Wraithblood: The Elixir, episode 13

“I will go with you,” you tell Nasser.

Azaces snorts and rolls his eyes, but Nasser nods. “As you wish. Gentlemen, let us be about our tasks. We shall meet again in Callatas’s great hall.”

Riordan and Tarquin leave, and you follow Nasser and Azaces, Khaenset trailing after you in perfect silence. Azaces gives you a look of scorn, but seems unable to meet Khaenset’s gaze. Evidently the Alghol assassins have something of a reputation. Nasser leads you to abandoned tenement, into the basement, and then into the labyrinth of Istarinmul’s sewers, built and rebuilt over the centuries.

It doesn’t smell good.

“Why, Nasser,” mutters Azaces, holding a torch, “why do I always wind up waiting through shit on these enterprises of yours?”

“So squeamish, Azaces?” says Nasser, grinning. “Why, I never would have suspected an Anshani nobleman of possessing such delicate sensibilities. Especially when gold is at stake.”

Azaces says something rather uncouth in answer.

Nasser leads you to a tunnel blocked off by a massive steel grate, marked with the sigil of the College of Alchemists – a man with a face half of flesh and half of gold. An enormous lock and steel chain hold the grate in place.

“Madame Strake,” Nasser says, “if you please.”

You step forward, scrutinize the lock, produce your lockpicks, and set to work. Equations flash through your mind, one after another.

“She can’t open that lock,” says Azaces. “Why…”

The lock click opens, and falls to the floor with a massive clang.

Nasser smiles “You were saying, my friend?”

You blink. “If I hadn’t come with you, how would you have opened the lock?”

Nasser lifts a steel key.

Azaces snorts. “Nasser likes his little games, you see.”

Nasser leads you up a flight of stone stairs and into a wide corridor, dimly lit by Alchemists’ lamps hanging from rusted iron chains. More steel grates close off alcoves lining the corridor, and the lamps do not provide enough light to look inside.

The dungeons of the Master Alchemist Callatas.

“Any moment now, I suppose,” says Nasser.

“Any moment what?” says Azaces, looking about and fingering his bow.

A column of smoke swirls in front of you, and materializes into a Anshani woman of stunning beauty, clad in crimson silk, her skin the color of polished wood, her hair black as night…and her eyes fashioned of smokeless flame.

Samnirdamnus. You don’t recognize the form the djinn has taken, but to judge from the horror on his face, Azaces does.

“Noble Samnirdamnus,” says Nasser with a grand bow. “It is an honor to meet you again. May I say that your form this time is far more flattering than our last meeting?”

The djinn smiles. “Mortals are ever incapable of seeing beneath the surface.” The burning eyes shift to you. “Except, perhaps, for some.”

“No,” says Azaces, “no, you’re dead, you can’t be, I saw you die, I saw you…”

Samnirdamnus sighs and flicks a finger, and Azaces falls silent, his eyes still bulging with horror.

“You will, I trust, remember the terms of our arrangement?” says Nasser.

“Of course,” says Samnirdamnus. “I will not aid you, but neither shall I warn Callatas, or his servants, of your theft.”

“As you say, noble djinn,” says Nasser, “and may…”

He falls silent, frozen in place, and Azaces and Khaenset likewise go rigid.

You look at Samnirdamnus, alarmed.

The djinn flickers, and takes the form of your father once more. “Do you know what the greatest challenge of an immortal is? Boredom. And you, broken one, you are not boring. And if you live long enough, I suspect you shall become even less boring. Therefore, I will give you a gift.” He points at one of the alcoves on the left. “You will find what is in there of great interest. And I strongly suggest you deal with the alcove’s occupant sooner rather than later.”

Samnirdamnus vanishes, and Nasser resumes speaking.

“…what an honor it was…” He falls silent, blinking in confusion. “Well. I suppose djinni do find mortals tiresome.”

He didn’t hear Samnirdamnus’s warning about the alcove.

You stare into the alcove’s darkened depths, but see nothing. Obviously Samnirdamnus thought it worthwhile to warn you about it. And yet the djinn did try to kill you, earlier, with his unsolvable equation.

“Let’s go,” says Nasser, beckoning you forward.

Your path will go right in front of the alcove.

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