Session #31 - The Candlekeep Mystery

They could smell the creature before it came into focus, reeking of wet fur and death.  Even after having spent who knew how many days breathing the sulfurous air Avernus, Hell’s first level, the scent was overpowering.  Almont would admit to throwing up slightly in his own mouth.  There was no shame in having a visceral reaction when face to face with an actual demon lord, after all.

The city square was in disrepair, windows broken and doors kicked in.  Overturned carts dotted the space and a handful of bodies were strewn about.  This was Elturel, and until less than an hour ago it had been attached to Avernus by great chains that slowly pulled it down toward the river Styx and total damnation.  Demons and devils ran amok, converting some citizens to the heretical ways of the lower planes and butchering others.  Only a handful of Hellrider Paladins remained, holed up in the city’s last bastion, it’s cathedral.  But Almont and his companions had traveled to Avernus and broken the chains, and with the return of Elturel to its native plane those demons and devils found themselves separated from the sources of their power.  Not that they fully realized it yet.

To Almont’s left stood Katla, fire in her elvish eyes, her robes rustling in the winds that still surrounded the city after its translation.  To his right Kent was loading his pistol crossbow while Donyxn moved his head side to side, the tiefling’s neck cracking as he looked stoically forward at their enemy.  Almont couldn’t get over the feeling that he’d faced this exact situation before. 

A guttural roar returned his attention to the other side of the square where Yeenoghu stood, its lupine head reared back as it called its gnoll worshippers to it from across the city.  Two of the foul beasts flanked their master, but there were of little concern.  The real danger was the three-headed flail carried by the demon lord, its chain made of links as thick as Almont’s torso.

“Makes a loud noise, doesn’t it,” said Kent, more of a statement than a question.  Donyxn chuckled and notched an arrow, spreading his angelic wings and beginning to rise from the ground.  Possessing the relic Sword of Zariel had changed the tiefling in a number of ways, the new wings being the most obvious.  

Kent stepped forward and cleared his throat, the sound improbably echoing around the square.  Yeenoghu stopped it’s braying and looked quizzically at the dwarf.

“Yeenoghu, demon spawn, filth of the underworld, hear my words!  I am Kent Karrus and we are the Defenders of Phandalin, come here this day to rid this place of your foul presence.”

After a pause that seemed to drag on forever Yeenoghu roared at its four foes and slammed its flail against the ground.  The smell of its rancid breath carried across the square and Almont gagged again.  

“I don’t think it likes you, Kent,” Donyxn said.  “Which is perfectly understandable.  Do you remember the time we were in River’s Bottom?  Those people didn’t like you either.  Why was that…”

“Not now, boy,” Kent replied, the corner of his mouth rising into a grin.  “We have a demon to kill.”

Kent rushed forward, firing bolts from his pistol crossbow.  Donyxn lifted into the air and began unleashing arrows from his bow.  Almont gripped his warhammer and mace as he too ran at the beast.  There was no way he could keep up with the nimble dwarf, but no matter - he’d make it into the fight soon enough.  

As the pair ran a dozen fire sprites sprang into existence, easing Almont’s sense of deja vu.  He knew what fire sprites were but had never fought one, so clearly this was a new experience, not the reliving of an old one.  Or was it?

Three of the sprites were to Almont’s right side.  Kent dropped his pistol and drew his scimitar in time to bisect one of the fey creatures, causing it to erupt in a small ball of flame that singed the rogue as he ran through it on his way to Yeenoghu.  Another nine were closing on Almont from his left, which was concerning until they were suddenly engulfed in a cauldron of what appeared to be blue flame.  The sensation he felt on the left side of his face wasn’t heat, though, but an absolute frigid cold that snuffed the life from the sprites.  Cold fire.  That’s new.

Yeenoghu’s flail slammed down to the ground around Almont.  He avoided being smashed but took a glancing blow from one of the chains and was pummeled by rocks churned up by its spiked balls.  Maintaining his stride he was now inside the demon’s guard.  It readied itself for a blow from his weapons but was not prepared when the cleric dropped his mace and reached out with his left hand, grabbing the beast on its thigh.  A wave of necrotic energy flowed out of the cleric and into Yeenoghu as it howled in pain.  

