The Silver Sphinx

 

"Three things cannot long stay hidden: the sun, the moon and the truth."

proverb from the realm of Mahāmāyūrī, peafowl goddess of wisdom and secret sciences

 

 

Second Void Day of Mortis, 126 HR

Amariel looked down at herself once more before preparing to enter the Hive together with her comrades Nallart and Aranis Verûsa. She wore simple, torn clothing, loose enough to hide the chain mail beneath and dirty enough not to attract attention in the alleys of the Hive. Her sword was hidden underneath a dark cloak, as were the blade of Aranis and Nallart's axe, which the old dwarf carried on his back. He wore rough linen robes over his armor and a leather apron that made him look like a simple blacksmith. Aranis, like Amariel, wore dark, worn clothing, a wide hood and glasses with darkly tinted lenses that hid the bright blue of his eyes. Although there were aasimar in the Hive - albeit much rarer than tieflings - Aranis had apparently deemed it advisable to conceal his heavenly ancestry a little in a part of Sigil where there were so many fiends but no Harmonium patrols. At least, no official ones. Amariel, Nallart and Verûsa were here on an undercover investigation to find out more about the shadow thefts. They had received a clue to a house on the edge of the Night Market from a small-time crook named Zip, who often sold information to the Harmonium. Since his own activities were limited to petty theft, but his hints had already helped solve several more serious crimes, they were letting him go for the time being. The man knew, of course, that this was only true as long as he didn't commit any major crimes, so Amariel hoped that it would remain a matter of bagatelles. Zip had heard that a fence who called himself the Shadow Ripper had recently been offering stolen shadows at the Night Market. He didn't know many details, but he had given Nallart the address where the fence was said to be operating. So Amariel, Aranis Verûsa and Nallart were now on their way, in disguise, to take a closer look at said house - and ideally even catch the so-called Shadow Ripper.

Be extremely careful, the half-elf reminded herself, remembering the words of Runako Fireheart, who was in charge of the case. The Night Market is one of the most dangerous places in Sigil. I wouldn't let you investigate there without good reason. But I know you are qualified and the evidence justifies it. Put together a small squad, go unrecognized, and be on your guard! So she had asked Nallart and Aranis for support, and now they stood in Sandstone Row, ready to proceed toward the Night Market. Amariel took a deep breath. Undercover investigations in areas like the Hive were sometimes part of her job. It wasn't her first time doing this, but she was nowhere near as experienced as her brother Killeen, Tonat Shar or Factol Sarin, who had often taken on such cases during their time as investigators. It wasn't one of her favorite tasks either. She was an anointed knight and preferred direct combat to rummaging around in the shadows. But to uncover the truth, one sometimes had to venture into the darkness. And that was exactly what they were about to do.

 

The Night Market was not far from the Sandstone District. For a while they followed Zerthimon Lane, which bordered the district, then crossed the Darkwell Court and finally turned onto Black Boot Walk. Where it met Slaadi Walk, was the house where the Shadow Ripper was supposed to conduct his shady dealings. On their way, Amariel saw the usual mix of Hive dwellers: beggars, prostitutes, pickpockets, daytallers, thugs, collectors and the occasional fiend. Now and again, her gaze lingered a little longer on a scene that particularly caught her eye: a figure in a black robe, sitting on a box at the side of the road and talking to a magpie perched on their hand; some very large rat skulls piled up in a wall niche and tied together with leather strings; a dried-up mummy dangling motionless in front of a shop, seemingly serving as a sign. Like all other wards of Sigil, the Hive had countless of these bizarre accents, only here they were gloomy and macabre of course. As they passed the outskirts of the Night Market, torches attached to poles cast flickering shadows on the crooked buildings. The air thickened with the smells of fried meat, exotic spices and cheap alcohol. They moved at a normal pace, but stayed close together as they made their way down the street without incident. Only once did a red-scaled kobold approach them, tugging at Nallart's sleeve.

“Tooth doctor?” he croaked, waving a dirty pair of pliers under the dwarf's beard. “Pull a tooth for only five greens!”

The kobold pointed to a nearby stand improvised from planks and tattered cloth. The tools hanging there looked as if they had been fished out of a rubbish dump. Several blood splatters were visible on the curtains of the shack. Amariel couldn't help but get goose bumps at the sight.

“Pike it!” the dwarf growled at the self-appointed dentist.

When the kobold didn't let up, but continued to tug at the sleeve of Nallart's tunic, the annoyed decurion gave him a hard kick. The kobold screeched and then rushed back to his stall, clamoring loudly.

