# Umbral Gaze 9: Loose Threads

The party's most recent adventure generates inevitable interest among the members of Lord Silverhand's house, and their report to her governmental complex sees them shuffled from guard to bureaucrat to weary mid-tier functionary, each with something to say about our heroes and their escapades. To the appropriate officials in turn, the party give the corpses of the first Deathkiss, of the Vampire thralls, and of the unfortunate parties that went before to the Red Wizards' keep. Eager to ditch the half-dead vampire crammed in his portable hole, Almuth is sure to stop by the dungeon where, for the reassurance and instruction of Ororon's new captors, he demonstrates the effects of his geas with a show; the cleric forces the freshly-released vampire to prostrate himself before Guard Commander Helsing and all benevolent divinities, to condemn the cult he serves and denounce the gods he worships. 

Finally in Lord Silverhand's company, Carmal explains what he learned by "identifying" Szass Tam's book. An acolyte of the Red Wizards authored the tome long ago, a peon, really, who, despite his genius in the field of necromancy and enchantment, lacked the political power necessary to keep his pet project funded. The work to which he dedicated his life was a binding spell of soul transfer, but one he never had the chance to see performed. Laeral will hold on to the book for now--- but not _too_ tightly, Carmal warns; the party may have need of it again quite soon. Hearing "binding spell" pings "spellbind" and Louisa's riddle in everyone's mind, and gears turn once again to determine how their llama friend might be freed from Cheshira's curse. Soul transfer... surely that could be useful...

With such thoughts bouncing boisterously in his brain, Gottlob proffers a suggestion to the group--- to Louisa--- as they finally free themselves from Lord Silverhand's complex and its bureaucratic apparatus. Through his associations with the Unblinking Patrol, he knows a woman who may be able to shed some light on the situation on Brog Burgest, on where specifically Cheshira held her prisoners and on just what work she was driving them to complete.

The party is in agreement--- more knowledge rarely hurts in adventuring--- and Gottlob leads a little procession down the winding streets of North Ward to the uppermost stretches of the Trades Ward, a little residential crescent between the unattainable terraced homes of the most affluent neighborhoods and the commercial maze of the sector's lower stretches--- where Gottlob and his Order make their abode. The party goes to see Mayola Ekris[^mayola] at her apartment, a strange, stubborn, but ingenious tiefling archivist of graceful middle age who makes occasion to interrupt the monotony of her _professional_ work with sporadic stints of consultation for the Unblinking Patrol, whenever they have need of some higher-level extraplanar expertise. Waterdeep is a good town for tieflings, and she has a good life here.

They find her standing on her own roof, staring into the cloudless sky. She sways a little on the tiles there, as though to some slow music, moved by a changeable breeze. Party members can't help but imagine her slipping off the narrow roofline, and Gottlob shouts up to her, "Mayola? Come down from there; do you have a minute to talk!?". Lowering her gaze from the heavens to regard the party with an eyebrow raised, the tiefling makes a noise between a sigh and a huff before vanishing through an open window, appearing mere seconds later on the street beside her interrupters.

A round of introductions follows, subsequent to which Louisa describes the experience she suffered over Brog Burgest. Mayola's eyebrow goes up again at the mention of a "cake mountain"--- and "oh, the llama talks?"--- but she can see that to Louisa this is no joking matter, and the archivist keeps her incredulity in check as she invites the party inside to go over details more closely. The tiefling possesses certain instruments--- intricate, wirebound devices of her own invention--- with which perhaps, given further information, she will be able to locate the hag's domain. Inside, she pulls a sheet of brass from under a cloth in the corner, several feet by a few, on which a smattering of bumps and pegs suggest technical applications. Threads of copper run from point to point; a row of inputs decorates the bottom edge, and with each in a series of narrowing questions she poses, Mayola turns or flips such a dial or switch.

> Hmm... Summer Court Dominion, Titanias' domain? Mm, no, well yes. Maybe the Green Lord... somewhere out of the way, no doubt, no archfey... Ah, the fringe then. Nullock? Huh.. probably... Oh, yes. Nullock.

