The mages returned to the Cuttlestone Inn, triumphant. After a drink in the common room, they repaired to their quarters. Hennet felt a flush of guilt when he recalled the predicament of Ember, Brek, and the injured elder. They remained behind in the mages' room while Hennet and Nebin competed in the Duel Arcane.

Hennet knocked, then pushed open the door to their room. "What news?" he called.

Kairoth lay on a cot near the window, propped up with pillows. Ember sat on a stool next to him. The two were in the midst of speaking, but Ember looked up and smiled at Hennet. He realized the smile was the first of real sincerity he had seen from the monk. It's warmth sent a shiver of excitement thrilling through him.

Yes, I have it bad, he cajoled himself.

Brek Gorunn sat at the small table that was now piled with scrolls, a ring, and other oddments they had taken from the mummified creature below the city.

He said, "We're better, thanks to Moradin's grace. How fared your duel?"

Nebin pushed past the sorcerer and said, "Could you expect any less than total victory? Hennet's foes were slipshod; their magic was weak. He could have called light and won his duels. In fact, I think that's exactly what he did at least once. But me! I faced such challenges! Why, one evil shrew took direct control of my mind. If not for a supreme effort of will—something I've practiced—I'd still be in her power. I'm surprised they let someone so awesome compete at our level."

"A supreme effort of will and my help, you mean," interjected Hennet.

"Right, I was coming to that."

"In any case," continued Hennet, "we're both slated for the finals in two days. But, what about you?" He fixed the man on the cot with his direct gaze, saying, "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance Elder Kairoth. Ember speaks well of you."

Kairoth's hair was shaved, his features chiseled as if from granite, and he had a wiry build. He wore a ring on one hand, the same ring Ember retrieved from the pile of ashes in the temple.

Ember said, "Elder Kairoth, please tell them what you've told us. These are the two who helped us find and retrieve you from below the city."

The man weighed Hennet, then Nebin, with a look. Apparently, they passed.

The man said, "It is good to make your acquaintance, young friends. You have my deepest gratitude. You have allowed one last chance for redemption for the Enabled Hand."

Kairoth sat up straighter and took a drink from a small cup.

"Brek Gorunn has healed me of my physical hurts," he continued, "but I remain spiritually weakened, for now. My life energy was nearly snuffed out. Others were not saved as I was. The Order was betrayed."

"Betrayed?" asked the gnome.

"I will start at the beginning. Five weeks ago, a student of mine, Adeva Silverhair, disappeared. At first it seemed nothing, but when a search of her quarters revealed the possibility of foul play, I became concerned. It seemed as if there had been a struggle, and I found blood. I was especially distraught because I scolded Adeva for her impudence earlier that day. Perhaps my harsh words left her open to poor choices. I do not know.

"Regardless, when I went to Elder Vobod and told him of Adeva's disappearance, he laughed. He said Adeva had merely gone away on a trip. Then he gave me a terrible look, and told me that if I didn't want to see where she'd gone, I'd better forget about it. Can you imagine, an elder threatening another? That was when I penned my message to Ember. I hid a secret message in the letter, in case the courier was intercepted."

Ember shook her head. "And I completely missed it. I took the message at face value."

Kairoth touched her shoulder. "You deciphered the message when you needed to."

The elder continued his story. "That night, there was an attack. Fully ten of the fifteen instructors and three of the quorum of five elders turned on the rest. Vobod led them, though he referred to some mysterious, greater power. I escaped because I was already on my guard from Vobod's earlier theatrics. The attacks were constrained to the instructors' wing—no students or novices were involved. They may not know that the order is now in the hands of a malevolent force."

"How can they not know?" asked Hennet.

"Because the students, while they might be curious about the terrible ruckus in the night, would never dishonor an instructor with questions about things that were not their business."

"Who were the elders you spoke with, Ember?" asked Hennet. He worried to think of her having set foot in the place, if what Kairoth said was true.

Ember shuddered. "Vobod himself. You see, I knew he had lied to me."

Brek said, "Could Vobod's uprising have anything to do with what happened in Ember's chapter? There, it was red-masked cultists who serve Nerull."

"Yes, red-masked cultists who seemed strangely proficient in martial crafts," mused Ember.

