The Howling Delve
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"Most of Amn thought you dead," Aazen said. "But I doubted it."
Kall grunted. "Thanks. You had more confidence than I did, considering the condition I was in when we parted."
"Yet here you stand, in your house reclaimed."
"Such as it is. Aazen, you know I'm after Balram," said Kall bluntly.
"Of course. I'd be disappointed if you weren't, especially after that passionate speech you gave at our last meeting," said Aazen sardonically. "Have you enjoyed any success in your search?"
"You know I haven't."
"Unfortunately, I don't. My father and I parted company some time ago."
"Oh?" Kall didn't bother to hide his disbelief. "When you left, you seemed bent on staying by his side, in spite of everything. 'Don't come after him,' you said. 'I'll have to kill you, if you do.' "
"I was a child. I didn't know what I wanted." Aazen searched his eyes. "Can you grant me that, Kall? Can you believe I may have found other companions, as you have, or do you think I'll say anything to protect him?"
"I don't know," Kall said. "But I never held any hope or desire to get at Balram through you. I only prayed he hadn't killed you."
"But think, if you'd found me dead, you would have had yet another reason to slay him."
Kall didn't comment. There was too much tension in the room already. "If you can stay long enough, I'd like to introduce you to my companions," he said, changing the subject.
"I've heard many whispers about the beauty of the Lady Morel," said Aazen. "You've done well for yourself, even without my constant looking after you."
"Yes, Cesira is a beauty, and were she mine, I'm sure my manhood would be subjugated to her will within a tenday," Kall said, laughing. "Luckily for me, her affections are not settled on me."
"Aren't they?" Aazen seemed surprised. "Then why—"
"She's playing the part of my wife until affairs here settle down," Kall explained. "Two other friends are looking out for my physical well-being. I'm sure we can find them if we look. They haven't managed to conceal themselves all evening—I don't see why they should start now."
A terrific crash from the dais had both men turning, their hands straying to their sword hilts in a mirrored gesture. The lute player had apparently decided to finish her tune with a flourish, smashing her instrument against the floor. The startled crowd backed away as she crouched to gather the broken bits.
"Lovely," Kall murmured. "The musicians have obviously taken more than their share of spirits for the evening. Excuse me, old friend."
The crowd blocked his path, but Kall could see the woman clearly. She knelt in the center of the stage, cradling a mass of what appeared to be mud and protruding roots that she'd hidden inside the lute. Her gaze was feverishly bright as she stared at the mass.
A wave of trepidation swept over Kall. He was no wizard, but he knew the effects of mind magic all too well. He pushed through the crowd, shouting, "Everyone, stand back! Dantane!"
Shocked gasps rang out as the woman began shoveling the strange mass into her mouth. She swallowed and immediately began to choke, the mass lodging grotesquely in her throat.
Black veins speared out beneath her skin, spreading from her windpipe to her shoulders and up her face. Her tan skin bulged, turning purple-black as her head lolled to one side.
A woman in the crowd screamed and fainted. People tripped and fell over her in their rush to get away. Kall found a gap and jumped onto the dais, his sword raised.
"Laerin!" he shouted.
The half-elf appeared below him, lifting the senseless guest over his shoulder. Morgan stood across the room, herding the crowd to the exit. "We'll get 'em out," Morgan assured Kall. "Cesira's coming."
"Find Dantane!" Kall's gaze remained fixed on the grim transformation unfolding on the dais.
The lute player's flesh rippled and shimmered like a heat mirage, her form lengthening and filling out into that of a young man with shoulder-length brown hair and finely tailored clothing. Kall could not tell his identity, for the black blemish remained on his face and continued to spread, exploding up from the flesh of his arms, legs, and torso as boils and bleeding wounds. He seemed to be filling up everywhere, and the strange, oozing black substance had nowhere to go but through his skin and vital organs.
The thing that had been human lurched up to its legs and swiped with a too-long arm at Kall's face. Kall raised his sword and felt the blade sink into the ooze. The creature howled and pulled back, leaving a trail of black gore that sizzled into the wooden platform.
"Tarshz mephran!" came a shout from the balcony, and a spray of electricity yanked the hairs on Kall's arms. Bolts of energy ripped into the creature, spraying black blood in all directions.
Kall jumped back, cursing as drops hit his exposed arm and burned.
Dantane climbed onto the balcony rail and floated to the ballroom floor, his robes flaring at the sleeves as his hands shaped another spell. He aimed the Art directly over Kall's head at the creature. Kall dived behind a harpsichord, pulling its heavy bench over onto its side as a shield when the spell erupted.
Bolts of ice burrowed from Dantane's palms, then streaked across the room to impale the oozing mass. Gore sprayed the bench, burning black pockmarks into the wood.
Kall rolled to his feet behind the creature. He hacked at it, the emerald sword finding flesh that was human and monster and sometimes a bizarre hybrid. The blade penetrated, and what was left of the lute player's voice rang out in screeches of pure agony.