a seat across from me and have a drink and we'll talk. Please?"

      Aliquah folded her harms across her breast and sat on one of the other bales. "All right. Maybe you're not what I fear."

      "Please don't fear me." Lily swept her arms wide, and in doing so knocked the bottle of mead on the floor of the stall behind her. "Oh! How clumsy of me. See? You're making me nervous, Aliquah."

      Aliquah tilted her head at Lily as Lily turned to get the bottle. She popped the cork out and poured them each another drink.

      "I'm just glad I didn't knock the glasses over, as well. Though I suppose the straw would have broken their fall." As she turned, she palmed the small vial of blue liquid and poured a few drops into one of the glasses. She handed it to Aliquah and raised her own.

      "What was that?" Asked Aliquah.

      "What was what, my dear?"

      "What was that you just put in my glass? And don't try to pretend you didn't. Let me see your other hand."

      Lily raised her hand, empty palm upwards. "Nothing."

      Aliquah stood again. She reached her glass to Lily. "Then drink this."

      "What? Surely you're joking. You think I'm trying to poison you, or something?"

      "Maybe. Or maybe just drug me."

      "Whatever for?"

      "To calm me down against my will, maybe? To make me do something I'll regret? To kidnap me? There could be any number of reasons." She suddenly turned towards the stall door. "What was that noise? Is there someone in here?"

      "Just horses, my sweet." Aliquah stepped away from her, her back against the high stable wall.

      "I don't think I want to be here any more."

      Suddenly the stall door opened to reveal a broad figure. It stood not much shorter than a man and wore a bulky black cloak. But it was the head that Aliquah couldn't tear her eyes from. It had a bulbous, lizard-like head with grey-green skin that  shone wetly in the flickering  lamplight. It had a longish snout with a ring of teeth in the end, and tentacles where its eyes should be.

      Aliquah turned away from it, and backed towards Lily, who slowly stood up and drew a heavy-hilted dagger from its  sheath. Suddenly Aliquah screamed and rushed at the creature, trying to knock it over and make her escape. It barely budged, though, and she was just about to make another attempt when Lily struck her on the back of the head with the pommel of her dagger. She collapsed in a heap.

      "Sticky, you fool! Where were you?" Lily pulled Aliquah up by the back of her dress and threw her on her back into a pile of straw. "Help me with this."

      "Didn't expect ya'd be back as soon as all that," said the figure. He removed the Teuthanurae helmet he wore.

      "It's a shame I had to wound the back of her head. This isn't going to look right. Well, what's done is done. I need to get back, so you finish up. And remember ... make sure you're seen – wearing that." She indicated the helmet.

      "Yea."

      The straw under Aliquah was beginning to pool with blood from the head wound. Lily stepped away and brushed the blood off her shoes against one of the bales of hay.

      As she exited the stall, she turned back to Sticky. "Remember - if there's not a panic in the streets in two days, we'll meet again on the third. And this time we need to go somewhere in the House district, understand?"

      "Yea." The Dvergar pulled a long thin metal instrument from under his bulky cloak and set to work. He'd remove the eyes first, then scrape out the inside of the skull and put its contents into an oiled leather bag before tossing it into the River Ayrst.

      Lily left him to his ghastly work.

Chapter 13: The Reaper

     "Right here in Conquests of the Great Empire there's a reference to a journal – supposedly kept by Imperator Leiwenend himself – where there's a description of the physical appearance and habits of the Teuthanurae." She put the new tome in front of Frayg and sat in the chair next to his. "Right here:"

          Teuthanurae are about the size of a man, but of greater girth. Their skin 

     is much like that of a salamander and varies in color from green grey to 

     almost black. They have short limbs with long fingers that end in suckers

     much like those of an octopus. Their heads are broad at the top, ending in 

     a toothy proboscis at the bottom. Their most unnerving feature is their lack 

     of eyes. Indeed, in the place where a man's eyes would be are instead a 

     pair of tentacles.

          They are known to feed on other intelligent creatures, including humans, 

     Aelwyn and Dvergar. They particularly crave the eyes and the brains, 

     which they get at through the ocular cavities using their versatile snouts.

          It is said that the Teuthanurae are practiced in the manner of dark rituals 

     and use these abilities to bewitch their prey, putting them in a trance state, 

     thus allowing them to feed without the resistance of the prey. Parties of 

     Teuthanurae have been known to hunt and capture other races to use 

     as labor and for a ready source of food.

          Leiwenend wrote that on his first encounter with the Teuthanurae he 

     lost nearly half his troops, even though his forces outnumbered theirs 

     by more than three to one. He later writes of making a treaty with the  

     king of the Teuthanurae, named Pazsquo. In the agreement, a certain 

     number of  humans would be sent to their capital of Kerasis annually to 

     use for their own purposes, and one fifth that number of Teuthanurae 

     would be sent to serve as trainers in dark rituals and as the Imperator's 

     personal bodyguard.

