“Of course, of course,” Ein said with a deflated sigh. “Whatever you wish. I am in your debt.”
“Like I said,” Zed said, planting the sword in the wooden floor. “I’ll check in from time to time.”
The inquisitive made his way out of the tiny shop, pausing to take the small pouch of gold that Neril had left at the edge of the counter. The old apothecary hadn’t known what was plaguing his master, but it had twisted what passed for an honest business in Black Pit into something even more reviled. Nobody really knew what the garbage that seeped out of the Black Pit was, but everyone agreed someone had to deal with it. Zed Arthen was one of those people.
“Thank you, Sir Arthen,” Neril said, looking up from his work from a grateful smile.
“Master Arthen,” he corrected, stepping back out into the streets.
A chill wind blew through the streets of Black Pit. Zed shifted his shoulders, huddling into his coat. His hand found the rip in the fabric left behind by the guard’s sword, and he mumbled a quiet curse. This was his favorite coat. He’d have to see about getting it fixed tomorrow. The sun was setting now. That Zed understood the dangers of the Pit better than most only made him more eager to avoid them. The distant shrieks of Khyber grew louder. This was no night to be out unarmed. No doubt all manner of peculiar things would happen tonight, mysteries he’d be called upon to investigate.
Tomorrow would be an interesting day.
Zed walked briskly toward his office. He heard the creak of a shutter as he passed the building next door to his. That was Old Merkin, local spy and information peddler. Arthen pretended not to notice him. So many of the dangers of this world were much less threatening when they thought they weren’t noticed.
As he reached the door, Arthen’s head cocked suddenly. A strange sound met his ears. Not that Black Pit wasn’t a place for strange sounds, but this one was different, a humming counterpoint to the sounds of the Pit. It was familiar. Zed looked to the southern sky and saw a streak of blue moving toward the city. It was the fire of an elemental airship. He recognized the hue of the flame and timbre of the elemental ring at once.
“Karia Naille,” he mumbled to himself in astonishment, stepping back out into the street for a better look.
It was the simple things that could ruin a man’s entire evening.
CHAPTER 11
Seren wasn’t sure what she had expected when Gerith described Black Pit. As the airship circled for a landing, whatever expectations she might have had were wiped clean. She heard the pit before she ever saw it, an eerie harmony of inhuman shrieks echoing from the depths. A tremendous wound split the surface between the jagged Blackcap Mountains and the lush forests to the east. The earth within the pit was a disturbing red, like fresh blood. The surrounding land was black and dead. From above, Seren could see veins of dead soil twisting from the pit into the woodlands. It was as if Khyber were reaching out with long fingers, slowly drawing the life of the forest into itself.
The village perched on a plateau at western edge of the pit. It was no larger than Ringbriar, but while Seren’s home consisted of a single road surrounded by houses and businesses, Black Pit was a disorderly sprawl of ill-tended buildings. The setting sun painted the village in a red hue, only deepening the sense that the land was raw and bleeding.
She stood at the rail as the ship circled the noxious coils of smoke rising from the Black Pit. Pherris was busy at the helm, and Dalan had disappeared into his cabin again. Gerith sat by Blizzard’s perch, singing a quiet song to calm the nervous glidewing. Tristam and Omax stood at the opposite side of the deck. Seren sensed the artificer casting nervous looks in her direction. He had attempted to confront her a few times since their conversation three days ago, but she avoided him. He had even sent Omax to offer an apology, which she had answered noncommittally. She wasn’t ready to forgive him yet.
There was something hypnotic, an odd ghastly beauty to the pit. Seren found it difficult to look away and hoped that Karia Naille might fly in for a closer look. The more rational part of her mind was horrified by her own fascination, and she was glad that Pherris kept the ship a good distance away.
“If I woke up and found something like this next to my village, I think I’d move somewhere else,” Seren commented.
Pherris chuckled. “The pit was here first, Miss Morisse,” he said. “The village came later.”
She looked back at him incredulously. “Someone built a village next to that on purpose?”
The captain just shrugged and kept his attention on his course. She noticed that he assiduously avoided looking down.
“I’ve always wondered about that as well,” Tristam said to no one in particular, “What kind of idiot would build a village in a place like this?”
“A certain sort of person just wants to go live where he won’t be found,” Pherris said. “You should be grateful you don’t understand it, Master Xain.”
“What’s making that noise?” Seren asked.
“Just the wind, or so they say,” Tristam said. “Of course, folks here say a lot of things so they can sleep at night. No one’s ever gone into the pit and returned, so I guess they can pretend it’s whatever they want.”
Dalan’s cabin door opened and d’Cannith stepped out, wincing at the relative brightness. His expression only soured when he saw the smoking pit beneath them. “Well, at least we are on schedule,” he grumbled.
“Two sky towers at the southern end of the village, Master d’Cannith,” Pherris reported. “Probably used by local smugglers. If it’s all the same, I’d rather just hover in the forest and send Omax in looking for Arthen. As we’re not loading cargo, it seems the safest route. No sense attracting attention in a place like this.”
“Ordinarily that would be wise advice, but in this case attention is precisely what we want,” Dalan said.
Pherris looked back at Dalan incredulously and returned his attention to the wheel. “As you say, Master d’Cannith.”
The airship banked, and Seren grasped the rail to steady herself. The pungent smell of the pit grew stronger as the ship circled slowly downward. They swooped over the village, dots below swiftly resolving themselves into people. Some stopped and looked up to watch the airship fly overhead. Others simply trudged onward, too jaded to care or too distracted for it to matter.
A pair of rickety-looking towers stood at the far southern end of the village, bordering the road. Seren thought it strange at first that such a small village would have airship facilities, until she thought about it. If Black Pit really was home to the Brelish black market, the towers would come in handy for the occasional wealthy smuggler. The towers looked shoddy and hastily built. From the clutter that surrounded them, Seren suspected that a few of the locals had made homes inside.
“Prepare to secure the vessel,” Pherris said as the ship pulled up alongside the western tower.
“Aye, Captain,” Gerith said, gesturing quickly to Seren.
She followed the halfling, leaping from the deck to the tower’s docking bridge. A few terrified chickens scampered out of the way, leaving a swirl of downy feathers fluttering to the ground. Seren knelt to tie the rope through one of the iron rings mounted on each side of the bridge but stopped short, looking up cautiously at the four burly men who had emerged from the tower. They looked down at her with smug, dangerous expressions. Their faces shifted to blank looks of terror as a heavy thud sounded on the bridge beside her, followed by another.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” Omax said in his even, metallic voice. Tristam stood beside the warforged, letting his coat hang open to display the sword at his hip. Seren tied off the rope and edged behind the warforged, as did Gerith.