The Mountain’s Maw – Part 6: Den of Sin

The small tiefling boy led the company through the streets of Styrheim for what, to Jesali, seemed like ages. Her eyes had begun to adjust to the relative blackness of the city, but she still feared that were she to lose sight of her party now, she would have no idea how to make her way back to the city gates.

The streets and alleyways of the city twisted and turned all over, some ascending to make elevated walkways between buildings, others tunneling beneath the rock into complete darkness. It was a complete maze to Jesali, with no apparent design or forethought that she could observe. Upon closer inspection of the buildings, it seemed that some were rather new, while others appeared ancient, their stone crumbling and patched in places. It was as if the city had stood for thousands of years, and rather than expanding outward like some surface cities did, it was just constantly being built over.

It was at one such nondescript building that the boy finally stopped. There was nothing that Jesali could see from the outside that identified it as different than any of the dozens of buildings around it, or the hundreds they had passed to get here. Nevertheless, their trek stopped and the boy turned to Malrinn, palm extended.

Malrinn eyed him dryly before flicking his hand to Ingar, who dug out a small copper coin and tossed it to the boy. The boy snatched it up with a look of spurn that communicated he had expected more and it almost seemed he was about to demand it, but then thought better of it, sizing up the barbarous brute Ingar and deciding to let it go. Without a word he took off down one of the alleyways and vanished into the labyrinthine metropolis.

Ingar approached the door and rapped on it three times with his meaty fist. After a minute or two, some shuffling sounds could be heard inside and then a small slit in the door slid open revealing two yellow eyes surrounded by red skin. They peered quizzically out at the three travelers and then said in the common tongue. “What is your business?”

Jesali was surprised to hear the voice speak in the language that she understood. She assumed it must have been because the being had looked out and seen that two of them were human. Whatever the case may be, Jesali was glad to at least have an inkling of what was going on.

Malrinn moved forward, brushing Ingar aside with the back of his hand, and came into the view of the being behind the door. Upon seeing Malrinn, the yellow eyes went wide and the slit quickly slid shut. Then, Jesali could hear the sound of latches being undone on the other side of the door. A moment later the door swung wide, creaking as it did, to reveal a male tiefling standing in the doorway, smiling wide.

“Master Tzull!”, he said joyously, “I apologize for the inquisition. I did not recognize your retinue.” As he said this, he bowed low, and Jesali could see that his horns were decorated with all manner of finery; gold and silver bands encrusted with jewels, a few fine chains hung from them, some pearled, crisscrossing over his short, slicked-back hair. He wore a tunic of fine purple silk which flowed over his frame, masking its exact form in layers of cascading fabric. His tail swished back and forth with excitement, as he smiled rakishly up at them. It was also banded with jewelry, as were his arms, and his fingers held several rings.

He rose from his bow and a wave of warm air from the room behind him rolled out through the doorway and over Jesali. It swirled with aromatic smoke that was thick with the smell of fruit and spices. It was a bit overpowering, though not wholly unpleasant.
“Please, come in,” he said, stepping to the side of the door and holding his hands out in a welcoming gesture, “I’ve been expecting you.”

The building inside opened up into a large room filled with draperies and silks hanging from the ceiling, dividing the room into smaller sections. From where they entered, Jesali could see that there were piles of cushions all over the floor, and all manner and race of people lounged in the smoky air. None of the denizens gave them so much as a sidelong glance, some engaged in low conversation with each other. Others drank wine from garish goblets and drew in smoke from the hoses of large central hookahs that dotted the room. Others still just laid back and stared at the ceiling, their faces screwed into stupid grins.

Moving back and forth through the throng were several serving girls of varied races clad in barely enough cloth to be considered clothing, which made Jesali blush. They poured wine and served food to the patrons as they lounged, and each of them wore a thick brass choker around their next. It did not look comfortable.

“Where are my manners,” the tiefling man said after a moment, turning more to Ingar and Jesali than Malrinn. “I am Rakon Teel.” He flashed another charismatic smile at Jesali and before she could react, took her hand in his and kissed it. “J… Jesali,” she said meekly, her name catching in her throat.

He put his hand out a moment later to shake Ingar’s hand, but the barbarian merely grunted and looked at him. Whether the tiefling was offended or not was not apparent from his smooth demeanor. He lifted his hands and clapped them twice and almost instantly, two more serving girls appeared carrying trays holding goblets of wine. They held the trays out but kept their eyes low in the posture of servants. Rakon took a goblet for himself, and motioned to the tray, offering the drinks to his guests. Malrinn held up a hand in refusal, and Jesali followed suit, but Ingar grabbed one goblet in each hand and drank greedily.

