As the party made their way back into town, they saw signs of excitement in the townspeople at the news that the musicians had arrived. Santino sighed. He was too tired to enjoy the party like he wanted.
Outside of the inn, they spotted Alvin. Natalya was hoping to get in a nap before the event, but it looked like it was time to get to work. “Is Kendra here?” she asked the acolyte.
“Yes,” he replied. “She’s already inside.”
Natalya nodded. “Thanks. I’m going to go keep an eye on her,” she told the others.
After she went inside, Alvin noticed Santino’s condition. “You look very pale. You should get some rest,” the acolyte said, reaching out to touch the injured man’s face.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Santino said.
Inside, Natalya quickly found Kendra, then scanned the room to find the assassin she’d spotted earlier. She spotted him near the stage that had been set up for the musicians, whisper-arguing with one of the others, a sallow faced man who looked a bit like a weasel. “Toad,” he was saying, “you need to shut up about that. I told you. I didn’t have a choice. You know I can’t just tell her to stay home and expect her to listen!”
“Terry, you need to get that bird in line. We can’t have you distracted worrying about her when you should be focusing. And if that isn’t enough, she had to bring your little ragamuffin.”
“Toad, just shut the hell up and tune your ukulele. I won’t let Persephone’s presence get in the way.”
The other man gave him a cold look. “See that you don’t, or I’ll be forced to tell Typhon you can’t be trusted to do the work.”
There was a palpable flash of fear on the assassin’s face. “You won’t have to.”
“See that I don’t.”
With that, they focused silently on preparing their instruments alongside the other two. In just a few minutes, they were ready to go and took the stage. “Thanks for your patience, everyone,” a third man said. “Now how about we kick this party off right?!”
The crowd cheered and the four musicians began playing. Natalya had never seen an ensemble like this one. In addition to the assassin on the guitar and the sallow-faced man on the ukulele, there was also a young man – he couldn’t have been older than seventeen – playing a violin, and a halfling on a lute.
Outside the door, Santino, still supported by Heimish, was chatting with Alvin when he suddenly began hearing something strange. It was an odd buzzing, in rhythm with the music. Then suddenly he recognized it. “The bugs!” he shouted, drawing his umbrella and swinging wildly, almost hitting a woman in a tan leather duster with a collar made of lion’s mane, but she dodged carefully, keeping her body between the toddler she was carrying and Santino’s flailing.
Stein chuckled and tugged Santino away from the entrance. “We should get you away from people,” he said, helping Heimish move the man away.
“Back to the manor with you,” Heimish agreed.
As they walked about a hundred feet or so down the road, they passed a well. Stein stopped. “Do you hear what I do?” he asked Heimish.
“I hear it,” Heimish agreed, turning to look at the source of the buzzing, a nearby well. It was definitely reminiscent of the stirges.
“I can lower you by your ankles to take a look,” Santino said to Stein.
“Give me that,” Heimish said, snatching Santino’s umbrella from his hand and making his way to the well.
The well was mostly covered to prevent accidents, but there was a small hole for someone to lower a bucket to draw water. Heimish opened the umbrella and used it to cover the hole. He could feel the vibrations of the buzzing through his hands. They were getting stronger and definitely synchronizing with the music.
“Someone get the sheriff!” Heimish called out, but no one answered. In fact, the only one who took notice was a middle aged man staring out of his upper floor window at the bizarre spectacle. “Do you have any bug repellant?” he asked Stein, who shook his head.
Santino walked over and snatched his umbrella back. “I need this to defend myself!” he said, annoyed.
“Wait!” Heimish said, but it was too late as several stirges emerged from the well, swaying rhythmically with the music.
“Bombs?” Stein asked Heimish.
“Try not to kill them over the well. We don’t want to risk their disease getting into the water.”
“We can use Santino to lure them away,” Stein said with a dark chuckle.