Almont’s satisfaction at hurting the creature was short-lived, a backhand from the monstrosity launching him off his feet and backwards a dozen feet.  Looking up and trying to clear his head he saw Kent take on a spectral form and begin to rise into the air, spinning like a Dervish, the blade of his scimitar cutting silvery arcs through as he worked his way up the demon’s body.  Black ichor sprayed in every direction.  Another pair of arrows slammed home at the same time, adding to the four already lodged in the demon.

With Yeenoghu distracted fending off the ghost-like dwarf Almont saw his opening.  Rushing forward with his hammer grasped in both hands he leapt into the air.  He was a bit surprised by how high he jumped, but no matter.  What did matter was the blow the hammer struck to the demon’s skull.  The cleric felt the weight of the impact and heard the sound of the skull cracking as he grinned savagely…

——————————————————————————

“And that, my good friend Bartholomew, is how we killed the demon lord Yeenoghu and sent it back to Hades.”  Kent sat back in the richly upholstered chair and took a pull from his long, thin white pipe.

Almont blinked his eyes, the sudden transition from combat to Bartholomew’s relaxed sitting room giving him a momentary sense of vertigo.  He could still smell Yeenoghu’s stink, but it quickly dissipated.

“My goodness!” gasped the gnome.  “We’ve heard the stories, of course.  I mean, who hasn’t?  News of Elturel’s return and your brave deeds have traveled far and wide over the last month.  But the way you described it Kent, it felt as if I was actually there!”

Almont had to agree.  He’d of course heard Kent recount the story of their final battle with Yeenoghu at least a half dozen times, but each telling felt more and more realistic to him.  He wondered if the rogue’s phantom magic had anything to do with it.

“Well, that is close enough to what happened,” Katla said, attempting to cover her sly grin with her wine cup.  

Kent shot her a look.  “It’s precisely what happened, in every detail,” he said with a hint of indignation.  He turned to Donyxn.  “Donyxn, back me up on this.”

The tiefling sat to the dwarf’s right and was staring intently into the Sword of Zariel’s blade.  “Well,” he said, turning to Kent, “it is true that we killed Yeenoghu.”  His black-lipped grin exposed his sharp teeth.  Katla spit out a bit of wine trying to stifle a laugh.  

“It is such a fine telling, Lord Kent.  I thank you for sharing it with me.”  Bartholomew poured Katla more wine.  “Oh, I have the items you left with me.  Let me go find them.”  The gnome put down the decanter and left the room.

The group first met Bartholomew when they last visited Candlekeep.  That felt like a lifetime ago, but based on the calendar just over two months had passed.  It seemed that time flows differently in Avernus.  

For the past six weeks the group busied themselves with ridding Elturel of the evil that transported back from Hell with it.  The first few days had been fraught.  Reya sallied forth from the cathedral stronghold with the last few Hellriders to fight by their side.  They mercilessly slew the infernal invaders, the bonfires of their burning bodies lighting up the night and filling the city with a sickening smell.  But it couldn’t be avoided - they had to remove every last trace of taint, and fire is a great cleanser. 

In short order the survivors who had not succumbed to the temptations promised by the infernal rose up and began their own crusade against the heretics who had once been their neighbors.  Their friends.  Sometimes even their family.  Almont was proud of their ruthlessness.  On more than one occasion the cleric was called upon to speak to the people.  Reya and the priestess Pherria were the closest things to leaders remaining in Elturel, but neither inspired the righteous zeal needed to inspire the citizens to do the hard work necessary to reclaim their home.  The stern cleric and his winged tiefling friend carrying the Sword of Zariel, however, showed them the path.

Word spread quickly and by the second day after the return the first crusaders arrived, a pair of paladins and their squires who came to aid the purge.  Others followed - paladins, zealots, and sorcerers seeking to test themselves joined their ranks.  Mercenaries also came seeking coin, but these were turned away.  Katla wisely counseled that they needed to be vigilant lest they allow any further corruption into the city.  

Pherria quickly came into her own as a leader, and as the newly arrived paladins learned of Reya’s heroics in Avernus (which Kent made sure to share in glorious detail) many swore their oaths to the Hellriders, bolstering the city’s defenses.  After a month a calm came over Elturel.  It had been a week since the last demon or devil had been spotted and only a few pockets of heretics were left to be dealt with.  So when word came from Candlekeep that Lola would be leaving the plane to head home, all agreed that it was safe for the party to leave to see their friend off.  Which is how they came to find themselves at Bartholomew’s.  

