"Thrasson," Karfhud rumbled. "I warn you, she-"
A whimper of terror tumbled from Jayk's lips, then she slipped around behind the Amnesian Hero.
The Thrasson reached around to pat her hand. "There is no reason to hide now, Jayk. He won't hurt you while I am here."
"That is true, tiefling." Karfhud knotted the satchel draw-string, then heaved the sack between his wings and bent his arms back at those impossible angles to buckle it in place. "As long as the Thrasson lives, you are safe enough."
Jayk slipped from behind her shield. "He… Zoombee is dead already… as we all are." The tiefling's voice had the desperate, soft quality of words that had misplaced their meaning. "But why should it matter to me? I… I do not fear death-or you."
"Good, as it appears we are to wander together." Karfhud pulled his cracked lips back in a gruesome smirk. A few tendrils of Tessali's charred hand had gotten stuck between his fangs. "Let us leave on this instant; catching the bariaur will prove difficult enough without giving him more of a start." Hands
Karfhud has led them back to the city of iron. Though thunder rolls somewhere in the distant sky, there is no hail to allay the scorching heat that pours off the rusty walls, nor steam to dampen the parching air that whispers down the crooked passages. The searing dryness draws beads of inky dew to the surface of the tiefling's dark complexion; the Thrasson's skin bums and itches and stays dry as salt; he has not lost a drop of fluid since striking his bargain with the fiend. That should worry him, but in truth he is relieved at this new harmony with heat. No longer does it sap his strength or make his joints ache, nor fill his mind with clouding steam; now it nourishes him, bums away his pain, even gorges his weary muscles with vigor long spent.
Thus does the defilement begin, not with the terrible act itself, but with a gift, freely given, and the offer of more. There is no coercion, no force, no one to blame; the victim makes her choice, thinks she will be the smart one, the strong one, the lucky one who sees the brink looming ahead and… But another time, perhaps. This has nothing to do with the Thrasson, and he has come to a crossroads. One branch leads into a warren of narrow, crooked alleyways where the heat bends and blurs the air like poorly blown glass; the other runs only a few paces before intersecting an avenue so broad and inviting that the far wall seems but a mirage.
Karfhud has stopped in the passage leading to the broad avenue, squatted down to scrape a circle of crusty brown mucilage off the paving bricks, licked the stuff from his black talon.
"Elf." The fiend smacked his lips and, not rising, turned his head backward to stare at Jayk. "Did you not say Silverwind was returning to the ash maze?"
Jayk nodded and stumbled one step back. "Silverwind, he says he needs Tessali's hands to fix things right. So they go back."
The Amnesian Hero did not know whether Jayk had noticed Karfhud eating the charred hand earlier-or if she connected it with the elf – but he saw no use in pointing out the relationship now. She still seemed shocked by the Fiend's near-assault, and he did not want to do anything to make her more fearful of their new companion.
Karfhud's maroon eyes continued to glare at Jayk from beneath his sagging brow, but he said nothing. The Amnesian Hero stepped forward, blocking the fiend's line of sight.
"Stop staring. She answered your question."
"I beg her forgiveness; it was not my intention to seem menacing." The shadow of a sneer flashed across Karfhud's muzzle. "I was only wondering why, if they wanted to return to the ash maze, they turned away from the entrance."
"Silverwind, he does not know how to find it!" The quickness of Jayk's explanation betrayed her anxiety. "He said they could only-"
"Turn around." Karfhud rose and bent his arms back to undo his satchel straps. "You, too, Thrasson."
Jayk's hand dropped toward her dagger, her fear broadcast by a sharp intake of breath. The Amnesian Hero caught her wrist, then wrapped an arm around her shoulders and turned her around.
"Don't worry. Karfhud's not going to hurt us."
"How can you know that, Zoombee?"
"Because if that was what he wanted, we would be…" The Thrasson almost said 'dead', then caught himself. Given Jayk's crisis of faith, it might be better not to talk about death. "Because if Karfhud wanted to hurt us, he would have done it by now."
Behind them, there was a sharp thump as Karfhud dropped his satchel to the ground. Jayk flinched and would probably have taken off running, had the Thrasson's hand not been grasping her shoulder.
"Zoombee, what is it he wants from us?" Jayk whispered, apparently forgetting that the fiend could hear every thought that flashed through her head. "It is not natural, this friendship he has made with you."
"I'd hardly call it friendship!" It affronted the Amnesian Hero that Jayk could even think he would be friends with something so wicked as a tanar'ri. "It's more of an arrangement. He claims that all he wants is my sword."
"And you believe him?"
The Thrasson cringed, for that was the one question he had tried to avoid asking himself until he could figure out how to shield his thoughts from Karfhud. Still, there was no use dodging it now; the answer had already flashed through his mind.
"Only a fool would trust anything a tanar'ri says."
The Amnesian Hero heard a soft shuffling sound, as though Karfhud were paging through a stack of parchment sheets.
"Thrasson, you would be wise to keep your thoughts on the tiefling's question. I have warned you about my satchel."
"I can't figure out what Karfhud really wants." The Amnesian Hero spoke rapidly, attempting to keep his curious mind from speculating about the shuffling sound. "If it was my sword, he could have had it easily enough. As weak as I was, he would not have had to trouble himself with killing me."
"Then what he wants is something from you, Zoombee."
From behind them came the soft rustle of a parchment being unrolled. Without even trying, the Amnesian Hero realized what the fiend had in his satcheclass="underline" maps. A chill tickled down the Thrasson's spine, and he wondered if the realization would provoke Karfhud into attacking. He would have reached for his sword, save that he knew it would only slip from his hand.
When no assault came, the Amnesian Hero dared to glance over his shoulder. As expected, he saw Karfhud kneeling over an unrolled parchment. The fiend had tongues of white flame flickering in the pupils of his maroon eyes, and he was glaring at the Thrasson. They locked gazes for an instant, then the tanar'ri returned his attention to his map.
The Amnesian Hero looked back to Jayk. "Whatever Karfhud wants, I think it is from us. He seems rather determined to track down Silverwind and Tessali."
"Yes, and is that not your fault as well?" Jayk pushed his arm off her shoulder. "Or maybe you think they deserve to have a fiend hunting them, yes?"
"No!" he said. "Why would I think that?"
"Because they abandoned your amphora, of course!" Jayk's voice became more shrill with each word. "What happened to Tessali, that does not matter to you! You only wanted him to save your amphora, even if it cost him his hands!"
This was the first the Amnesian Hero had heard about how the elf lost his hands or what had happened to the amphora. The Thrasson had avoided asking about the matter, fearing his questions would further disrupt Jayk's fragile state. He took no comfort in knowing he had been right.