The Silver Sphinx

 

“We all have one foot in the shadows.”

Lykidas in Astyoche, Olympian tragedy by Anaxilea

 

 

Third Lady's Day of Mortis, 126 HR

The alleys of the Hive seemed to close in around them as Amariel, Síkhara and Haer'Dalis made their way through the labyrinth of dilapidated buildings and dark corners. The smell of mold and garbage hung heavy in the air, and the half-elf pulled her hood deeper into her face, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. The decision to send Nallart and Aranis back to the Barracks had not been an easy one. The old dwarf had protested loudly, of course, making no attempt to hide his unwillingness to leave her alone with these “criminals.” Aranis had phrased his objection more politely, but the look of concern in his eyes had been clear. At the word “criminals,” Síkhara had raised an eyebrow but had not commented further on the insinuation. Haer'Dalis, on the other hand, had grinned, rather amused - the tiefling seemed to take many things with a sense of humor. In the end, Amariel had trusted her instincts, her conviction that the blood hunter and the Sinker did not pose a threat, at least in this case. Nevertheless, a lingering uncertainty gnawed at her. Síkhara had made it clear that under no circumstances she would take three members of the Harmonium to an alchemist she had called Rakalla. Understandable, on the one hand. Who would be happy about an unannounced visit from the city's law enforcement officers, especially several of them? As a woman living on the edge of the Lower Ward, said Rakalla might already have had trouble with the Harmonium, whether justified or not. On the other hand, it was not without risk for a decuria to roam the Hive alone with two strangers. But she had made her decision, had listened to her heart instead of her head, and now she had to continue on her way.

Amariel's thoughts returned to the secret laboratory that Síkhara and Haer'Dalis had shown them. It had been a gloomy place, still bearing clear traces of the battle that the blood hunter, the tiefling and the alchemist had apparently fought there. The cages, obviously intended for shadows, had given Amariel goose bumps and had also visibly worried Nallart and Aranis. The idea that a secret organization was stealing the shadows of Sigil's citizens, putting them in cages, and extracting their essence was deeply disturbing. However, the traces of the fight had obviously warned the shadow thieves, so they had abandoned the laboratory and sought another base of operations. Regrettable, certainly, but according to what Síkhara had said, the fight could not have been prevented and its traces not been made invisible. So they had to find a new lead. And that was precisely why they now wanted to seek out the alchemist named Rakalla. According to the blood hunter, they had left the shadow essences they had captured during their first visit to the laboratory with her for further analysis. Perhaps the results of this investigation would give them new clues.

“How far is it still?” Amariel asked Síkhara, who was walking ahead of her, trying to keep her voice calm and composed.

The turquoise-green eyes of the fire genasi glowed slightly in the half-shade of the alley. “Not far. Rakalla's laboratory is in an old warehouse on the edge of the Hive.”

Amariel nodded and asked no further questions. She felt Haer'Dalis' gaze resting on her, but she avoided looking him in the eyes. At first glance, he seemed friendlier and more approachable than the blood hunter - almost too friendly for a Sinker, at least in Amariel's conception. But he radiated an aura of mystery that unsettled her. The alleys grew narrower, the buildings taller, and the shadows deeper. Finally, they turned a corner onto a slightly wider street and stopped in front of a large, dilapidated warehouse. The windows were clouded, and the green paint on the massive front door was partially chipped away. The artfully carved knocker in the shape of a snake had obviously been added later and caught Amariel's eye.

“This is it,” Síkhara explained. “Rakalla's laboratory.”

Haer'Dalis stepped closer to the entrance, but instead of knocking, he pulled a heavy key from his pocket and unlocked the door. He had to be more familiar with the alchemist, as he had access to her home. Amariel's heart beat faster, but she took a deep breath and followed Síkhara and Haer'Dalis into the darkness of the warehouse. A wave of stifling air washed over her, saturated with the smells of herbs and acids. As an Anointed Knight, Amariel was also knowledgeable in the arts of alchemy, but the smells immediately told her that the ingredients Rakalla used were very different from hers. In the middle of the room they entered, a figure stood bent over a table covered with alchemical apparatus, her hair writhing around her head like living tentacles. Snakes ... Amariel's heart missed a beat. Rakalla was a medusa - Síkhara and Haer'Dalis hadn't mentioned that. But the half-elf looked directly into her slit pupils ... and nothing happened. This medusa was apparently able to control her gaze. Nevertheless, Amariel couldn't help but flinch, and Rakalla, for her part, didn't seem particularly thrilled about her presence. She stared at the uninvited visitor with a piercing gaze.