In response, Santino tore off his bloody coat and flung it in Stein’s face. “There, now you’ll smell delicious too.”
Heimish quickly took off his own coat and covered the well. “Now! While the well’s protected!”
Stein pulled out a small glass vial and added a few drops of another liquid to it, then flung it at one of the stirges. It exploded on impact.
“Not bad,” Santino said, trying to leap and smack the closest stirge from the air, but missing and impacting the side of the well with his stomach then doubling over face first into Heimish’s coat.
“They’re easier to hit when they’ve attached onto someone,” Stein quipped.
“You’d think that, but they’re really not,” Santino groaned. Heimish helped Santino up. “Thanks. Remind me to make you more omelets.”
Stein flung another vial at the stirges, which were ignoring the trio and slowly making their way towards the inn. It went slightly too low and continued arcing through the air, exploding as it hit the ground. An old stray dog went running from the sound.
“Coward!” Santino yelled at the dog, then, out of his mind with anger, he charged and leapt at the nearest stirge, trying to bite it out of the air.
The music inside stopped and the stirges suddenly no longer seemed entranced. So they went straight for the closest target.
Santino yelped as they latched onto him. “GETTHEMOFFME!” he shrieked.
“Finally,” Stein said. “Stay very still. This might burn a bit,” he chuckled as he flung another vial.
The explosion killed the target on Santino’s right shoulder and singed the one on his chest, but it was still alive. Strangely, the flames didn’t seem to harm Santino at all.
“Very interesting,” Stein said, making a mental note.
Not even noticing the explosion, Santino tried to bite the stirge on his chest, but missed as he flinched to avoid Heimish’s swinging cane just inches from his face.
Luckily, Heimish didn’t miss, splattering the remaining stirge – now partially engorged on Santino’s blood – all over Santino’s chest.
“What the hell is going on?” Deputy Trestleblade asked from the entrance to the inn, where a crowd was gathering.
“Oh,” Santino said. “Hey, Truffles. You look good.”
“What he’s trying to say, deputy, is that we were attacked by some stirges that came out of the well,” Heimish added.
“I see,” she replied. “And you had to blow them up?”
“I wouldn’t say we had to,” Stein said. “It was just the easiest way.”
“Right.”
“They bit me!” Santino whined. “So they had to die.”
Next to Natalya, the woman in the lion skin coat leaned over to the assassin. “That’s the guy who almost hit Emily earlier.”
“Which one?” the assassin asked.
“The one who still has wisps of smoke coming off of him.”
“Seems like a real weirdo,” the assassin said back. “I hate small towns.”
“Do you need help?” Trestleblade asked. “You don’t look so good.”
“I’m hungry,” Santino said, doing his best to look pitiful.
“Would you like some soup?” Serianna asked from the doorway.
“Do you have a waffle iron?” Santino asked in return.
“We’ll get you some soup first,” the innkeeper answered. “Come inside.”
“Sorry for ruining your party,” Santino said.
“Don’t worry about it. Besides, the party’s not over.” This last brought cheers from the already inebriated patrons. Natalya shook her head and followed Kendra back inside.
Stein walked over to Santino and handed him his coat back. “Told you they were easier to hit when they’d attached to someone,” he said, as he took the injured man’s arm and helped him into the inn.
As they passed the woman in the coat, Santino pulled a candy from his vest pocket and held it out to her. “For the baby.”
The assassin snatched it from his hand. “She’ll spoil her appetite if she eats it now. We’ll save it for later.” He then stealthily handed it to his associate, the Toad, who popped it into his mouth.
As the musicians took the stage, the woman in the lion coat sat down at the empty seat at the table where Natalya, Kendra and Alvin were seated. “Enjoying the performance?” she asked Natalya, who was too busy watching the room to join in Kendra and Alvin’s conversation.
“It’s fine,” Natalya answered.
“Not your cup of tea, eh?” the woman answered. “I can’t blame you. I didn’t like it at first, but they’ve grown on me.”