"Unsettling. Why is the Order of the Enabled Hand consuming itself from the inside?" questioned Kairoth.

"I'll help you find out," promised Ember.

Brek nodded his aid.

"Kairoth, how did you end up below the city?" asked Nebin.

"Ember and I discovered those doors years ago. The designs I remembered on the entrance to the temple matched the symbols carried by Vobod on his ring. I thought it would be profitable to examine them more closely. I didn't expect to be attacked down there. Had I known that evil was awake in that old sanctuary of death, I would have chosen a safer place for Ember and I to rendezvous."

Ember sighed. "What can we do now?"

"Because Vobod is a respected elder, he can deny any claim we make concerning his illegitimacy," said Kairoth. "It will be our word against his."

Hennet steeled himself and said, "Then we must find out the truth. It is up to us to see justice done."

"Us?" asked Ember. "This is not your fight; you have your duel. You've already aided us more than is right. I feel bad enough for that, though without your help Kairoth could well be dead."

Hennet shook his head. "I'd like to think that we have all become friends. As friends, let Nebin and I help. We have a few days before the final rounds of the Duel Arcane."

Nebin gulped. Hennet shot him a raised eyebrow. The gnome nodded slowly, seeming to agree reluctantly. But Hennet knew that if the gnome really didn't want to help, nothing he did could convince Nebin otherwise.

Ember paused, then said with a glad voice, "We accept!"

She rewarded Hennet with another smile, and Hennet felt his eyes glaze over just a little.

Nebin fixed Kairoth, then Ember, with a penetrating look, and said, "All right, what's the next step? Back down into the catacombs, or do we spy out the Order to learn what Vobod's up to?"

Kairoth said, "Ember, Brek Gorunn, and I were just discussing that very question. I am loath to return to the catacombs so quickly. I believe we should enter the Order in secret, this very night. Perhaps we can learn what motivates Vobod and what foul force is aligned with him. Perhaps, as Brek Gorunn suggested, the cult of Nerull is active in all this, but 1 don't know how. I thought those cultists were all purged and gone. We must find out the truth, and the Order is the place to start."

Hennet said, "But, after all, maybe the old temple truly is the source of the evil. Those unquiet corpses were once in service to a death god, perhaps Nerull. And now that I think on it, what did you mean when you mumbled 'the Oath' as we rescued you?"

Kairoth looked uncertain.

"I vaguely recall it," he admitted, "but it eludes me now. It was something the death priest wanted me to repeat, but I wouldn't do it. All I know is that the words themselves were hideous, ghastly syllables."

Feeling as if he had scored a point, Hennet continued, "Then we should consider going back down there first."

Kairoth shook his head. "You may he right. But my instinct tells me that those unquiet dead are only a side effect. They are not the source of our troubles. They are only a symptom, one that must eventually be dealt with, too. If the catacombs in truth become our final destination, we shall only learn that by dealing first with Vobod."

Hennet couldn't argue with Kairoth's logic. Plus, he was tired.

He said, "If we're going tonight, we should rest. Nebin and I expended much of our arcane strength at the duel, and we need sleep. And, pardon me for saying so, you still look a little pale. It's only middle afternoon now. We could be rested and up again before the night is spent."

"Good," Kairoth said. "We will rouse three hours into the middle night. I will lead us into the Order via a secret route. The Order's traitors are not the only ones who know the ways of guile."

If the red masks or traitor monks somehow detected the intruders, Hennet argued, they could mount a stronger defense by concentrating in a single room, not by spreading into several rooms. As usual, Nebin disagreed and put forward his own theories. When Hennet and Ember left the room to see about getting more cots, Nebin approached the dwarf cleric. Brek Gorunn still sat at the room's one small table, sorting through a small collection of interesting items that included several closed leather cases of the kind traditionally used to protect spell scrolls. The dwarf was cataloging each item in the pile.

"Anything interesting?" asked the gnome.

"Yes," Brek replied. "These are the items we salvaged from the catacomb. As far as I can tell, they bear no taint of evil. We might find them useful. Some bear the imprint of spells arcane. Have a look. They'll do me little good—my power flows from Moradin."

The gnome was delighted. He shuffled through the documents. Many were nonmagical, or at least imprinted with a power he couldn't identify, and covered in an alphabet he couldn't decipher.

