“Precisely. I can’t buy my own drinks here anymore, which is half the trouble.” Kulloom sighed. “It’s far too easy to drink and reflect on what’s past, rather than work my shop. The truth is that business has dried up. The emperor has brokered a deal with the trade consortium council, and the members of the former Kurast government have been accepted into our ranks, with Asheara and her mercenaries providing some . . . err . . . assistance. But it’s all smoke and mirrors, you understand. It’s only a matter of time before things begin to crumble.” Kulloom’s face glistened with sweat. He brought his mug to his purple lips and took a long drink of ale, wiping his face with his sleeve. Then he leaned closer across the table, lowering his voice. “It’s not just here in our fair city that things are falling apart. I’ve traveled across Kehjistan, and by the looks of you, you have too. Perhaps you know what I mean? The world is changing, and not for the better. I’ve seen things . . . things that would make you tremble in those sandals of yours.” Then he sat back and regarded Cain with some newfound suspicion, as if a thought had suddenly penetrated his addled brain. “How do you know Gillian? And what’s your business with me, anyway?”
“I’m an old acquaintance of hers, and she recommended I speak with you. I’m interested in your expertise.” Already Cain was beginning to wonder if he would get anything at all of value here; Kulloom seemed like more of a drunken lout than a clever businessman. But if he dealt in rare books, there was still a chance that Cain might glean some morsel of information that would help him. It was worth the risk, he decided, although he would have to be careful what he shared about his own intentions.
He reached into his rucksack and removed the reproduction of the Horadric text he had found at the ruins. He had covered it in cloth, and when he unwrapped it to reveal the symbol on the cover, Kulloom’s eyes narrowed. “Where did you get this?” He stared at Cain. “Are you Vizjerei? The Zakarum are more tolerant of the mages these days, but it remains a dangerous place for those who don’t take precautions.”
“I follow the teachings of the Horadrim, and I believe this book is a copy of a genuine ancient text. I need to know where it was bound.”
An odd change seemed to come over Kulloom. His eyes grew distant, his face slackening and losing some of its color. When he spoke, his voice was almost completely without inflection. “Horadrim . . . It was said by many people that they were long dead, if they existed at all. But I’ve heard differently.”
A surge of excitement ran through Cain. He reached back into his pack and removed a nugget of gold, which he placed on the table between them. He had no Caldeum currency, so this would have to suffice. “Tell me what you know.”
Kulloom did not seem to notice the gold at first. “In one of the trade tents below the city several weeks ago, I met a merchant who had come from the south, a man of considerable learning and experience. He told me of a group of men who called themselves Horadrim and were led by a sorcerer who had amassed great power. The rumor was his purposes were dark, however, and he was preparing to summon something terrible to our world. What his goal might be, the man I met did not know. But the people were afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Their dreams. It was said that this man, or whatever he had become, had been corrupted by a creature more powerful than anyone could understand. This creature’s tendrils are already spreading across our lands, in the form of ghoulish creatures that visit the people in the darkest night and steal their souls while they dream, leaving soldiers of evil in their places. The merchant saw the fear on people’s faces, and once . . . he witnessed one of these ghouls, in a trade tent some distance outside Caldeum’s walls, beyond the hills. He would not speak more of it, only that it was horrible, and that it still haunted him.”
Suddenly Kulloom focused on Cain. He reached out with a fat-fingered hand and grasped Cain’s wrist. His flesh was clammy and slick with sweat, and as he pulled Cain closer, he seemed like a drowning man, fighting to keep his head above the rising waves.
“You must do something,” he said. “You must find these men and stop them . . .”
The man’s grip was like iron. Cain resisted the urge to yank his arm away. He waited, but Kulloom said nothing more, and as the silence lengthened and the two of them sat together like partners in a strange dance, the room began to quiet again, and heads turned their way.
Kulloom blinked. The intensity seemed to run out of him as he sat back in his seat and noticed the gold nugget for the first time. He snatched it up in a meaty fist and folded his arms across his chest, and when his gaze reached Cain’s face once more, he was again bleary-eyed with drink.
“Tell me more about this group that calls itself Horadrim,” Cain said. “It does not make sense that they would be in league with evil. That is not the way of the order.”
“I’m sorry, but I was told nothing more.” Kulloom shook his head. “Lost myself for a moment there, with my stories, but that one’s got no ending. I tend to get carried away, damn the ale in this place. I’ve said too much, haven’t I? Scared you silly.”
“Not at all,” Cain said. He sat back and studied the man. “You’ve been most helpful.”
The conversations around them slowly began again, as people realized there would be no bar fight today. The barmaid brought Kulloom a fresh mug of ale, which he drank from greedily before slapping it down and waving for another. “This book.” Kulloom tapped the text still lying on the table. “Cheap workmanship, not something I would sell in my shop. Most likely from Kurast. But I could get others, if that’s of interest to you.”
“Kurast? I thought the city was abandoned.”
“It’s a den of thieves, and worse.” Kulloom took another swig of ale. “The people there make the patrons of this fine establishment look like angels.” He gave Cain a smile, but it was not a pleasant one. “There’s no rule of law in Kurast, and it attracts those who prefer to operate away from the emperor’s prying eyes, so to speak. I have a contact who could make some inquiries—”
“I’d rather speak with whoever made this book in person.” Cain reached back into his pack and withdrew another gold nugget, this one larger than the first. Kulloom’s eyes widened as Cain placed it on the table. “This is yours, if you can give me a name.”
“If you go there, ask for Hyland. I don’t know if that’s the name he was born with, but that’s what he goes by these days. He’s what passes for leadership in that hellish place.” Kulloom picked up the second gold piece and tucked it into his pocket. “In Kurast, you may find out more about this group of mages and the creatures their master commands. I have to warn you, it’s no place for an old man. The people there will take what they can from you and leave you to die on the road. And there are other things . . .” He shrugged. “Things that are not so kind.”
“I can take care of myself.”
Kulloom studied him, his eyes growing sober. “Off with you, then,” he said finally. “I have things to do.”
“One last question.” Cain had been thinking of the other Horadric text he had found at the ruins, the one that had appeared to be penned by Tal Rasha himself. Something nagged at him about the passages he had read—a name he did not recognize, even with his vast knowledge from years of scholarly study. “Have you ever heard of a man called Al Cut, or where his burial chamber might be?”
Kulloom shook his head. “I have not. But burial chambers are not pleasant places. Perhaps you would do well to avoid them.”
Cain looked at him for another long moment, trying to sense whether anything else was hidden behind the man’s hooded eyes. If there was, he could not see it. Finally Cain thanked him for his time and stood, gathering his book and staff. As he turned to go, Kulloom called back to him. “And be careful with that woman you’re with,” he said, as the conversations again dried up and heads turned to watch. “The girl, too. She’s not right in the head.”