"Our friend is a juggler and acrobat," Diran said. "Remember? And one who possesses more than a touch of wanderlust, I might add."
Understanding shown on Hinto's face at last, and he gave the elf-woman a wink. "No problem. I'll be as quiet as a Tantamar brothel after an outbreak of fire-fungus."
"Thank you." Yvka smiled at the halfling sailor.
She seemed amused by Hinto, but Ghaji didn't think the situation was funny. Though she'd never come out and said so to any of them-not even him-she was an operative who worked for the Shadow Network, an organization of mercenaries, spies, and assassins that didn't officially exist. The most valuable weapon an operative possessed was secrecy, and if Yvka's true profession became known, she could be placed in grave danger. While the elf-woman could handle herself well in just about any situation, given how Ghaji felt about her, he couldn't help feeling at least a little protective.
Ghaji decided to change the subject. "So what were you three talking about before we got here?"
"We were taking bets on how long it would be before you came down from the room," Hinto said. "Tresslar won."
Ghaji scowled as Hinto and Diran tossed coins over to Tresslar, but Yvka just laughed.
"That means the next round of drinks is on me." The artificer raised his hand to catch a serving woman's attention.
"Before that, we were talking about yesterday's expedition," Diran said. "I assume you didn't get the opportunity to tell Yvka about it?"
Ghaji shook his head and Diran gave the elf-woman a quick run-down of their battle with the lich in her mountain lair. During the telling, Tresslar ordered more ales, and the serving woman went off to fetch them. Diran was finished with the story by the time their drinks arrived.
Yvka lifted her clay mug and sniffed the contents with suspicion. "Is the ale any good in this place?"
Tresslar took a sip of his and grimaced. "If by good you mean awful, then yes."
Yvka considered tasting her ale, but then put the mug back down on the table. It seemed even an operative of the infamous Shadow Network was only so brave. "It sounds as if you four had quite an adventure yesterday. Sorry I missed it."
Ghaji listened as Diran filled in Yvka about their hunt for the lich, and from the tone of his voice, Ghaji guessed something was bothering his friend. "It's not like you to sit with a mug of ale in your hand and relive old glories, Diran. There had to be some other reason why you were discussing the lich."
"There was. Did you notice anything strange about her lair?"
"You're joking, right? It was a lich's home-the whole place was strange."
Diran smiled. "I meant anything unusual for a lich."
Ghaji thought for a moment. "Now that you mention it, her lair seemed overdone, almost as if it were something out of a child's tale."
Diran nodded. "It takes a strong will and a great amount of mystic knowledge for someone to transform herself into a lich. In life, such individuals are usually devoted to the acquisition of power in all its forms: political and economic, as well as magical. After they enter a state of undeath, they are loath to give up the riches they stockpiled in life. They surround themselves with finery… ornate clothes, luxurious furnishings, rare and beautiful artifacts of all sorts, though it's only a short time before the lich's corruption begins to taint those possessions with rot and decay."
"There was plenty of rot and decay in the lich's lair," Ghaji said, "but not so much in the way of finery. Even the objects in the chamber that held her phylactery seemed more like a collection of odds and ends taken from her victims over the years than a hoard of prized possessions."
"Precisely my thinking," Diran said. "It was almost as if she purposely constructed her chambers to resemble a fiend's lair, like a set built for a play."
"I acknowledge that hunting and dispatching the undead is your area of expertise," Tresslar said, "but during my time with Erdis Cai, we ran into more than a few such fiends ourselves. While they often do conform to certain patterns of behavior-much like animals follow their instinctive nature-they once were human, and some remnant of that remains buried inside them. Because of this, the undead sometimes defy expectations, and you find a ghoul that resists its craving for human flesh, a zombie that refuses to obey its creator's orders, a vampire…" Tresslar broke off, suddenly uncomfortable.
Ghaji glanced at Diran to see if Tresslar's words had disturbed him, but the priest's expression was unreadable.
Tresslar cleared his throat and hurried on. "My point is that this particular lich, for whatever reasons, chose to create a lair that was different from what most liches would have. Perhaps she built her chambers according to her own expectations of what a fiend's lair should look like."
Diran seemed to consider the artificer's point for several moments before slowly nodding. "Perhaps so." He said no more on the matter, and an awkward silence descended over the table.
It was Yvka who finally broke the quiet. "I wish I could say that I have come here solely to see the four of you again"-she flashed Ghaji a smile-"but I cannot. Instead I've come on business. Certain friends of mine have come into possession of knowledge that I think will be of interest to all of you, but most especially to Diran."
The priest, who'd been lost in thought, looked up in surprise. "Indeed?"
Yvka nodded. "Tell me, is the name Aldarik Cathmore familiar to you?"
Diran didn't answer, but his shocked expression spoke for him. Ghaji was about to ask his friend what was wrong, when the door to the common room burst open and a group of men and woman entered, bringing a chill breeze with them. There were six of them-four male, two female. Garbed in thick red waterproof cloaks, they carried long-swords belted around their waists, though Ghaji doubted the swords were the sole extent of their weapons. As the six red-cloaks came inside, they pulled back their hoods to reveal they all bore the same tattoo on their forehead: a stylized blue skull.
One of the newcomers, a broad-shouldered man with a blond beard, appeared to be the leader. He looked around the room, taking the measure of its patrons, and then said, "I bring you greetings from your neighbors across the Gulf of Ingjald! The Coldhearts have just made port and we have a ravenous thirst for some fine ale, but since the best drink can only be found in the taverns of Kolbyr, I suppose we'll have to make do with the piss-water you people serve!"
Blond-Beard's companions laughed as if their leader had just made the funniest jest in the history of the Principalities. But none of the King Prawn's customers came even close to smiling.
Diran looked at Ghaji. "How long do you think it'll be before a fight breaks out?"
"Less than a minute. Better get ready." Ghaji drew his axe, though he didn't activate its flames. Diran's hands disappeared beneath the tabletop and remained there, out of sight. Ghaji knew the priest had drawn a pair of daggers and was ready to use them should the need arise.
Tresslar sighed. "I'll say one thing. My life hasn't been dull since I joined up with you two." The artificer left his dragonwand tucked beneath his belt-for the moment, at least. Tresslar wasn't one to expend magic unless it was absolutely necessary.
Ghaji glanced at Hinto, but the halfling showed no signs of panic. He was a sailor, and to him this was just another tavern fight in the offing. Nothing out of the ordinary and thus nothing to fear.
Yvka leaned close and whispered in Ghaji's ear. "First a thoroughly invigorating greeting, and now a swordfight in a seedy tavern. You sure know how to show a woman a good time."
"What can I say? Only the best for my girl."
That's when the first drunken fool leaped up from his table, drew his sword, and ran at the leader of the Coldhearts, bellowing a battle-cry.