At a glance from Amariel and Aranis, Nallart shrugged. “What? He should keep his hands off my teeth. Besides, the little beast stinks badly.”

Amariel could hardly argue with that, so she just nodded and said nothing. The old dwarf had been patrolling the streets of Sigil for many decades, often in the Lower Ward, near the Hive.

He had seen more than anyone could imagine. This had given him considerable experience, but also rough manners. He shared this trait with many Harmonium members who had been on patrol duty for a long time. Knowing that Nallart's hard shell hid a soft core, Amariel did not argue about it. Especially since the dwarf was right about one thing: the kobold had indeed smelled terribly. Amariel pulled her hood a little lower over her face as they continued to follow Black Boot Walk. It was relatively quiet in the alley, which was all the more eerie given its proximity to the bustling Night Market. Finally, they reached their destination. The house Zip had mentioned rose up before them like a monster made of rotten beams and crumbling stone. The plaster had long since peeled off, and the windows stared into the night like empty eye sockets. Obscure symbols were smeared across the façade, but the words had become illegible and remained incomprehensible to Amariel.

Cautiously, they circled the building. At the front, there were several boarded-up windows and a massive locked wooden door reinforced with rusty iron fittings. On the side wall, they squeezed past a pile of rubbish consisting of rotten food, broken glass and several large but limp and lifeless tentacles. Amariel grimaced. Even the trash in Sigil seemed to have its own repulsive personality. The back of the house was even more dilapidated. There was another door here, but it was secured with only a simple padlock. Amariel leaned against the wall and listened intently. The noise of the Night Market was muffled here, but she could still hear the distant squeaking of cart wheels, the chatter of the merchants and the occasional bawling of drunks. But then, very quietly, she heard it ... a whisper. It was barely perceptible, like a soft rustling in the wind. But it was there.

“Do you hear that?” she whispered to Nallart and Aranis in a low voice.

The dwarf raised his head attentively. “I hear the wind and the sounds of the Night Market. Nothing else.”

But Amariel was certain: the whispering was coming from inside the house. It was quiet, but it was there, almost as if the walls themselves were speaking, as if the shadows were hatching secrets.

Aranis concentrated, his sapphire-blue eyes seemed to glow faintly behind his glasses. “I don't hear any whispering, but I sense a presence,” he said quietly. “Something dark, in one of the upper rooms of the house.”

Amariel had no doubt: this was their destination, and they had to get in. She gestured to Aranis to pick the lock. The aasimar nodded and pulled a small set of delicate tools from a pouch on his belt. Even the Harmonium had experts for opening locked doors - only they were allowed to do so legally. Aranis Verûsa knelt down in front of the lock and began to work with nimble and skilled fingers. The silence seemed to thicken as he fiddled with the door under the curtain of night. Amariel felt her muscles tense. Although it didn't take long for the lock to spring open, it seemed like an eternity to the half-elf.

Aranis stood up. “It's open,” he whispered.

Amariel nodded with determination. “Get ready.” She took a deep breath and then opened the door a crack.

The hinges creaked and a rush of stale air flowed towards them. Amariel immediately paused at the unwelcome sound, and Nallart and Aranis behind her also froze in place. Behind the door, the half-elf spotted a narrow stairwell, but there were no doors leading off on the ground floor. A well-trodden wooden staircase led upstairs, and quiet voices could be heard from the upper floor. Since the conversation continued, the people upstairs had apparently not heard the door open. At least, that was what Amariel hoped. She slipped through the crack, followed by Aranis – but the broad-shouldered dwarf couldn't squeeze through the narrow opening. He had no choice but to push the door open a little further. Once again, the hinges creaked, but fortunately more quietly, and the conversation upstairs did not stop this time either. After the three undercover investigators had entered the house, they left the door open behind them so as not to make any more telltale noises. Since they all had darkvision, they went without a light source and instead sneaked toward the wooden staircase. It ended at a door, and behind it, the muffled voices of several people could undoubtedly be heard.

