Getting the dwarf out of the Padins’ Hall discreetly was difficult, but they managed. At least, nobody raised any arms and nobody tried to stop them. Discretion was important in a case like this – the padins likely would have objected to a demon, its weird mage handler and a warlock apprehending an enemy warlo their basement. Ohey were out, they simply walked the dwarf out of the Temple District while Jori followed more discreetly below street level.

  The prisoner, who still seemed to be pletely uhe trol of some kind of demon, was surprisingly cooperative once he’d surrendered. When they reached the Solicitors’ building, Josie let them in through the side door ahem down a set of steps to a small series of cells, two of which were occupied. After log the prisoner inside one of the open ones, she held a small healing potion out to him through the bars and offered a small mog bow.

  “Drink up, whisperer! pliments of the Solicitors.”

  The dwarf took it wordlessly, and she turo go.

  “Uh, where are you going?” Bernt asked, eyeing the prisoner as he drank the red liquid down. He didn’t like the idea of bei alone in here – not if the prisoner could talk again and especially not if it could mean experieng whatever had happeo Josie out there earlier.

  “I’m going to fetch Solicitor Radast.” Josie expined without slowing down. “Don’t worry, the cells are ented. He ’t do anything. Just stay here for a minute.” Her steps stopped and she called back dowairs. “Uh… don’t talk to them, though – they’re dangerous!”

  Bernt looked around. It seemed like an unnecessary warning. None of the prisoners looked especially talkative – they were huddled he backs of their cells, in the shadows. With a shrug, Bernt pushed up his sleeve to che his arm. It looked pletely fihere wasn’t even any scarring. But he hadn’t been able to cast.

  “What’s wrong with it?” Jori asked, peering at the hand. He could feel her worry – she’d probably felt him get burned.

  He shrugged at her. “I’m not sure. I think that other warlock did something to me when he burned my arm.” Hellfire alone wasn’t supposed to have this sort of effect, as far as Bernt knew. Granted, it usually did a lot more damage – there shouldn’t have been an arm left to heal. He shivered at the thought of how close it had really been. But his cold fire had weakehe attaehow, or ged it. He couldn’t really be sure exactly what happened.

  Hesitantly, he tried casting his torch spell – the easiest trip he knew. Visualizing the spellform felt normal. A small, bright fme flickered to life over his open hand. It worked, but even as the light kindled, a bone-deep ache radiated up his arm. It hurt to el more than a trickle of mana out through the arm.

  This was bad. He o talk to Syrah or maybe Ed or Iria. Somebody who might know what happened and how to fix it. This was the sed time his casting had bee impaired from his dominant hand in just over a month – not ting the alchemical poisoning he'd suffered in the limb. But that couldn't be reted. Could it?

  Bernt’s train of thought was interrupted when the door opened and Radast stepped inside, followed closely by Josie. Quickly, he dropped the sleeve and stepped back to let them by.

  The head solicitor spared a quice for Bernt’s spell, which still burned brightly over one of his shoulders, but he didn’t ent. Instead, he stepped directly up to the bars and eyed his new prisoner dispassionately.

  “Good afternoon,” he began in a calm, businesslike manner – her hurried nor patient. “I’d like to ask you a few questions about your presend purpose here in Besermark – and Halfbridge in particur.”

  The gray eyed dwarf stared back at him expressionlessly for a few seds before answering. “I am tractually bound not to reveal any information about the Duergar Empire or my pacted partner.”

  His voice was dry aionless, just like his face.

  “Hmph. Well, at least they have some kind of tract.” Radast surning away. “Still, I would have thought that a civilization as old and respectable as the Duergar Empire would have more sehan to allow its warlocks to surrehemselves to possession.”

  The dwarf didn’t answer ive any indication that he’d even heard.

  “Ah well, it was worth a try.” Radast turo Bernt, aowledging his presence for the first time. “Underkeeper Bernard. Do you mind if I borrow yht?”

  Bernt nodded, and the warlock pulled a dense bundle of herbs from his pocket. He held it up to Bernt’s torch spell until it caught fire, theinguished the fme again with a practiced flick of his wrist. An unpleasantly acrid herbal smell filled the room.

  Wafting the smoke around in an odd circur motion, Radast ted in an unfamiliar nguage. As he did, the dwarf’s previously dead face began to twitch oddly before settling into a deep frown. Brown bled into the creature’s eyes until they were left dark without a hint of their previous gray. The warlock hadn’t done any magiot directly. Bernt would have been able to se if he’d actually eled and shaped mana himself. But whatever he’d done had worked. Was this ritual magic?

  “Now, the’s try this again,” the warlock said pleasantly, though his expression was nothihaory. “What’s your name?”

  The dwarf looked around nervously and frowned up at Radast. “My name is Ksandr… who are you?”

  “Ah, isn’t this better?” Radast smiled. “My name is Solicitor Radast. You may call me Solicitor, or Solicitor Radast.”

  “You have done a foolish thing, taking me as a prisoner.” Ksandr said, eyes narrowing. His Beseri was quite good, though he had a fairly strong guttural at. “They will know, and you will die. Nuros ands many silent watchers – shades, eldritch eyes, aers of memory.” The strange dwarf's voice grew increasingly strained as he talked and foam started colleg at the ers of his mouth. “If none see, my own demon will deliver his knowledge of you when it returns. None may know our purpose, and so you will die.”

  Radast rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure that’s very iing. Who is Nuros? Is it a general? A duergar prince?”

