Amanita (Chapter 11)

Template:Amanita nav Back at the inn, I had a few surprises waiting for me: two scissors-katar set with sapphires, a heavy crossbow set with emeralds, and a note.

"Howdy, Miss Thang! Best to cover up your money-maker in that desert sun, but you found that out by yourself. Here's that poison bow, and new spare slasher-choppers. Don't be shy about using 'em! Dead guys don't much care about poison.

-- The Mule"

The new katar were icy-cold, glittering with pain. The crossbow was... green. It was almost enough to make me forget the bow and concentrate on martial arts, but high kicks always make my undies ride up. With the sunburn I got, that could be a fatal distraction. Pulling on my pants was enough pain for one day.

There were two ways into the sewers. One was the maintenance hatch Greiz was standing on. The other was the outflow above the bay. No one guarded it; must be because there's no need to. I went in from the bay. The sewers were almost dry, so the most recent victims were still inside: a knot of corpses almost blocked a side passage. I put a bolt into the pile; none moved. Most of the bodies were fresh, and starting to dry out. Not all were human. Maybe half had missing skin, limbs or organs, but not much had been taken from any one body. Whatever was doing this was picky, only taking what it wanted, and not every body met its standards.

Past the corpse pile was a stairway down. I've been in a few sewers -- sometimes, they're the only way into a well-guarded manor -- but never one with more than one level. Maybe the desert floods a lot, and they need extra drainage for all that water. Leaving enemies behind me is still a bad idea, so I went through the rest of the level. Whatever the monster was, it brought a lot of friends. Some were skeletal, with fire flickering dimly in their bones. Those were my favorites, they made great targets in the dark. Others had flesh, dryer than jerky and stained weird colors by who-knows-what embalming fluid. When one fell over, it burst open into clouds of stinging dust. I think they might have been a little smarter than your standard zombie, or maybe quicker. It wouldn't be hard to be either.

There were also a few Raiders, weird pin-headed humanoids with four arms. Why they were here, I have no idea, and they didn't seem too sure either. Raiders roam around the open desert, and aren't supposed to like confined spaces. Sometimes they attack people, but not often enough for anyone to really worry about them. These guys looked like they wanted to get me, but a loud scream or a bolt in the gut sent them scampering. Here, at least, poison was better than the katar. Raiders are long-legged and hard to catch, so poisoned bolts are a lot easier that chasing them down. The undead cared less, but the bow still had enough to get them in one hit. The stronger ones just took longer to fall over.

I must have been near the northern part of the city when I found a big bunch of skellies, all facing away from me, waiting patiently. I've heard that when you're shooting at a flock of birds, get the ones in the back first so the rest don't scatter. Birds don't have shields, so it didn't quite work the same with these guys. I had to retreat and hide a few times, and pick them off from behind corners, but with some patience I whittled them down to nothing. Past them was the maintenance hatch -- I could see Greiz's shadow around the edge. Never go in the front door.

A perverse thought struck me. I climbed up to the hatch and knocked. "Hi, Greiz."

I heard a yelp, then a thump. Good jump for such a big guy. "Who goes there?"

"Nobody special. You should have more guards on this thing, there were a lot of zombies and things waiting down here."

There was a banging, and the hatch opened. I grinned my best grin into the glaring sun, until Greiz's shadow blocked it. "Eh, it's you. Looks like you got yourself into trouble."

"Not that I noticed. Did you know there's fresh bodies down here?"

"Uh-huh. Every now and then, some fool decides to be a hero and go down there with a pig-sticker. Was that your idea?"

"Nah. I've been a hero already, the compensation's lousy. The monster's still dangerous, so why aren't your guys down here?"

"Lady, you may not have noticed, but this city is under attack from every direction. It's bad enough that I'm losing men every day in the desert. The sewer monster is contained. That's the best I can do without additional manpower."

I nodded. "Jerhyn doesn't have enough money, huh?"

Greiz smiled, his first of the day. He probably allowed himself four. "I think he does, but he'd rather give up a few citizens than what it would take to get my men down there. Lords like heroes. They're too noble to demand payment up front. I know better."

"I knew there was something I liked about you," I smiled back. "See you in a few. I've got a reputation to make."

Mercenaries. Say what you like, the smart ones know what the soldiering business is all about. I'll take smart over noble any day. Mercenaries are predictable. You never know what some idiot will think is the "right" thing to do.

The second level of the sewers was a lot like the first: burning skeletons, "mummies", and Raiders. Some of these skeletons had bows and shot burning arrows, but I could deal with that. The locals use some strange fighting equipment. Raiders like crystal swords, maybe because lightness is more important than toughness for these weedy bastards. When they have shields, they're wicker-work things covered with spikes. Wicker actually stops arrows pretty well, and the spikes might snare the light, curved swords the locals use. Out here, anything that saves weight would be good.

All around the level, I kept finding corpses. One room had 3, untouched aside from the fatal burns and cuts. In a side chamber, there was a funny-looking rock that turned out to be a Horadric waypoint -- in a sewer. Another funny rock up in the city matched it. Why would anyone want magical transportation to a sewer? Mages, even Horadrim, aren't half as smart as they like to think, but this is nuts.

Down another set of stairs was a third level of sewers. How much sewer does a city need? Unless the population really goes up during tourist season, these were starting to look more like underground snuggling tunnels, or hidden dens for the city's seamier entertainment offerings. A lot of people can't enjoy their sin unless they try to keep it hidden. Skeletons were everywhere, and Jungle Cats. They looked even worse off than the Raiders; their eyes ran in the dry, dusty air, and their fur was dull and patchy. All they had to fight with were bullwhips, lousy weapons against armor. Maybe they'd been herders once.

In the farthest corner of the third level, I finally found the monster. It was too big to have ever been human, at least 10 feet tall. Hordes of skeletal mages surrounded it, too many to fight or fire through. Standard minion-dispersal tactics worked well: get servants to follow you, then strand them in empty tunnels and kill them one at a time. The big thing, unlike its minions, was too tough for one bolt to kill. A second bolt didn't kill it either, and neither did the third. A fourth might have, but I didn't want to try it; I ran in with my head down, took a couple of death bolts, and finished the thing off by hand.

Once I had a corpse to look over, I found out I was wrong. It was human, just more than one human together. Wires held spliced-together bones in place; muscles were stretched to cover longer limbs; its shriveled innards had been repacked with fresher meat. Over to one side, the monster had a collection of skins, the finest Lut Gholein's population had to offer, crudely stitched into something that might cover its body. None of it had been cured -- the older patches were already rotten. The suit, and the monster, would probably need constant replacement parts. Maybe that bouncer was right: dead things are just nasty.