Circle of Skulls

FOUR

NIGHTAL 20, THE YEAR OF DEEP WATER DRIFTING (1480 DR)

Sunset did not last long, dark clouds rolling in to steal the sky's red-orange, replacing it with deep blacks and undulating purples. Pharra's Alley was thinning out, the usual crowd of merchants and hopeful students meandering away from the wizards' gate, revealing the bare stones where the skulls were said to appear. Rorden Allek arrived, disturbing Jinn from his study of the rumored spot. He was not entirely convinced the circle existed at all.

"Master Jinn," Allek said, seeming more rested that the previous night but no less weary.

Jinn opened his mouth to respond then spied Quessahn approaching from behind the rorden. She handed him back his sketches, causing Allek to regard Jinn with a glowering, curious stare.

"Forgive me, Rorden Allek, this is Quessahn Uthraebor," Jinn said swiftly before either of them could speak. "I have asked her to assist us."

Allek glanced at the moon elf briefly before gesturing toward the end of the alley. He led them north through the ward as lamplighters gathered at street corners, long, iron hooks slung over their shoulders for the oil-pot lanterns that lit the city by night. Small, portable merchant carts rolled by, their wares folded away until the following morning's business. Horse-drawn carriages, well shined for the appearances of their wealthy occupants, set out from walled mansions, heedless of those foolish enough to get in their way.

"You call this discreet?" Allek said at length, eyes forward and in step beside the deva.

"She already knew about the killings," Jinn responded quietly, "and I suspect we'll need her insight."

"Insight?" Allek asked. Then he sighed, shaking his head. "A wizard…"

"Warlock," Quessahn corrected.

The rorden paused, turning to face the pair with a defeated expression. Jinn had gone against Allek's wishes, but they had both known the exclusion of arcane insight could not have lasted long.

"Well met, then, Mistress Uthraebor," the rorden said, though he glared at Jinn. "Let us be swift before the whole of Waterdeep knows our troubles. Then we'll be up to our eyeballs in wizards and the gods know who else."

Across the street from the corner of Stormstar's Ride and the Street of Glances, Allek stopped, gesturing to the tavern on the northwest corner.

"The Storm's Front," he said, "a popular gathering place for the young and wealthy. Many of the most recent victims were last seen here. The Watch has staked it out before with no success, but I'm hoping that between the two of us-"

"Three," Quessahn added quickly, studying the two-story stone and wood tavern as a well-dressed couple slipped inside. Scents of roasted meats wafted from the open doorway, and Jinn noted several patrons already seated, getting an early start on the evening's revelry.

"Three, yes," the rorden said. "I was hoping we might spy something of note, something the average officer might not notice."

"Is this all?" Quessahn asked. "After a month, this tavern is all you have?"

"I've added an extra man to each patrol and an extra patrol after evenpeal," Allek said angrily, keeping his voice low. "Beyond keeping our eyes, ears, and feet busy, I've little else to go on at this point."

"Fair enough," Jinn said, glaring at Quessahn as Allek made his way across the street ahead of them. Jinn caught Quessahn's elbow, holding her back a moment. "Any luck with the sigils?"

"Some but nothing very helpful," she answered. "Likely more than the Watch has uncovered yet. If they'd just trust a wizard long enough to-"

"We'll talk later," he replied and followed the rorden. "Until then try to keep in mind that the last victim was Allek's niece and that you're not the only one who cares that people are dying."

Jinn did not look back to see her reaction, though he felt the effect of his words in her ensuing silence. He was not fond of the general distrust of magic some people held, but by the same token, he despised the knee-jerk reactions of magic-users who suspected prejudice at every turn-an effective circle of ignorance begetting yet more ignorance.

Laughter and bright lanterns greeted him as he entered the Storm's Front, a large, curved main floor contoured to the shape of the street, the opposite end bearing a double stairway to a second floor and more private gathering rooms. The interior was well decorated with polished wood tables and chairs, candles at every seating, and an elaborate bar serving cold drinks and hot meals. It seemed to reflect what Jinn suspected to be a wealthy clientele, but it was also less than what he had been expecting. That he and Quessahn had entered without being stopped at the door was evidence of an inclusiveness that some finer establishments of the ward lacked. Several weapons of an ocean-themed nature hung on the walls and a wooden plaque over the bar bore a storm-cloud design over a crude wave of water. The tavern had an air of false roughness, alluding to a true sailors' tavern, though Jinn imagined that the only sailors who had ever entered the place were either long retired or owned small ships that they occasionally visited.

