Chapter Thirteen: Raising Questions.

25th Mirtul, Year of Three Ships Sailing (D.R. 1492) – nine bells after highsun.

“Oh good. You came back.” Eliana’s voice carries only a hint of impatience but she is stalking the crypts like an irritated snow lynx.

“Yes. We found the stew.” I say happily.

“Well, I’ve found traces of the spell casting. I think. Come look at this.” She strides briskly to the side of the Tchazzam family crypt.

Saer Everrest sets down the pot and we follow. Vaikner is kneeling over a patch of crumpled grass. There are faint markings in the dewy leaves; the imprints of feet as well as, perhaps, indentations left by some mysterious arrangements of objects, now removed. There is also a fine white ash scattered on the ground. 

“This is bone dust.” Saer Everrest mutters, leaning in for a closer look. “It is a common ingredient called for in Necromantic magic.”

Vaikner nods. I walk a few paces away from them, searching the shadowy ground. Eliana joins me, peering closely at smooth grass. 

“There!” She points. “There are more tracks here. Leading away from the mausoleum. But they are very faint. Given the size of this place, and how many visitors tromp through here daily, it’s not likely that I’ll be able to follow such a feeble trail.”

“We should attempt it though, yes?” I confirm.

I am impressed that she is able to see anything amongst the crisply trimmed verge, barely light-splashed by twinkling stars and torch-glow.

“Aye, let’s give it a try.” She turns back to Vai and Saer Everrest.

“I have much work to do here.” The Doomguide looks about him, grief and anger briefly flaring in his face. “This desecration must be put right, the Restless returned to peaceful slumber.”

Vaikner steps up to the tall knight, straining slightly to clap a companionable hand over Saer Everrest’s shoulder.

“I would be happy to help you set these scattered bones back to rest in the mausoleum. If you instruct me on the proper method.” He offers kindly. “And afterwards, as I do not require sleep in the way that you do, I will resume patrol in the City. There is unlikely to be another attack tonight but, if I need help, I will call upon you with your bell, as Eliana did. Meanwhile, you can get some rest. You are exhausted, we all know this.”

Saer Everrest bows to Vai with a grateful smile.

“Thank you, Vaikner. And, as I am to have such an able assistant, I think that we can afford a short interval to recover from battle and fortify ourselves. I know the hour is rather irregular but will you share my evening meal with me, my friends?” The knight turns his smile to Aundra’s stew pot.

Eliana grins and nods enthusiastically. 

“That is the stew that Aundra the Gardener brought earlier tonight, just before the attack. The stew that I wished to discuss with you!” I whisper to her urgently.

She stops short in her happy advance towards the little pot. With a gently deliberate motion, Eliana lets her hand brush against a nearby yew shrub. I watch, curious, as she crushes some of the fragrant needle-like leaves in her palms and whispers swiftly in that musical tongue that I now know is Sylvan. She opens her hand and fragments of leaf dance in a breeze that I cannot feel. They whirl briefly about her and then disperse, a pungent questing cloud. Several wisps settle over two of the nearby graves.

Intrigued, I realize that Eliana is casting her Lady’s magic to screen her surroundings for poison and disease. It seems likely that the poor unfortunates buried at the sites where the yew settled succumbed to some illness or plague. Pushing aside the momentary pang of sympathy for their suffering, I am very happy to note that neither Aundra’s stew pot, nor Saer Everrest himself, attract the notice of the crushed yew.

Eliana is practical in her relief.  She settles herself comfortably across the cauldron from the Doomguide, reaching into her snack pack and retrieving a handsomely carved wooden spoon. The knight has opened the pot. I had not noticed before but, rolled up into crisp gold-brown cylinders on one side of the stew’s surface, is a little stack of flat breads. Saer Everrest picks one up, flattening it and offering it to Eliana; a convenient utensil for scooping up the meal beneath.

“Please, come and help yourselves.” He invites. “Lady Blackcloak’s cooking may be a little plain but the portions are always most generous. There is plenty for all of us!”

Eliana is already happily tucking in. Vaikner crouches down, seating himself between them. His reddish eyes gleam in the warm lantern light.

“Plain, you say?” He asks cheerfully. “And what would your favorite spice for a stew be, Saer Everrest?”

“Well, I did not mean to say that I do not enjoy Lady Blackcloak’s cooking…” The knight stammers, then smiles crookedly at Vaikner’s beaming face. “I like the flavor of Ryll. It is a Calamshite seasoning. It is quite unique. And indispensable to the desert tribes’ preparation of roast fowl and game.”

Vaikner nods with good-natured interest. I have been hanging back, pleased to see my friends enjoying their meal but still too unsettled in mind and body to wish to eat myself. Now, unthinkingly, I step forward.

“My Papa likes to use that spice!” I exclaim.

Saer Everrest looks up from his meal. 

“Indeed?” He asks politely. “Do you hail from Calimshan, then?”

“No. I do not.” I reply shortly.

I pause, desiring to say more but held back by the irksome need to conceal my true background from strangers.

“Oh. Is your Papa from Calimshan, perhaps?” Saer Everrest tries again.

At that moment, the familiar scent of Ryll wafts from the stew pot. Eyes wide, I lean in and linger over the unmistakable burst of mint-like herbal freshness that is quickly followed by more smoky, spicy notes. 

The power of scent to summon memory is as evocative as any enchantment. I find myself transported home. Where my odd little family spent many happy evenings sampling my Papa’s latest culinary endeavors with equal parts trepidation and enjoyment.

“Yes.” I sigh, smiling. “My Papa is from Calimshan. And, while I have never been there myself, I very much want to visit his home in the southern deserts of the world. Someday.”

