Chapter Twenty-Two: A Second Spellbook
Shale woke in darkness, her head fuzzy and her body aching. She could hear an annoying thumping noise. Was that what woke her? Thump, thump, thump. “Hey!” a man’s voice came from outside a door, just visible as Shale’s eyes grew accustom to the dark. “Quiet in there!”
Oszaren? Shale wondered. Her hands and feet were bound, and she was curled on a dirt floor inside a small room with a few stacked, empty crates. The walls were made of wood, and the thumping was coming from one of them. It stopped now, and Shale shouted the warlock’s name. “Oszaren!”
She’d seen him coming back for her just before she was knocked unconscious by Azbarra’s guards. What had she been thinking? Had they all been captured? She hadn’t seen the others. “I said, be quiet!” The guard shouted, this time slamming a fist into her door.
She only heard muffled words coming from the wall. She guessed it might have been Oszaren, but it was difficult to hear. She went quiet, examining the room more carefully.
She tried to sit up against the wall, which was difficult with her hands tied behind her back. She slipped her arms under her feet until they were in front of her, then started working at the bonds. They were tight. She tried to push her thumbs in as far as she could, even willing to break them, but the way she was bound didn’t give enough leverage. She swore in frustration. If she could get one of the guards in there to speak with her, she could try to use her fog cloud again to escape through the door.
“What do you plan to do with us?” Shale demanded loudly, slamming her shoulder into the wall repeatedly. “Come in here and face me!”
A moment later, the guard, a young man in dark clothing and leather armour, threw open the door and snarled at her. “I told you to be quiet.” There was a ferocious cruelty in the young man’s eyes. Too young for such anger.
Shale tried to splay her fingers through the ropes to cast her fog cloud, but she couldn’t wiggle them free enough. C’mon, c’mon, she thought desperately, but the spell was ineffective. Talking, then. “Where are we? What are you going to do with us?”
Without saying anything, the guard drew his sword and strode over to her, holding the point to her face. She looked at him without blinking. Unfeeling. Then, he raised it and slammed the butt of his sword into the side of her head.
Reverence saw Keelan standing beside Trigger near the entrance of the inn, the thick-armoured man scratching the fox nervously behind the ear. He straightened when he saw the tiefling and said, “I’m glad to see you’re alright. I was about to go searching for you.”
Reverence sighed and rubbed his eyes, leaning against the wall of the inn next to the paladin. “This is—bad.”
Keelan nodded his agreement.
“What if they get Oszaren and Shale—to talk?” he looked down at the fox, who was rubbing against Keelan’s legs. Could the animal sense the loss of its master? “We can’t risk them being tortured and giving away our secrets.”
“I trust them,” Keelan said.
“This isn’t just about trust,” Reverence shook his head, “the Red Wizard has magic. He can—make them talk.”
Keelan stared out at the street, which was sparsely populated with people going about their business with carts or wagons of supplies. It was a working day for most.
“We may have to kill them,” Reverence said seriously in the silence that followed.
Keelan looked at him. It was difficult to see behind the Paladin’s eyes without using his new amulet. “We need to send a message to Whisper and Fillip,” Keelan told him, bending to pet Trigger again.
“Alright,” Reverence said, “but we should find them in person. I’m worried the cult may be looking to intercept messages.”
Keelan locked the fox in the stables, very much to the dismay of the tiny animal, who yelped and whined as they strode away. “Our first priority is to save them,” Keelan said, feeling guilty for leaving them behind in the warehouse.
Reverence sighed again. “Shale has taken leave—of her senses. There may be nothing left to save.”
“Are you willing to do—what needs to be done?” Reverence demanded of Whisper and Fillip.
They’d found Fillip in the Castle Ward’s open market, selling spices and looking cheery, wearing a fake moustache and an absurd amount of eye makeup. They’d filled the druid in on everything that happened, then taken him to the academy to find Whisper. Fillip sold the rest of his spices to their kitchens while they tracked down the tabaxi and told him of Shale and Oszaren’s capture. As they walked back to the inn together, Reverence warned them of a fallback to their plans.
Fillip grimaced, “I don’t want to kill them. They’re our friends.”
Reverence looked over at Whisper, who was looking thoughtful but said nothing.
“We should remain optimistic,” Fillip continued, “if they’re not dead yet, then the cult wants them alive.”