Jinn felt eyes upon him and the eladrin as they crossed the common room, joining Allek at a table that afforded a view of the entire bar and seating area. He caught more than a few sneering looks from the growing crowd and paid them no mind, sitting back and letting his gaze wander from one person to the next, trying to appear casual. He studied clothing, visible weapons, those who were quiet and watchful, and those who laughed and caroused. His eyes were drawn to the roughness or smoothness of exposed palms and took note of their footwear, marking filth and cleanliness, loud heels compared to smooth, quiet soles.

Altogether, he could piece together one suspect from among several familiar traits, though could not attribute any particular crime to the amalgam. No one presented themselves as anything other than what they seemed, and with Allek's admission that several unconnected murderers had already been placed in the Watch's custody, Jinn began to realize the difficulty of the task the Watch had undertaken.

"Rorden Allek!" a young woman at the door called out, extracting herself from a small group of admirers and sauntering over to their table. She was a short, curvy woman festooned with lace and jewels, a tight-fitting crimson dress leaving little to the imagination as she leaned against their table with a conspiratorial wink at the rorden. "How is my favorite niece of yours, Rorden? I haven't seen Alma in ages!"

Jinn noticed a brief shadow cross Allek's features, and Quessahn looked away uncomfortably. However, the rorden composed himself quickly, his voice bearing not the slightest hint of what he truly felt.

"Mistress Lhaerra," he said, "I fear that Alma has taken ill of late-"

"The poor dear!" Lhaerra exclaimed, an exaggerated look of concern on her face disappearing quickly as a round of laughter from the bar caught her attention.

"Give dear Alma my best, will you?"

She was gone before Allek could respond, lost in a crowd of smiling suitors and jealous rivals. The rorden merely sat in silence, eyes seeming to burn a hole in the tabletop for a moment before returning to his perusal of the common room. No one else approached the trio for some time, and for that, Jinn was grateful.

As the evening wore on closer to evenpeal, he sipped at a glass of water, earning scornful looks from the barkeep. Jinn fought the urge to suggest leaving, seeing little in the vapid decadence of those gathered that reminded him of the Vigilant Order.

He saw them more as prey than predators. The more they drank, the more closely he watched, waiting for signs of an approaching threat that might sniff and prowl at the weaknesses of those with too much coin and too little sense.

"Are we entertaining criminals in taverns rather than the jails now?" a young man at the bar called out to the amusement of his snickering companions. Only a few among them tried to shush the tall, lithe young man in black trousers and doublet, a fine-stitched storm cloak thrown over his shoulder to reveal a jeweled rapier at his side.

"Callak Saerfynn and his toadies," Allek said, nodding to the bar with a half-lidded gaze that turned more than a few heads back to their drinks. "Coins too shiny for the commoners and nary a kind word to the servants that tolerate them."

"Wits as dull as their gilded blades," Jinn muttered as Quessahn stood, tight lipped and with fists clenched. Jinn was prepared to intervene should the eladrin attempt to confront the group, but he relaxed when she turned away.

"I'll have a look around," she said almost calmly. "I need to stretch my legs."

Over the laughter and dull roar of conversation, Jinn heard the bells announcing evenpeal outside, the last bells of the night. The sound was comforting to him, more acquainted as he was with the later hours, and he renewed his scrutiny of the tavern's guests. Most of those in the city with foul intentions did their work under night's cover.

Allek shook his head and rubbed his eyes. "I feel a fool here already," he said, pushing away from the table. "I'll have a quick look upstairs, and we can leave soon."

"Take your time," Jinn replied, narrowing his gold eyes and sensing an unmistakable hush hiding among the tavern's crowd, a familiar calm that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. He absently tapped at the pommel of his sword, searching for what had caught his interest, some movement among the crowd that stood out from the rest. He added quietly, "And be careful."

It slid among the young and perfumed, the wealthy and foppish. A shock of dark blue traced with lightning-white lace. With bright hazel eyes, she watched him demurely over the shoulder of one oblivious patron then another as if she moved apart from them, commanding space for herself by presence alone. Long, blonde hair, strands of it framing her soft face, fell down her back as she approached, appearing between two shocked young men like a ghost. Dark crimson lips smiled, and her eyes wandered to the patterns on Jinn's cheek, down his neck where they branched between his shoulder and collarbone.

Despite her beauty, or perhaps because of it, Jinn held still, waiting for a knife to appear in her delicate hand or horns to sprout from her forehead. The woman, in one way or another, was the predator he had expected to find. She sat across from him wordlessly, her body curving in practiced motions to accentuate its many attributes.

"You are Jinnaoth," she said matter-of-factly, leaning forward with a grin.

"And you are the third stranger in the last day claiming to know of me," he replied, sensing a game in her sparkling eyes, a game he was determined not to play. "I grow tired of being marked before being introduced."

