Sophraea leaned over die bones to take a closer look. The heavily embroidered robes wrapped around the skeleton incorporated a number of heraldic devices that she recognized as decorating the nearby Irlingstar monument. Another deceased member of an ancient Waterdeep family had been wandering, she realized. Once the body had no doubt been bathed with perfumed water and wrapped with herbs tucked under his burial robes. Now his funeral clothes smelled of the sewers.
"It was kind of you to bring the bones back here," she told the collected members of the guild.
"It's the guild's rules," explained the cletic. "If something washes out of the City of the Dead, it has to be replaced properly. Anything else would cause serious problems. But we don't usually get them trying to dig their way out through a feeder line."
"How far from here did you find these bones?" Sophraea asked.
"Almost to the wall. Most of the lines directly under the wall are small or gated. This one had gotten stuck in one of the smaller tubes, just south and east of the Andamaar gate."
That would put the skeleton on a direct underground path to the Dead End gate, Sophraea thought but didn't bother to explain to the cleric. Instead she pointed out the Irlingstar site. "If you can get him laid down there," she said, "I'll send my uncle Judicious to put a dead safe over the grave. That should keep these bones from wandering again."
"You're a Carver," observed the gnome leader of the group. Sophraea nodded. "Good. Save us a trip and take a message to Astute that we're seeing more disturbances down below. Nothing as big as this, but we're getting more dirt falls from the City above into the lines." i "I'll let my father know. The City Watch is looking for the cause," she added.
The gnome leader snorted. "Like that group of soldiers understand anything about dirt and digging. Tell your father to send along that Feeler and Fish. I think a couple of graves on the far north are starting to collapse. They'll know what to do. I'd shore them up myself, but you know how it is. Guild rules. We're only supposed to work on the sewer lines."
"Who should they ask for at guild headquarters?"
"Tollemar, that's me, or Firebeard. We're in charge of the City of the Dead's sewers," said the gnome.
The cleric directed the other sewer workers on the digging and placing of the still slightly twitching skeleton in the Irlingstar grave.
"That should hold," she told Sophraea and Gustin after a long blessing over the bones. "But this one has been tough to settle. I had to use almost a full bottle of holy water to keep those bones quiet during the trip back here."
"We appreciate your help," Sophraea answered. "I'd suggest being out ofthe City before dark. Things have been…" She trailed off, not sure how to describe the constant march of the corpses and haunts out ofthe Dead End House's gate.
"Don't worry," answered Tollemar instead. "I'm not letting any of my people in or under the City after nightfall. Guild rules."
"Probably for the best," Sophraea agreed.
"Now, where did you see Firebeard?"
Sophraea pointed out the right path to follow the missing dwarf. The guild members carefully closed up the grate leading into the sewers, double-checked the lock, and then shouldering their tools, they marched after their missing friend.
Once the members of the cellarers' and plumbers' guild were out of sight, Briarsting and the topiary dragon emerged from behind the tomb where they had been eavesdropping on the exchange.
"If the dead are going into the sewers," said the thorn, "that's bad."
"I know," Sophraea said. "It means all the protections are crumbling."
"What protections?" asked Gustin.
"When they first dug the sewer lines under the City, the Blackstaff laid certain protections against the dead using those tunnels to escape. You still do get things down there, but usually not straight from a grave."
"But the wall continues to hold," observed Briarsting. "You heard the gnomes. That skeleton didn't get completely free."
"But for how long?" fretted Sophraea. "And what if they are trying to use the lower ways into Dead End House?"
Gustin shook his head. "I think the gate is still the only exit that the ritual allows them to use. After all, that skeleton got stuck. It didn't get out."
"That's not a lot of comfort. We need to settle the dead permanently and completely."
"There are great wizards in Waterdeep," said Briarsting slowly. "Ones who can command the dead."
"I'm not going to the Blackstaff," said Sophraea. "Nor to any of the wizards in the Watchful Order. It would be too many explanations and the family is sure to get into trouble about the gate."
