Escalla kissed Polk upon the cheek and said, “Well thank you.Here’s the magic bottle.”
She placed the faerie bottle into Polk’s lap-big and alreadybrimming with a whiskey so concentrated that it could strip paint and raise the dead. The girl shot Polk a dire glance. “And no faerie wine! Especially not thesixty-three!”
Infinite happiness filled Polk’s soul. He wrenched open thebottle, filled a tin mug, then drew in an important breath, rose, and presented the liquor to the Justicar. He poured more drinks for Escalla and for the teenage soldier, then contented himself with drinking straight from the bottle.
“Here’s to adventure! Next time we’ll bash a hundred more!”
The whiskey traveled down living gullets as though it had spines and claws. Private Henry almost coughed up a lung. He fought for breath, tears in his eyes, a look of horror on his face as he saw Escalla raise her little mug to him in salute and take a second draught.
“Here’s to you, kid!”
Polk happily arranged items from the looted drow in a line along the floor. There were a few scant pieces of gold, a few platinum coins, short swords, daggers, bucklers, crossbows, poisoned crossbow bolts, and bloodstained clothes. Most intriguing of all were scroll tubes lined up side by side. Escalla raced over to pry open the tubes-only to be frozen in place by onehard glare from the Justicar. The ranger picked up the tubes one by one, checking them carefully. Cinders sniffed for magic then happily began to wag his tail.
Clean!
“Hoopy!” Escalla pounced, ripped the cap off a tube, andfound only a piece of parchment covered with lines and squiggles. She hastily moved to the next tube, opened it, and found that it was the same.
“Aww man! These aren’t scrolls!” She scowled petulantly atthe parchments, turning them around and around. “Can’t these drow even gettreasure right?”
The Justicar winced as he sat down with the first piece of parchment spread out across his knees. He examined the carefully inked lines with notes and pointing arrows scribbled beside the diagrams in a different hand. He held the drawing up in the shine of Cinders’ flames, checkingcarefully for secret messages and invisible ink.
Escalla wound up draped over his shoulder from behind, staring at the diagrams.
“What is that thing? Dark elf doodles?”
“No.” Jus smoothed the parchment in grim distaste. It seemedto be made from human skin. “It’s a map.”
“Yeah?” To Escalla the squiggles hardly seemed map-like. “Howdo you figure that?”
“A simple one. A map of the underdark.” The map was made ofsimple lines, interconnected with symbols marking many of the junctions. “See.This arch is the gate outside. This is the passageway we’re in. The area markedhere with an eye? It’s this position here, the guard post.”
“Hoopy.” Escalla squinted carefully at the map. Polk andPrivate Henry gathered near. “Lotsa notes beside those symbols. Do you readDrow?”
“No. Do you have a spell or something that can do it?”
“Sure!” Escalla cast the appropriate spell. “There you go!”
They all craned forward with interest-even Polk, whosespelling skills were dubious at best, and Private Henry, who feared to admit that he couldn’t read. Escalla ran her fingers over the lines of scribbledsymbols, and for an instant thereafter, their meaning became sharp and clear.
“Main way-patrols, Eclavdra clan.” The faerie read thesymbols scribbled beside the main route marked on the map. “Here’s us. Says,‘Post one. Incoming secret addits one and two. Faerie of the mother kin allowedto pass.’” The girl wrinkled her freckled nose. “Mother kin?”
“Follower of Lolth. Our quarry.” The Justicar tapped the map.“Looks like the paths diverge just down here. What are the notes on the nextjunction?”
“Ah!” Escalla glared at the magically transformed writing,trying to make sense of it, then decided that drow simply couldn’t spell.“Il-ilithids…” The girl jerked forward in alarm. “Ilithids!”
Standing awe-stricken behind the Justicar, Private Henry blinked like an owl. “What’s an ilithid?”
“Mind flayers. Oh, they’re great! You’ll love ’em!” Escallawaved her hands theatrically about her head. “Imagine a super-poweredmind-blasting psychopath that can stun your mind at will and wants to eat your raw, ungarnished brain!” The faerie jotted marks across the map. “This says,‘Ilithids’-plural!” The girl circled the location hard and sharp with apen procured from Polk. “I wanna meet a bunch of ilithids like I want to be fedrot-grub. Definitely we go around!”
The Justicar looked at the maze of minor tunnels marked on the maps, each one marked with a danger symbol by the drow.
“The mam path might be faster,” he said, “if we can pass themind flayers.”
“Jus, you pass the mind flayers. Those of us withtasty delicious brains in our craniums might elect to just avoid the dinner invitation, all right?” The girl shot a grumbling look at the Justicar. “We goaround!”
“All right.”
“Anyway, faerie brains are more highly evolved than humanones. They’re tastier.”
With her spell slowly failing, Escalla shook her finger to jazz up the magic, then hurriedly went back to the map.
“There’re other caves definitely blocking the way. Here’s thefirst. ‘Reptile caves-pass security level one.’ I’m guessing that’s where thetrogs hang out.” Escalla’s finger traced paths and still more symbols changed.“Next zone down: ‘Kuo-toa-security pass code two,’ whatever that means.”
“Evil sentient fish.” Jus glowered a the map. “Go on.”
“Well, that’s about it.” Escalla traced lines that finally ledto a giant symbol far to the north: a huge cave topped with a drawing of a black spider. “The passages all pretty much lead there. I’m guessing that’s home.”
The locator needle seemed to agree with the map. Whoever carried the slowglass gem, he was heading northwest straight toward the drow citadel.
It would take a superhuman effort to make the journey, recover the slowglass, and fathom the motives of the murderer. Fortunately, Escalla considered herself and her friends superhuman. She helped herself to a swig from the ever-full bottle-now mysteriously full of peach brandy-and clappedher hands as Jus noisily rolled up the map.
“All right people, let’s move on!” The girl marched about theplace like the leader of a circus troupe. “Henry, poison your crossbow boltswith the drow drugs! In fact, take the whole poison pot and dip your sword! Polk, let’s get going!”
The drow had carried small brooches coded with patterns and squiggles. Jus knelt and seized a random selection, then began the hard march into the dark.
Half an hour later, a tiny campfire made from lantern oil andfungi spread a yellow light about a nasty little cave. Dinner sizzled and gave off an amazingly offensive smell. Sitting cross legged in her black silk dress, her bottom planted upon Cinders, who lay staring in fascination at the fire, Escalla wrenched another piece off the roast and tried to fit it in her mouth.
“Look on the bright side! At least everybody gets adrumstick!”
Each sitting with a leg from a really big spider in their laps, both Polk and Private Henry managed to give watery smiles while wondering how to hide their food. Jus sat in silence, crunching upon spider meat. With his armor lying spread beside the fire, the Justicar was a mass of bandages.
The magic whiskey bottle wet the cloth Escalla used to dab his wounds. Jus heaved and bucked in pain, snarling imprecations at the faerie. She sat primly in place, holding her wash cloth and looking at the Justicar through hooded eyes.
“Don’t be such a baby. We have to get these clean.”
“They are clean!”
“They are not. These tunnels are filled with fungus. We’llclean you up and use nice fresh bandages, then in a few hours your healing spells will make you all better.” Escalla moved with a matronly, possessive airas she tended the Justicar. “You’re my pal, so we have to take good care ofyou.”