I let my javelin down and tried to keep myself from staring much. Now that’s a face to launch ten thousand ships! Not that I knew much of boats, being a Roman landlubber and all. And her breasts are just perfect! They are even perkier than the ones Lora has! And her eyes! And her… This has to be some kind of trick, right? One of the famous sirens that eat sailors, maybe? Only this one eats stray mercenaries and a skeleton here and there.

I cleared my throat and said aloud: “Well, weapons are necessary more often than not, that is just a sad fact of life. Who are you, and how did you get here? Sorry if I am being nosey, but a beautiful woman is not exactly what we expected to see after a maze full of orks, troglodytes and undead.”

The woman lowered her head slightly, and I saw two perfectly formed teardrop sliding down on those beautiful, noble cheeks. Nice try but no one here is stupid enough to walk in and comfort you, dear. My comrades seemed to have gone through the similar phases of surprise, wonderment and then barely veiled distrust. In a world, where innocent-looking carpets try to bite down your leg, you just cannot be paranoid enough.

“I…” she stammered in a voice that suggested scarcely restrained sobbing, “I am Idalla. The wizard… That old wizard put me here. He told me it was an experiment. He told me… He told me…” Take your time, love. It’s not like we are in a rush to find out what kind of monster you really are, so we can murder you in good conscience.

“He told me I have to live out the rest of my life in this room!” She buried her face into her pale, elegant palms, and started to sob. No, still not buying it.

“Well, at least he left you books,” I gestured cheerfully towards the full shelves on the walls. “And it’s a nice room you have here.” It really was, with ornate carpets, comfortable furniture and a nicely polished, tidy desk. “I assume one of the doors leads to the lavatory, and the other to your bedchamber?”

She wiped her tears away, and gave me a small smile, her lips still quivering a little. “Yes, of course. But I don’t want to bore you with my story, and even though I have little to offer, I would loathe being a poor host. Please, come in.” Not happening.

“Please do not take this ill, but we cannot come in. We do not have adequate garments to entertain such a fine lady as yourself, we are dressed for battle after all. Observe furthermore, that we are unkempt, dirty, wounded and tired. Our smell must be terrible. We cannot possibly embarrass ourselves with entering your exquisite home in our current condition. In fact, we must take our leave at once to right the enumerated wrongs.”

“I don’t mind…”

“Don’t worry, love, we’ll be back in a jiffy,” said Jim cheerfully, then turned away.

“That is to say, tomorrow,” corrected him Beldrak.

“Please!” she cried in a poignant voice. “Please! At least… leave me some food… the wizard has not brought me anything in three days…”

“Sure thing!” said Jim and started to search his pockets. “Oh well, I have no food on me, really sorry, bye honey!” I never knew he has so much experience in abrading women, I thought with honest wonderment. He must have been a real lady-killer in his own world.

Beldrak looked at me. I shrugged. The wizard sighed and took a little packet from his rucksack. “It is not much, my lady, but we promise to bring you more later.” Trueanvil gently laid the package just outside the doorstep. “Will you reach it here?”

“Y-y-y-yes…” she stammered thankfully, tears still in her voice. Then she gave a small smile again and said in her perfect, silky tone. “And thank you…”

“So, what is she?” I asked in a low voice when we were twenty paces away.

“A fucking fiend, that’s what she is. Not that I have anything against fiends, mind you, I am partly one myself after all. But as a rule of thumb, it is bad for one’s health to believe anything a full-blood fiend says, and even worse to act on their advice. Or to speak to them in the first place. Or to be near to them at all. Best thing to do is just kill them before they decide to off you. And sooner or later they will decide to off you because that’s just how they are.”

“Your divine sense still works?” asked Beldrak curiously. “How is that possible without a patron god? I mean, I understand that you can still cast some spells, I don’t need a patron deity either after all. But divine sense?”

“Who cares?” Jim shrugged. “It works, and it tells me she is a fiend.”

I had no idea what they were talking about. Maybe it is time to find a teacher in Golden Grove, who could educate me about these arcane topics. I might just know the right half-elf librarian for that.

“What do we do then?” I asked.

“What we always do,” the tiefling answered. “We get a good night sleep, come back rested and full of magic, kick her teeth in, cut off her fucking head, then mount it on the wall beside our other blasted trophies.”

“Getting my hands on those books sounds tempting,” admitted Beldrak. “But are you sure we can deal with her? She must be a fiend summoned by Arundil. It might be beyond our power to defeat her, especially if the old fool reinforced her with some defensive wards.”

“My old man always said: I have yet to meet a creature that does not bleed when run through by good steel. Sure, fiends are not as easy to kill as us, mortals, but they still die. We already bested Arundil himself, we can kill the thing he summoned.”

“And let’s hope no one else ages a few decades in the process,” said Beldrak sourly. “Alright, I am convinced.”

“I still don’t really know what fiends are,” I admitted. “But killing everything that isn’t a human to take away its wealth is what I do nowadays. I don’t see why should I make an exception with Idalla.”

“That’s settled then,” Jim rubbed his hands together. “Now, I wonder if the duergars are ready with dinner. They are not a very amenable people, but damn, their cuisine is something entirely different. Flóki said he will make blind trout today with lichen paste and almond and lemon. Almond and lemon! I wonder where do they get these things from. Eggs for breakfast, lemons for dinner one mile under the ground, in the middle of the frozen North…”

So we chattered as we trudged along the corridor. Above us, on the surface, the old Sun slowly sunk under the horizon.