“That’s what should concern us,” Reverence shook his head, “they could give them everything.”
Fillip shrugged. “What’s there to give away? We’ve done a shit job at infiltrating the cult so far anyways.”
Whisper looked at the half-elf indignantly. Fillip raised an apologetic hand to him.
“You’re right—we can’t kill them,” the tiefling lied, pretending to drop it. He knew what he might need to do.
Shale felt a magical presence reaching into her mind as she awoke the second time in darkness. She couldn’t be sure how much time had passed.
The presence pushed against her will insistently, and she pushed back. The effort drew sweat from her brow. A few minutes later, she heard Azbarra outside her door. “They’ve both resisted the spell. I suppose we’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way.”
There were movements at the door and the sound of scraping wood. Shale breathed in and pushed herself back up against the wall, awaiting the worst.
She heard a conversation in draconic. Shouting. Confusion. A demand? A new voice. A voice Shale knew. Whisper?
“I deserve right to kill her,” the tabaxi said in common. He was right outside her door now.
“Then I won’t bar your chance,” Azbarra said smoothly. “Move aside.”
The door opened and the tabaxi walked inside, two guards behind him. He conjured a staff in one hand and swatted her over the head with it. Shale threw up her arms to block the blow.
There were muffled shouts in the room adjacent. It was Oszaren, yelling.
Azbarra turned from Whisper and Shale and shouted at a guard, “quiet him!”
A moment later, the guard shouted to another. “Get over here! The half-elf’s gone!”
“What do you mean, he’s gone?” Azbarra demanded, stepping out of sight and shoving a man aside.
Whisper glanced down at Shale and, with a pointed look, conjured a small dagger in his hand and dropped it in the dirt in front of her. He nodded subtly and she inched her feet over the dagger to cover it as the tabaxi turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him. “What happen?” She heard the tabaxi demand.
“Idiots!” Azbarra swore. “He’s obviously gone invisible! Check everywhere! LOCK THE DOORS! Don’t let anyone leave.”
“Find him!” Whisper commanded.
There was a commotion outside the door, but Shale was already picking up the dagger and sawing at her ropes, cutting her hands free then ripping the ties off her legs and standing, dagger in hand.
“You two, stand guard over the woman,” Shale heard the Red Wizard say, and she could see the shadow of four feet under the door.
The ranger started testing the walls for weaknesses, wondering how she would get out of the warehouse alive, and what her friends had planned.
“Is it just me, or is that rat staring at us weird?” The guard said, tilting his ugly head down at the little brown rodent that watched them.
“Step on it,” the other one said, “I hate rats.”
The first nodded and stomped a boot at the rat and it scurried away, but the man was faster. He caught its tail underfoot, and with a sudden flash, the rat tail disappeared, and the rodent transformed into a crouching half-elf with long, silvery hair and a wry smile on his face.
Fillip leapt to his feet and punched the guard square in the nose, then spun on the spot and transformed back into a rat before the other man could react, summoning two great bears next to him. The guard, grabbing his bleeding face in complete shock, now stumbled back as one of the bears swatted a massive paw in his direction and roared.
There was a loud, smashing clatter as a pile of pots and pans fell from seemingly nowhere and crashed on the ground, scattering across the dirt and drawing a few of the confused guards, who had also just noticed the two bears.
“What in nine hells is going on!” A worker whined, backing away and dropping the crate he’d been carrying. Several of the other workers stumbled away, trying to get through the doors, which had been locked. Many of them pressed against the walls, trying to stay away from the conflict.
There was an earth-rumbling roar from one of the offices. The dirt floor vibrated. Something hard was slamming against the wall.
Keelan, who stood outside, watched in surprise as suddenly a massive hole appeared in the side of the warehouse and a piece of the wall exploded in splinters of wood, followed by a huge stone fist.
“Oszaren?” Keelan said in surprise.
Oszaren stood with a crushed yellow gem in one hand, with his and Shale’s packs and weapons over his other shoulder. Next to him and towering several feet above was an earth elemental with stone flesh and potato features. It blinked and Keelan could see Oszaren’s eyes were yellow and clouded. He was commanding the elemental.
The giant creature turned and burrowed into the earth, leaving behind a huge hole.
“Where’s he going?” Keelan asked, but a second later, he saw exactly where.