"We can hire someone less legitimate," suggested Gustin.
"And how do we pay? I have a silver ring with half a wish," said Sophraea. "I don't think that's going to be enough fot the type of magic we need."
The topiary dragon waggled its ears and scratched at the earth with one forepaw.
"There are treasures still in this graveyard," Briarsting translated. "We could borrow a few gems."
"That's not a bad idea," said Gustin.
"No," said Sophraea firmly. "I'm a Carver. And the one thing that we never do is steal from the dead. It leads to uouble. k always does. What do you think happened to Fitlor?"
"I was going to ask you about that," Gustin began. "Didn't he used to sleep in my room?"
"He was a distant cousin," Sophraea emphasized. "And he took something that he shouldn't have, something he found when he was helping Leaplow repair a tomb."
"And then?"
"He went through a portal and never came back."
"Maybe he's just traveling," Gustin suggested hopefully.
"We'd like to think so. But we can't take things from the dead. It never goes well. Look what damage I've done just by removing that shoe!"
"Then why don't you bring it back?" suggested Briarsting. The two humans stared at him and the thorn shrugged. "Look, it's just logic. If taking it out caused the problem, maybe putting it back where you found it will quiet down the dead."
"That's brilliant!" said Gustin, shaking the little man's hand so vigorously that the thorn's feet bounced off the ground. "I should have thought of that. After all, I am the wizard. He's right. If we could get back what started the spell, we should be able to cast some type of basic reversal. I know a ritual that might work like that in a pinch."
"But I don't have the shoe. It disappeared from the house, the night that the dead started walking," Sophraea protested.
"Hmm," Gustin tugged his beard, a green flash burning bright under his long lashes. "Bet I know where it is. But you won't like it."
"Where?"
"Stunk's mansion."
"Oh, no."
"Makes sense. From a wizard's point of view. It's the token, the object that draws the dead through your gate. And keeps drawing them back to one specific place, Stunk's mansion. If it was still at your house, they'd be knocking on the Dead End door all night."
"So we have to go to Stunk's and ask politely to search his house for a shoe that was taken from the City of the Dead?" Sophraea asked.
Gustin nodded. "We could do it."
"How? His servants will recognize us immediately. Stunk knows me. And once he sees me, he'll assume that the Carvers are involved. Which means he will try to cut my family into tiny pieces." She heaved an enormous sigh. "All right, I'll go to the Watchful Order. Perhaps they will know some way to end this."
"No, no," Gustin said excitedly. "We don't need those wizards. I'll tell Stunk that I'm a ghost banisher from Cormyr, able to perform miraculous exorcisms. You can be my assistant. Nobody will stop us from removing a cursed item from his house. And when we do, the noble dead will stop bothering him. Stunk will be happy." Gustin grinned. "He might even pay us. And then I could pay your father for my statue. This could work!"
"But the minute we set foot on his doorstep, his servants will recognize us!"
Gustin pulled out his disguised spellbook. "Illusions! What do you want to
be? Redhead, blonde? Halfling? Elf?" He unfolded the map from the back of the guidebook and began muttering, tracing blue and brown lines that transformed from Waterdeep's familiar streets and buildings into spiky symbols and rounded letters. The air began to sparkle around his wildly waving brown curls.
As the magic engulfed him, Gustin started to look much older than usual, balding on top, bushier beard on his chin, and burly. Only his eyes remained his normal bright green.
"You make a charming elf," he said as his hair slowly faded from brown to gray.
Sophraea blinked. The same sparkling light swirled around her.
She reached up her hands to touch the tops of her ears. Both ears felt as rounded as ever.
"They look pointed to me," said Briarsting, realizing what she was doing. "That's a good disguise. Your face is completely different. Moon elf, I'd say. You even look taller."
She stared down at herself, saw a colorful skirt hem and elegant shoes beneath the edge of a brilliantly embroidered cloak.
"So, are you ready to call on Stunk?" said the seemingly elderly and heavily built wizard.
