Vel'duith kept uncharacteristically quiet on the walk to the tower. She marveled anew at the tingle the various wards and glyphs before and below the entryway gave her, as well as the precise, barely audible whir of perfectly mated gears and perfectly straight rods as the locks opened. Dwarven craftsmanship had long ago earned her deep respect. Regardless of the looks or expressions given her, she greeted each dwarf she passed with a slight tip of her pointed hat.
Within the stone room, she removed her hat, setting it at the edge of the bench. She grimaced at Karskgorak's discomfort, tsking that the guards had left him so. There was quite a difference between a thin house door and the reinforced oak they waited behind. She was tempted to unlock the manacle, but dwarven manacles were designed to ring out when opened, and surely that sound would bring more unnecessary trouble.
Something about the guard captain had stood out to her, aside from his name. Why, there had been flawless rubies set into the wonderfully wrought furniture of that engraved dwarven battleax all those years ago.
Surely a coincidence. Remembering how they complimented Orebith's eyes as she brandished it playfully in the cavern on the jog home, and the way she had half-scolded her for fooling around when their city could also be in flames... needless scolding, a needless attack - all for the yathrin's lies. And then she took that piece of dwarven art and accomplishment and gave it to that effete shebali ja'luk - handsome, certainly - but nearly the worst of Kmindu's sycophantic gaggle. And the lies he told while swaggering about with it on his shoulder at parties... her garnet eyes burned. And watered.
What was it about that guard-captain?
An hour passed. Then two. Abruptly, the door opened, and Largo entered. "He's awake. And thought I was joking when I described you lot... so there's that. We'll go meet with him here, in case there's any more trouble. He's had enough of 't, for certain. Yer word's kept; so off with the manacles. Don't give my boys any reason to regret it, ya hear? As for you,
drow, you'll get yer crossbow if all's well, but not before. And don't put a hand near anything."
He led them out the room, down a hall lit by hanging lamps, up a flight of stairs to a room. Baldarion sat wearing a simple robe, a warm blanket in his lap, and thick woolen slippers. He squinted at the three as they approached.
"So ye're all three of ye Yaegirs, e'en that drow? Never would hae believe'd'it, without the seein'! An' old Gibb says ye're here to ask me about a mummy? And Largo had it that all three of ye said I was changed shapes in my very library, an' me found nakid as a babe right after? If Gibb hadn't said ye'd only just arrived in town, I'd have some questions all my own..."
His eyes turned expectantly toward Sigrun.
Sigrun Flintfeet
Karskgorak Fiend-Crusher