Donyxn and Kent traded stories and drank wine by the fire while Katla sat and re-read the letter from her former master yet again.  Almont knew how much his abduction hurt her, and despite having memorized the letter she would often look at it when she felt introspective.  

Knowing it was best not to bother her at these times he stood and wandered aimlessly around the room.  Bartholomew was a weapon-maker and blacksmith, and a mighty good one based on the quality of the two swords and two daggers laid out on a red felt covered table in the corner.  

A faint whisper turned his attention to a smaller table upon which sat three books.  The top was called “Fey Bedtime Stories”.  Even Almont with his tough upbringing was familiar with it - these were the fables of the elves and often read to children.  The next was entitled “The Scrivener’s Tale”.  The third was in a language that looked like elvish, but somehow wasn’t.

“What do you have there,” asked Katla, standing on her toes and peeking over his shoulder.  

He handed her the book.  “It looks elvish, but somehow it’s not.”

“No,” she said, taking the book from his hands.  “It’s sylvan.  It’s related, but a separate tongue.  And fortunately one I read.”  She grinned and began flipping through the pages.  “Oh, these are the same tales from 'Fey Bedtime Stories’… but… slightly different versions.  And… oh!”  Katla blushed, something Almont had never seen her do before.  “They seem to be a bit, um, shall we say racier as well.”  

Bartholomew returned with an armful of items so high that he couldn’t even see over them.  

“Oh!  My tapestries!” Kent exclaimed.  The rogue had a fondness for wall hangings and they had liberated some during their travels.  There was also a trident they kept as a trophy from the ship-board battle during the journey to this side of the world, as well as four jackets from members of a gang they took on in Baldur’s Gate.  

“Indeed,” said Bartholomew.  “Also, I have another tapestry as well, one that shows Candlekeep.  It has been gathering dust here for decades and I thought you might enjoy it.”  Kent and Donyxn began rifling through the belongings, laughing at the memories they prompted.

“Bartholomew, this is an interesting collection of books you have here,” Katla said.  

The gnome turned to her.  “Oh yes, my grandchildren are coming to visit and I asked Reemeer from the library to bring some books over that I could read to them.”

“Oh really?  Well, I can tell you this one,” she held out the book in sylvan, “is probably not suited for young gnomes.  It’s a bit risqué.”  Bartholomew looked mortified.  “Do not fret, my friend, I’m sure you didn’t know.  Perhaps we can return it to the library on the way back to our lodgings.”

“Oh heavens yes, that would be wonderful,” Bartholomew said with relief in his voice.  “I’m not sure what would have possessed Reemeer to bring me such a tome.”

“Yes, I’d actually like to ask him that same question,” Katla said thoughtfully as she turned back to the book and continued to skim it.  It wasn’t just that these were different versions of the stories.  This book clearly had magical properties too. 

“This one as well,” said Almont, holding up ‘The Scrivener’s Tale’.  “While I find its story of the Princess of Shadowglass and her feud with the Queen of Gloaming intriguing, it is hardly appropriate fare for young gnomes.”

“Yes, yes, my friends.  I thank you so very much for saving me from the embarrassment this could have caused,” the gnome replied gratefully.

Katla put her hand on his shoulder.  “Of course, Bartholomew.  Almont, perhaps you could fetch one of those bottles of elvish wine from your bag of holding and we can talk a bit longer.”

Kent looked up from the tapestries laid out on the floor.  “Did someone say elvish wine?”

—————————————————————————-

An hour later it was already evening.  The party paid a visit to Vayo, Candlekeep’s tabaxi alchemist, and purchased every potion she had in the shop.  It was always good to be prepared, after all.  While the alchemist didn’t have everything on their list, she did promise to try to make a potion of fire breathing that Kent requested.  She also let them know that while trading in magic items in Candlekeep was strictly regulated, a gentlemen in Baldur’s Gate named Tony Merlo ran an underground business out of a boat docked in the harbor, should they be looking to buy or trade.

“It is said there are strange happenings afoot in Baldur’s Gate, though, so be careful if you visit,” Vayo advised.

“Oh,” asked Kent.  “What kind of strange happenings?  Might be right up our alley.”  He elbowed Donyxn and nodded at the tiefling, who rustled his wing feathers.

“It is said that since Elturel returned there have been sightings of demons and devils and… other abominations,” Vayo replied.  “Some say the land’s humours are imbalanced.”

Kent sighed.  “Demons and devils, devils and demons.  Booor-ing.”