“If you didn’t like it, why keep listening?” Natalya asked.
“For him,” the woman answered, pointing at the assassin. “The one who looks like he needs to poop.”
“I see…” Natalya replied.
Near the entrance, Heimish was giving Trestleblade a report about the day’s activities, in case the sheriff needed to know. “And that’s why it’s so strange,” he was saying. “These weren’t even the first stirges we encountered today. And you should have seen the way they were swaying with the music; it was like they were drawn to it.”
“I see,” Trestleblade said noncommittally. “Well, I’m sure nothing will come of it.”
“I hope you’re right,” Heimish said, obviously concerned.
As the musicians finished their song, several patrons stood up. “Serianna! Sing for us!”
The innkeeper blushed. “Not today, I’m afraid.”
Many patrons expressed their disappointment, but the man with the violin spoke up, “If it’s singing you want, we have a great new song we just learned. We hear it’s all the rage in Magnimar right now.”
“And as a right bonus, it’s banned in Cheliax!” the Toad added, and the ban began to play. “All you, Terry,” Toad whispered.
The assassin rolled his eyes, and then began to sing. “The Devil went down to Isger. He was looking for a soul to steal…”
After escorting Kendra back to the manor, Natalya headed off to get some rest before her stakeout. When she awoke, she found Heimish waiting downstairs for her. “Santino’s in no condition to join you, so I thought I’d help,” Heimish offered.
She considered it. “I’ll take the help,” she agreed.
Most of the night was uneventful, but eventually the same old dog began growling at the alley. Heimish went to investigate it before Natalya could stop him.
He found an individual walking through the dark alleyway, but the darkness was no impediment to his Aasimar eyes. The man within looked to have suffered some terrible injury, his ankle was turned at a horribly wrong angle. “Sir, please let me help you,” Heimish said, approaching the man.
The zombie let out a groan and struck Heimish as he got close. Hearing the sound and Heimish’s cry of surprise, Natalya rushed to the alley, sword drawn. Her eyes too had no problem seeing in the darkness. “Get out of the narrow alley!” she called. “We can fight it out here!”
Heimish moved as quickly as he could, which was still much more quickly than a zombie with a broken ankle, and got past Natalya. “Thanks,” he said as he passed.
“Go get some help!” she said. “I’ll hold him here.” The zombie reached within range of her blade, so Natalya struck… and her blade pierced through the zombie’s rotting flesh harmlessly, doing little more than superficial damage. The zombie struck her in return, so she pulled her blade free.
And the blow hurt more than she expected. It nearly knocked the wind out of her. Collapsing in the face of a zombie would be a death sentence. Heimish, seeing what had happened, turned and cast a healing spell. His touch immediately healed the cracked rib Natalya had suffered.
“We’ll do this together!” Heimish said.
“Got you,” Natalya answered. “We need to use its speed to our advantage. Fall back and we’ll keep it moving and hit it as we move.” She stabbed again, ineffectively.
Heimish imbued her weapon with magic and fell back. “Got it.” Natalya hit the zombie again and fell back.
If she just had an axe or something like that, maybe she could hack off its good leg and keep it from moving at all. But she didn’t. What she did have, however, was holy water. Sheathing her blade, she drew the vial and threw it.
The zombie roared in anger as the water exploded all over it. Its unloving flesh sizzled at the water’s touch. “You used yours in the prison, didn’t you?” she asked Heimish.
“Sorry,” he said, touching his broach and throwing the resulting starknife at the foe, striking a glancing blow that was at least moderately effective. He then threw his physical starknife as Natalya drew her bow and began firing as she moved. The arrows weren’t really all that effective on their own, but they would eventually get the job done. It was just a matter of finishing it off before running out of arrows.
Out of other options, Heimish threw a rock he found on the ground. The blow unbalanced the zombie long enough that Natalya was able to score a hit on the creature’s head. The arrow did enough damage to the brain that the zombie fell.