Though he was quite charming at first blush, Jesali felt in her stomach that Rakon was not to be trusted. She could not say for certain what it was about him exactly, she had only really interacted with one other tiefling for any length of time, and though he was also quite charismatic, he was also very different. Unlike Rakon, Jesali had immediately felt comfortable with Dem. But here in this den where things she could only imagine took place, she felt it was best to remain guarded.

Rakon led them further into his establishment until they reached the far side of the large room and a large wooden door. He swung it open wide and gestured for them to enter as he held the door open. Malrinn strolled inside with a lack of concern that put Jesali at ease at least somewhat. If the elf had no suspicions of Rakon, then they were probably safe for the moment. She still did not like him but proceeded into the room at his request. Ingar brought up the rear, now with two newly filled goblets and small rivulets of wine dribbling from the corners of his mouth, leaving droplets to hang in his wiry beard.

This room was much smaller and resembled more of a private lounge. “Take a seat wherever you like,” Rakon said. Malrinn made no move to sit, but his refusal simply rolled off of Rakon. Ingar plopped down on one of the big cushions and waved a now newly emptied goblet at the servant girl that had been shadowing him, and she proceeded to fill it in haste. Jesali chose to stand as well.

Rakon turned to another servant that had been following close behind him and for the first time since they’d arrived, said something in what Jesali was now beginning to recognize as the tiefling tongue. The servant bowed low and backed out of the room hurriedly, off to fetch whatever it was that Rakon had sent her to retrieve. It was not long before the servant returned followed by two guards.

The guards were also tieflings, shirtless and each of their horns was adorned with one silver band a piece. Both of them had large, menacing looking swords strapped to their sides. They were ushering a third figure into the room.

She was a tiefling as well, but different than any that Jesali had seen since entering the city. For one thing, her skin was a pale white rather than the red or grey she’d seen among others of her race. It was so pale it seemed to almost glow like moonlight in the dim interior light. She was not festooned with jewelry as Rakon was, but she did wear the brass choker of the serving girls. One of her two horns was broken off at about the midway point, a scar from some unfortunate past. Her outfit was simple and much less revealing than the rest of the serving girls, just a plain grey tunic. She was bound in chains, a few of them attached to the choker at her neck, by which the guards led her into the center of the room.

She appeared young to Jesali, though how young, she could not say since she was unfamiliar with how those of her race aged. Her face was soft, her expression dour, and her eyes were covered with a thick white veil. It wasn’t sheer and Jesali wondered how she could see through it, but a the same time, it did not seem to be a blindfold placed purposely by the guards. It hung limply from her brow in front of her eyes, not bound tightly as if intended to keep her from seeing where she was.

As she entered the room, the smallest of smirks crept across Malrinn’s face for but an instant but disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared. Jesali had seen it though, and it proved that this girl was the reason that they had come to this place. It was such a fleeting expression, but it was enough to send cold shivers down Jesali’s spine. It was a look of hunger, the look a wolf gives an injured lamb.

Malrinn stepped toward her calmly while Rakon stood, hands clasped in front of him expectantly. He looked her at her with intense scrutiny, seemingly searching her for something. Then, he reached up and removed her veil, letting it fall to the floor. Her eyes were open, but they did not look at Malrinn. They were entirely milky white and did not seem to focus on anything. She was blind, Jesali realized. That is why the veil did not seem to impede her vision. The veil was not for her, but a courtesy to others, that they need not look upon her sightless gaze.

Malrinn placed his hand on either side of her face and studied it, reminiscent of the way one might study a horse they wished to purchase. It sickened Jesali. She half expected Malrinn to pinch her jaw open and begin examining her teeth, but thankfully, he released her without any further intrusion. What kind of person had she taken up traveling with? Jesali shivered, regret at her choice of traveling companions swelling in her gut.

Rakon nodded approvingly once Malrinn had finished his physical examination of the poor girl, and then spoke. “Do you wish for a demonstration?” he said. Malrinn nodded coolly, and Rakon barked something to the girl in tiefling language. She looked stricken, blushing and saying nothing. She stood hesitantly for an instant before one of the guards produced a whip from his belt. No sooner had the whip unfurled did the girl let out a barely audible gasp, and straighten, bowing her head low to Rakon. The guard did not move to strike her as she began to acquiesce to her master’s request. Jesali was surprised, she hadn’t heard the guard make any noise as he brandished the whip, though somehow the girl had perceived the threat.

The pale tiefling girl held up her hands in surrender and then closed her eyes and bowed her head. For a moment nothing happened. Then, her head snapped back up violently, her eyes open and glowing with an eerie blue light. The hanging silk around the room began to ruffle as a preternatural breeze manifested from nowhere.

