Xanthippe (Act II)

Template:Xanthippe nav Warriv's caravan stopped inside the western gates of Lut Gholein. The town was full of people, but there were no crowds to greet them, just a single, well-dressed man only slightly older than Xanthippe. Guards were on all the walls, armed and ready for action. While Warriv negotiated their entrance fee, Xanthippe stood on top of a cart to look over the city.

The buildings looked the same, maybe a little smaller than she remembered, and a little more run-down. The colorful banners they usually put up for a caravan were absent; so were all the greeters. The central marketplace looked almost deserted, just a few salesmen, and fewer customers. Quite a few people were wandering around, in a directionless way; they looked like they were just passing time. Warriv was having an animated conversation with the young guy, who was probably one of Sultan Fat-ass's officials. Xanthippe wondered what had happened to the old Vizier; not that he'd ever come out to the gate, he'd greet the caravan master on the palace steps. But he always made sure the merchants got a good parade when they came to town.

At the head of the caravan, Warriv was motioning to her, so Xanthippe hopped down and went to greet the official. Warriv had probably been telling him about the Rogue's pass, Andariel's corruption of the monastery, and her defeat. If Andariel was delaying pursuit of Diablo, then Diablo had probably already reached here; it would explain the guards, and the lack of celebration. The city was still standing; that was a good sign, at least.

"Greetings, honored traveler. I understand that I have you to thank for the caravans coming through the western pass once again."

"I guess you do. Has Sultan Faduwas any idea of the source of your demon troubles?"

The young man stared stonily at Xanthippe. "My father has been dead for nearly two years. I am Jerhyn, Lord of Lut Gholein, and I bid you welcome on your return. It seems you have not visited my fair port city for some time."

Right, Xanthippe thought. "Thank you, my lord, I have not. The city seems less... cheery than last time."

"These are not happy times we live in," Jerhyn said. "There is little to bring us joy, save your appearance. One who can vanquish such great evil may bring us hope."

Don't think I'm gonna save your city for free, junior. But Xanthippe smiled. "Well, gee, I hope I can help just a little bit. Do you have any idea what you're up against?"

"A few weeks ago, a dark wanderer came from the west, and terror followed in his wake. The dead have risen from their tombs, and strange beasts, never before seen in this land, stalk the dunes. I cannot doubt that this is connected with a great evil. If you need help, perhaps you should speak with Drognan, he is very wise and knows many things. Oh, and Atma, our tavern keeper, has something she might ask of you."

So Drognan was still around. Xanthippe thought he was even older than Fat-ass, but maybe he kept himself healthier; or, maybe, he really had some of that power he was always bragging about. Either way, she didn't want to talk to him, he was a big pompous jerk. Hey, Meshif was down by the docks. Xanthippe liked Meshif, he'd always been nice to the girls over at her grandmother's. A couple of them wanted to marry him, but he seemed married to his ship. He didn't recognize Xanthippe; she didn't tell him how she knew him. Might embarrass him.

Atma's tavern was full. People were at the tables, at the bar, and milling around aimlessly. Everything went silent when Xanthippe walked in; she wondered if her skirts had ridden up or something, before she remembered she slew a greater demon not long ago. Word travels fast around a town, everyone had probably heard by now. Standing a little straighter, Xanthippe stepped up to the bar.

"Hello. You're Atma."

"I am," the sad woman behind the bar answered. "You are the one who slew Andariel."

"Yep," Xanthippe nodded. "Jerhyn said you had a problem."

"I do. There is a demon in the sewers below the town, a bloodthirsty creature who kills all it sees. Though confined to the sewers now by Greiz's guards, it used to hunt the city at night for victims. It killed my husband and my son. If you will help me, avenge me... I would be grateful to you."

This was not the same Atma Xanthippe remembered; she had been a proud woman once. She and her husband ran the tavern, an "honest business", and looked down on the girls from the guilds. She'd chased Xanthippe out more than once, calling her foul names. Now, she looked broken, and exhausted, as though she wasn't sleeping. Humility suited her well. "Sure," Xanthippe said. "What's another demon? I'll kill a lot more before I'm done."

The central marketplace was mostly empty. Some foreign woman Xanthippe didn't recognize had set up a smithy. After Charsi, this woman looked positively willowy. But old Lysander was still in business! Xanthippe could remember running to his shop for a "cure disease" potion, after every time Gheed came to the house. He never judged anyone, just sold it without asking, and gave her some licorice. Lysander was almost deaf now, probably from all those explosions. He'd made one once that made a purple cloud with gold stars and lightning in it. But he was happy to see Xanthippe, and gave her some licorice too.

Chewing her licorice, Xanthippe wandered up to the north end of town, where the inn used to be. Outside the inn, two old warriors were chatting about the good old days, robbing and looting, and things involving unwilling women. Judging from the number of parts he was missing, one wouldn't be having any more good days. The other was hiring mercenaries out. Hmm, men for sale. Xanthippe bought one, named Razan, and went down into the sewers.

The sewers had always been a good place to hide, or get from one building to another. Now they were full of skeletons, swinging scimitars and firing flaming arrows. The shield was more useful than the bardiche down here, so Razan did most of the killing until they got down to the bottom of the sewers. The monster was there, a huge undead thing stitched together from human and animal parts. Many "servant" skeletons were with him; he was probably an old high official, mummified at great expense to guard his own tomb. The vanity of wealth is incredible.

Killing it took a long time, it was very tough, and had poisonous breath. As it died, strange lights shot down from the ceiling; that was odd, maybe Xanthippe should ask Drognan about it. He'd know about the magic used to hold these dead rich guys together. Among his remains was a book of magic; Xanthippe grabbed for it. Razan tried to get her attention, but the book looked old and valuable. Quickly, she began leafing through it; it contained a spell for enchanting a weapon with fire. That would be great, she thought, before she noticed that Razan was wheezing. He died as she was pulling the antidote potion out.