The Silver Sphinx

 

“The secret to surviving the planes is simple - stay home.”

Depresar, a githyanki

 

 

Fourth Market Day of Savorus, 126 HR

Just a cricket's leg and a hollow tree near Xaos – that was all it took to get them back to Sigil. Sometimes Krystall was still amazed at how easy traveling in the planes could be. If it wasn't chaotic, tedious and dangerous, like the flight with the barracuda that now lay behind them. After they had finally found the Keeper and the Proclaimer in the old temple on the floating island of Haze Cliff, the paladin and the lupinal had explained that they had been expecting them – but not in the constellation in which they had appeared. For one thing, Figaro was not a Chosen of the Prophecy, but Elyria and Lorias had probably seen him more as a kind of familiar of Krixxi - or perhaps as a replacement for the absent Sgillin, who was, as always, traveling with the other group. Síkhara's presence, however, had simply not been planned, they could not sugarcoat that. And the fire genasi had also been quite confused and skeptical about the situation. So the Keeper and the Proclaimer had explained that they would talk to the Chosen again in Sigil - Zamakis' gift would enable her to find them there. When the vampire had asked why they couldn't have met in the City of Doors from the start, why such an effortful flight through the Outlands had been necessary, the two had laughed a little. They didn't know, they had replied. They were only doing what had been handed down to them. Krixxi had tried to ask a hundred questions, of course, but Krystall had stopped her. It had been obvious that Elyria and Lorias didn't want to reveal more than that. So they had agreed to meet the two of them again in Sigil and then left the temple thoughtfully.

They had steered the barracuda back to SoXa – albeit without Síkhara, who still had a job to do in this area of the Outlands. However, the blood hunter had made no secret of the fact that she was interested in meeting the group again in AXos. On the one hand, she wanted to visit Sigil again after a long time, and on the other hand, a friendship seemed to develop between her and the Chosen, rooted in their shared experiences in Bexrey and on Haze Cliff. Krystall and the others had gladly agreed, and so they had actually met Síkhara again in osaX after returning the barracuda to the Chaos Engineers there. Rakalla had made a comment about the mercenaries who had attacked them when they took off, but somehow no one seemed to really care about the matter anymore. Actually, they all just wanted to get back to Sigil as quickly as possible. And this time it really only took a hollow tree and a cricket's leg – it was that easy. Then they were all back in the City of Doors. The Sigil-side exit was a large shop window – fortunately on the outside, so they were not sitting in the display window of a brush-maker, but standing in a busy street in the Market Ward. Immediately, they were enveloped in the familiar, slightly chaotic and incredibly diverse atmosphere of the Cage. On one side of the street, a group of passers-by had just given way to a few Blood War mercenaries in worn armor, while not far from them a tiefling juggled with glowing balls. A muscular half-orc pushing a cart full of barrels complained that he was blocking his way. And on the rooftops, a tressym hunted pigeons. Krystall smiled and took a deep breath. Yes, she was home. She might enjoy the occasional journey through the planes, but the City of Doors was where she truly belonged. The ring of the city stretched out in both directions, seemingly endless and slightly curved.

As Krystall followed it with her gaze, she dodged a nervous-looking halfling who was walking a two-headed dog on a leash, but he could just as easily have ridden it. “Finally back home,” she said with satisfaction.

Krixxi seemed just as pleased, but was already hopping impatiently from one foot to the other next to her. “Hey, I have to check on my workshop,” she said. “Just to make sure everything's all right and stuff.”

Figaro nodded in agreement. ”I'd like to do that too. When we're away for a while, sometimes questionable characters intrude and try to play fast and loose.”

As so often, Krystall couldn't help but smile at the affected way the rooster was talking in. She quickly covered it up, though, and nodded earnestly. “Of course, that goes without saying. Feel free to check on the workshop. I say we meet tomorrow in the Smoldering Corpse Bar and discuss how to proceed.”

“All right!“ the goblin woman exclaimed. “Then have fun with whatever it is you're doing.”

She hurried off, Figaro close behind her, and soon the two had disappeared into the hustle and bustle of the Market Ward.

”I'll withdraw too,” Zamakis declared. ”The last two weeks have been a little too turbulent to my taste - and a little too much company. No offense.”

Krystall waved it off with a grin, and Blackhoof grumbled in agreement. “Yeah, well ... there's something to that. I'll go to the Gatehouse, too. Derioch won't be thrilled that she had to take over my shift handing out soup for so long. And I promised a few of the calves ... um, children that I'd carry them around on my shoulders for a bit.”

Síkhara smiled. “You really seem to have a soft side, big guy.”

“You bet,” Rakalla agreed. “When it comes to little creatures who need protection, there's not much that can stop him.”

The minotaur shrugged his massive shoulders as if to say that he took that for granted. “Don't like it when smaller ones are trampled on,” he explained. “See you tomorrow in the Smoldering Corpse.”

Krystall waved at Zamakis and Blackhoof, then looked questioningly at Rakalla.