“I too wish to travel!” Saer Everrest says eagerly. “I would like to visit the south.”

“Vai, this is amazing!” Eliana takes another spoonful of the newly fragrant stew.

“Oh, I just thought that I would make it a little more lively-tasting.” Vaikner says modestly.

“It is very fine, thank you Vaikner!” Saer Everrest samples the altered version of the stew and stares at the Drow, impressed.

Eliana and the Doomguide eat with quiet pleasure for a time. Then Saer Everrest turns to me again. He takes a deep breath.

“Lady Skyshard, there are several very good Calimshite eateries in the Deep.” He says. “In fact,  my liking of the cuisine is due to the food served at these establishments.”

I look at him, politely attentive. He wilts slightly.

“I…I think that you would enjoy the fare on offer. Perhaps you would care to join me…” He coughs.

I beam.

“Thank you, Saer Everrest!” I exclaim, sincerely delighted. “That is a lovely idea! My friends and I would gladly join you to sample this delicious food. I know that Eliana, in particular, is bound to enjoy it!”

Vaikner busies himself with the stew pot. Eliana makes a quiet sound, half-groan, half-smirking laugh. Saer Everrest, obviously feeling the burden of his near-exhaustion, slumps a little further.

“Certainly.” He says weakly. “Once our immediate duties are attended to, and the Necromancer is dealt with, we should all enjoy a meal together. In more comfortable surroundings.”

Our conversation, while passing in all the pleasant fellowship that is proper for new companions-in-arms, leaves me with a persistent sense of dissatisfaction. I would very much like to discuss the cause of my strange discomfort with my friends. But Eliana and Saer Everrest have finished their meal and it is time to return to more pressing tasks.

Reminding Vai to use his vanishing magic to conceal himself in case of trouble, and bowing in friendly goodnight to Saer Everrest, I leave Vaikner and the Doomguide collecting scattered bones. Eliana and I set off north through the City.

It is most awe-inspiring to watch Eliana’s fine tracking skills. Despite the darkness and the varying ground of grass, gravel, and shadowed grove, she skillfully follows the meandering trail left by our foe. It appears that the Necromancer visited multiple tombs. There are tracks of wandering feet at many locations but, thankfully, no sign that corrupting magic was invoked anywhere other than the mausoleum where our battle occurred tonight. 

Retracing the Necromancer’s complex path takes a great deal of time. I am patient and do not hurry Eliana along at all. Indeed, I am pleased to have the chance for some quiet conversation with my friend. And Eliana is an able enough tracker to maintain focus on her task, even as we talk over this night’s events. It is a great relief to share my feelings about the exhilarating and disturbing encounter that I just experienced. With the Undead. 

“We took harm but, for our first battle with such an enemy, I still maintain that we performed solidly.” I say with satisfaction. “Thank you for listening, Eliana. It is most important, after a skirmish such as this one, to evaluate all that occurred. To learn from errors and to help improve our strategy for future encounters.”

“Mm-hm.” Eliana straightens up from her study of a scatter of white pebbles, slightly askew in their position on the edge of a gravel path.

She stretches and groans.

“Saer Everrest seems nice.” She offers. “Like…a fine ally.”

“Oh. Yes!” I happily agree. “He does seem a valiant and kind companion. It was fortunate that we were able to help him in his time of need. And good to make a friend.”

Encouraged by her supportive silence, I continue.

“I will confide that I feel this night has left me oddly…unsettled.” I admit worriedly. “I imagine this can be explained by the particularly foul enemy that we faced. And the injuries that we sustained.”

“Night or knight?” Eliana snickers happily.

I gaze at her with concern, thinking back to the nasty impact to her head from the Undead warrior’s axe.

“Yes. That is what I said.” I reply slowly.

She continues to make pleased chuckling noises.

“Eliana, have you ever felt this strange nervousness? Even after you defeated your foes in battle?” I ask, demonstrating proper Avariel dignity by ignoring her snorting sounds. 

She looks at me, amused. 

“Nope. But I know what it’s like to feel butterflies in your stomach.” Eliana smiles sympathetically.

And I thought our talk had been going so well! 

On my travels I have come across many fascinating cuisines and many interesting examples of variety in eating habits. And I know that Eliana is adventurous in sampling different foods. But…but butterflies are so beautiful! Like flowers freed to dance on the breeze. What a shame to eat such lovely creatures!

I wrinkle my nose very slightly. It is fortunate that, the more time I have passed away from the Aerie, the more adept I have become at masking my shocked horror at certain Human behaviors. I am not yet as inscrutably aloof as a true Avariel, but I believe I can now quite successfully conceal my thoughts when I wish to spare the feelings of those around me. 

“It’s just an expression.” Eliana sighs.

“I beg your pardon?” I flinch guiltily.

“The butterflies. I didn’t actually… Oh, never mind.” She shrugs.

 With relief, I notice that we have reached one of the cemetery’s northern gates. We are at the junction of the North and the Trade Wards. On Andamaar’s Street.

“That’s about all I can do, I think.” Eliana comes to a reluctant stop. “Following this meager trail over cobbles, through streets frequented by hundreds of others – it’s an impossible task. We’d better head back and find Vai.”

“Very well. Even so, you tracked as skillfully as any Avariel Warden, ranging out to hunt their quarry in a blank ice field!” I tell her admiringly. 

I reach out with my Lady’s Guiding Breath, seeking for signs of corruption in the nearby streets. Our enemy did not linger. I agree that it is time to return to Vaikner. 

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I hope that you enjoyed this exciting chronicle of our party’s post-battle supper. Short chapter this week as we are in the middle of moving and free time for fun things is minimal…