Amanita (Chapter 12)

Template:Amanita nav "Ah!" Cain's eyes lit up as I emptied my pack. Bringing the books out first was a good idea; reading always brightens the old fart's day. "You've found a Horadric scroll! How fortunate that I have the knowledge to decipher the mystic runes it bears."

"You can? Wow, I couldn't figure that out at all," I said. Actually, I could get the general idea of the scroll pretty well. Mages love writing things down, but can't stand the idea of anyone else reading them, so they invent codes. Most are simple letter substitution ciphers, not hard to figure out. Still, it's handy to have someone who knows the code.

"Hmm... yes, this is most important. Have you ever heard of Radamant the Fallen?"

"Radamant, also called Radamant the Fallen. Born in Westmarch, studied in Viz-Jun in the third century. Joined the Horadrim, active in Aranoch. Part of the group that bound Baal. Afterwards, lost his marbles and ritually murdered about half a dozen people. Killed by forces unknown, end of story. What about him?"

"Eh... yes." Cain looked uncomfortable. Describing something in a few sentences violates some basic instinct of his. "Judging from this, it appears that his story did not end with his death. It is my belief that the monster you fought was none other than Radamant!"

I nodded, waiting for him to go on. "And... ?"

"Erm, well... Radamant was a mighty Horadrim mage, and mummified after his death. As is the custom of this land, the noblest dead were infused with spells and surgically altered to give them greater status in the afterlife, and allow them to guard their own tombs from the living. Which makes his presence here all the more mysterious."

"I'm wondering why they'd mummify and enhance Radamant. He killed a bunch of people."

"He was a Horadrim, and it was traditional." Cain shrugged. "Wondering why our ancestors did as they did is an interesting, but ultimately pointless exercise. History will not change as a result of our pondering it."

"Most likely, the people he murdered were ordinary peasants who don't matter, as far as sorcerers are concerned. Anyway, what's so shocking about Radamant being here?"

Cain frowned at me, but decided to let it go. "Radamant is far from his tomb, and engaged in activities unconnected with its protection. I should not be surprised that, with so many things happening, even the ancient guardian spells are beginning to unravel."

"The 'dead rising from the tombs' stuff, yeah. Great. I have to go see Atma." I held up Radamant's skull, blowing away a bit of dust from the broken neck. "She'll appreciate this."

"I cannot imagine that Atma would want that," Cain said, blanching.

"In her frame of mind, I think she'll want it mounted over the fireplace."

"Oh, quickly, before you go!" Cain held up the scroll. "This is a description of the binding of Baal, which Radamant was witness to. According to Radamant, the Soulstone used to imprison Baal was broken, so Tal Rasha, greatest of the Horadrim --"

"Volunteered to get stuck with the stone and wrestle the demon lord for all eternity. You already told me that. What else does it say?"

"Ah... well... Tal Rasha was imprisoned in a spacious tomb, excavated under the direction of the archangel Tyrael, hidden from the eyes of man or hellspawn --"

"Behind thick walls and mighty enchantments, and buried deep beneath the desert sands, yeah yeah. Is there anything new in there, like where the tomb is?"

"Er... no, but the scroll does describe how to enter the tomb. All Horadrim carried a staff as their badge of office, as I do today to honor their memory. The members of the party which captured Baal enchanted their staves to serve as keys, should they ever have a need to open the tomb again."

"Right. Let me guess: someone stole a staff."

"An attempt was made to do just that, but it was foiled at the last moment. To safeguard the tomb, the staves were broken into shaft and headpiece, and hidden away. They then carried false staves with them, in case another attempt should be made."

"Huh. That's interesting. Anything else?"

Cain looked over the scroll, and shook his head. "No, nothing else remains. It seems that Diablo will have great difficulty reaching his brother. A true Horadric staff is necessary to open the tomb, but no one save ourselves knows this."

"Hmm, yeah. I suppose that means I should kill you now." He blinked amusingly for a few seconds, before I grinned. "Just kidding. Don't tell anybody else, though."

Over at Atma's, the bouncer's eyes almost fell out of his head when I walked in and put Radamant's skull on the bar. "Hi there. Guess what I found?"

"Oh, wow..." he said, looking at the skull. It was pretty disgusting: the bone had warped into strange shapes, and the whole thing was covered with dry, dusty skin. "That is the weirdest-looking mushroom I've EVER seen..."