     "That's … unbelievable." Frayg looked up from the book. "This doesn't sound like mere folk legend to me. It seems as though these things may have really existed!"

     "Bear in mind that the book you hold there is only just over a hundred years old, but the events it's describing would have happened nearly two thousand years ago."

     "Yes, but these things were written down even back then weren't they?"

     "Probably. Leiwenend may well have kept a journal, but stories grow with the telling. Also, the language you and I are speaking now didn't exist then. The letters we now use to write would have been different then, too."

     "So … language doesn't just change from region to region, but over time, as well?"

     "Exactly. There's a whole branch of study in historical languages."

     Frayg scratched his head. "Well there's something I never knew."

     "Of course you didn't. You've never needed to … which leads me to a question I didn't ask the Dvergar: Why are you so interested in Teuthanurae?"

     "Hmm? Well, it has to do with a crime that was committed in the Wall Street District a couple of nights ago. I don't think I should tell you any more than that."

      Zaria's eyes narrowed and her mouth twisted into a sideways frown. "Is that so?"

     "Yes. I really think I should keep the details quiet."

     "So, you want me to help you research something that I'd wager you've never even heard of until the last day or two, but you're not willing to tell me why?"

     "Exactly."

     "That hardly seems fair."

     "I'm a Watchman. I don't need to be fair." He laughed.

     "Fine then, you're on your own from here on out." She stood up and began gathering up the books and scrolls from the table.

     "Wait! I need those."

     "That's too bad. If you want me to help with your investigation, you're going to have to trust me."

     "All right," Frayg sighed "but you have to promise me you won't tell anyone about this, all right?"

     "Agreed." She dropped the materials back on the table and sat down again. "This is about that … that man that was sent into The Dream isn't it? The one at that inn?"

     "News really does travel fast, doesn't it? I have to warn you, some of the details are pretty gruesome – you might not want to know all of it."

     Zaria's face grew pale and she put her hands to her mouth. "You're going to tell me that that fellow's eyes were missing, aren't you? Oh, by the Invincible Lord of Light … you were going to leave until I mentioned …" She gasped. "His brains. Something ate his brains, didn't it?"

     "Well, I don't know about ate. But yes, they were gone, too."

     "So, you think that somehow the Teuthanurae have returned?"

     "I don't know. I think it's pretty unlikely that a legendary race of evil beings that have been gone so long most people have forgotten they even existed would suddenly make their presence known in one of the largest cities in the world."

     "That's true." She relaxed a bit. "Besides, I don't think they would stop with one person in an inn. From the research I've done, they'd be more likely to conquer a whole city using Dark Magicks, although, there is one thing, hmm …" She trailed off.

     "What?"

     "Well, according to this other volume …" She reached across the table for another book that was in a strange writing that Frayg didn't understand. She opened it and began muttering unintelligibly.

     "Well, what? What book is that?"

     "It's called Sklerwantes fon di Finstirniss – It means Servants of the Dark. It's written in a very old dialect of Ancient Palonian "

     "And you can read it?"

     "Not very well, I'm afraid. I could probably get Professor Belsen to translate it, but he'd ask questions."

     "Let's just see what you can make of it for now."

     "Yes … here it is. I saw this the other day." She began translating, stopping and starting as she came to difficult words or phrases: "Some say the force … I guess they mean power … of the masters … some really old texts refer to the Teuthanurae as 'the masters' – I think it was a name they had for themselves … relied on the usage of tvarken. Without the tvarken, their force was made small … diminished, I guess … or sometimes like the breath of death. I'm pretty sure that expression 'breath of death' was used to represent the concept of nothingness."

     "So what does that mean? What's a tvarken?

     "The tvarken are what hat we now call witch crystals."

     "So, you mean … the Teuthanurae derived their power from … the … the Unnamed?"

     "That's certainly how the Temple would put it. I doubt that's how the Imperials would have seen it, though. The truth is, no one really knows –" She cut herself off mid-sentence. "Um. What I mean to say is yes. 'The witch crystals are used to channel power from the Unnamed. But this power is naught next to the power of the Lord of Invincible Light.'"

     Frayg chuckled and gave Zaria a reassuring grin. "Don't worry yourself. I'm a Watchman, not a Temple Inquisitor: you don't have to cite verses to me."

     "You ... won't report me?"

     "No. Let me tell you a secret: half the people in this city don't buy into half of what the Temple would have us believe. Why do you think there are still so many churches and shrines to the 'Aspects' and not  only Temples of Light?"