Shale fell backwards into the opposite wall as the dirt ground beneath her exploded, and a giant stone face appeared through a hole and smiled up at her. She shouted in surprise and backed against the wall. It then proceeded to crawl up, dirt sloughing off its form, and turned to the outer wall and punched it until it cracked and opened up. “Thanks, buddy,” she breathed after the initial shock wore off. The elemental gave an ugly grin and dove back into its hole.
Shale jumped through the wall and landed outside, looking over to see Keelan and Oszaren standing there. Oszaren had started the wall on fire. When he turned and saw Shale, his eyes shimmered from yellow back to white, and he smiled and tossed her pack to her. She grabbed it. “Oszaren, I—”
“Later,” he said, holding up a hand and pointing the other to another section of the wall and releasing a second bout of fire.
“How did you get out?”
“Turned invisible,” he grinned, “then snuck out when they opened the door to my room.”
She took her swords, bow and quiver quickly and strapped them on, watching the fire burn.
“What now?” Keelan asked, and Shale shook her head, unsure.
“Do we run? Who else is inside?” She said, “I only saw Whisper, and they think he’s one of them.”
“Fillip went in as a rat. Reverence was on the roof last I saw.” Keelan eyed her more closely, “here, let me heal you. You’re barely on your feet.”
Shale felt instant relief as the paladin put a hand on her shoulder and healed the wounds she’d received upon capture. “Thanks,” she breathed.
“Look at that, Fillip brought his bears to the fight. I have the elemental in there distracting them. Oh, looks like they killed Fillip’s bears already,” Oszaren said, eyes back to yellow. “Alright, let’s punch Azbarra really hard in the face…”
Azbarra crawled out of the crater in the ground, clutching his broken ribs and wheezing. He took a few unsteady steps back as his guards ran in to crowd around the massive earth elemental, their weapons doing very little to the stony creature. With a shaky wave of his hand, he felt mist swirl around his legs, and he ran for the door, which had been thrown open by the workers trying to escape. The spell took him out the door in a blur of speed and he didn’t slow until he was in amongst the crowd in the street. Many were onlookers headed home after a day’s work, pausing to see the fires and hear the roars of the elemental inside the warehouse. Azbarra, still holding his side with a pained expression, limped away through the crowd, being swallowed by the people.
Whisper turned from the elemental as he saw Azbarra slide away in his misty step and enter the crowd of people. The tabaxi ran after him and raised a paw. An explosion of fire shook the earth and there were terrified screams as several people were thrown back, others charred and smoking, dead instantly. The target, Azbarra himself, was thrown forward off his feet as the fire hit and was now crawling up from the ground as the crowd pushed back away from it all. Those that could, anyways.
Whisper waved his paw until mist swirled under him, and he shot forward so he stood in front of Azbarra, tilting his head at the Red Wizard, who was bleeding from a gash in his forehead and breathing heavily.
“You—” Azbarra said accusingly, eyes shifting as he looked for an escape through the crowd, which had now made a good distance between them.
Reverence sprinted from around the warehouse, Fillip jumping from his shoulder and transforming back into a half-elf and summoning two bears into existence to stand behind Azbarra, growling to keep him from running.
Reverence ran, jumped and tried to kick the wizard’s legs from under him, but the mist still swirled under his legs and he dodged. The monk used his momentum to skid through the dirt and pivot, planting a firm punch into the man’s shoulder, locking him in place with a quick stunning spell.
Azbarra breathed a sharp intake of breath as all his limbs stiffened.
The rest of the cultist guards ran through the front of the warehouse to see the gathered crowd as they fled the earth elemental inside.
“Must kill,” Whisper said firmly, and Fillip nodded from behind him. Whisper glanced down at the wizard’s bag, where his spellbook was sure to be.
One of Fillip’s bears stood on its haunches and pulled the frozen Azbarra down, ripping out his throat with its teeth and leaving a growing pool of blood in the dirt. The Red Wizard twitched and gasped as his lifeblood seeped from him, his hood falling back to reveal his bald head and lifeless blue eyes.
Fillip turned his bears to the fleeing guards, and the men stopped near the entrance, unsure of what to do.
Whisper strode over the five blackened bodies and stopped over the Red Wizard’s corpse, ripping the spellbook from his satchel, which was now stained with blood. With a quick wave of his hand, the blood vanished. He stroked the black leather cover lovingly, then shoved it into his own bag before looking around at the horrified faces.