The threads bound an irregular polygon that shrinks with each move until at last a tiny region of Feywild is demarcated on the field of her apparatus.

> Here, you will find the blue fields and farmhouse you describe. They are certainly in the Feywild, but unremarkable otherwise--- perhaps it would be expeditious, if you all wish to return, to go via Louisa's planeshift. Having seen the place already, she should be able to get back, but if you want _my_ opinion... well, I wouldn't bother.

Our heroes are glad to have some of their uncertainties put to rest, but see no reason either to revisit the farms or the shack, knowing now how unlikely it is they bear clues. Thanking Mayola for her help--- dodging (joking?) questions of payment as they manoeuvre to escape--- the party heads back down onto the street with the Inn and Cheshira's former thralls in mind; there are a few things they want to try in helping Louisa and those poor, unfortunate souls before beholder hunting once again monopolizes their attention.

{.thematic}
***

In front of a dismounted cheval glass leaned carefully against one wall of the room in which the rescued have mainly languished for weeks, the party gather and prepare to do magic with the intent of breaking Louisa's curse or, failing that, of learning a little more of what might and might not work. "Expert spellbind" suggests powerful magic, but the party's magicians deem graduality prudent; a simple "prestidigitation" is all Louisa readies as she stares into the mirror with her compatriots and human form beside. Strangely--- as she reports to her party--- Louisa cannot see her human form reflected in the glass beside her, but squint and crane as they might, the rest see just what they would expect. The flash of her magic brings forth a jaunty melody. It stirs the party, yet the form in the mirror remains unchanged save for a slight and sudden expression that departs from the steadfast neutrality of its physical counterpart. The difference disappears as quickly as it came, nonetheless unmistakable to those of the party who could see it. Clementine and Almuth call out the development at once; it seems like magic and mirrors will be the way forward, after all.

Later on, Carmal bids the party meet him at a private apartment he's rented in North Ward--- such are the privileges of wildly successful entertainers, they suppose. One never knows who might be watching in this city--- there, under a sheet to hide the their faces, amidst a cacophony of animated instruments to hide their words, he finally divulges the contents of the Vampire's tome. 

Its author was working on a spell, the "pinnacle of spellbinding", a total revamp of "animate object" with the power to transfer the souls of living things into and between objects. More than just working on the enchantment, he completed it! But the material costs of performing the ritual were too high, and the wizard never had the chance to attempt his magic before superiors swooped in to shut the project down. Were they afraid of wasting resources, or just of being shown up? Anyway, the party recognize most of the spell's necessary components and imagine they should have no real difficulty obtaining them, but a particular item, "soul fire"[^soulfire], stands out as _troublesome._ The book notes only that it can be found in an "incinerating mindscape"; the pages thereafter devolve into rambling, then draw blank.

Rounds of discussion follow the bard's explication that carry well through the afternoon until the sun runs below the horizon. Realizing at once that they've rather exhausted themselves, the party decide they could all use a bit of lighthearted cavorting, and a local bar--- at Carmal's recommendation--- is the perfect destination. There, drink and gambling make a lively affair, and they feel some weight of responsibility lift from their shoulders, if only for the moment, in companionable merriment. All but Almuth, that is, who remains content to sit and enjoy the festal scene from its sidelines. Clerics of Eldath aren't meant to partake in such things. Gottlob has an especially good time, winning one-hundred gold pieces each off Carmal and Clementine and promptly deciding to quit while he's ahead.

The following morning, the party meets back at the inn, where adventurers take up a commons room to discuss strategy. Of all those present, only Clementine feels the effects of the previous evening--- centaurs can hold their drink, but she can't help but squint--- or glare?--- in the sunlight as she threads the city's narrow streets away from her apartment. Carmal reports a message received from Tasha by sending: "you go to hunt a Death Tyrant next; show it no quarter--- this one is as evil as they come". The heroes work carefully to devise a set of surefire strategies, taking full advantage of Almuth's expertise; breaking the creature's line of sight and restricting its movement wil be of the utmost priority in the coming fight. The party must avoid dying within its gaze at all costs, lest they become zombies, thralls the abomination will wield against any who remain. To these ends, fortifying magic for themselves and blinding magic for the enemy are deemed the safest bets, and an environment rich with cover will be the ideal place in which to conduct battle. Louisa brushes up on her knowledge of the spell "Fog Cloud", which should grant the party a substantial advantage against the beholder's many devastating rays.

