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"Do
you know what this is? asked Pharaun
"An emblem of the
Skortchclaw horde, one of the larger tribes or orcs. I've been to the
Realms that See the Sun a time or two myself, remember?" Ryld
asked.
"Good, I'm glad you
confirm my identification. Now, what is it doing here?"
Ryld took a reflexive
glance around, searching for potential threats, and said, "I assume
some orc painted it."
"That would be my
supposition, too, but have you ever known a thrall to do such a
thing?"
"No."
"Of course not. What
slave would dare deface the city, knowing that each and every drow takes
pride in its perfection?"
"A crazy one. We've
all seen them go mad under the lash."
"Whereupon they
attack their handlers. They don't creep about scrawling on walls. I'd
like to question the people in these houses on either side. Perhaps
someone can shed some light on this occurrence."
"You get curious
about the strangest things," Ryld said, shaking his head.
"Sometimes I think you're a little mad yourself."
"Genius is so often
misperceived."
"Look, I know this
puzzle is going to nag at you, but we're right in the middle of trying
to find the runaways and so save your life. Let's stick to that."
The tall, thin wizard
smiled and said, "Yes, of course."
They walked on.
"But
eventually," Pharaum said after a moment, "when we've located
the rogues and covered ourselves in glory--or at least convinced Gromph
to let me continue breathing--I am going to inquire into this."
They traveled another
block, then a column of roaring yellow fire fell from the sky, engulfing
Pharaun's body. Wings beat the air, and an arrow streaked at Ryld.
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