"It's a skull. The creature's name was Radamant. Radamant the Fallen."

"Oh, Radamant the Fallen!" He nodded sagely, pretending he had some idea what that meant. "Now, why do you suppose they call him 'the Fallen'?"

"Maybe because he fell."

"Can't be! I've fallen down plenty of times, but they never call me 'Geglash the Fallen!' The most I ever get is 'Geglash, you've fallen!'"

Sigh. I don't know why I bothered. But Atma noticed the skull. She silently came over to my side, staring at it. "That is the monster, isn't it?"

"Had to be," I said. "There was only one of them down there."

Enough hate to boil water filled her, and she spat in the thing's face. I half-expected the bone to start dissolving. Then, just as quickly, her anger dissipated and she turned away. "The taste of vengeance is bittersweet. I thank you. Now, please take that thing out of my tavern."

"Sure," I said, expecting more, but even I can misjudge a person. "Do you think it's safe to throw it in the bay?"

"I know nothing of what is safe when dealing with such monsters, save distance and plenty of antidote. What is your name, hero?"

"I'm Amy," I smiled. "I just got into town."

"I have heard of you," Atma smiled faintly back. "The tales say you opened the pass to the west single-handedly, slaying the demon queen who guarded it."

"Yeah, that's me. I'm after something bigger than Andarial, though."

"You tread a dangerous path, but you knew that without my telling you." She looked over at the bouncer. He'd gone from staring at the head in horror to snoring with his head on his chest. "You've already met Geglash. I hope he has not offended you. The strain our city is under has gotten him drinking more than his usual."

"Nah, he's all right. I'd like to meet him sober sometime."

Atma laughed. "You should see him sober. I should see him sober. Someone should, just to say it's happened."

I liked making Atma laugh. It was easier than I thought it would be. "Anyway... I heard about your loss, and thought this was something I had to do."

"You've heard of the others who tried before you?"

I laughed. "Greiz made sure to let me know. I was worried, but knowing what the monster did just made me realize it had to die." That should sound noble enough.

Atma nodded quietly, but her eyes were shining. "Most of the armed men in Lut Gholein are mercenaries, in fact or in their hearts. Even Lord Jerhyn's guardsmen don't come to my tavern anymore. You will always be welcome here."

"Thanks, that means a lot," I smiled. I hope this woman has connections. "What are all the guards doing in the palace, anyway?"

"I wish someone would say," she said, suspicions edging along her thoughts. "They're safe there, the palace's defenses are legendary. Keeping them in there, with so much danger outside, is beginning to seem like negligence."

"And the harems?"

With a sour smile, Atma said, "That seems worse than negligent. Perhaps Jerhyn is simply guarding what he values most."

"Maybe. I'm surprised his advisors haven't told him how it looks."

"Drognan counsels Lord Jerhyn. He is reputed to be wise and sensible. He counseled our lord's father during his reign."

"Faduwas, you mean?"

"The same. Lord Faduwas -- may his reward be just and great -- grew very rich from the trade in this city, and many prospered under his rule."

The way I heard it, Faduwas got rich with crushing taxes, and only the harems prospered while he was in charge. If Jerhyn was drinking from the same well, he might think to look out for himself, and to hell with the city. On the other hand, if this Drognan had Jerhyn's ear, influencing him might be as important as making friends with Atma. "Where might he be?"

"In his shop, on the street north of here. Look for the display of wands and staves."

"Staves?"

"Drognan is a sorcerer," Atma said matter-of-factly, "and sells sorcerous things. Few customers come to his door, but his wares are the most expensive in Lut Gholein."

"I'll bet they are. One more question..."

"Yes?"

"I figure you might know. What's narlant weed?"

Atma smiled, took something out of her pocket, and handed it to me. "On the house."

She'd handed me a little cylinder about 5 inches long, made of a large dried plant leaf with more leaves stuffed tightly inside. It smelled strong, and not unpleasant. "I thought it came in bowls. What do you do with it?"

"Only complete sots smoke whole bowls. You light one end, put the other in your mouth, and inhale slowly. Try it, you might like it."