Amariel took a deep breath, then pressed the handle and entered, Nallart and Aranis close behind her. The room behind the door was not particularly large and only dimly lit by a soot-blackened candle stuck to an upturned wooden bucket. Three people stood in the middle of the room. One was a woman with long, intense red hair, from which a few sparks sprayed as she turned toward the opening door - probably a fire genasi. Next to her stood a man with pointed ears and long blue hair - perhaps fey-blooded or a tiefling. He carried two short, slender blades, which his hands immediately moved to as they entered. The third person was a gaunt man in a worn black coat. A long scar ran from his forehead across his left cheek to his chin, and he held something in his hand that looked like a small, tied-up bag in the dim light. For a moment, there was complete silence. Again, Amariel could hear the whispering, and it seemed to come from the bag in the scarred man's hand. Then the fire genasi took a step forward, her hand on her weapon, her body tense like a big cat about to pounce.

“Calm down,” Amariel appeased. “We're just looking for someone.”

Aranis stepped beside her, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Nallart, always the pragmatist, secured the entrance.

Meanwhile, the man in the black cloak took a step back. His eyes flashed, and he glared angrily at his two negotiating partners. “There was no mention of any other partners!” he hissed. “Traitors!”

“We don't know these people,” the fire genasi assured. Her turquoise-green eyes sparkled in the dim light.

Amariel looked into the eyes of the man who must be the Shadow Ripper. “That's true, we don't belong to them,” she said. “But we are interested in a deal.”

The man with the scar laughed, a dry, unpleasant sound. “You think you can fool me? You want to peel me! Pull the wool over my eyes! But what if it's your eyes that cannot see?”

He threw the bag he had been holding onto the ground. It burst open, releasing a cloud of dark, swirling smoke that spread through the room like a living creature. The whispering grew louder and was now clearly audible. The fire genasi cursed and the man at her side drew his two blades. Amariel felt a shiver run down her spine as the smoke spread, and she sensed a sting as if something had touched her soul.

“What is that?” Nallart growled, alarmed.

“Shadow dust,” the fence replied with a laugh. “It will steal your shadows and consume your souls!”

With these words, he turned to the nearby window and tore open the shutters. Aranis tried to stop him with a bolt from his hand crossbow, but by now the smoke filled the entire room and even with darkvision they could hardly see anything. Amariel wanted to pursue the fence, but the smoke made her cough and caused a painful stinging in her chest. Everyone else seemed to be suffering from the same effect. Then she heard the man with the blue hair cast a spell, and at the same moment, a violent gust of wind swept through the room. The cloud of smoke was blown out through the now open window and dispersed harmlessly into the sky above Sigil. At the same moment, the stabbing pain in Amariel's chest subsided. Coughing and gasping for breath, she leaned against the wall and immediately searched the room. But the Shadow Ripper was gone, having fled through the open window under the veil of darkness.

Cursing, the fire genasi ran to the open shutters, leaned out, and searched the street below. “Damn it, he's gone.” Angrily, she slammed her flat hand against the shutter.

Then she turned to Amariel, Nallart and Aranis, glaring at them angrily. The man with the blue hair stepped beside her. He seemed calmer, but still held his two blades vigilantly in his hands. The cloud of smoke had cleared, but the shadow of a looming confrontation hung darkly over the room. A quick glance at Nallart told Amariel that the dwarf was still guarding the door, the only exit besides the window. Aranis, on the other hand, stood beside her, calm but ready for battle.

Amariel turned her gaze to the fire genasi. “Are you accomplices of this man?”

“Accomplices?” The woman laughed bitterly. “We wanted to expose his scheming! We're just as much on the hunt for that bastard as you are.”

“Anyone can say that,” Amariel replied. Since the undercover investigation was no longer going according to plan and an open conflict was brewing, she took out her badge. “Harmonium. You have interfered with a covert mission. We need to question you.”

“We have interfered?” Again, sparks sprayed from the woman's orange-red hair. “You just trampled on a clue we worked hard to uncover! Why don't you go back to the Lady's Ward instead of snooping around here in the Hive, which you don't care about anyway.”

“That's enough,” Amariel replied grimly. “I don't have time for your accusations. You're coming with us to the Barracks for interrogation.”

“Like hell we will!” The fire genasi placed her hand on the hilt of the scimitar she carried at her side. “We are trying to uncover a crime here, just like you. But you Hardheads are so blind in your self-righteous obsession with order that you cannot see the truth even when it jumps out at you.”

 

 

When the genasi reached for her weapon, Amariel drew her sword and Aranis did the same. Judging by the sound behind her, Nallart also took his axe from his back. The fire genasi drew her scimitar with a quick, practiced movement. The skin on her right forearm was briefly exposed, and Amariel spotted many small scars, as if from short cuts. Was this woman a blood hunter? In contrast to her previous anger, she now appeared calm and confident. The fact that there were three of them against two did not seem to impress her. The air crackled with tension. Amariel knew they were on the brink of a fight, and she hated that it had come to this. But if the genasi and her companion were part of this dark game, she would not let them escape.