Sophraea shook her head at the visual change in Gustin's appearance. It was a good disguise. Yet, to her ear, the excited optimistic lilt in his voice revealed clearly that the man standing before her was Gustin Bone. Well, perhaps Stunk's servants wouldn't notice that. She resolved not to talk much when they were in Stunk's house. His servants had encountered her far more often than the wizard.
"Let's take the Mhalsyymber gate," Sophraea suggested, setting off briskly, as if to outrace her second and third thoughts about Gustin's hasty plans.
"Hey," said Gustin, for once forced to quicken his own steps to keep up with her, "do we know where Stunk lives?"
"Of course." She shook her head at the newcomer to Waterdeep. "He bought three mansions in the North Ward, leveled them, and built his own mansion on Brahir Street. It's supposed to be one of the largest private houses in all of Waterdeep. It took them almost a year to build it to his'satisfaction."
Heading to the Mhalsyymber gate, Sophraea could not remember a time when the City ofthe Dead felt so strange. The usual whispers and rustles were gone. All around her, the still hush felt like it was extending to the very edges of the graveyard, probing the wall that still protected Waterdeep from those within the cemetery.
The topiary dragon glided smoothly beside them. Just before they came into sight of the gate, Briarsting halted the leafy guardian.
"He can't pass the wall," said the thorn. "But I can come with you if you need an extra sword."
Sophraea shook her head. "No, it will probably cause less comment if it is Gustin and me. But can you take a message to my family? Just don't let them know that I'm going to Stunk's." The last thing she needed was Leaplow or Bentnor and Cadriffle or her uncles to decide that she needed rescuing and to storm Stunk's mansion.
"Do you think that wise?" asked the thorn. "Better than Leaplow roaring after us," she said. "Ah, well," Briarsting admitted, "he's not the coolest of heads."
"Let my father know what the gnomes said," Soph raea instructed him. "About disturbances below. And that Feeler and Fish should be looking for unstable graves."
Then she had a second thought and added, "And if you see my mother, tell her that that you passed me on the way and I said I was going to the shops."
Before she returned home, she would think of a better explanation. But she hoped that Reye wouldn't be in the courtyard and Briarsting would only speak to her father. It was always easier to explain things later to Astute. Reye was far more skeptical of her excuses.
With a bird whistle, Briarsting sprang onto the neck of the topiary dragon, waved at Sophraea, and turned the beast back toward Dead End House. She watched them leave with a worried frown, wondering how badly things would go that night when the haunts started marching through the Dead End gate.
Gustin reached out and gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze. "It's still morning and early morning at that," he said. "We have plenty of time to get to Stunk's house and find that shoe. We could stop this curse before supper."
"I hope so," said Sophraea, but she lacked the wizard's confidence. A strange sense of anticipation shivered through her bones as they walked toward the gate leading out of the City of the Dead. She knew the restless dead were all around them, waiting for nightfall in their crypts, tombs, and graves.
If they didn't find a way to stop the curse, Sophraea realized, than tonight's parade of the noble dead would be even larger and more dangerous than before.
The streets of Waterdeep's North Ward were almost as deserted as the pathways of the City of the Dead. Except for a few servants hustling around, well-wrapped in wool cloaks against the cold afternoon wind, Sophraea and Gustin saw almost nobody on their journey to Brahir Street.
"Do you think that the hauntings are keeping everyone inside?" Sophraea worried as they marched along. The closer they came to Stunk's mansion, the more empty the streets. Not even a broadsheet seller was abroad, screaming about the latest scandals.
A splat of rain mixed with sleet hit the back of Gustin's neck and slid under his collar. "I think they're just all staying inside to enjoy hot fires, warm ale, and toasted sausages," he said with a shiver. "That's what I'd do if I was rich."
"Mulled wine," Sophraea suggested, pulling her hood even tighter around her ears. Illusion or no illusion, the tips of her ears were now burning with cold. "And spiced dark cakes. That's what Myemaw always makes on days like this."
