More disturbing than the rudeness of its citizens was the city's air. While the air of the Outlands had seemed to Joel fresh and new, the air of Sigil tasted used and thin, as if breathed by a million lungs and tainted by a hundred diseases. Scents of every sort assailed Joel's nose: food, sweat, sewage, smoke… mostly smoke. The light fog hanging in the air was gray with smoke. Joel found it necessary to breathe twice as fast as normal. Jedidiah tried to take a deep breath and was caught up in a coughing fit.
Walinda, apparently oblivious to the foul air, was looking at the buildings that surrounded them. "Everything is leaning in toward us," the priestess remarked.
Joel and Jedidiah surveyed the street. Indeed, everything did seem to tilt in their direction, as if they were in the bottom of a great bowl. Joel realized they were inside a torus-the ring they had seen from the Outlands. The city of Sigil curled up around them wherever they were, and the buildings that were built perpendicular to the inner surface of the torus would always look tilted unless the visitors were standing inside the buildings or very near to them. Joel looked straight up, hoping to see the part of the city that must hang above them, but the fog obscured the view in every direction.
The passersby, mostly cloaked and hooded against the chill of the air, completely ignored them-except for one. A blue-skinned elf with pointed teeth, wearing a cloak with great padded shoulders, sidled up beside Joel. "Core, guv'nor. Yer orbing the scenery," he said. "You clueless?"
Puzzled, Joel turned and addressed the elf. "Excuse me?"
"Wot, yer barmy?" the elf asked, tilting his head slightly. "I asked if you were clueless, cutter. Newly arrived to the Cage. Out-of-towner, by the fresh smell on you. Looking for a kip and a bit of a ride, I bet."
The three adventurers exchanged questioning looks.
"Do either of you have magic to understand his tongue?" Walinda asked.
"I don't think a spell would help," Jedidiah grumbled. "This is the local dialect." Passersby continued to ignore them, save for the elf. "Ah! Definitely clueless!" the elf exclaimed, rubbing his hands together. "Fortunately for you lot, I'm a most well-lanned tout and knight of the post in the Cage, which is the native name for Sigil, berk. Top-shelf, I am. Guaranteed to get you where you need to be for a bit of jink or a sparkle. I got maps to all the major portals, the passwords of the best kips, and a full listing of all the factions. Can't tell the Dustmen from the Godsmen without one. I got a special today on holy relics. I got the toenails of Mordenkainen, the eye of Tiamat, the Hand of Bane, and the vorpal chiv of Arthur hisself-"
Walinda laughed. "You have the Hand of Bane?" she asked, her tone implying she thought the possibility most improbable.
"Of course," the elf replied, straightening with pride. "It's what every sod in the Cage is hunting for. Got it right in here." He patted a large pouch beneath his cloak. "Let's move to a blind and we can negotiate."
"You'll be in the deadbook if you try that, berks!" a rasping, high-pitched voice cried out. A female dwarf barreled out of a doorway and plodded over to them. "He's in the cross-trade, looking for conies."
The elf wheeled on her. "Bar that! I'm their tout here, and I resent your implication."
The dwarf snorted. "You're just after their jink. Then you'll give 'em the laugh. Besides, everyone knows I have the Hand o' Bane."
Jedidiah raised his eyebrows and glanced at Walinda. The priestess sneered but made no comment.
"Shut yer bone-box!" the elf snapped. "I got the hand. You've got a piece of Vecna. At least that's what you told the last bit of berks you turned stag on."
"Here's the dark of it," the dwarf growled to the elf. "You're on the peel, and peery peel at that. 'I got the Hand of Bane; just step inta the alley' indeed. They'd tumble to you in a dabus's heartbeat."
"Scan this, rube," the elf snarled. 'These are my conies, and I'm gonna keep 'em. So sod off with that Hand of Bane bob and go to the mazes."
Jedidiah took a step backward. The two natives failed to notice as they continued to argue in their nearly impenetrable native language. He set one hand on Joel's shoulder and the other on Walinda's. Priest and priestess looked back at the older man, who made a backward jerking motion with his head. Joel and Walinda stepped back from the disputing pair. Then all three stepped backward two more steps. Then, as one, the three spun about and stepped into the flow of the pedestrian traffic. Both elf and dwarf remained oblivious to the loss of their would-be customers.
"Where are we headed?" the priestess asked.
"For the moment, we're just heading away," Jedidiah replied. "Stay alert and don't gawk. That's probably what marked us as tourists."
"Any other sage advice?" Walinda retorted sarcastically.
Jedidiah shook his head wearily. "I've never been here before, but an old friend once gave me some pointers. Number one is if a woman wearing cutlery on her head walks towards you, turn and run in the opposite direction."
They walked on for about half a mile, keeping their eyes forward, until the surrounding neighborhood improved. The streets here were free of debris and paved with white granite. The buildings were larger and less tightly squeezed together. The shouts from pedestrians on the streets were less vulgar. The gray fog, however, was just as dense.
"What's this 'Hand o' Bane' look like?" Jedidiah asked Walinda, mimicking the speech of the dwarf.
Walinda's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but after a moment's thought, she said, "I will show you." From inside her breastplate, she pulled out the page she'd stolen from the book in the Temple in the Sky. She unfolded the page and showed it to Joel and Jedidiah. Beneath some writing, in a language Joel could not read, there was a painting of a taloned hand.
"The hand is about twice the size of an average man's hand," Walinda explained. "It is carved from obsidian. The claws are fashioned from pieces of garnet."
"Now that you know what it looks like, try the stone," Jedidiah told Joel. "Look bored and indifferent, as if you're measuring the town for a sewer survey or something."
Joel pulled out the saurials' half of the finder's stone. Walinda stared curiously, realizing it was identical to the half her master held, but she said nothing.
Joel concentrated on the Hand of Bane, and a light beam immediately lanced from the gem off to their right and upward through the fog.
"It must be in a tower," Walinda said.
"Not necessarily," Joel replied. "The beacon could just be following the straightest line to another spot on the curve of the city." He slid the stone back inside his tunic.
They couldn't follow the beam directly, so they meandered along the streets, trying to maintain the same general direction. Often they had to turn in a different direction to avoid buildings or dead ends. Finally they paused before a huge statue of a three-eyed horse surrounded by armed guards.
"Better take another reading," Jedidiah suggested. "We could have gotten turned about some."
They were indeed off the correct heading by several degrees. The angle of the light beam had lowered considerably-an indication, Joel thought, that they were getting closer. They corrected their direction and walked on.
After they'd passed through what seemed like miles of meandering city streets, Joel drew out the finder's stone again. Now the angle of the beam was not very steep at all.
"We're in the neighborhood," Joel whispered excitedly.