  “A general,” the dwarf answered, voice turning raspy, “A prince of sorts, perhaps – an asding star of the fifth circle. He is a servant of Varamemnon, the Dev Maw.”

  “Hail the Devourer.” An unsteady voice rattled out from another of the cells.

  “Deeply he drinks from the well.” The st prisoner said in a smooth baritone and with a ritualistic ce. He was a tall, powerfully built man. He’d e right up against the bars to hear the duergar warlock’s words, but he was staring at Jori with feverish iy.

  A shiver ran dow’s neck, both at the creepy dispy, and because he had an idea of who this might be.

  Jori had seen him too. Her face torted with rage and she summoned a fistful of sulfurous red hellfire, but Radast made a quick gesture with one hand and his shadow flickered forward to fall across Jori’s body for a moment. The fmes simply vanished, as if extinguished under a heavy b. Jori hissed and shook out her hand. The shadow had stung her, somehow.

  “Well, well. This is iing. Finally we’re getting somewhere with all this,” the solicitor hummed, seeming pletely unruffled. “Underkeeper Bernard, Dzhorianath – I believe it would now be appropriate for you to go and be debriefed by your superiors. Archmage Thurdred will wish to learn of our findings and have an opportunity to speak with uest himself. I will see to it that t Narald and other relevant stakeholders are informed. Please rey our pliments to the Archmage aerate to him that, as per reement, he will enjoy our full cooperation in all matters pertaining to the current situation.”

  Bernt had questions, but this seemed like a bad time and pce tue. He o talk to someone about his arm, and he wao get Jori out of here and away from the tall man. She was afraid of him, and her fear was making him uneasy in turn.

  So, instead of saying anything, Bernt just nodded and headed for the door, pig up a shivering Jori and carrying her out in his arms. As he passed her, he noticed Josie giving them a strange, bemused look.

  –-------

  Bernt and Jori went to find Ed first, at the Underkeepers’ old headquarters. Bernt expined what happened as quickly as he could, including the apparent spiritual damage to his arm, with Jori adding both helpful and not-so-helpful details to better illustrate her role in the day’s events. Ed’s scowl deepend as they talked, though he looked more thoughtful than upset.

  “Hmm. Well... there’s not much point iing about your arm right now. Just rest it for a few days and see how well you recover naturally.” He rose from his chair and began colleg his things. “I o go visit with the Solicitors. You should go home. You’re not even supposed to be w today, fool boy.”

  He was nearly out the door wheopped and turned ba. He met Bernt's eyes for a sed, and gave him a sidering nod, followed by a firmer one. "You did good today, both of you. This is going to win you a bit of goodwill, fag down an enemy warlock out in the open like that. The rest of us, too. The padins aren't going to like being saved, especially by the two of you and the solicitirl, but they aren't ingrates, either. Mostly, anyway."

  He nodded one more time and turned away. "Alright. Now go on a out of here. I o lock up."

  -------

  By the time they returo the Uy Gate, night had fallen. The pleasant yellow-green light emanating from the tunnel ceiling gave the pce a warm, inviting air, not at all like the sewer-based dungeorahat it had been just a few weeks before.

  Bernt’s spirits lifted at the sight and he waved to Palina, who was once again manning the guard station and sipping on a steaming cup of tea that she raised to him in reply. Everything looked calm and peaceful – the only indication that anyone had been flinging hellfire around here just a few ho was a few square feet of smooth, gssy-looking cobblestohat had melted slightly in the unnatural fire’s incredible heat.

  “I thought you already worked the day shift,” he asked as they got close enough to talk.

  Palina shrugged. “I’m filling in for one of the gobbos – signed myself up for a bit of overtime. The poor little guy took a spear right iomach. That healer you showed up with took care of it, but she said that he should y down for a day or two to be sure. Gut wounds are always a mess. Someone will be around to relieve me soon.” She leaned forward, raising a spiratorial eyebrow. “I heard a rumor that you and the solicitirl dragged the other one of those warlocks out from uhe Padins’ Hall.”

  Bernt shrugged. “Uh. Yea…” He didn’t realize that word would get around so fast, though it made sehey’d pulled Ksandr the warlock up out of the windht onto a public street.

  “I snatched his alchemical bht out of the air!” Jori said proudly, making a snatg motion to illustrate. “He was going to burn down the whole building, probably, but I stopped him.”

  “Really?” Palina asked, eyebrows rising as Jori nodded emphatically. “I suppose it’s a good target. They’re relying pretty heavily on their warlocks. What did you do with the bomb?”

  “The solicitors took it,” Bernt replied, “and good riddance.” It had been a fragile little thing – a thin vial with three separate chambers, each of which were filled with some kind of liquid. It wasn’t hard to guess what would happen if it broke. He hadn’t wao touch the damhing, and Josie had been only too gd to carry it. The Solicitors would probably want to study it. In his professional opinion, it was an i and dangerous way to harness fire. A fireball wouldn’t just go off actally and roast him where he stood if he tripped.

  Palina looked nonplussed at his response, but didn’t question it further. “Well, I’m gd we had Jori there to fight the big bad warlocks for us. Word’s getting around about the fight here on the pza, too. I heard a couple of dwarves talking about it on their way down below about an ho.” She winked down at Jori. “Yetting famous!”

  Bernt snorted and waved again as he started making his way dowunnel. Jori was always going to draw attention, but it remaio be seeher that would ultimately work out well for either of them.