There was a collective sound of swords being drawn, and at least a dozen men in uniform pushed through the crowd. One pushed through ahead of the rest and shouted, “Stop this! Drop your weapons!”
The city guard had arrived.
Shale grabbed Keelan’s arm as they rounded the corner and saw the city guard surrounding Fillip, Whisper and Reverence, all of whom stood over several fallen bodies, some of them burned. She noticed the Red Wizard’s crimson robes. Azbarra was dead, then.
Whisper was standing strangely as well, as if frozen, and Reverence was looking at him imposingly. Had the tiefling done something to Whisper? He looked stunned. She could hear Reverence growling, “what in NINE HELLS did you do, Whisper? Where is your conscience?”
Fillip spoke up, gesturing to Azbarra’s body. “Gentlemen, I implore you. This man plotted to destroy your city. Look inside for the evidence…”
Shale knew they needed to leave. “Let’s go,” she hissed before they could hear the rest of Fillip’s speech, and the two of them ran in the opposite direction, hoods up and looking for cover. Oszaren turned to look at them as his elemental crawled through the hole in the wall and dropped a crate in front of the warlock, which smashed upon impact, littering the ground with road working supplies.
“Damn, no gold,” Oszaren said, then waved a hand and the elemental disappeared. The warlock drew up his own hood and trotted after Shale and Keelan. “What’s happening? What did I miss?”
Fillip sent his bears into the warehouse where they zipped out of existence, and in the confusion of the other cultists dropping their weapons, Reverence pushed past Fillip and Whisper and bolted. Whisper stirred, the stunning strike dealt to him by the monk wearing off, and he too ran. The tabaxi fled into the warehouse and presumably out the other side. The captain of the guards started shouting orders. “Find them! Hells, don’t let them get away! We need them all for questioning!” Some of the city watch ran after Reverence and Whisper, others started calling for buckets of water to put out the fires, and some who looked to be their healers came forth and assessed the burned bodies Whisper had left behind.
Dozens of innocents were injured by the explosions. Five were dead besides the Red Wizard, not to mention the cultists inside who’d been hit by the earth elemental Oszaren summoned.
“Don’t let anyone leave!” The captain barked, pointing to the innocent bystanders. Many had fled, but there were many others who’d been too terrified to run.
Fillip knelt, dirtying his trousers in the loose dust, and raised his hands in surrender, his false mustache twitching on his upper lip. “I surrender,” the druid declared to the captain, a rugged man with handsome, gray features, “though, I am innocent in this.”
“We’ll see about that,” the captain said as two men grabbed his arms and pulled them behind his back, lifting him to his feet. “Take him to the outpost,” he ordered, and Fillip was escorted away, the burning warehouse to his back.
Shale, Keelan and Oszaren snuck back to the inn, using back alleys through an indirect return route. Shale went straight to the stables and brought Trigger out. The fox leapt into her arms, yipping happily. “We need to talk,” Oszaren said seriously, and they all found a table inside. It seemed the events at the warehouse had yet to be spread to the wider populace, but Shale guessed it wouldn’t take long.
Reverence arrived at the inn soon after, feigning casual as he slid onto the bench next to them. He ordered a drink and sat back with it, taking a few sips. They were all quiet, anxious. Finally, the monk spoke. “Fillip’s been arrested, as I assume you all saw.”
“He can handle it,” Keelan said, and Shale had to agree. The druid was rather convincing about most things. Besides that, he had on a disguise. She wouldn’t be surprised if he got himself out of jail within the hour with that silver tongue of his.
“Listen, I…” Shale trailed off uneasily, “I need to apologize. Something came over me, and,” she looked at Oszaren, “I nearly got you killed. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Oszaren. I know saying it won’t change what happened, I just hope you can understand. I—I can explain.”
“Did you happen to see—what Whisper did?” Reverence asked before Oszaren could speak.
“What Whisper did?” She asked, confused. “What do you mean?”
“Whisper—” Reverence straightened in his seat, “killed five innocent people trying to get at the wizard. Five.” He slammed a fist on the table, drawing the stares of a few patrons in the bar. “You did this, Shale. You are guilty for these deaths.”
Shale felt tears come to her eyes. Her throat was raw. “I—I didn’t know. I mean, I saw the bodies, but I didn’t realize…” She held back a sob, putting her hands over her eyes. The shame threatened to overwhelm her. The guilt. Five innocent people, dead.