“Síkhara,” the medusa said angrily. “Who is that?”

“This is Amariel,” the blood hunter explained. “She is here to help in the search for the shadow thieves. And she is ... please don't get upset ... she is a decuria of the Harmonium.”

Rakalla's eyes narrowed immediately, glowing slightly orange. Amariel felt the urge to duck behind a nearby workbench so as not to be in her field of vision. “You're bringing a Hardhead into my lab?” hissed the medusa. “Have you lost your mind?”

“We're sorry, Rakalla,” Haer'Dalis said soothingly. “We should have discussed this beforehand. But we were hunting this fence, and ... it came about unexpectedly. Amariel is on our side, really.”

Rakalla eyed the half-elf from head to toe, her gaze piercing and unforgiving. “I don't like this,” she said. “I don't want Hardheads snooping around my lab. I've got enough trouble as it is. Nothing criminal, mind you. Just ... personal.”

“I don't want to interfere in your affairs,” Amariel assured her. “I'm only here to solve the case of these shadow thefts.”

Rakalla hesitated. She shot Síkhara and Haer'Dalis a sharp glance, and the tiefling put a hand to his heart, a gesture that seemed to ask for forgiveness. Síkhara also made an apologetic gesture.

“All right,” the medusa said reluctantly. “But only because it's a really important and serious matter.”

Amariel nodded. “Thank you very much. I appreciate it, believe me.”

Rakalla offered them a seat, but did not sit down herself, instead leaning against one of the shelves. “So? What did you find out?”

Síkhara recounted the encounter with the Shadow Ripper, how Amariel, Nallart and Aranis had unexpectedly joined them, and how the fence had ultimately managed to escape. “I don't understand why he's selling the shadows on the black market, though,” she concluded. “The shadow thieves seem to have something else in mind for them. Otherwise many more of them would have been sold at the Night Market.”

“Maybe he's just greedy,” Amariel said. “He works for the shadow thieves, but he sells the shadows on his own account.”

Haer'Dalis nodded. “That's possible. There were a lot of cages and shadow essences in the secret laboratory. If he pockets a shadow here and there and sells it at the Night Market, it might not be noticed – and he has a nice source of income.“

”A traitor, then?“ Rakalla shook her head, and her snakes hissed softly. Amariel still didn't feel comfortable with it. ”That's an interesting theory.“

”It would also explain why the shadow thefts seem so random,“ Haer'Dalis mused. ”If he's not just stealing them for the shadow thieves, but also for himself.“

Amariel nodded. ”There could be something to that. And so far, that man is our only lead. We have to try to track him down again.”

“When it comes to finding guys like him ... that's my specialty.” Síkhara smiled grimly. “I'll see if I can pick up the trail again. But before I do ...” She looked at Rakalla. “Were you able to analyze the shadow essences we took from the lab? Did you find anything that might help us?”

Rakalla picked up a vial filled with a dark substance from the table and examined it in the glow of the light crystals. “Shadow essence is an elusive substance,” she explained. “It’s difficult to analyze. But I think I’ve found something.”

 

 

However, she did not continue, just stood there with the small bottle in her hand, her expression indecisive, her posture tense. Amariel sensed that the medusa was hiding something. She had discovered something but was hesitant to reveal it.

“What is it, Rakalla?” asked the blood hunter, her voice concerned. “What have you found?”

The alchemist glanced meaningfully at Síkhara and Haer'Dalis. “It's ... complicated,” she finally said. “I discovered something in the shadow essence that I can't easily explain.” She hesitated again, her eyes searching for Haer'Dalis'.

The bard seemed to understand what was making her hesitate, for he nodded slowly. “Because it relates to something that is still hidden?”

“Exactly.” The medusa took a deep breath and then looked back at Amariel. “I have a ... gift. I can see things that others cannot see. It's hard to explain.”

