XXVII. POSTMORTEM
“Vahaera is hurt. The others took her to the Breakwater.”
“Is it serious?”
“Ystrien has prayed, but he can’t do much. Touch dead men, death touches back,” said Cuatala, quoting some wisdom from her homeland.
“If they were wights, she’ll want a more seasoned priest–but she’s a tough one, a strange one too. I think she has more stories to tell before her time is up,” said Ulblyn.
Kizami, Ulblyn, and Cuatala were gathered around a table in the back of the shop. There Cuatala had emptied her sack of the cursed arms and armor, warning them not to touch it. Then she had given an account of the party’s adventures since yesterday, starting with their interview with Theoderus. They’d been able to wrangle an admission from the wizard, she said. “As it turns out, he does have Thayan connections. But he swore he didn’t understand the marks. And he wouldn’t tell us anything specific about his contacts until we agreed to help him.” The help he required was extraordinary: four young men had perished handling the cursed items he’d made, and they’d risen as vicious undead monsters. When Kizami heard this, she looked horrified and rubbed the tattoo on her forearm as if to erase it. Ulblyn had listened carefully, jotting down a few notes in his personal shorthand, as Cuatala finished.
“Is that our fate too?” asked Kizami, moments after the debrief and Ulblyn’s encouraging remarks about Vahaera. “If they simply touched these things… We–everyone in the hold of that ship–have these marks on our bodies. Am I going to–turn?”
Ulblyn considered this. He and Kizami talked about the tattoos every day. She was still having short-lived trances that left her with gaps in her memories and feelings of nausea. The longest had been half an hour, the shortest a minute, and there was no telling when they’d come.
“Only if you happen to die,” said the Harper finally. “Draconic characters like the ones we deciphered in the tattoo often appear in necromancy spells. But if the mark was going to kill you as it did those boys, it would have done so already. That’s what I believe.” Or what I hope, he thought to himself. “At any rate, we now have a lead. I take it you haven’t returned to Theoderus yet?”
“Not yet,” said Cuatala. “Vahaera…”
“Of course. Do it soon. Meanwhile, I have news for you about Graddick’s jade hammer. Have you heard the legend of King Vorbyx of Thar?”
Before Ulblyn could go on, there was a loud bang, the ground shuddered, and they heard cries from the marketplace. The three rushed outside. People were pointing east. Flames danced far away, just visible over the rooftops and through Melvaunt’s black fog. Above the fire plumed the deeper black of fresh smoke. If they’d been closer, they would have seen a side table and gridiron hopping sadly through the rubble.