     "I assumed because people are slow in letting go of their Old Gods. "

     "Exactly. The Temple would love nothing more than to see all of those Aspect Shrines torn down and minor temples put in their place, but the Temple is patient. They're willing to wait out the beliefs of the common folk and absorb them into their own teachings."

     "I see ... and once they have the people in the Temple, they'll slowly eliminate the old ways."

     "You're a quick learner."

     "Top of my class!"

     "But you're wise to be cautious. I wouldn't discuss such ideas too openly."

     "Ordinarily I don't. Things are different here at the college – professors encourage us to think about every possibility when we're discussing an issue. There's an unspoken rule what we say here doesn't leave here."

     "It's nice to know there is at least one place where unorthodox ideas aren't a crime."

     "You're a strange man."

     "How so?"

     "Well, as a Watchman you're supposed to uphold the law. The Temple of the Invincible Light is the official religion of Palonias now, so their decrees carry the force of law, don't they?"

     "Temple law is different. I'm sworn to uphold the King's Justice. The royal family of Palonias has changed, and so has the religious authority, but the oaths I took pre-date the adoption of Universalism by close to three hundred years."

     "So ... you're not a Universalist, then?"

     "Of course I am." Frayg grinned mischievously. "All subjects of Palonias are Universalists. It's just ... well, let's say some of us are more comfortable with our conversion than others."

     Zaria laughed. "I see."

     "Back to the witch crystals. This says that Teuthanurae need these crystals, or their power is weak or vanishes?"

     "Something like that. As near as I can tell."

     "So if one of these things really is lurking about, it would be pretty powerless, unless it found one of the crystals."

     "And every known crystal has been destroyed by the Temple."

     "But what if there were an unknown source of these crystals? Where did they even come from, anyway? Originally, I mean ... before the Temple started confiscating and destroying them?"

     "Supposedly the raw materials were simply found in caverns and deposits alongside regular quartz crystals, like amethyst, citrine, onyx and clear quartz."

     "If they're so common, , how in the world does the temple expect to eradicate all of them?"

     "To start, they're not that common. They're found with common crystals, but very rarely. Also, the raw crystals have to be identified and then treated. And there are supposed to be special rituals or processes that need to be done before their power is usable."

     "What sort of processes?"

     "That, unfortunately, I can't tell you. The secrets of fashioning witch crystals are lost. Most of those who knew them were put to Trial by the Holy Inquisitors. Anyone else who might know anything about that surely wouldn't discuss it publicly. They would keep the secret, or be in hiding somewhere far from Palonias."

     "The Temple seems to think there are witches hiding in every cupboard and wood shed."

     "I suspect that's just in the interests of job security," she laughed.

     "You're probably right about that," he agreed. "Listen, is there anything else you can tell me about that Dvergar?"

     "Yes. When he got deep into his research, he took off his coat. Under that he wore a grubby vest with no shirt. He had a tattoo on his arm. It was a face of some kind: sort of an oval with rectangular eyes and mouth. The eyes had long lines under them, like tear streaks or something – like the face was crying. Or maybe it was supposed to be an actor's mask. Whatever it was, something about it made my flesh creep."

     "Could you draw it for me?"

     "I'm no artist, but it was a fairly simple depiction. Just a moment." She went across the room to a supply cabinet which she opened and retrieved a pen, a bottle of ink and a scrap of parchment. She returned and drew a copy of the tattoo. "It was maybe not exactly like that, but it's pretty close. If you show it to anyone who's seen the tattoo, they'll make the connection."

     "Very good. Thank you, Zaria."

     "You're welcome Captain. I have one favor to ask you, though."

     "I can't promise anything, but ask away."

     "If you find out anything more about this case, and especially anything about the Teuthanurae, will you let me know?"

     "Gladly."

Chapter 12: The Cellar

     Owerst Nandliss strode purposefully out to the campfire in front of the garden house. The workers were finishing their breakfast, sharpening their axes and otherwise preparing for the day's work ahead of them.

     "Good morning, Gentlemen." Several of them looked up from their business. "I'm looking for the fellow in charge here."

     One of the men pointed over his shoulder to the garden house. Nandliss recognized the accent of the Eccoscian lower classes in his speech. "Ya wanna talk ta Greimz. He's tha man in charge har'bout."

     "Thank you, good sir."

     "Ayuh. But arnt no sar." The man grinned up at him with a mouth that contained about half the usual compliment of teeth.

     Nandliss approached the house and let himself inside. The front door opened to a narrow hall with a doorway directly ahead and a door to either side of the entrance, staggered down its length. He could hear voices coming from the other end of the hall, so he went straight to the back doorway and into a small dining kitchen. Around a table with a large map on it sat three men: Rikard and two strangers. One of the strangers was a short, stocky human, the other an Aelf. The three of them went silent as soon as he entered.