“I need a break to think, too,” the medusa explained. “I'll be in my laboratory if anyone is looking for me. Oh, and Síkhara: If you want to meet Haer'Dalis, feel free to visit me: the Basilisk House on Styx Street. I know where he usually hangs out.“

”Thank you,” the fire genasi replied. ”I'll definitely take you up on that. I really haven't seen him for too long.”

Rakalla nodded and then disappeared into a side street.

Krystall turned to Síkhara, who was standing next to her, looking thoughtfully after the medusa. “How about a beer?” she suggested. “Rum? Schnapps? Whatever you're in the mood for, I know a cozy tavern nearby. We could talk ... I mean, I might be able to tell you at least a little about this whole ... matter."

Síkhara nodded. “Yes, I'd like that. I must admit that I've become curious.”

They made their way towards the center of the Market Ward, the architecture of Sigil that wild jumble of different styles that had always characterized the city's image. But all the many different buildings had one thing in common: the sharp, curved blades that stuck out from the walls under window sills, over door frames and along roof friezes. Here, in the center of Sigil's trade, magical lights illuminated signs and shop windows in all colors. In addition to the shops on the ground floor of the buildings, many traders had also set up stalls and tents directly on the street. At one point, the two women stopped briefly to watch a mechanical construct in the shape of a beetle crawling up the wall of a house. A small flock of glowing pixies fluttered excitedly up and down next to it. But since neither Síkhara nor Krystall spoke fairy, they didn't understand what it was about and strolled on. Krystall finally stopped next to a floating building held by massive chains. However, she pointed not at the flying monstrosity made of dark metal, but at a rather inconspicuous house next to it, built of simple bricks and with a shingle roof. An elaborately carved wooden sign was attached above the door, showing a smiling turtle with green-and-blue feathered wings. “The Winged Tortoise” was written on it.

 

 

“A nice sign,” Síkhara noted with a grin. “Homey, somehow.”

“That's right,” Krystall said. “The name goes back to an old story. It is said that the founder of the tavern, an adventurous halfling named Finn Lightfoot, once met a magical, winged turtle. This turtle had the ability to travel through space and time and took Finn on a fantastic journey. At the end of this adventure, the turtle took Finn to Sigil, where he decided to settle down and open a tavern. He named the tavern The Winged Tortoise in memory of his wondrous adventure. They say that the sign was made from a piece of wood that Finn brought back from his travels.“

”You know what's great about that?” Síkhara mused. ”It could be pure invention, to tell an exciting story about the origin of the tavern. But it could just as easily be true. After all, who knows what someone who travels the planes might have experienced?“

Krystall nodded in agreement. “That's true. And in the end it doesn't matter as long as the story is exciting and the beer is good.”

”I would drink a toast to that,” the fire genasi declared.

They entered the tavern, whose spacious main room extended over two floors. A winding staircase led up to a gallery with more tables. Lanterns with different colored lights hung from the high ceiling, and an imposing earth genasi stood behind the bar. Throk, the current innkeeper and owner, Krystall knew. The legendary Finn had not been the proprietor of the Winged Tortoise for a long time. The gray skin of the genasi was covered with dark tattoos and he was polishing glasses while nodding to them in greeting. The tavern was moderately busy at this time of day; a group of dwarves drank beer at one of the larger tables, two quadrones played an intricate-looking board game in a corner, and an elegantly dressed rakshasa sat alone at a table, apparently waiting for someone. A magical prism floated above the bar, casting glowing images of various planar landscapes onto the walls. The motifs changed slowly, creating a constantly changing scenery on the walls of the tavern. Krystall and Síkhara looked for a quiet table with a view of the street and took a look at the drinks menu.

“Do you have a favorite?” the fire genasi asked.

“The fairy sparkle nectar changes color with every sip,” Krystall explained. ”It's quite fun, but only if you're in the mood for something sweet. Personally, I like the shadow whiskey, but it leaves a hint of coldness when you drink it - so maybe not really your thing? Abyssal Absinthe is also interesting - if you like mild hallucinations. Or ... oh, I know: Limbo Lava! A smoky cocktail served very hot, mixed from dragon fruit syrup, lava blossom nectar and brandy from the City of Brass. And sprinkled on top: finely ground obsidian that crackles when you drink."

Síkhara laughed. ”Sold, I'll take that one.”

A kenku, who perfectly imitated their orders, returned a short time later with a tray and placed the desired drinks in front of them.

Krystall had decided on the shadow whiskey and raised her glass to the fire genasi. “So,” she said. “You probably have some questions.”

Síkhara leaned back, her turquoise-green eyes glowing in the dim light of the tavern. “I do, but I'm not quite sure if I want to know the answers."

Krystall nodded seriously. ”Very wise of you. And I can't give you all the answers either. For one thing, because I don't know them myself yet. For another, because we first have to discuss that. Who we can let in on it and to what extent ... But a few things I can tell you. If you want to hear them.”

“I have a feeling I might regret this,” Síkhara replied. “On the other hand, that's a feeling I know all too well. So tell me.”

Krystall took another gulp of her shadow whiskey before she began. ”It all started with a piece of parchment ...”