Natalya used the arrow in the zombie’s skull to further scramble its brain before removing it and the other half dozen arrows sticking out of the newly re-deceased corpse.
The pair exchanged a look. “Sheriff’s office?” Heimish asked.
“Yeah,” Natalya agreed. “And we shouldn’t leave this thing lying here. We’ll drag it with us. But let’s clean up my traps first.”
Back at the manor, Santino was dreaming of a lullaby. But every time he started to relax, he would hear the sound of buzzing, which would cause him to wake with a start. “I never got waffles,” he grumbled, during one such awakening, before laying down to try to fall asleep once more.
It took an hour for the deputy on the night watch – Riff, a twitchy, mousey sort of man – to gather Sheriff Benjan and the other remaining deputies.
“Shouldn’t we tell everyone about this?” Riff asked the sheriff. “Don’t people have a right to know?”
“It could be an isolated incident,” Benjan countered. “We don’t want to frighten people unnecessarily. Zombies wander out of the countryside from time to time and everyone’s already on edge. No, it’s best we keep this to ourselves.”
“I’m warning Kendra,” Natalya said, her face serious.
Sensing there was no arguing with the woman, Benjan relented. “That’s fine. Just tell her I’d appreciate it if she didn’t spread the news about, is all. For now, we need to increase our patrols, especially at night.”
“On it, Sheriff,” Riff said, his hand jittering as he drank a long sip of his coffee.
“We’ve been keeping watch on the monument nightly, hoping to catch the vandal in the act,” Natalya said. “I’ll keep an eye out for more undead.”
“Appreciate it,” Riff said.
“Aren’t we ignoring the obvious?” Trestleblade said.
“What’s that?” Heimish asked.
“Obviously this has something to do with Lorrimor,” she said. “Everyone’s been saying that he was a necromancer.”
“Well, everyone is wrong,” Benjan answered. “I knew Lorrimor. He was my friend. And I swear that he was no necromancer, though he did get up to a few weird experiments here and there. Now, you have your assignments. Dismissed.”
When Heimish and Natalya returned, slightly after sunrise, they found Stein in the sitting room. “You look exhausted,” he said cheerfully.
“Rough night,” Natalya said. “We’ll explain when everyone’s gathered. Don’t want to have to repeat ourselves.”
“Fair enough. Why don’t we sit down for breakfast and you can tell us about it.”
“Right, but first, if you’re going into town, I’m hoping you can pick up a few things for me.”
“I was planning to head into town. What do you need?”
Natalya handed him some coins. “More holy water, and as much lantern oil as you can get with what’s left, small, breakable bottles.” If they encountered another zombie, maybe fire would do what her sword couldn’t.
“Now you’ve got me very curious as to what happened. Come, let’s head to the dining room.”
When they arrived in the dining room, they found Santino, having changed his bloodied suit for a dapper vest and slacks, preparing plates of sandwiches using leftover meat from a day or so past. “Those smell weird,” Natalya said.
“The tomatoes appear to be burnt,” Heimish added.
Stein walked into the kitchen. “The stove is cold,” he noted.
“Then how…?” Natalya asked, eyeing the tomatoes warily.
Stein grabbed the plates and dumped them in the waste bin, much to the relief of the other two onlookers. “Hey!” Santino protested.
“Just sit down. Making breakfast is my job,” Stein said.
Santino, still under the weather, sat down as he was told. A few minutes later, Kendra arrived. A few minutes after that, Stein began placing plates of waffles down in front of everyone, except Santino, who he served soup.
“But… waffles…” Santino whined.
“Sick people get soup. It has an excellent blend of herbs to help you feel better,” Stein said.
Santino looked to Kendra for support, but her expression told him it was for his own good, so he began eating his soup like he was told, though he did it with a frown. This was difficult, because the soup was actually quite good. But it wasn’t waffles, covered in butter, jam and whipped fresh cream.