Vayo looked at the dwarf and tiefling who were now poking at a skull on a shelf, then turned back to Katla and Almont.  “You are the ones known as the Defenders of Phandalin, are you not?”

“Aye, that’s us,” Kent said before they could answer.  He continued prodding the skull with the end of us pipe.

Vayo nodded sagely.  “Then perhaps the fates have brought you this way for a reason” 

————————————————————————————

They continued on to the library where they were greeted by a gentlemen behind a desk.  Well, not exactly greeted.

“Can I help you,” he asked dourly and without any enthusiasm, his eyes not even rising from the sheafs in front of him.

“Ahem,” said Katla.  

“Oh boy, now you’ve done it,” muttered Kent from a few paces behind her.  He immediately pretended to take interest in something on his boot.

The librarian raised his head slightly and peered over his glasses.  “Yes?  Do you require something?  Because if not, I’m terribly busy.”

Almont leaned forward and began to open his mouth, but Katla grabbed his arm.  The librarian turned to the cleric and a look of fear crept into his eyes.  He turned back to Katla who gave him a thin smile.

“Why yes, librarian,” the elf said.  “We were just visiting our friend Bartholomew and he informed us that a gentlemen named Reemeer brought these books to him to use as bedtime stories for his grandchildren.”  She handed the two book the librarian.  “I think you’ll agree that they are hardly appropriate.  We’d like to speak to Reemeer about this if possible.”

The librarian looked at the books and his eyes grew wide.  “Are you certain that Reemeer gave these to Bartholomew?”  He held up the copy of ‘The Scrivener’s Tale’.  “This book is from the restricted collection and is never lent out.  Never.  Reemeer should not even be allowed in that part of the library.”

“Well that is most interesting.”  Katla was beginning to feel even more uneasy.  “Why, pray tell, is this book restricted?”

“Because, madam,” the librarian said as he stood.  “It is said to be cursed.”

Almont stuck out his hand.  “Give it to me, I’ll remove the curse.”

The librarian, while clearly intimidated by Almont, held onto the book with an iron grip, keeping it close to his chest.  “I’m sorry, but I can’t allow that.  I must give this to the High Reader, Telus.  I’m sure he will get to the bottom of how it came to be at Bartholomew’s.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I must go find Telus.”

Almont was about to speak again but Katla stopped him with a shake of her head.  “Let us ask Sylvyra about this when we see her tomorrow.”

———————————————————————-

The night passed uneventfully.  Sylvyra had been kind enough to requisition them each a small private room, which was quite the luxury in Candlekeep.  

When Almont emerged in the morning he saw that a small table had been set out for them with bread, cheese, and fruit, as well as carafes of water and wine.  Katla sat on a stool eating a piece of dragonfruit.  The elf didn’t need to sleep, instead entering a sort of trance-like state from time to time, so Almont wasn’t sure how long she had been out here.  Donyxn stood looking out a window that provided a view of the city.

Kent emerged a few minutes later.  “Gods, how much did I have to drink last night?” he asked no one in particular.

All three turned to him as he ripped off a chunk of bread and stuffed it into his mouth.  “What,” he said, crumbs falling onto his beard as he spoke.

“I’ve seen you drunk many times, Kent,” Donyxn laughed.  “You were as steady as a bard on a high wire when I last saw you.”  He scratched his chin.  “That reminds me, did I ever tell you I was once in the circus?”

Katla put her head in her hands and sighed.

“Why do you think you were drunk last night Kent?” Almont asked.

“Well, because I sure as hell don’t remember getting this.”  Kent rolled up his right sleeve to reveal a tattoo.  And not just a simple tattoo, but perfectly drawn tiny script that started on his hand and worked its way up his arm and disappeared into his sleeve.  “Must have taken forever,” he said, mildly confused.

“Wait, you too?”  Donyxn rolled up his sleeve and appeared to have an identical tattoo.  Almont, jaw clenched, also pushed up his sleeve to reveal the same design.  The three of them turned to Katla.

“I’m not displaying my arm to you lot, but rest assured I too have the same markings.”

“Well what in the nine hells is it?” Kent asked.

Almont and Katla exchanged glances.  “It’s the beginning part of ‘The Scrivener’s Tale’,” Almont replied.

Kent seemed unfazed by the answer and was pulling at his skin this way and that.  “It doesn’t stretch the lettering when I do this.”