“We can’t only blame Shale,” Oszaren said gently, “we all did what we had to in the moment. Death has its place.”
“It was murder,” Reverence swore.
Shale looked up at the tiefling and the rage was written clearly on his face. “Did Whisper get away?” She asked in a strained voice.
“Then he is probably at the academy, hiding out,” Oszaren said.
“Well, what do we do now?” Keelan grumbled, folding his arms.
“We need to get back and speak to the council, try to get back in their good graces,” he glanced at Reverence pointedly, “we need their help.”
“I will stay back,” Reverence declared, standing. “I must—meditate on this.”
“We should send a message to the academy for Whisper,” Keelan suggested.
Shale nodded and soon they had one written and sent. “Let’s go.” She felt sick. Could Whisper have really done that? Killed so many, just to get at the wizard?
The three of them stood and made their way to the Yawning Portal Inn.
Fillip sat alone in a small room with stone walls. He was free to stand and walk around the small room, but all he was given was a plain wooden chair. He didn’t need to wait long for the captain of the guards to step through the door. He’d already given them his name: Fillipé. Close, but not exact, as with any good lie.
A guard brought in a second chair and placed it across from Fillip’s, and the captain sat, sighing heavily and rubbing his eyes. “This is a mess,” he muttered, looking up at the half-elf with discerning eyes. “Your friends did this?”
Fillip put on a confused expression. “Friends? I promise you, captain, I know very little about what happened in that warehouse.”
“What do you know?” The man asked.
“Not much,” he said earnestly. “I’m just a spice merchant who happened to be walking past at the wrong time. I ran across two wizards dueling, and I thought maybe I could help. I have a bit of healing skills, you see.” He paused, letting his statement ferment. “I’m just lucky I wasn’t one of the ones that—well, you know.”
The captain looked at him, studying his face, then sighed again. “Funny enough, I believe you.” Fillip looked up. “You’ve never seen these wizards before?”
“Honestly,” Fillip said, “no. I’ve barely heard of wizards exercising magic in the city—outside of the academy, of course. I didn’t realize it was such a common concern.”
“Did you happen to notice that one of the wizards was a Red Wizard of Thay?” the captain asked.
Fillip shook his head and shrugged helplessly. “Don’t know much about them.”
“And that we uncovered a smuggling operation inside that warehouse?”
“Captain, I can’t take any credit for that discovery. As I said,” he kept his demeanour calm, kind, “I was merely passing by when I noticed the fire and the shouting.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry those people had to die. I hope you find who’s responsible.”
The captain scratched the stubble on his chin, thoughtful. “Alright,” he said finally, standing and motioning for the guard to open the door. “We may have to keep you here for a few days, in case we have any more questions.”
“That’s fine,” Fillip said. “If you need to corroborate my identity, just go to the markets in the city. My buyer’s will tell it true; I’ve been selling spices throughout Waterdeep for the last two days. Even sold some at the academy.”
The captain nodded.
“Were there any survivors from the blast?” Fillip asked, remembering the charred bodies Whisper had left.
“It was bad,” the captain said solemnly, “Some won’t return home. Others won’t return in the same condition.”
Fillip nodded, his suspicions confirmed. “Check my bag. I have some healing potions you can take. I’m willing to spare two. If you need more help with healing, I’ve also been known to dabble with my herbal kit. I could help.”
“Thank you. I’ll take the potions for now.” With that, the captain left, barring the door behind him.
Fillip sighed and looked around the square room. “Well. This is going to be boring.”
Shale, Keelan and Oszaren were led by Elia, Remalia’s tall, human handmaiden, from the entrance of the Yawning Portal Inn to a private room in the back, though the main room of the inn seemed mostly empty. Inside waited Remalia, her husband Arthagast, Leosin, and Omthar Frume. They had last seen Omthar in Elturel when he’d given them their ship.
Another male, an elf, was seated there as well, and he was the only one they didn’t recognize. He had long dark hair with streaks of gray and a weathered face with tanned skin. He was draped in animal hides and a green tunic that matched his deep-set eyes. Remalia introduced him as Delan Winterhound, Ranger of the North and member of the Emerald Enclave.
They settled in around the table, looking abashed. Shale was thankful they’d left Reverence behind, though she wished Fillip were there to talk them through it.