After breakfast and explaining what had happened that night, Natalya and Heimish retired to their respective quarters to get some rest, while Stein went out for errands, Santino trailing behind him.
“So, you said you were investigating my father’s death?” Santino asked, just making conversation.
“Right. It was very strange that his head was crushed.”
“I don’t know,” Santino said. “I’m sure it happens all the time.”
“But not that perfectly,” Stein said, stopping and making sure no one else was around. “It got the whole head, but nothing else. Not even a bruised shoulder. That doesn’t happen if a man is standing when the gargoyle falls.”
“So, what, whoever killed him went inside and dropped a gargoyle on him? Do you think it could be more of those bugs? Should we go look for them?” He twitched at the thought.
Stein chuckled. “We may have more pressing issues.”
“Like what?” Santino asked.
Stein looked around again for eavesdroppers. “Zombie.”
“Oh, right.”
They continued on for a bit, then Stein suddenly stopped. “Looks like the sheriff’s making the rounds again,” he said with another chuckle.
Santino looked and saw the sheriff entering the apothecary. “Oh, that reminds me. How did that poultice Heimish got you work out?”
“It’s working well enough as could be expected. It’s an interesting bunch of herbs, I’ll say that.”
“How did you get your injury, by the way?”
“Let’s just say that working for the Lorrimors has its dangers,” Stein answered cryptically.
“Ah, I guess that’s true,” Santino agreed, and they continued on their errands without much further conversation.
Some hours later, after the two had returned, Kendra summoned Santino. “Please wake Heimish and Natalya. Our diviner has arrived.”
Santino remembered the grumpy look on Natalya’s face when she went to bed and his face blanched at the thought of having to wake her. “I’ll wake up Heimish first,” he said, hoping the preacher could be convinced to wake the tiefling for him.
Heimish arose fairly quickly, and Santino heard him cast a spell to heal wounds. He then appeared at the door, still in the clothes he’d worn the night before. “I should go tend to the lass’s wounds,” he said, causing Santino to breathe a sigh of relief. “Don’t go too far, we’ll need to tend to your illness as well.”
“Okay,” Santino said, hoping that meant the end to soup for a bit.
After Heimish woke and healed Natalya, he returned and used his tears once more to cure Santino, then the two headed downstairs to find the diviner.
He was a Sczarni man in perhaps his late twenties or early thirties. He sat in a seat in the parlor, playing with a deck of Harrow cards, shuffling them back and forth through the air with a mere flick of his wrist.
“The name’s Martje,” he said, in greeting. “I understand you need my interpretation of an omen involving the Harrow?”
“There’s one more person involved,” Kendra said. “You did wake her, right Cliffy?”
Santino nodded. “Yeah, she’ll be down soon, I think.” He leaned over to Heimish. “Right?” he whispered.
“She said she needed to change to a fresh set of clothes and would be down shortly,” Heimish answered.
“See?” Santino said. When Natalya arrived, she explained to Martje the events at the inn. “See?” Santino repeated. “She saw it catch fire too. So I’m not crazy. Though I’m still not sure about the voices.” This last he muttered.
“The Uprising, you say? A very interesting card, to say the least. It represents overwhelming strength that crushes those that come in contact with it. If it has something to do with you, you might be caught up in something momentous. It will be interesting to see if you survive it.”
“But what does it mean?” Natalya asked.
“One cannot say, necessarily. Only that you should prepare yourselves, for there is danger ahead.”
“Great,” Natalya said.
Martje clapped his hands together. “With that out of the way, now it’s time for the reading.”
“Reading?” Heimish asked.
“Well, I’m here already, so might as well take advantage of my services.”
Back in the tiefling ghettos, Natalya had seen many a tiefling using Harrow cards to fleece people out of their money, so if this man tried such a scam, she was resolved to run him through. But it couldn’t hurt to try a reading, keeping that in mind.
