Into the Dead Warrens

Korvosa’s vast graveyard, a region known as the Gray District, is a mournful place even by day. The district is alone in being a place of quiet and calm in the face of the recent civil unrest, yet there is an unnatural stillness in the air, almost as if the graveyard were preparing for a vast influx of new dead. Nowhere is this ominous feeling more noticeable than in Potter’s Ward, the final resting ground for Korvosa’s poor and homeless. Mounds of unmarked dirt stretch far and wide, indicating sites of mass graves, while crumbling mausoleums from years ago, abandoned by their families as the Gray District expanded to the west, dot the bleak landscape, forgotten and empty. Mourners do not visit here, for the dead buried in Potter’s Ward leave behind few who regret their passing.

The Dead Warrens

As word began to spread that King Eodred's assassin had been captured, Korvosa again returned to some semblance of normalcy, and the party began to think about moving on with their lives. But a week later, there was another knock on Zellara’s door, and once again it was a Korvosan Guardsman summoning them to a meeting with Field Marshall Kroft.

Shingles Chase

When Cressida Kroft finally composed herself after reading Lord Amprei's steamy love letters, she got up and closed the door to her office. Her face was solemn. “You’ve doubtless heard the proclamations that the King was murdered, and the reward for the capture of his killer. I wish the Queen hadn’t felt like she had to handle this herself. We could have quietly arrested this Trinia Sabor without alarming the city, but this bounty hunt threatens to ignite the riots all over again. This city is still a powder keg, and all it would take is someone “arresting” the wrong man’s sister or girlfriend to set it off. Do you have any idea how many abused young blondes have already been brought in for the reward? And that’s assuming they don’t decide to just lynch her on the spot. What’s more, my men have already turned away two different bands of adventurers, trying to enter the city to join the bounty hunt. The last thing we need is a bunch of armed outsiders making trouble. How they found out about the bounty so quickly is anybody’s guess.

Knivesies!

Shadow strolled down the gangplank onto the gambling barge, The Twin Tigers, with Erin on one arm and Wren on the other. They’d come to Eel’s End to try to gain an audience with the crime lord who ran it, Devargo Barvasi, but this was way more fun than he’d anticipated. He ducked his head to enter one of the low huts on the deck of the barge. Inside was a riot of noise and color: spinning wheels, clattering dice, jingling coins, and raucous laughter. He pulled out a gold piece and flipped it carelessly onto a roulette table; it landed on red and he let it ride. The wheel spun, the ball clattered, and landed, of course, on red. He swept up his winnings and prepared to bet again, but Erin’s sharp elbow brought him back to the mission at hand.

Conspiracy Theories

The party had been criss-crossing Korvosa all day, chasing obscure clues from Zeeva Foxglove’s mysterious Harrow reading. They weren’t really sure what was going on, but they had a growing suspicion that the Sczarni fortune teller who had performed Zeeva’s reading, Jaelle Goldtooth, might be planning to poison people at Zeeva’s Green Market. They had finally arrived at the Green Market, and most of the group began methodically making their way up the aisles, looking for the Chelish diplomat, Lord Amprei, who might or might not be a target, or anything else suspicious (although they weren’t really sure what ‘suspicious’ might look like).

Nat, however, had no time to waste on ‘methodical’. Instead, he ran full speed through the market, screaming “DON’T EAT THE BLONDBERRIES!” at the top of his lungs. He suddenly did a double take. He had just run past Zeeva Foxglove, who was staring at him in open-mouthed horror as he ordered her customers not to eat her produce. Standing next to her was Lord Amprei, just reaching his hand towards a bin of fat, juicy blondberries. And standing beside Lord Amprei was a large Shoanti man. Tomas spotted the Shoanti about the same time, and recalled that one of the actors at the Kendall Amphitheater had sold Goldtooth a packet of Dust of Illusion, which she had wanted so she could “look like a Shoanti”. As they watched, the Shoanti drew one hand out of his pocket, and made a surreptitious sprinkling motion over the bin of blondberries that Lord Amprei was reaching for.

Magical Mystery Tour

“I’ll tell you everything!” Maximos said earnestly. After the party had defeated the ankhegs in the Kendall Amphitheater, the actor had continued hitting on Wren, but at the first mention of a “fortune teller”, he’d suddenly become evasive and defensive. Wren had lost patience with the pompous ass, and cast a Truth Telling spell on him. “What do you know about a fortune teller?” she demanded.