     "Ah, Rikard! A good morning to you."

     "And to you, Owerst Nandliss." Rikard stood and bowed. The other two men merely looked at him.

     "I'm here to speak to the head of the camp. I assume one of these two gentlemen?"

     "Yes, it's Master Greimz here," Rikard indicated the human. "We were just planning the work for today."

     "Pleased to meet you both," Nandliss bowed to each of them in turn. "Unusual to see one of the Alpenfolk here. I'm honored."

     The Aelf and the man both stood and returned the Owerst's bow. The Aelf spoke first: "And I am honored to meet you, Owerst. Tales of your deeds precede you."

     "Is there something we can do to help you, sir?" asked Greimz.

     "I just had a few questions about the goings-on here."

     "I'm sure Master Greimz will be happy to answer them," said Rikard, "But please bear in mind that there's much work to be done. The Countess wants these trees gone as soon as possible."

     "Ah yes. It seems a shame to destroy an entire forest on such a whim, but I suppose it is her property to do with as she will."

     "It is."

     "I'll be brief, then."

     "Thank you, Owerst."

     "How long have you been working this wood?"

     "Rikard hired us about three weeks ago."

     "How well do you know your team?"

     "Dael here has been working with me for six or seven years now, some of the other men even longer. Most of them, though, I hired just for this job."

     "Are all of them from abroad?"

     "Most of my team comes from Eccoscia, as do I, but we have quite a few Palonians, as well as a couple of Rivvenlanders and Ehronians."

     "What else can you tell me about them?"

     "Not much else to tell. There are five other Aelfin, a couple of Dvergar, and the rest human. We number twenty-two in all."

     "All foresters by trade?"

     "Well, most of 'em are. Some are general labor, but as we're away from the cities here, I didn't think Guild Law came into the hiring decisions."

     "No - I shouldn't think it would. Have any of you seen anything unusual since you've been here?"

     "Not that I'm aware of. It's a big forest, though."

     "Well, I won't take any more of your time. Just take care, as there are likely to be a number of people wandering through the wood - myself included."

     "Don't worry yourself, sir. I'll be sure that my men keep a sharp eye out."

     "Thank you." Just as he came to the doorway, Nandliss turned back. "Rikard – might I have a brief word with you?"

     "Certainly, Owerst." Rikard walked with him into the hall.

     "Rikard, where did you find this team?"

     "Oh, I asked around down at Lunelton."

     "And why did you hire so many foreigners?"

     "I didn't hire them all. I hired Greimz and his team. He hired the extras."

     "How did you meet Greimz?"

     "Well, after I put the word out that we wanted such a large team, he was the first that answered, and he was the only one that was sure he could hire so many. Lumber is a big business in Eccoscia, so there are always men ready to work. Since there's so much competition there, it was easy for him to find men willing to work here."

     "I see. Well, thank you, Rikard. That will be all for now."

     Elinge Froske and Mr. Insel walked around the outside of LaDuce Manor. They had exited the front and gone around the entire west wing. As they'd expected there would be, there were a large number of footprints around that side of the manor house – this was the side where the foresters walked around between the garden house and where the Willow wood had its nearest approach.  They made their way behind the gardens and to the rear of the east wing. There were a few trees – mostly oaks and maples – scattered about in this area, but nowhere near enough to qualify as a forest. They discussed amongst themselves whether the Countess would have these trees destroyed, too. 

     Mr. Insel felt it would be a shame, "Some of these are good for climbing. And look over there: pears. It would be a real shame to cut down the fruit trees." He walked to the nearest tree and put his hand to the fruit. It snapped off easily. He handed it to Elinge before grabbing another for himself.

     "Very near ripe, I think," he said as he pushed on the neck of the pear.

     "Thank you, Mr. Insel." Elinge took a bite of hers. "Yes, firm yet sweet."

     "You're quite welcome, Miss Froske."

     They continued walking around the house, eating their pears.

     "There don't seem to be any footprints around here, have you noticed that, Mr. Insel?"

     "So it would seem. One would think the children, at least, would come out here for the fruit and to climb the trees."

     "Indeed. Oh! But here are some now." On the ground were some large boot prints – too large to belong to the twins. They lay in two directions: northward and south toward the house.

     "Which way do you think, Mr. Insel?"

     "Well, Miss Froske, as it's the house that most interests us at the moment, I should go in that direction first. We can always come back and see where the northward tracks lead later."

     "I agree. Tell me … do you notice anything unusual about these prints?"

     "Well, the ones heading to the house seem to be a bit deeper. I expect someone was carrying something this way. Should I call for Master Nandliss? He's likely to make more out of any tracks than we are, considering his experience."