"I have no idea what these are."

He handed them back to Brek Gorunn, who rolled and stuffed the parchments into his satchel.

The gnome turned to the other documents. His fingers twitched in anticipation as he picked up the remaining two scrolls. One of his chief pleasures in life was the discovery of new spells that he could pen into his spellbook. He was a collector, and his collection was magic itself. He spread the scrolls wide open, gazing intently at the dancing glyphs. The inscriptions slowly ceased their movement, resolving into an arcane alphabet that was intimately familiar. The first was a spell that would allow one to fall from a great height without taking harm. That, Nebin thought, could be useful, in the right situation. He stuck that scroll in his belt, intending to inscribe it into his spellbook later.

The second spell would cause a creature to grow larger. Though it seemed disappointingly dull, he hated to waste any magical formula. Nebin read through the spell of enlargement again. It was fairly complex, and the more he studied it, the more he realized how much power was subtly woven into the spell. If he called on that power, he could be a giant! Nebin chuckled, imagining casting it on Hennet while he was sleeping, then watching his friend grow so large that he crushed his cot.

That gave Nebin an idea. He tucked the second scroll into his belt, also. Even if there wasn't enough time to scribe the complex spell into his book, he could cast it directly from the scroll. That would destroy the scroll, unfortunately, but it could well be worth it.

Brek, who still sat at the table, said, "You look happy. Has merciful Moradin blessed you?"

Nebin laughed. "Yes, I believe he has, Brek Gorunn. If Moradin wasn't called the Dwarffather, I might consider taking up your religion."

From across the room, Kairoth said, "Moradin is a worthy god, and we in the Enabled Hand have a long-standing relationship with the clerics of his order. You could do worse, Master Nebin."

"I suppose you're right," said the gnome, realizing he had a larger audience than just Brek. "So...Elder Kairoth, did you look through these other documents? They are not magical, but I can't read the writing on them. Perhaps they contain additional clues about what's befallen your Order."

"No, pass them over, I'll take a look."

Brek Gorunn, sighing, removed the lot from his satchel and walked them over to the elder. Despite his position, Kairoth's color already seemed better than when Nebin and Hennet returned from the duel.

Kairoth studied the manuscripts. He put aside several, saying, "I recognize the alphabet. It is Infernal, and creatures of Hell itself are said to use these characters in their terrible language."

"By Moradin's Hoary Axe!" exclaimed the dwarf.

Nebin's hair rose on the back of his neck. What were they involved in?

Kairoth looked up and said, "But the alphabet is also used by earthly creatures of ill will, seeking to emulate their masters. I suspect these were penned by a mortal cleric and not a demon. At least, I hope so. I can't read this script, it is too foul a study to take up, but this one is written in Common."

The page he held up was really only a fragment of parchment, its edges lost to time, its script nearly faded to illegibility.

Kairoth read from the parchment,"'...and so every soul to fall like chaff to the blade of the Reaper of Flesh. He that sits in eternal darkness waits at the end of every life, calling back to himself that which he has allowed, for a brief time, to frolic in the light. But the light is fleeting, and darkness eternal...' "

The dwarf glowered and said, "This 'Reaper of Flesh' claims too much. Moradin holds sway over the dwarves and their eternal destiny. This is lying propaganda."

Kairoth shrugged and said, "The text goes on in the same vein. This is a religious tract. Unless I misremember, the Reaper is one of Nerull's appellations. Another clue, but we already guessed Nerull might be involved. We need to find out who is attempting to revive Nerull worship, and why. Most importantly, we need to find out why the Order is involved at all."

"To gain a secret foothold?" ventured Nebin.

Kairoth's eyes widened slightly and he said, "It could be so. Who knows how far their reach already extends, with no one the wiser. We must put down this dark revival, and soon."

The dwarf clapped Kairoth on the shoulder. "Moradin willing, we shall," he said. "We are wise to their scheme, but they know nothing about us. Surely, the floors of the sacred Order groan under their sinful feet, but our footsteps will go unmarked. Tonight, we purge the evil from the halls of the Enabled Hand or die in the attempt. So say I, Brek Gorunn, Cleric of Moradin."