Perilous Portents

“Verik … he’s upstairs … with Sven,” the badly wounded ex-guardsman gasped, barely clinging to consciousness. Tomas’ arrowheads still protruded from his chest, and his blood was pooling rapidly on the floor around him. Wren quickly tended to his wounds, more intent on just keeping him alive than doing any real healing. Nat pulled the door quietly closed behind them, worried about another wave of attackers rushing down the stairs.

All The World’s Meat

“What now?” Jax asked as they left the Gray District. They had just left Madame Zellara’s head in the care of the clerics of Pharasma and the day was still young. “Should we head back to the Citadel, to see if Kroft has another assignment for us?” He had not been in favor of joining forces with the Korvosan Guard, but so far their work for them had been lucrative, and the weight of coins in his pockets helped overcome any other qualms he might have.

What’s Lost is Found

“Oh man, it’s good to have my stomach full again!” Nat sighed. When they’d returned the missing marine to the Sable Company at the Great Tower, Commandant Endrin had insisted they eat at the Company’s mess, and had given them several days rations to tide them over until things settled down. All the marines had been excited to see their returned comrade, and had slapped the party’s backs and congratulated them on his rescue, but Nat had noticed that none of them spoke to Tomas; in fact, they wouldn’t even make eye contact with him. He wondered what that was all about.

But for now, all he cared about was getting off the streets. They were making their way back across town from the Great Tower to Madame Zellara’s. They were in the nicest area of the city, literally in the shadow of Castle Korvosa, but there was still evidence of recent violence, even if things were quiet now. Shadow stopped at a street corner, and the rest of the group halted with him. “You know,” he said, pointing down the street, towards the castle, “the jeweler who made that brooch we found at Lamm’s is just up this street. Maybe we should go there and see what he can tell us about it.” Nat still wondered how Shadow knew where the Queen’s brooch had been made, but he didn’t ask. He’d decided there was probably quite a lot about his new comrades he’d be better off not knowing.

Hippogriff Down!

“Die, dandy!” someone shouted. “Death to the false Queen!” The party found their way blocked by a mob of rioters. They were surrounding a beardless young nobleman and a gruff-looking Korvosan Guardsman. “You all go on home and sleep it off, and no one will get hurt. Otherwise, you’ll spend the night in a cell, or worse!” the Guardsman warned, his sword drawn protectively, but the mob was uncowed. “You can go to hell, Queen’s Man!” someone shouted, and the circle began to tighten around the pair.

Jax was looking for an alternate route out when Nat spoke up. “Hey!” he exclaimed, peering at the guardsman in the light of the streetlamps. “I know that guy!”

 

Just Missed Him!

“Do you see anything?” Nat hissed in a stage whisper from the dock outside. He and Shadow had stayed behind while the others delivered Lamm’s Lambs to the orphanage, and Shadow had somehow convinced him to explore the derelict ship moored behind Lamm’s hideout in the old fishery. Now there was a huge dead spider on the deck (at least he hoped it was dead – the legs still twitched occasionally), and Shadow had gone into the ship’s cabin to explore.

Vengence!

“Who the fuck are you?” Giggles demanded of the group of strangers he found assembled outside the old fishery. The party had been trying to surreptitiously investigate Gaedren Lamm’s hideout, but they apparently hadn’t been quiet enough. Giggles had burst out of the front door, while simultaneously, Yargin had come out of a side door onto the narrow boardwalk over the Jeggare River. Then Giggles spotted Jax. “You!” he shrieked, and charged to attack, pushing heedlessly past Erin in his fury to get to the ex-Lamb who’d escaped him so many times before. His blow sent splinters flying from the wall of the fishery as it went just over Jax’s head as the rogue ducked. The battle was on!

The Old Fishery

Tomas stood up again. He’d been anxious to see what Madame Zellara’s reading would reveal, but now – well, daylight was wasting. He quickly began to organize the crew, doing a quick inventory of equipment, weapons, and abilities. In short order, he had them ready to set out for Gaedren Lamm’s hideout. “Are you coming with us?” he asked Zellara.

She shook her head. “I’d be worse than useless. But you are welcome to use my home if you need a place to rest. Whether I’m here or not.”

The Harrowing

Tomas smacked the table and stood up. “Great! Let’s get organized.” But Zellara interrupted him.