     "We may yet have need of the Owerst, but I think we can take a quick look ourselves. No sense bothering him just yet."

     "As you say, Miss."

     They followed the tracks to the back of the house where they immediately took a turn east, along the wall. The windows here were boarded up, so they weren't sure which rooms were in this part of the house. The tracks ended at small cluster of tall azaleas.

     "An odd place for a shrubbery – so far from the main garden, don't you think, mr. Insel?"

     "I do indeed. They're not terribly well-pruned, either."

     They pushed past the shrubs and followed the tracks into a small clearing, in the middle of which was the stool of a coppiced ash tree that looked to have been harvested recently. Against the house was a stone step leading down to a cellar door. The footprints ended at the ash stool, but continued in the three feet between the stool and stair.

     "Now what do you suppose someone was putting in there recently?"

     "I don't know, Miss Froske."

     "Only one way to find out."

     Elinge approached the door and tried the handle. It was locked.

     "Well, isn't that curious? Hardly an impediment, though, would you say, Mr. Insel?"

     The tall man went slightly stiff, and his voice grew flat. "If I'm to investigate, I'll need full run of the house and grounds. And I'll need to be able to question anyone and expect truthful answers without reservation. You will have all of those, with one exception. I need my rest. You are welcome into my personal chambers, should you need access, but you will make arrangements beforehand."

     "I'd say that's permission granted." She reached into a small pouch hidden in the folds of her skirts and retrieved a small flat strip of metal and a bit of tense wire and set to work on the lock. After only a few seconds – during which there were a few nearly inaudible clicks of the lock levers – there was a small popping sound as the bolt withdrew. Elinge turned the handle again and the door opened.

     They entered a low-ceilinged cellar filled with old crates and broken furniture. There were cobwebs and dust everywhere, which made continuing to follow the tracks quite simple, even in the low light. They led to the back of the chamber where against a wall leaned a number of rusty tools and piles of dirty rags.

     As Elinge examined the wall, Insel began lifting crates. Most appeared to be empty, or at least very light. Upon picking up the sixth one they heard a strange clattering noise from inside.

     "There." Elinge looked up. The crate Mr. Insel was holding appeared to be newer than the others, and heavier. "What do you suppose someone's brought in here? Let's have it open."

     Insel sat the crate down again. Elinge reached him one of the old metal tools which he then used to pry open the top of the crate. Inside was a lot of packing straw and rags. He pulled out one of the rags which was wrapped around something large and heavy. Unwrapping the rag revealed an enormous crystal – a foot and a half long and about six inches in diameter – emitting a faint purple light. The whole crate was full of these large crystals, but they all glowed in different colors, as though there were a small spark of light inside each of them, straining to get out.

     "This is … a surprise," Elinge said breathlessly. "Do you know what this means?"

     "I'm afraid so, Miss Froske," he said – his frown was bathed in dappled light. "It means trouble."

     "Yes. A great deal of trouble. Someone's using this manor to smuggle these crystals … somewhere. But, to where, and whence? And why would someone take such a risk? If news of this got to the Temple, there would be a team of Inquisitors here in little more than a day."

     Mr. Insel only grunted.

     "Quickly! Put them back. We have to cover our tracks. No one must know what we've found. At least not until we know who's behind this."

     They began re-wrapping the crystals and packing them back into the container. Mr. Insel pounded the lid back on the top and placed the crate back where he'd found it. They returned the tools and vacated the cellar, Elinge using her picks to re-place the lever tumblers in the door's lock.

     They then worked their way back through the shrubbery and continued on their course around the house. Near the northeast corner stood a white willow tree.

     "Isn't that curious, Mr. Insel? An ash and a willow."

     "Like in the old Countess's dream and in the note."

     "It could simply be coincidence, I suppose. After all, there are many of both types growing all around here – especially in the forest."

     "If dreams come to us from our own inner minds, as the infamous Dr. Jehltsen asserts, then it might be that she simply had these on her mind – especially as it was by an accident with a willow that her daughter Passed."

     "That could very well be. But then there's the note which appears to have been written before the dream."

     "Might still be coincidence."

     "Yes ... but a very odd one. I think there are two facts we need to know now, Mr. Insel. Have you any idea what they might be?"

     "Well, I expect one of them is to find out who has the key to that cellar."

     "Yes. And the other?"

     "Hmm ... who wrote the note?"

     "Very good. I think when we discover the identity of those persons ..."

     "Or perhaps it's the same person," interjected Mr. Insel.

     "Or person, yes ... once we know, I think we'll a much better idea of what's really going on at LaDuce Manor."

     "How do we go about that, then, Miss Froske?"