“No,” Katla said flatly.  “Because it’s magic.”

“It’s worse than that.”  They all turned to Donyxn.  “The Sword of Zariel allows me to see things as they truly are.  And I can see that what we are is cursed."

———————————————————————————

An hour later they found themselves in Sylvyra’s chamber.  Lola turned and blew a trumpet-like blast from her trunk as the entered, spinning circles in the air in excitement.  While they had traveled throughout Avernus with the hollyphant, it was still strange to see the small golden-furred winged elephant bobbing about in the air.

“Lola has been telling me stories of your adventures,” Sylvyra said.  “Frankly had I heard these things from anyone else I would hardly have believed them, but Lola is honest to a fault.”  The hollyphant nodded in agreement.

They made some small talk and then it was time for Lola to leave.  She said her goodbyes to each of them in turn, and then Sylvyra conjured a circular portal.  Lola looked over her shoulder one last time, sounded another blast from her trunk, flew into the portal and disappeared.

After Lola left it was time to ask Sylvyra about their tattoos.  Almont pulled up his sleeve and showed his arm to the mage.  They also told her about the library books.

With a puff of smoke a quasit appeared on Sylvyra’s shoulder.  “Be a dear and go tell Talus we’d like to see him, please” she said to the creature.  The familiar disappeared in a second puff of smoke.  “I’m sure he’ll be here shortly given what you told me about the books.”

“While we wait, perhaps you can take a look at something else for us,” Almont said.  He reached into the bag of holding and rummaged about, his arm into it all the way to the shoulder.  “Ah, here they are.”  

The cleric withdrew a black pouch.  Opening it, he produced a soul coin and put it on the table.

Sylvyra was a very knowledgeable mage, a true expert on the most arcane and obscure topics.  So they were surprised to see her startled reaction to the coin.  

“Is that what I think it is?”

“If you think it’s a soul coin, then yes,” Kent said smugly, his thumbs hooked into his belt.  He leaned forward conspiratorially.  “We’ve even seen ‘em mine these things out of the Styx.”

“We got to ride in a submersible while Katla and Almont fought a giant beast,” Donyxn said helpfully.

Sylvyra picked up the coin and examined it.  “I have heard tale of these, but have never seen one.”  She flipped it over and over in her fingers.

Katla asked, “Do you know if they have any properties that would be useful to us?”

“Perhaps,” Sylvyra answered, her eyes still glued to the coin.  “Though using it would probably deplete or destroy the soul the coin holds.”

Almont frowned.  “Perhaps if we knew the soul was evil, that would be acceptable.  But I do not like the idea of using the energy of a good soul in such a way.  We did what we had to do in Avernus, but we no longer have any immediate need to use these infernal coins.”  

“A good soul is in that one,” Donyxn stated definitively.  They all turned to the tiefling.  “The sword,” he said, motioning to it with his chin.

“Don’t be using that thing to look into my mind, boy,” Kent said gruffly.

“I don’t need the sword to see the contents of an empty vessel,” Donyxn replied.  

Sylvyra cocked her head and looked at Katla.  The elf sighed.  “I’m afraid they’re always like this,” the sorceress said quietly.

Almont laid all 14 of their soul coins on the table.  Donyxn walked over and separated two from the others.  “These two souls are evil to their cores.  The rest,” he waived his hand over the other dozen, “are various levels of good.  Most are flawed people with good intentions and hearts, though two are of truly good individuals.”

Almont set aside three of the ‘good’ coins.  “If we leave these with you to research, do you promise to share what you learn with us, and also promise to not do anything that would send them back to Avernus?”

“Agreed,” Sylvyra replied with a nod.  Her quasit appeared again in a puff of smoke, whispering in her ear.  “Ah, Telus will be here momentarily.”

Right on cue a man burst into the room, his orange and brown robe flowing behind him as he strode forward.  “You!” he shouted, pointing at Katla.  “Did you read the book?”  A second man followed meekly behind him.

“You best watch your tone,” Kent said calmly.  The man turned to look at the dwarf and his expression of anger become one of shock as he saw Kent’s fingers thrumming the pommel of his scimitar.  

He took a step backward and turned to Sylvyra.  “Sylvyra, I…”

The mage held up her hand, palm facing him and cutting off his words.  “Telus, these are my guests and they will be treated as such.”