Again, Amariel felt her heart skip a beat. She now suspected what Rakalla was talking about. When Sarin had told her about the Prophecy, he had also revealed that there were apparently others besides the Chosen they knew. They knew for sure about one group, consisting of members of the Guvners, the Mercykillers, the Signers, the Free League and the Fated. But there seemed to be a third group. The vampire Zamakis of the Dustmen seemed to belong to it, as did a minotaur from the Bleakers, a female goblin ... and a medusa from the Doomguard. Rakalla had to be one of the Chosen and was alluding to her gift related to the Prophecy! And judging by the exchange of glances between Síkhara, Haer'Dalis and herself, the fire genasi and the tiefling were also in on it.

“Are you talking about some kind of ... augury?” Amariel asked, keeping her words vague enough to be able to backtrack if necessary.

Rakalla's eyes widened in surprise. “You know about this?”

Just as she had suspected. The half-elf nodded. “I am the adjutant of Factol Sarin. That is why I have cognizance of this matter.”

Haer'Dalis whistled softly through his teeth. “The adjutant of the factol? I had no idea we had such a distinguished visitor here.”

“Yes, wonderful,” hissed Rakalla, but then raised her hands towards Amariel in an apologetic gesture. “I'm sorry, it's nothing personal. It's just ... Hardheads and Sinkers aren't exactly a good combination.”

“Under normal circumstances, I would agree,” Amariel admitted. “But these are not normal circumstances. They are very special, and we have a common goal. This case could cast long shadows, so I'm willing to work together with you.” When Haer’Dalis grinned at this unintended pun, she sighed slightly. “Yes, I got it.”

Síkhara shook her head with a smile, but then became serious again. “Now that it has turned out – admittedly surprisingly – that we all know about the Prophecy ...” She looked at Rakalla.

The medusa nodded slowly. “All right, then I can talk about it at least somewhat openly. I still don't want to reveal too much about my gift. But I can say this much: I found something in the shadow essence that is very disturbing. It contains traces of souls. Probably the souls of those whose shadows were stolen.“

Amariel's eyes widened. ”You mean ... the shadow thieves don't just steal shadows, they also steal the souls of their victims?“

”At least part of them,” Rakalla confirmed seriously.

Amariel got goose bumps, and Síkhara and Haer'Dalis also seemed disturbed by this news. As interesting as it was to learn about the medusa's gift, this information weighed much heavier.

“But how do they do it?” asked the tiefling. “And what happens to the souls?”

“I don't know,” Rakalla replied. “But it can't be anything good. The soul fragments are essentially trapped in the shadow essence ... and they seem tormented. I can feel their despair.”

“We have to stop these people,” Amariel said resolutely. “We have to bring the shadows back and free the souls.”

“I agree,” Síkhara concurred. “The question is, how?”

The half-elf sighed. “I'm afraid we need more information first. We need to find out where these people are operating, who they really are, and who might be supporting them.”

The blood hunter nodded. “I'll try to find out more. I have connections in Undersigil that might be helpful.”

“And I'll step up our investigation in the Clerk's Ward,” Amariel declared. “We'll also question all the victims once more. Maybe we overlooked some important clue.”

Rakalla carefully placed the vial of shadow essence back in its holder on the work table. “Good. Then I'll tap into a few contacts in the Doomguard. Maybe someone has heard something interesting.”

Haer'Dalis stood up and went to one of the shelves, from which he took a bottle of fire wine.

“This sparrow will ask around Raelis' stage,” he said. “The evening chatter of theatergoers sometimes reveals more than one would expect. And now ...” He raised the bottle. “Shall we drink to our new partnership?”

“I won't say no to that,” replied Síkhara.

Rakalla nodded in agreement, but Amariel raised her hands defensively. “Unfortunately, I'm on duty.”

“In that case, I'll drink for you, dear decuria,” Haer'Dalis replied cheerfully as he opened the bottle. “And don't think I missed that little word unfortunately.”

He winked at her, and both the medusa and the fire genasi laughed. Amariel smiled a little. She would, of course, remain on her guard. But all in all, her unorthodox allies gave the impression that things could have been much worse. And they all knew about the Prophecy ... perhaps this was a sign that her intuition had led her in the right direction.