     "I have some ideas, Mr. Insel. Let's go and have a chat with Rikard."

Chapter 11: The Library

     The Wizards College of Sol sat, rightly enough, in the College District, which was on the other side of the River Ayrst from the Wall Street District. This meant a long walk for Frayg, but it gave him time to mull things over in his mind. Ever since he'd first examined Nodge Prayner's body, he'd been asking himself why anyone would want to take his eyes and brain. His first thought had been that perhaps the boy had fallen afoul of one of the criminal guilds that were known to operate in Ayrst. Perhaps the boy had witnessed something, and the taking of the eyes was meant to be a warning not to examine things too closely. But then, why take the brain, too? His next idea had been that an underground heretical group might want them for some sort of unholy ritual. He hadn't gone as far as to speak with anyone in from the Temple about that possibility yet. Asking around about Dark Rituals was the sort of activity that might arouse the wrong sort of suspicion. Only very specific Temple Authorities would have such knowledge anyway – those being the Inquisitors. If nothing else panned out, he'd have to try to talk to one of them. Frayg shuddered at the thought of their involvement in his investigation.

     Frayg had followed the High Street over the bridge, through the Docks District and along the Heights until he finally reached the tightly-packed College District. This was one of the oldest parts of the city. The grounds of the college itself had originally been a fortress. It sat on a promontory overlooking the River Ayrst and the grounds of the new Palace in the Royal district directly opposite.

     The High Street passed through the district to the Wizard's Square. Frayg crossed the square and arrived at the gatehouse of the college. He showed the gate guard his Watchman's Seal, and was granted access and directions to the Main Library. There were several libraries in Ayrst – some of them even open to the public – but the Main Library of the Wizards College of Sol had the most extensive collection not only in the city, but the whole kingdom. It was also the most likely to hold books on mythical and legendary creatures.

     The Main Library was housed in an enormous marble building called the Capitolein. According to legend the building served as the headquarters of an ancient Orgish kingdom just after the collapse of the Great Empire. Frayg had his doubts that a bunch of Orgs could ever been so coordinated. The only experience he'd ever had with Orgs was in defending a small caravan from Orgish attack nearly twenty years ago. He'd barely been more than a boy at the time, but the memories were still fresh enough to remind him that it was all the experience he'd ever needed with Orgs, and he'd dearly hoped from that day forward that he'd never encounter one again.

     The Watchman climbed the wide marble stairs of the library and opened one of the huge double doors at the top. On the opposite side of a great foyer was a long desk, behind which sat a pair of students in dark blue robes. One was a bald-shaven boy of about seventeen, the other was a raven-haired girl who's age he'd put at around fifteen. They were talking quietly to one another and laughing. Their sibilant voices echoed throughout the chamber, but the reverberation made it impossible to make out any actual words.

     Frayg approached the desk and the two youth went silent. The boy gave him a quizzical look, as if he'd never seen another person in the library before. The girl addressed him: "May I help you, sir?"

     "I hope so," began Frayg. "I'm Captain Frayg of the City Watch."

     The two students looked at one another and then back to him. This time the boy asked, "What's a Watchman want in the library?"

     "I'm here to do some research, and I hear this is the best place in all of Palonias to do it."

     "Depends what you want to research."

     "I'm interested in any information you have about legendary creatures – particularly folk myths."

     "Any particular creature got your interest?"

     "As a matter of fact, yes. I'm looking for anything that some people call an Eye Reaper."

     The girl's mouth dropped open. She said, "That's very curious, I must say."

     "How's that?"

     "Well, it's been a few weeks ago now, but there was someone else here looking up information about that very topic – only he knew the right name of it."

     "What name is that?"

     "Teuthanurae. Although the books have many names for them, depending on when and where they were written."

     "Tooth-an-yur-ay." The word felt strange in Frayg's mouth. "So who was asking about it – wait, did you say them?"

     "Yes. There was supposed to be a whole race of them, with a kingdom and everything – until they were conquered by the Great Empire, that is."

     "All right." It took Frayg a moment to process this information. "So does anyone believe they were actually real?"

     "There's some debate about that in academic circles. There's been very little physical evidence of them. There is quite a bit of writing – and some of that dates back to the Empire itself. I don't suppose anyone alive today really knows, though."

     The boy looked at the girl as if she'd suddenly grown horns. "How do you know all this stuff?"

     "Well, Dranil, you'd know some of it , too, if you ever paid attention in Imperial History! Plus I did a little reading myself after that weird fellow came in asking about them."

     Frayg broke in: "This was a few weeks ago, you say?"

     "Yes."

     "Do you remember anything about the man?"

     "Are you really a Watchman?"