Natalya spoke first. “Tell us about whoever was behind Petrus’s death. Tell us why he was killed. Tell us what the killer wants.” They were three separate requests, but intricately linked. Answering one might answer the other two.
“So we shall. But first, let us determine what roles each of you plays in this. Take a card, each of you.” Each person did so. “Now, starting from my left.” He pointed at Kendra, who revealed her card. “The Trumpet! A declaration of power. You may have a greater role to play in this than you expect, before the end.”
Next came Santino. He turned over his card. “What does it mean?” he asked.
“The Rakshasa is the card of dominance, usually mental control or enslavement to an idea.”
“But what does that mean?”
“It is for you to decide, for only you can know. Now you,” Martje said, pointing at Stein. “Ah, the Owl! The unfeeling natural order, as the wolves cull the weak deer, it is tragic for the deer but good for the herd, which is stronger for it.”
“Okay,” Stein said. “Next.”
Heimish revealed his card. “What’s ‘The Empty Throne’?”
“A sense of palpable loss, but those that are gone will always be with us. Seek answers in the past, for knowledge may come from an ancient source.” Martje then turned to Natalya. “And yours?”
“It’s a bug,” Natalya said, revealing her card.
“The Queen Mother! Yes, a card most appropriate for a tiefling, for the queen mother favors the downtrodden and powerless.”
“Okay, and that means?”
“You seek to become part of society, in a way that even you may not fathom, for formians are the most social of creatures, save perhaps for the thriae.” Martje seemed pleased with his analysis.
“The what and the what?” Natalya asked, his point going completely over her head.
“Oh, never mind. Now give me back your cards and let’s do the reading proper.” He shuffled the cards and held them out. “Would anyone care to shuffle them once more?” he asked. “It is your reading, after all.”
“I volunteer Kendra to do it,” Santino said. Everyone turned to look at him. “What? It’s her house.”
“Fair enough,” Kendra said, taking the deck.
Martje took the deck back when she was done, and laid out the array. He flipped the first column, the cards representing the past, revealing “The Brass Dwarf”, “The Inquisitor” and “The Midwife”.
“Very interesting,” he said. “The one who killed Petrus seeks invulnerability or protection from a current danger and will accept no truth but their immutable convictions. But a new arrival, perhaps this Petrus, threatens to disrupt their plans.”
“So Petrus had to be killed to keep him from interfering?” Natalya asked.
“It is possible. Let us continue.”
Martje flipped the cards from the central column, the cards representing the present, revealing “The Keep”, “The Tangled Briar” and “The Unicorn”, though this last was turned upside down, an omen all its own.
“They’re seeking a symbol of quiet strength, acting on ancient knowledge – perhaps the same as the knowledge Heimish must seek – but something works against them, likely someone from within.”
“I’d best continue researching, then,” Heimish said.
“It could be important,” Martje agreed.
He then flipped over the final column, representing the future, revealing “The Owl”, “The Peacock” and “The Locksmith”.
“Very interesting,” Martje said, looking at Stein. “They seek to cull the weak and change society, but the key to their destiny may fall outside of their grasp, and it is possible you have a greater role to play here.”
“We’ll have to see,” Stein said noncommittally.
Martje then flicked his wrist, scooping up the cards. “Well, if that’s all, I should be off.”
“Wait!” Santino said.
“Yes?”
“You seem to be good at doing tricks with those cards. Can you make a pyramid?”
“A pyramid, you say?” Martje laid the cards on the table, then waved his hand over them, causing them to stand up and interlock into a massive, intricate pyramid.
“Can we keep him?” Santino asked Kendra, who just laughed and shook her head.
“Be careful what you ask for,” Martje said, flinging the only remaining card in his hand to Santino, who caught it. “There’s always a hidden truth.”
Santino looked at the card in his hand, “The Hidden Truth”. “What,” he said.
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