"Rilyana," she said. "Rilyana Saerfynn."

"You'll be the sister, then," he said, glancing to the disapproving glare of Callak by the bar, her brother red faced with drink and on the verge of what was likely an unseemly display of violence for the likes of the Storm's Front.

"Unfortunately," she said, following his gaze to Callak casually. "I hope you'll not judge me too harshly by his example."

"It seems I am forced to think just the opposite, wondering how the brother is related to the sister at all," Jinn said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "The sister that knows my name. I must also wonder what else she knows about me?"

"I have my sources. Despite its size, Sea Ward is actually quite small," she answered, staring deep into his golden eyes, though whether her stare was challenging or an attempt at seduction, he could not be sure. "You don't want to be here, do you?"

It seemed an innocent question, but Jinn felt the depth of it, even if such was unintended. A flash of the brilliant light from his dreams passed through his thoughts, the celestial glow of an ancient home abandoned. Though he tried to banish the image, it was strangely persistent, and he felt a slight pressure in his chest. Alarmed, he felt eyes upon him, glowering at him beneath a bushy brow from the doorway, the faint tap of Archmage Tallus's gnarled staff putting him on guard. A twist of pain wrenched his stomach, and he winced, reaching for his sword and comforted by the coolness of its grip as he glared at the wizard.

"What sources, pray tell?" he said as Tallus was covered by the crowd, lost to him near the tavern's door. A needling sensation pricked at his palms and worked slowly up toward his wrist and forearm.

"Pardon?" Rilyana asked innocently.

"Who told you about me?" he asked directly, standing as the pressure in his chest seemed to spread through his body. His mind raced, wondering what spell had hold of him. Instinct told him to draw his weapon and present it, but he resisted, confused by the sudden urge.

"Ask me nicely," Rilyana said coyly, ignoring his discomfort and flashing gold eyes.

"What?" he managed to ask as a scream echoed from upstairs, silencing the tavern's patrons. Smoke curled along the ceiling, and raised voices warned of fire as the crowd began to swiftly disperse. The ceiling shook with some unseen struggle, and a small explosion turned the crowd's dispersal into a desperate press. Rilyana disappeared among them, and Jinn stumbled forward, searching for Tallus when he caught sight of a growing shadow on the far wall.

Heartbeat thrumming in his ears, his sword fairly leaped into his hand, some remembered battle cry teasing at his tongue, waiting for the trumpets of war. Massive, black-feathered wings took shape, hovering over the heads of the crowd and sprouting from armored shoulders. A wavering, blank visage watched him with coal black eyes that danced with the sparkling light of a thousand souls. Jinn was pulled forward, each step his own but compelled by a greater force, dragged like a lodestone to the north. A feral grin spread across his lips as the angel regarded him coolly.

He forgot the murders, ignored the smoke and the screams, had no care for the fear of those driven before spreading flames. Sathariel had come and all the world's troubles were but trifles compared to Jinn's desire for the angel's pain. He jumped onto the bar, prepared to charge and end his years-long quest.

"Jinn!"

A faint voice cried out from somewhere amid the smoke, giving him a moment's pause, but he strode forward, stolen blade rising in his hand almost of its own accord, brandishing itself like a holy symbol to rebuke the unholy. He kicked half-empty glasses out of his way, striding toward his foe, but Sathariel's shadows began to dissipate, the wings slowly withdrawing.

"No! Gods damn you, come back!" he cried as the black eyes faded.

"Jinn!"

He blinked, fury clouding his vision until the angel was gone. The pressure in his chest faded, the needling on his skin disappearing in a breath. Turning, he found Quessahn at the bar, frantic eyes pleading for him to hear her, though he'd abandoned his last care for anything else at the sight of the angel.

"Allek is up there!" she pointed to the stairs and the cloud of smoke drifting from the second floor like misty snakes crawling along the walls. He gasped, cursing as the peculiar bloodlust left him, the stolen blade in his hand lowering as he realized he had forgotten his friend.

Jumping down from the bar, he raced for the stairs. At the bottom step, he caught a blur of motion above him, a dark shape hurled against the upper wall like a rag doll. Wood splintered beneath Allek's body as the rorden fell limp on the stairs, arms splayed over his head, his uniform's tabard torn away. Blood trickled down from the carved wounds upon his chest, already pooling in the hollow of his neck, dripping like a crimson necklace to the stairs. His friend's blank eyes stared at him almost accusingly beneath the wavering, smoky figure that stood at the top of the stairs.