With plans in place good as anyone could hope for against so powerful a foe, knowing not to where they adventure nor just what they will find when there, the party returns to Laeral's manor, wherein a briefing she has readied ahead of the expedition. There, the Open Lord shares what knowledge her agents have gathered. The party will head far away to the Vast, a town called Raven's Bluff in the nation of Vesperin[^bluff]. Communication with the nation's representatives has been unreliable, but the party's presence was arranged, and Laeral assures them they will be welcomed with open arms in the face of the undead threat--- when they manage to find the leader, Lord Quarrel, that is. Waterdeep has no maps of the lands to which they go, and even the way of going is an unfamiliar one--- Lord Silverhand secured the use of a private teleportation circle--- through no small trouble, she points out--- and it is from there that the party must leave. Apparently, only _its_ operators, belonging to one of the merchants' guilds, know the precise location of Raven's Bluff in the arcane network.

Continuing to talk strategy as they depart--- each new piece of information about Death Tyrants is a fresh source of worry just as it as another potential advantage--- the heroes locate a shabby but bustling warehouse at the south limit. Over one of several windowless doors is scrawled in uneven, hand-painted letters the business's name, "Bait and Jumbo". A smaller sign below reads more neatly: "Fishers' and Fishmongers' Guild of Waterdeep", and on the next line, "Enter Here". Everything about the place sags; the roof, the strokes of the signage, the pale face of the half elf who greets the party when they knock. She holds a long cigarette, which she rolls idly between her thumb and forefinger as she talks, and puffs on it with every few steps she takes down the multitude of halls, aisles, and interconnected rooms through which she conducts the party to the portal circle. Plenty of workers mill about or labour at their various tasks, but none makes eye contact. Each fixes their gaze carefully up or down, and the only reaction any gives is an involuntary flinch and increased pace of work when the party's conveyor passes near. The half-elf orders a worker to inform "Master Warbeth" of the party's arrival and to let that person know that the party will be departing through the teleportation circle soon. He scurries off in a flash, shouldering past Almuth with eyes glued to the floor. Party members share some looks, but say nothing--- the Open Lord _did_ recommend this place specifically...

They find the object of their desire in the basement--- a cellar, really. A broad ellipse, etched in the slate tiles that cover the chamber's floor, circumscribes the room. Low ceilings of exposed and splintering wood make Clementine stoop as she and the rest of the party cram into a boxy, half-finished space. The gaunt half-elf leaves them after introducing a new arrival, Ms. Warbeth, an opulently clothed gnome--- wrapped thickly in furs and wielding an even _longer_ cigarette than her underling--- who arrives coincidentally with the party. She addresses Carmal in hush tones as he takes up the rear of the group.

> Have you really met the Eye? I hear lots about you--- lots of things--- but the Eye! You must feel special.

The conversationally adroit bard mutters something non-committally affirmative. He's just learned about the people helping the party today--- the Xanathar's criminal tendrils are everywhere in Waterdeep. Our heroes have a mission to complete right now, though. If this place needs dealing with, it will have to wait.

A kenku arrives by Warbeth's right hand, and a gesture thereof sets it all about the room, making sure the circle is clear and arranging the party in proper order for transit to what will be their most remote destination yet. With a final sidelong circumspection, the kenku deems everything alright, and a nod of confirmation from its master and a flash of arcane mist mark the split second before the teleporter rips the room from the party's view.

[^mayola]: [Mayola Ekris](/writings/mayola/) is a friend and consultant to the Unblinking Patrol, an archivist in the Watchful Order of Magists and Protectors (WOMP).

[^soulfire]: What is "Soul Fire"?

[^bluff]: [A port metropolis](https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Ravens_Bluff) in the great northern expanse.