“Ho, my wild fire bird,” the blue-haired man said to the blood hunter, sounding more amused than concerned. “I don't think we'll get anywhere with the friendly officers of the Harmonium here with so much rage. Perhaps we should all sheathe our blades and talk?” To emphasize his words, he tucked away his two short swords. As he did so, his dark cloak fell slightly to one side, revealing an emblem that clearly showed the symbol of the Doomguard.

Amariel inhaled sharply and saw Aranis tense up at her side at the sight of the emblem. The blue-haired man seemed to notice, but only smiled kindly.

“I won't stand in the way,” the fire genasi replied grimly. She lowered her scimitar slightly, but kept her eyes on Amariel.

The half-elf still had her sword raised, but something in the blood hunter's gaze held her back. It wasn't just anger or defiance, but also a reckless determination that Amariel recognized. But a fight here, in this cramped space, would have been bloody and pointless, and would only distract them from hunting the Shadow Ripper. So she lowered her sword a little. “Why should I believe you?” she asked, her voice still harsh but slightly less accusatory. “You are obviously a blood hunter, known for your unorthodox methods and your connections to shady figures. What are you doing here?”

The fire genasi took a deep breath. She seemed to think for a moment, then made a decision. “My name is Síkhara,” she explained. “You're right, I am a blood hunter. And I'm looking for answers, just like you. I was hired to find stolen shadows. And I've already discovered some clues.”

“Who hired you?” Amariel asked immediately.

“That's not important,” Síkhara fended off the question. “What's important is that we all have the same goal. We want to catch the shadow thieves and bring back the stolen shadows.”

She didn't seem dishonest to Amariel, but the half-elf wasn't ready to let her guard down just yet. “You expect me to believe that? You're working with a Sinker.” She glanced darkly at the man with the blue hair, whom she by now assumed to be a tiefling based on his aura.

“My name is Haer'Dalis,” he said, bowing slightly. “It is true that I am a member of the Doomguard. But I am not a blind servant of decay; I see myself more as ... a guardian of the natural ways in which the multiverse is meant to disintegrate.”

Amariel frowned. The tiefling might be implying that he was not a Ravager, but an Observer. Nevertheless, he remained a member of the Doomguard.

“And why should we trust a Sinker?” Nallart asked grimly from behind.

“The stolen shadows are a very distinct feature of entropy,” Haer'Dalis replied. “But they are becoming a little too pronounced. They are pushing decay forward too quickly for my liking.”

Amariel sighed. If Haer'Dalis was right about one thing, it was that the stolen shadows were more than just stolen possessions. These thefts were an intrusion into the natural order and a serious threat to the inhabitants of Sigil. She exchanged a quick glance with Nallart and Aranis. Amariel knew she had to make a decision. She could arrest Síkhara and Haer'Dalis and try to catch the Shadow Ripper on her own. But they would not come willingly, and they might actually have valuable information about the case. And stopping these thefts was a priority, in order to protect the citizens of Sigil.

Amariel lowered her sword completely. “All right, I'll give you a chance,” she said. “We'll work together. But only if you tell the truth and promise me your full cooperation.”

Síkhara nodded. “You have my word. We will help you catch the shadow thieves. And should you find out that I am lying to you or betraying you, you can hold me personally accountable.” She sheathed her scimitar. “But I promise you, that won't be necessary.”

Amariel glanced briefly at Nallart and Aranis. Both nodded, although the dwarf was a little grumpier than the aasimar. Seeing that her comrades had no reservations or objections, the half-elf sheathed her weapon. There was no guarantee that she could trust Síkhara and Haer'Dalis. But sometimes one had to take a leap into the unknown.

“All right,” said Amariel. “What do you know about the Shadow Ripper, and how did you track him down?”

The blood hunter and the tiefling from the Doomguard exchanged a quick glance.

“We've discovered something,” Síkhara replied. “Perhaps we should show it to you, and then we can exchange information.”

The half-elf nodded in agreement. Perhaps, she thought as she followed the fire genasi and the tiefling outside, it was indeed possible to forge an unconventional alliance with these two. Perhaps together they could uncover the truth and put an end to the shadow thefts. Amariel knew she had to be on her guard. In the City of Doors, many an alliance was a dance on the edge of a precipice. But she was willing to take the risk.