"I continue to be impressed by your grandmother's grasp of proper nourishment for the occasion," said Gustin. "I would gladly give up warm ale for mulled wine and dark cakes. But I rather think your uncles and your brothers and your large male cousins would be with me on insisting that toasted sausages should be included in the feast."
"And cheese melted across bread crusts. That's their favorite in winter."
Gustin sighed with satisfaction. "Another excellent choice. Do you think Stunk will serve us refreshments?"
"I'm just hoping we don't end up being somebody's snack," Sophraea remarked.
They heard shouting from somewhere ahead of them. Voices rose, a mixture of noise and curses, the anger clear in the tones. For a moment Sophraea felt relief. At least there is some life out on these streets, she thought.
A large figure dashed from one dark alley opening to another, dodging out of sight. Concealed inside the usual long coat and cap, it could be anyone, but it certainly looked tall and broad enough to be a Carver.
"Something's happening," she said.
"Go carefully," Gustin answered.
More crashes came from nowhere, like mallets pounding on stone. Heavy running steps, boots dashing over cobblestones, more shouts, and then the noise rose with a pattern of bangs that sounded like large children running past a fence dragging a board against the metal posts.
At guarded gates up and down the road, armed men ran out into the street. They stared and turned and yelled questions to each other.
Yet, the street ahead was clear. Guards glanced about, something almost fearful in the poses of these big men well-armored against any threat. No one lingered outside, each hustling back to their posts.
"Here," said Gustin, plucking a broken half brick off the street. He slipped it into the basket that Sophraea carried. He grabbed another and added it to the first. "Take these. You should be prepared."
"What do I need those for? The basket's heavy," she protested.
"You never know when a half brick is going to come in handy," said Gustin, rooting around to see if there were any more on the street. He did find a couple of more broken shards of yellow brick, obviously fallen off some builder's cart, and slipped those to Sophraea's basket as well.
A couple of gnomes, carrying tool bags, hurried past them. One wagged his eyebrows at the other. "Visitors to Waterdeep," he said to his friend. "They really do believe the streets are paved with gold:"
"Come on," said the other. "Let's get back t
o Warrens."
"Don't you think that Stunk's guards will be suspicious of a basket full of bricks?" said Sophraea as the gnomes rushed out of sight.
"First of all, it doesn't look like a basket," said Gustin. He pulled back to look down at Sophraea. "More like a very small velvet lady's purse or amulet tied to your wrist. Secondly, I doubt they'll look that close. If they do, we have bigger problems than what you're carrying and we might need those bricks to help us escape."
Sophraea glanced down at her arm and blinked. She hadn't looked at the basket before. It was just there, as heavy on her arm as it always was when she went out. But when she looked down, all she saw was a cutwork velvet reticule dangling from two slender satin ribbons.
"But it still feels like a wicker basket," said Sophraea.
"And you still feel like Sophraea under that illusion," said Gustin, giving her shoulders a quick squeeze. "That's why we don't want anyone touching us. What they see and what they would feel won't match."
"Well, I don't want any of Stunk's servants laying hands on me," said Sophraea with a shudder, thinking of the hairy doorjack who kept coming to Dead End House.
The streets were quiet again; the only sound the heavy rain beating against the pavement and the rush of water through the gutters. Yet Sophraea could not shake her sense of unease as they hurried past the silent mansions. The dead passed this way each night, she thought, and that's why all the houses seem so barricaded now. There's fear behind those locked gates and curtained windows. No one wants to look out and see what is passing by.
"There really should be more people around," she said, voicing her concerns out loud.
"It's the rain," said Gustin, repeating his earlier assurance.
"No," she said. "It's something more." For the street felt to her exactly like one of the paths through the City of the Dead. She knew exactly where the noble dead congregated each night. She could feel it more clearly than the cold rain soaking her cloak.
"Stunk's house," she said to Gustin, pointing without error at the mansion that she had never visited before.
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