Shadowy curls of black mist obscured the figure's features from head to toe, only the fiery glow of two flaming green eyes was visible within the insubstantial cloak. Allek's blade gleamed with red in the figure's hand.

Sigils, Jinn thought. Green flames. The killer.

He took the stairs two at a time as the figure turned away, billowing shadow stuff trailing behind the murderer in wispy ribbons. Jinn skirted the edges of a roaring flame, his boots crunching on the shards of a broken lantern as he made the last step. A private feast hall lay in ruins, the long table and chairs thrown aside, blood streaked across the floor. The killer stood at the broken window, eyes tilted curiously as Jinn approached.

"We do not recall you, deva," it said in a hollow, split-toned voice that growled and rolled through the room well after the words had been spoken.

"After a day of being recognized by strangers, I find that refreshing," Jinn replied and charged forward, but the figure had already slipped through the broken window and had begun to climb.

Jinn followed, pulling himself out onto a small balcony and jumping for the edge of the low roof. Shouting voices filled the streets, and fire bells had been rung, summoning water lines to douse the flames inside. He struggled at the damp edge of the roof, fingers chilled by bits of forming ice as he pulled himself up into a crouch. At the top of the cornered rooftop, the killer stood watching, eyes still tilted quizzically at his efforts.

He bounded up nimbly, navigating the rows of roof tiles. Swords raised, the pair met in a flurry of flashing blades. In three quick, hand-numbing clashes, their blades locked and the killer leaned in close, studying Jinn's face casually as the deva struggled against its unnatural strength. Winter wind whipped at his cloak and blew thin the wreath of smoke around his opponent, revealing a human figure if little else beneath the obscuring mist.

"Why have you come here?" it asked. A warm stench like burning flesh wafted across Jinn's face. "What do you wish of us?"

Blood, Allek's blood, slid down the killer's sword, dripping cold over Jinn's hands. He squinted in the ghostly light of the green eyes. The wetted blade pushed closer to his throat, and he strained, finding strength enough to hold it back.

"The angel," he managed to answer.

"Ah," the killer replied, pulling back. His blade twisted in a smooth motion, sliding down with a hellish screech until the pommel rested on Jinn's shoulder. The push seemed effortless, though it threw Jinn back as if he weighed nothing. He rolled down the roof, knocking tiles free as he scrambled to halt his descent, stopping only at the edge, his boots braced just at the drop. The killer never moved. "We smell vengeance in your blood, deva."

A chorus of discordant chuckles growled at Jinn as the killer tossed aside his bloody weapon, letting it fall to the street as he walked the apex of the roof, standing at its edge carelessly.

"It seems we know of you after all," the figure continued, letting one foot dangle over the drop. "We shall speak again, killer of angels."

In a whoosh of smoke, the figure fell, disappearing as Jinn crawled to his feet and ran to where the killer had disappeared. Though the alley behind the Storm's Front was still dark, he could see the dying light of the flaming green eyes as shreds of shadow dissipated and flew away from the broken body below.

Quickly he lowered himself over the side, climbing down from one windowsill to the next lower until he could jump to the ground. As he approached the body, the smoke was all but gone, the emerald light leaving behind pale, glazed-over eyes.

The body of a young woman, one of several who'd been in the tavern barely hours earlier, drinking and laughing, lay dead in the alley. Jinn shook his head, sheathing his sword and kneeling to study the girl in confusion.

"Possession?" he muttered quietly, feeling the chill of the girl's skin on arms as fragile as a child's, nowhere near capable of the strength he'd encountered above. Allek had spoken of multiple suspects, of madness and frantic claims of innocence. The fallen rorden's words began to fall into place, answering questions and at the same time creating new ones. Jinn stood back from the body, recalling more of what he'd been told. "Green flames… and skulls."

Iron clattered to the cobbles at the other end of the alley, a long, metal hook left in the wake of a frightened lamplighter. The boy glanced back once, enough to provide the Watch with an accurate description of what and who he had seen. A flickering glow of firelight illuminated the dead girl as shouts for water echoed from the front of the building. Jinn sank back into the shadows, his stomach turning as he caught his breath and contemplated his options.

"What lows to which you have stooped, deva," called a voice rumbling with power. A night black figure with wide wings, dark and feathered, crouched on the roof above. It half unfolded its wings with the hissing and crackling noise of dead leaves. "Presiding over the deaths of innocents? What a cold and unfeeling thing you have become, Jinnaoth."

Jinn stared up into the midnight dark of the angel's glistening, black eyes, hand drifting to his stolen blade, overcome by a familiar sensation of unnatural bloodlust.

"Sathariel," he whispered through clenched teeth, cold steel tingling beneath his fingertips as he faced his enemy.