Once Lorin had gathered the shafts he could, they made their way through the quiet streets, barely pausing to check at intersections before moving forward. After a half candlemark, Lorin knocked on a nondescript door set in the side of a nondescript wall and there was slight motion in an upstairs window. The door slid silently open a few moments later and they slid inside.
A beautiful young human boy waited just inside the door with a bowl of water. Lorin took some and splashed it on his face. After a moment, Durrak did the same, feeling the blood of the Abyssal creatures he’d slain boil off his skin as though burned with a torch.
“Holy water? Where do you be getting holy water?” He asked, slightly shocked. “I no do be seeing such a thing for ages.”
“I am a vessel that fills with the Light.” The boy said in a solemn voice. “The Light always shines brightest in the darkness. I am glad that you have come Master Caverstorm.”
“No do be calling me by that name boy.” Durrak frowned. “We have no been introduced and I no do be taking truck with gods.”
“My apologies.” The boy said, “I am called Kris. Your reluctance to face your fate has but small impact on that fate. Meaning no disrespect sir.”
“We have had a tiring few days Kris. Please let us in and to the baths.” Lorin said, pushing the boy gently aside. “I have little desire to watch you and this meat grinder of a Dwarf engage in a theological fencing match in the hall’s entryway.”
Durrak gave the boy a level look but followed Lorin through a passageway and down a flight of stairs to a large communal bath. After undressing and sluicing as much of the gore and grime first off his armor and then off his body, he scrubbed his with harsh lye soap. It burned as it came in contact with the myriad of cuts he had earned in the fight; it was a good feeling. He rinsed again before wading into the steaming water of the pool to soak.
“You certainly managed to make a rapid impression.” Lorin said, giving him a quizzical look. “What was all that about?”
“I no do wish to talk about it.” Durrak said, laying back against the wall of the bath and reaching for his cigar pouch. He withdrew one and took a drag on it, reveling in the harsh bite of the bright blue smoke. “Be asking the brat if you wish.”
“Has something to do with that dragon and your clan eh?” Lorin asked. “I shouldn’t have asked. Pass me a cigar?”
Durrak grunted and took a strangely twisted cheroot from the pouch that immediately burst into a copper colored flame and passed it to the Elf. Lorin gave the cigar a dubious look but took it anyway.
“Where do those come from?” He asked, smelling the slightly acrid smoke suspiciously. “Why are they always lit when you take them out?”
“The do be coming from inside the pouch.” Durrak said with a wry grin, “They do be lit because it do be a magic pouch.”
“I saw you putting things in there though.” The Elf persisted, “Why do you do that?”
“Nothing do come from nothing.” He said with a shrug, “The Dwarf who I did trade tales for it did be saying putting things in did be making it interesting.”
Lorin took a drag and his eyebrows rose in surprise. “It tastes … like the heartblood of the first deer I stalked and took myself and like honey and … memories.”
Durrak lay back against the wall of the bath and tried to relax. First he needed to find Cerioth the Black. Then if he couldn’t kill her he would die trying and after that it would be time to settle up with Thraingaar. Either way he would be reunited with his family soon.