I put the cylinder away and went to find Drognan. He was a Vizjerei, all right. His hair was neatly trimmed and white as paint, his eyes clear and disdainful. He stood every inch of his five-foot-six, the paunch his red robes didn't conceal bulging in front of him. Why do Vizjerei like wearing that ugly color, anyway? The moment I walked in, he started talking, like I was fated to come to him. He'd probably been waiting for me all day.

"Greetings, Amanita. I have heard you are responsible for banishing Andarial back to the burning hells. I'm impressed; that couldn't have been easy."

"Hi there," I said, trying not to let an edge creep in. "Yep, that was l'il ol' me. I've heard you're Drognan, sorcerer supreme."

"Flippancy is not advisable, young Viz-Jaq'taar. I'm older than I look, but not so old that I can't summon up a few sparks."

In his head, he was loudly conjugating verbs in some foreign language; the noise hid every other thought. And, judging from his faint but noticeable smirk, he noticed me. Of course, I could bull past his little mental barriers and MAKE him tell... if I had anything I wanted him to tell, which I didn't. "How nice. So, most esteemed wizard, no doubt you have urgent advice for me, to aid my quest against all-consuming evil. That is what mages do instead of risking their own precious skins, isn't it?"

"I shall ignore your disrespect, for now. The danger is greater than you can understand. As you know, the Lord of Terror entered Aranoch some weeks past. But I do not think you have been told that a cloaked wanderer came to Lut Gholein, asking for the location of Tal Rasha's tomb."

"Okay, that's news. Did anyone tell him?"

If possible, admitting ignorance made Drognan look even more smug. "None living possess that knowledge; it was deliberately lost centuries ago. When he realized what he sought was not to be found here, the wanderer left. From that day forward --"

"Terror and destruction have blighted the city," I finished for him. For the love of all that's good, somebody has to take this blowhard down a peg.

Verb forms snapped back up in his mind, and he glared hard at me. "I am afraid I dislike your manner."

"I've had complaints about it. Your wanderer was probably Diablo."

"That is my opinion as well."

"I saw he had somebody with him."

That made Drognan mad. He kept his temper down, though. Damn. "Yes, since you are so bold as to say so. He was accompanied by a pathetic dolt I barely noticed, doubtless a menial servant of some sort. I am not accustomed to noticing servants."

"It's good to notice things. You never know what'll turn out to be important. Where did the wanderer go?"

"Away from the city, into the desert where the tomb lies hidden. Unless you feel you can pry the secrets you need from the dead, I will gladly offer my services, researching through old records from the palace. It is possible that the tomb's location was recorded there, in some overlooked personal journal, or scrawled into the margin of an unrelated book."

"That's sweet of you, but I need to find Diablo."

"Even in his present, weakened state, the Lord of Terror can easily elude even you. The brothers must be prevented from reuniting, and a search for Baal, immobilized as he is, is more likely to be fruitful. You, of course, would not understand this. We Vizjerei are more familiar with Hell's powers. Your own order's lore is but a subset of our knowledge, and sadly lacking in descriptions of demonic powers."

I wonder if he could hear my teeth gritting? "We all know how much Vizjerei know about demons. How much do you know? It better not be too much, or I'll have to do something very unpleasant for both of us."

"Knowledge is power, however it is used, and you will have a great need of power in days to come. And... threats should never be made idly."

"Who's idle? Anyway, if the big red cheese was asking where the tomb is, he doesn't know either. He's got a couple weeks head start, that's all. Oh, one last thing..."

Drognan frowned. He really didn't like me. Good. "Anything to be of service."

"You said you can get in the palace."

He blinked, and verbs roared through his mind again. "I do not recall saying so."

"You're Jerhyn's advisor, and you said you could look at old palace records. Unless you have them here, you'll have to go inside the palace for that."

"Ah. You are correct. Yes..." His mind was buzzing, but I couldn't get anything sensible out of it. "I may enter freely, and will be happy to do so, should you require it."

"Great. Get some of his guards out to the wall. With the sewer monster dead, maybe they can start making a dent in Diablo's guys. If Jerhyn wants to stay sultan, fortifying the palace and leaving the city open is a bad idea. You should know that."

Irritating Drognan could get to be a bad habit. He took it so badly. "I did not realize I was in the presence of a master of war. I shall take your ideas into consideration, when I am not otherwise occupied. You have the city's gratitude for disposing of Radamant, but all will be for naught if the greater evil finds what it seeks."

"Uh-huh. So, bye!"