“Before you begin, would you allow me to perform a Harrow reading?” she asked. “There may be much we can learn from the cards, and it will also help align the spirit world with your quest, to gain their support.”

Everyone looked at each other. Given that Zellara had somehow managed to find all of them, and bring them together by somehow placing Harrow cards on their persons, no one was inclined to doubt the power of the Harrow in her hands. Tomas sat back down.

Weaving the Threads

Tomas slouched in an alley, trying to look like a sleeping bum while he watched the house across the street through slitted eyelids. As soon as he’d found the strange Harrow card with its ominous message, he’d rushed to Lancet Street, arriving hours before the stated rendezvous time so that he could stake the place out, and watch for any suspicious activity. He hoped the card’s promise of vengeance against Gaedren Lamm was genuine, but if this was some sort of trap set by Lamm’s minions, he wouldn’t walk right into it.

So far, he’d seen nothing unusual. The street was a humble residential street; nothing fancy, but certainly no slum. The house he watched was not noticeably different from any of its neighbors, save for the sign showing a fanned Harrow deck above its front door. Since he’d been watching, a number of people had walked by the house, but none had stopped. Children played a little ways down the street, and an old lady slowly swept her steps and cobbles a few doors away.

A young man walked down the street, wearing the robes of a student at the Acadamae, although they were wrinkled and stained. Tomas had seen him pass before, and he tensed with anticipation. The man passed the house, and then approached the old lady. “Excuse me,” Tomas heard him ask. “Do you know if the fortune-teller’s shop is open?”

The woman leaned on her broom. “Well, I’m not sure. I suppose so, but I haven’t seen Madame Zellara in some time. ‘Course I don’t get out much anymore, what with my rheumatism and all.” The young man thanked her, then turned back the way he’d come. He went to the house, paused for a moment, then knocked on the door. It swung open at his knock. “Hello?” Tomas heard him call, pushing the door farther open. “Madame Zellara? Are you home?” If there was an answer, Tomas couldn’t hear it, but the student went inside and shut the door behind him. Tomas stayed where he was – he was a patient hunter.

Prologue

Fate

Is it the gods amusing themselves by playing puppeteer with the lives of mortals? Is it the clockwork mechanism of the universe, ticking slowly towards some inexorable conclusion, heedless of the souls that are ground in its gears? Or is it just a word we assign in retrospect to those whose deeds shape their world? Is the path of those to whom we give the title “Destined” truly written in the stars? Or are they subject to the same vagaries of good fortune and bad luck, inspired insight and poor choices, faith, doubt, courage, and cowardice that afflict us all? History is written by those who survive it, and the stories of those who fall by its wayside hold little interest for the generations that follow.

Six People

with nothing in common save the touch of a monster. Six people who would count themselves cursed. Six people who walk a path that begins in loss and death, and leads to a destination no less murky than that of any other mortal.

Erin  Nelsson. Unable to forgive herself for the disappearance of her sister, she has devoted herself to the service of Iomedae, to protect others who cannot protect themselves, and to steel herself to never again make the kind of mistake that cost her her family.

 

Jax. One of the lucky few to have escaped the notorious child slaver, Gaedren Lamm, he is haunted by the memory of one who did not escape, and the knowledge that she died in his place.

 

Wren. Another former Lamm’s Lamb, she will not speak of how she escaped, nor of the horrors she suffered during her captivity. A devotee of Pharasma, the Lady of Graves, she fears that a world that allows the existence of one such as Gaedren Lamm is a world too painful to live in.

 

Shadow. Outwardly happy-go-lucky and carefree, this half-elf is a former shiver addict, and is tortured by memories of things he did while in thrall to the drug and the terrible cost that others paid as the price of his addiction.

 

Tomas Jentaine. The younger son of a prominent Korvosan family, he brought shame upon his house when he was drummed out of the Sable Company for betraying his oath and duty. His actions were a futile attempt to free his older brother from Lamm’s clutches, and his brother paid with his life.

 

Natan Dorré. Wrongfully imprisoned for a murder he did not commit, Natan lost everything – his mother, his reputation, his place at the Acadamae – to Gaedren Lamm’s vile scheming.

Six People

with nothing connecting them save the black thread that Gaedren Lamm has wrapped around their hearts. Is this thread part of the fabric of fate, woven on the loom of the Gods? Only time – and history – will tell.