“Malrinn Tzull, approach,” she said in a voice that was at once commanding and gentle. It sounding nothing like what Jesali had imagined the small, timid slave to sound like. She also was fairly certain that no one had said Malrinn’s name in her presence. Rakon had said it earlier upon their arrival, but nowhere near the pallid tiefling. Malrinn, not one to be ordered about, approached her once again with no hint of reluctance. As he stood in front of her, she placed her hand on his forehead. The girl’s sudden, sharp in-draw of breath made Jesali realize that she was holding her own and she forced herself to let it out and take in fresh air. The girl’s eyes closed again and for a moment Malrinn’s eyelids fluttered. Then she spoke.

“To the ends of the earth the scattered four, brought together to unleash the hoard. King of fire, prince of glade, one imprisoned within the grave. And one… One you already possess…” Then she released Malrinn and the glow in her eyes faded. She looked visibly haggard like whatever had just happened had taken some of her vitality from her.

She and Malrinn just stood for a minute, looking into each other’s eyes. Jesali could see tears welling in the young tiefling’s eyes. Then, almost inaudibly, she spoke again. This time her voice matched much more closely to her appearance, frail, delicate, and airy.
“I’m sorry,” she said, cupping Malrinn’s face in one of her hands, “She was beautiful.”

Suddenly, the room exploded with movement. Malrinn struck the girl fiercely with the back of his hand and she crumpled to the floor. “How dare you speak of her!” His voice broke, quivering with rage. His eyes were wild and beginning to fill with tears. “I am not to be pitied by the likes of you!” Jesali stepped back instinctively as Malrinn roiled with unbridled rage. She had seen nothing but the slightest hint of emotion from the elf for the entirety of their travel to the Infernal City. Whatever this clairvoyant young girl had seen within him had allowed her to cut him so deeply to the quick that his normally unflappable facade was rendered inert. He stood at once open, raw and exposed for all in the room to see.

The girl remained in a crumpled heap on the floor as Malrinn turned his back to her, a few stray tears streaming down his cheeks which he quickly wiped away. A small trickle of blood leaked from the girl’s nose and down her face, her mouth parted slightly as shallowed breaths passed in and out.

Rakon, mortified, began to rush to Malrinn’s side, fumbling an apology, as one of the guards pulled the girl to her feet and began to carry her half-limp form from the room. Malrinn raised a hand to silence Rakon. “I will return for later for the whelp. Ingar will settle the account with you now.” Ingar was already standing, the action of the past few minutes enough to rouse him from his drinking. With that, Malrinn left the way they had come, his affected air of disinterest slowly settling back and wrapping him like a cloak. Jesali was unsure whether she should follow, but he left too quickly for her to decide to join him, so she remained with Ingar. The remaining guard stood near the guard, eyes fixed on her and Ingar, hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

“As you can see, she is something of a rarity. That makes her quite valuable to me,” Rakon weaseled, started in on his haggling immediately as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Ingar just stood, stone-faced, his bulky arms crossed in front of him. “We have gold,” he said flatly, sending a breath heavy-laden with alcohol washing over Rakon, who managed only to wince slightly and blink a few times.

“Gold is nice. But, as a businessman, I’m interested in… investments,” he said, the last word dripping with predatory meaning. Ingar seemed to consider things for a moment and then clasped one huge hand on to Jesali’s shoulder so tight she almost cried out. He turned to her and said, “Your debt’s square, love.” Then he shoved her toward the guard before she could react, who caught her and restrained her.

“No! What are you doing! Let me go!” Jesali cried, completely blindsided. She began to scream, kicking uselessly against the vice-like grip of the tiefling guard. He wrestled with her, but he was much stronger than her, and it wasn’t long before he had clapped her arms in irons behind her back. Then, he tied a cloth gag around her mouth to drown out her protests. She continued to make muffled noises as the bargaining continued in front of her.

“She’ll do,” Rakon said lecherously, his eyes surveying Jesali from the ground up, “She is definitely the sort more of clients usually go for. Many of them have much more… base desires than your friend Malrinn.” Jesali’s muffled cries transitioned to sobs, tears streaming down her face and soaking the gag around her mouth.

“It’s not an even trade,” he continued, “She’ll have to be broken, and that takes time. My investment won’t be profitable for some time. You’ll need to throw in some more… liquid assets.” Ingar huffed and tossed a bag of gold at Rakon’s feet less than respectfully. The rakish procurer seemed satisfied with that and dismissed Ingar with a wave of his hand as. Without a hint of remorse, Ingar took one last look at Jesali and turned to leave the same way as Malrinn had.

Jesali overwhelmed with emotion, her head swimming with the sudden betrayal, slumped to the floor and began to feel her consciousness slip. Between the constant travel of the last few days, and the shock of the last few moments, the tidal wave of fatigue swept over her with such force that she stood no chance of fighting it. Jesali slipped into unconsciousness, now a prisoner in a strange land, her last thought a prayer to Pelor. She heard no reply.

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