“I believe we owe you an apology,” Oszaren began softly, looking to Remalia, then Arthagast, and finally Leosin, “our last meeting was abrupt and our actions brash.”
Remalia inclined her chin, showing she would listen to their plight.
“We have urgent news,” Oszaren continued quickly, and proceeded to tell them what happened at the warehouse.
“This is serious, indeed,” Arthagast said when the warlock was finished, “but it seems you’ve made a dent in the cult’s smuggling operation. There’s something to say for that.”
“It’s in the hands of the city watch, now,” Oszaren said. “As are the wagons filled with gold.”
“And the Red Wizard is dead,” Remalia said.
Shale felt a tightness in her abdomen.
“What have you learned from your council meeting?” Keelan asked.
“The cult is busy in the North,” Arthagast explained. “They’ve been attacking villages with armies of kobolds and a red dragon.”
“Red dragon,” Shale said, “does it have a name?”
“None that we know,” Remalia turned her gaze on Shale, who dropped her eyes. “However, Delan has informed us the Emerald Enclave has captured another Red Wizard working for the cult.”
“What’s his name?” Shale asked quickly.
The name didn’t strike her as familiar, but that didn’t matter. It could be him. No, she thought, keep your control. You must know for certain this time. She could still see the blackened bodies of those Whisper killed, scattered on the ground. Innocents, walking home to see their families after a long day of work.
“What do you know about the incident in Triel five years ago?” Shale asked, turning to Delan.
Delan turned his head, studying her curiously. “We suspect it was Zelnar who was behind the attack.”
Shale nodded, tight-lipped.
“Have you discovered anything else?” Keelan asked.
Omthar answered. “We’ve moved some knights to the High Moores to fend off the attacks there.”
“A black half-dragon has also been spotted,” Leosin told them, “ten days ago, outside the very warehouse you told us of.”
“Rezmir,” Oszaren said thoughtfully.
“It seems she may be one of five wyrm speakers working for the cult, one for each chromatic colour. The Enclave has learned the names of two others,” Delan told them. “There is Galvin the Blue and Sevrin the Red. Galvin was last seen near the Sunset Mountains, but Sevrin’s location is unknown.”
“Sevrin,” Keelan repeated, “we’ve heard that name before.”
Leosin and Omthar nodded. “We told you about him in Elturel.”
“Now what do we do?” Shale asked finally. “We don’t have a caravan to follow anymore, so where do we go? How do we stop this?”
Remalia looked at each of them. “We need the Lord’s Alliance. We need to you to find out what ritual will bring Tiamat to our world. If we know how it’s done, perhaps we can stop it. If you find and follow the treasure and see where it’s going, that may tell us where the ritual will take place.”
“A ritual like this would require a huge magical source,” Oszaren said seriously. “Have you heard of the cult searching for any large, powerful artifacts?”
“Nothing. At least, not yet,” Arthagast said.
“If we take out the wyrm speakers, then there will be no one left to complete the ritual,” Keelan said.
Remalia dipped her chin. “It would not be easy, but if you and your companions do this, it would be a great help.”
“What about disguises?” Oszaren asked. “How will we infiltrate the cult?”
“It sounds like you’ve killed or had arrested anyone who knew your faces,” Leosin pointed out.
“We will leave the logistics to your…” Remalia paused carefully, “capable hands.”
“Thank you for your help,” Shale said, sensing the meeting was over. “We will send you a message when we leave Waterdeep.”
“Good luck,” Leosin told them.
Omthar gave them a friendly grin. “Tell that Fillip he owes me a drink!” He chuckled.
“One last thing,” Shale hesitated before standing, “the giant pit in the other room,” she pointed her chin and the closed door, “where does it lead?”
Omthar answered. “It goes underneath the city. Adventurers use it to prove their prowess. Some come back, and some don’t. Strange creatures down there, by the sounds of it!”
Shale felt a chill and told herself she would not be one of those adventurers.
The three of them slipped from their bench and exited the private room. Oszaren asked to speak with Leosin, and the monk took Oszaren aside. Shale saw him try to give Leosin the symbol of the Harpers back, but he waved a hand and wouldn’t accept it. “We all make mistakes,” she heard the Harper say. “It’s how you follow up with those mistakes that matters.”
“Is there a chance we can interrogate some of the imprisoned cultists, and maybe get our friend Fillip out? Do you have connections with the city watch?”