Telus looked around the room then back to Sylvyra.  He dropped his head, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly before turning to Katla again.  “My apologies, sorceress.  This is a bit of a fraught situation and I allowed my emotions to get the best of me.”

“That’s better,” said Sylvyra.  “Telus, Reemeer, allow me to introduce you to Defenders of Phandalin.”  

It took a moment for the recognition to register in Telus’ expression.  “Oh, well of course.  We are all familiar with the great service you all provided to the people of Elturel.”

Behind Telus, Reemeer brought his hand to his mouth and looked to be trying to stop from throwing up.  “Oh gods, oh gods…” he muttered over and over.

“So, about this book, Telus,” began Almont.

“Yes, right, the book.  Please tell me you didn’t read it.”

“What do you think,” Kent said, more a statement than a question.  Telus looked at the rogue and winced at the sight of the fine sylvan script coiling up his arm.

“I don’t know about you lot, but if I’m about to find out I have a curse on me, I’d like a drink,” Kent said with a smile.

The group sat around a table, with only Reemeer remaining standing, his head bowed and a few paces behind Telus.  After a few sips of wine Kent had his pipe lit and sat back in his chair.  “That’s better.  More civilized, I’m sure you’d agree.”  The rogue looked quite satisfied.

Donyxn leaned in toward Kent’s left ear.  “This reminds me of our visit to that elvish school in the forest near Langdown.  What was that schoolmistress’ name again?  Shimvanna?”

Kent chuckled.  “No, I think it was Shamwinna, wasn’t it?”

“Ahem.”

The pair turned to look at Katla across the table.  “Were either of you by chance stricken by a curse while at said school?”

“Well no, not exactly,” Kent began.

“You were there researching a curse then.”

“I mean, again, it was a bit of a complicated situation,” muttered the dwarf.

“Then perhaps we could save what I’m sure is an incredibly enlightening, and probably at least moderately unsavory, story for another time.”

Kent nodded sheepishly.  Donyxn shrugged and smiled.  The sight of the tiefling’s sharp teeth almost caused Reemeer to pass out cold.

“Yes, well, thank you m’lady,” said Talus.  “The book in question, ‘The Scrivener’s Tale’, was given to the library by a gentleman named Machil Rillyn, an adventurer of sorts.  According to Machil the text carried a curse, one which almost killed him, and that the book should never, ever be opened again by anyone.”

“Did he explain the nature of the curse?” asked Almont.

Telus shook his head.  “No, he seemed quite traumatized by the experience and declined to describe the effects, or how he rid himself of them.”

“Not very helpful, that,” remarked Kent.

“If I recall, Machil and his family resided in Baldur’s Gate,” Telus said.  “Perhaps your quest for answers starts there.”

Katla looked at Reemeer.  The man was completely unprepossessing, almost as if one had tried to create the most generic version of a human man possible.  “Reemeer,” she said gently and with no accusation in her tone, “how did you come to bring this book to Bartholomew?”

Reemeer wrung his hands so hard it looked like he might rub his own skin off.  “Bartholomew asked me for some tales for his grandchildren,” he began quietly.  “Obviously ‘Fey Bedtime Stories’ is a classic, so I went to fetch it.  I took a shortcut through the section of cursed books.”

Telus turned grabbed the back of his chair.  “Reemeer, you know you are forbidden from being in that part of the library.”

“I know, High Reader.  I kept my eyes averted from the shelves, but one of the books it… it seemed to… it seemed to call to me in a whisper.  I felt compelled to take it from the shelf.  I couldn’t stop myself.”  Reemeer was crying with a mixture of fear and shame at the memory.

“He speaks the truth,” Donyxn said.  “I can see in him that what he describes is exactly what he felt and did.”

“What of the third book then?”  Katla asked.  “The sylvan version of ‘Fey Bedtime Stories’.”

“It was the same, m’lady,” Reemeer said.  

“That tome is not cursed, however,” observed Telus.

“No High Reader.  But it too called to me,” replied Reemeer.

“Well it certain was eye-opening,” Katla observed with a sly grin.  “I’d never heard the stories told in such an interesting way.  It is also infused by magic.”

“It is?” asked Telus incredulously.

“Indeed.  In fact I believe I may have gained some benefits from perusing it.”  Everyone continued to look at Katla expecting her to elaborate, but she did not.

“It sounds like we have another journey to make then,” Almont said, gulping down the last of his wine.  “Back to Baldur’s Gate.”