     "Yes, I am." Frayg produced his seal and allowed the girl to examine it. She looked closely at it and bent it in her hands and then smelled it. Finally, she pulled a small pinch of powder out of a belt pouch, mumbled a few unintelligible words and sprinkled the dust on the seal. There was a small flash of blue-white light and a puff of smoke which dissipated almost immediately.

     The boy next to her hissed, "What are you doing? You know you're not supposed to be doing spells out of class!"

     "Oh, hush," she replied. "The good captain here isn't going to tell, is he? Besides, I had to make sure the seal was legitimate." She handed the seal back to Frayg. "And it is."

     She stood up and offered her hand with a small curtsy. "I'm Zaria, and this is Dranil. In case you hadn't guessed, we're students here, and to help pay our tuition we're working at the library."

     "Pleased to meet you both. So does this mean you'll help me?"

     "Dranil, you keep the desk. I'm going to take Captain Frayg to the books he needs." She turned back to Frayg. "I'll tell you about the other researcher on the way."

     Zaria led Frayg through a door in the wall behind and to the left of the desk and into an even larger room that was full of tables and chairs. The walls were covered with bookshelves. Frayg hadn't realized there were this many books in all the world, much less in one room.

     "I see by the look on your face that this is your first time here." Zaria smiled. "It's quite all right. I imagine my expression was much the same my first time, too. Most peoples' are."

     She paused a moment to let Frayg take it all in, before asking, "Isn't it wonderful?"

     "I … it's so … that is, I mean to say ... Yes. Yes it's wonderful."

     "And this room isn't half of it." With that she led him to the center of the room and made a left turn towards the south wall, where a hallway led off the main room. "Upstairs in the south wing is where we want to go."

     Zaria fairly bounced her way down the hall. She clearly enjoyed showing off the library to newcomers. She was short in stature, but very pretty. Her dark hair fell about her face in loose curls, creating an oval shape that accented her large brown eyes and the bright smile she wore.

     "Now, you want to know about the other researcher. Normally, I wouldn't talk about any of our patrons to anyone else, but as you're a Watchman, I expect you have a good reason for asking after him."

     "Yes, I do."

     "Well, he was a Dvergar, to start. That ought to interest you. We don't see many of them this far south, even in a city as large as Ayrst. Of the six hundred students here at the college, only fourteen are Dvergar. They don't tend to go in for human magicks, but a few of them come to study history and yes, occasionally folklore."

     "Can you describe him any further than that?"

     "Yes. He was a grubby-looking fellow, tall for a Dvergar, but short for human – I'd say about five feet even – right about my height, actually. He wore a short brown beard and long mustaches. He had a northern accent, but I guess most Dvergar do, don't they? Their original homeland is in what is now called Rivvenland, though many of them now live around Rndak and Bergheim."

     "But this one in particular: did he give a name?"

     "No. The library is open to the public except during exam periods when we students need priority, so we generally don't ask people's names. I did introduce myself to him when he asked me for help – out of politeness, you see – but he only shook my hand and didn't give a name."

     They turned right and climbed a set of stairs. Up here there were mostly rows and rows of bookshelves and very few tables. They climbed to the very top of the stairs which ended in a large landing on the fourth floor. Here was another long hall lined with shelves.

     "What, specifically, did he ask about?"

     "The same thing you did, only he used the correct term, as I said."

     "Did you help him long, or did you just point him to the right books?"

     "Well, I tried to help him. I even brought him up here personally as I'm doing for you right now. Once he found what he was looking for, though, he didn't seem to want my help any more."

     "But you came back to do some more research on your own?"

     "Yes, well the little man had piqued my curiosity, you see. Magicks are all very well, and I'm pretty good at them if I do say so myself, but my true interest is in history – especially the stuff surrounding the Empire."

     They continued their progress until they reached about halfway down the hall, where Zaria pointed into an area between two large shelves. "Back there is the stuff on Teuthanurae."

     Frayg went ahead, scanning the shelves. There were so many books: great leather-bound tomes and scrolls and some leaves of parchment held together with wood and string. He didn't know where to even begin. He turned to look at Zaria, who was standing at the end of the little opening created by the shelves. The other end of the passage was against the wall. Frayg suddenly realized he was sort of trapped here.

     Zaria spread her arms and took in a deep breath through her nostrils."Ah! Don't you just love the smell of these old books? It's the smell of history!"

     "I suppose it is." Frayg reached under his cloak, where he wore a small club on his belt. Could this be her, he wondered. She matches the description, but isn't she too young?

     "Right there, on the top shelf. Folk Tales of Rivvenland. That's probably the best place to start." She pointed to a large volume. "I'd get it for you, but I doubt I could reach it."

     Frayg looked up at the shelf while simultaneously trying to keep an eye on the girl. He spotted the book and pulled it down off the shelf. Zaria stepped a little closer to him and took the book from him.

     "Here. We'll take it over to a table where we can get some light. It gets so dark in the stacks, it's a wonder anyone can read up here." She led the way to the middle of the hall.

     I must be losing my mind, thought Frayg. I could have sworn she was going to attack me. He followed her to a table near a window. She dropped the book on the table, plopped herself in a chair and began leafing through the pages.

     "Let's see ... here's the chapter on the Grey Mountain Affe – he's like a big hairy Org, but even less intelligent – and there's the Noekin –the Dweller in Ice, who lures children to their deaths in winter – " Frayg took a seat opposite Zaria as she continued scanning the pages. "Ah! Here we are: the Eye Reaper."

     She turned the book towards him and pointed at a paragraph with the heading Teuthanurae. He began to read.

          Teuthanurae (also known as Feasters on Souls) were vicious creatures 

     which used the Darkest Powers. They tended to live in moist caverns and

     other underground locales. According to some legends, they were even

     known to have created small subterranean cites, though during the 

     Great Empire they ventured above ground in great numbers. They 

     believed themselves superior to all other races, and used other intelligent 

     creatures as slaves - even going so far as to hold groups of humans and 

     Aelwyn like cattle.

          Most, if not all Teuthanurae in the Southern Colonnade Region were 

     hunted down and destroyed by the Holy Crusaders during the reign of 

     Queen Eustace (70 - 177 UC).

     "Wait a minute. This makes it sound as though they really were real."

     Zaria smiled. "Yes, but as I said, there is some debate about them. Most scholars believe they were real creatures, or that there were some real creatures at the heart of the legends. Of course, legends always grow with the telling, so there's a great deal of doubt about their Dark Powers or whether they were numerous enough to found a kingdom or capture humans and Aelwyn as slaves."

     "Aelwyn?"

     "Oh, the Aelwyn were the ancient race of Aelfin. They were nearly wiped out during the Great Empire period, and little is known about them now. It's believed that some of them fled into the Endless Marsh. Supposedly they intermarried with the Marshmen and that's how they fathered the race we call Aelfin today."

     "And these Teuthanurae were powerful enough to take these Aelwyn and humans as slaves ... and for ... food?"

     "And evil enough. Or so many legends say."

     "This mentions Queen Eustace ... so these things were supposed to have lived in Palonias?"

     "They were supposed to have lived all over the region."

     Frayg turned back to the book.

          The Teuthanurae live on in Rivvenlander folklore as the Eye Reaper. 

     According to these tales the Eye Reaper awaits children who wander 

     too far from home or disobey their parents or engage in whatever behavior 

     the parents wish to curtail – even if they cry too often. It is said that the Eye 

     Reaper eats the children's eyes and finds the eyes of a crying child to 

     be a particular delicacy.

          There are varying descriptions of Teuthanurae. Some accounts refer 

     to them as larger than humans, others as small as Pixies. They are 

     usually said to have green or grey-green skin like a frog or a toad, and 

     long frog-like fingers. The only feature that all accounts do share in 

     common is the Teuthanurae's lack of eyes, though some say they have 

     empty sockets where eyes would be on a human and others describe 

     sucker-like appendages or tentacles, instead.

     Frayg sat back in his chair, bewildered. "If it has no eyes, then how does it see?"

     "That's all that book has to say on them," replied Zaria. "But we have others. I remember one of them said something about them screeching like bats and that they used the echoes off of their surroundings to see. They're supposed to have quite keen hearing. Some other book said something about using Dark Magicks in place of vision. If they were able to use those sorts of powers, it's no wonder the Crusaders hunted them down."

     "All right, then. Let's see what else there is. I especially want to see the books the Dvergar saw, if you can remember which ones they were."

     "Sure thing. Just wait here and I'll be back." Zaria left him alone with his thoughts.

     He wondered if would be possible for one of these things to have somehow managed to live in the city. In the sewers, perhaps? Surely it couldn't have been here long, or something like this would have been reported before. And why would it have come into an inn rather than go after someone in some back alley somewhere? And what had the girl to do with any of it? Could she be its slave? That made no sense at all. Why wouldn't she just run when she had the chance, or get help from the Watch?

     He suddenly realized that his hunch had been a foolish one and that he was wasting his time. Zaria returned with a small stack of books and some scrolls.

     She said, "Some of these are older – closer in time to the source of the legends."

     Frayg rose from his seat. "I'm sorry to have wasted your time, but I really don't think any of this information is going to help me."

     Zaria frowned. "Really? That's too bad. Some of this stuff is really creepy – like the book that describes how they eat people's brains."

     Frayg sat down again. "Wait. On second thought, I think I'd like to see that one."