Orla stepped up to the young priest.
"Now would be a good time to talk," she stated plainly.
"But I don't know anything!" he shrieked.
Orla placed the tip of her rapier under his chin, and lifted it up so that his eyes met hers.
"I thought you said you didn't want to die."
"Alright!" he cried. "I'll tell you what you want to know."
"Who is your master?" Orla asked. "Where is 'The History of John Uskglass' and the golden key?"
"I was hired by a man named Veldargo," he answered. "The book and key…"
"…are right here," Artimis finished, handing the book to Nigel as he examined the golden key. He cast a quick spell, and his eyes narrowed.
"It's not magical."
"It's magic was drained by opening the book," the priest answered.
"The copperplate engravings are gone," Nigel said, leafing through the 'History of John Uskglass.'
"Did Veldargo remove them?"
"Yes," the priest replied. "They were all that he was interested in from the book"
Orla had lost interest in book and key. She walked over to Gwyneth, fast asleep on the cold stone floor, and nudged her none too gently with her foot.
"Wakey, wakey," she said. "Get up!"
Gwyneth stirred, and struggled against her bonds. Sandor had tied her up, again.
"Oh, you're very brave, kicking me when I'm all trussed up like this!" she sneered. "Give me a sword and we'll see if you still like to act all high and mighty!"
"I've been thinking about that," Orla said. "Untie her, Sandor."
With a flick of her sword, the fencing teacher flipped Gwyneth's rapier to her feet. She smiled as Sandor cut the ropes tying her up.
"I do not zink zis is a good idea," Sandor cautioned.
"You've been all patched up," Gwyneth said. "What about me?"
Nigel tapped her on the shoulder with the wand of healing.
"Better?"
She nodded.
"En garde!" Orla advanced on her opponent, but Gwyneth parried the blow. They exchanged ripostes for a few moments, testing each other. Then, Orla slipped in under Gwyneth's guard and drew blood. The advantage was short lived, as Gwyneth's counter-stroke cut deeper.
The two duellists circled each other like sharks. Orla was faster, and classically trained, while Gwyneth displayed an opportunistic style, waiting for mistakes from her opponent. Orla was not one to make mistakes.
A lightning fast stroke avoided Gwyneth's parry and drew blood. Gwyneth tried to step in and disarm Orla, but failed and left herself open for another nick on her arm. Gwyneth was badly off-balance, and Orla capitalized with a thrust that cut deep into her side.
"No!" cried the priest, trying to stand up. Nigel pushed him back to the ground.
"Gwyneth!" Nigel shouted. "You're clearly losing! Drop your sword, and we'll take you into Scotland Yard."
"Never!" she shrieked in reply, spitting out blood as she held her side.
She went on the defensive for a few moments to catch her breath, and even Orla couldn't get past her blindingly fast defense. Then Gwyneth tried to disarm Orla again, failing once more. Orla wasn't able to take advantage of the opening this time, and slipped on the stone floor, almost dropping to one knee.
Gwyneth sensed an advantage and advanced, throwing caution to the wind. She thrust madly at Orla, but the duellist was too fast. She parried the blow, and her counter strike passed entirely through her body, just beneath the ribcage. The point of Orla's rapier protruded from Gwyneth's back, and the young Green Dagger gasped once, and died.
The young priest covered his eyes, as Artimis kneeled to see if Gwyneth was beyond healing. She was. Orla wiped off her blade and turned to the priest.
"Why did you do this? What was in it for you?" she demanded.
"We were paid well. We made a lot of money… and…"
He stared at Gwyneth's dead body, choking back a sob.
Orla blinked.
"Oh, for god's sake!" she said. "Men!"
"Where is Veldargo now?" Nigel asked.
The priest gestured towards the darkened end of the cavern, where he had been trying to flee. "He went down that way before we fought. He's gone."
Nigel and Laddie disappeared into the darkness of the cavern, Nigel's lantern slowly dimming as the passage slowly turned. A few minutes later, he returned.
"There's no exit that way," he said. "Not now. There's a solid granite wall blocking the passage."
Artimis scowled. "What did the caretaker say? Several old tombs predated the cemetery."
"The Pictish tomb!" Orla exclaimed.
The investigators rounded up all the items of note in the two final chambers, and started out of the caverns as quickly as they could. The avoided the skeletons again, and entered into the tunnels beyojnd that led back to the storeroom where they had initially fought the strange rats.
As they passed an unexplored side passage, Orla stopped.
"Wait a minute," she said. "I have an idea."
She darted down the hall. Nigel and Artimis looked quizically at each other, and followed. The found Orla at the end of the passage, not far away.
"I knew it!" she cried. She shined her lantern on what she had found.
A few hundred coins were piled up in a sort of nest, along with a small, beautifully crafted chest. Sandor opened it, and inside, laying on a a red velvet cushion, were a fine spyglass, a gold compass, and a gold watch.
"A starter treasure kit," Artimis quipped. "So that's how they got the dragon to guard the way in, amongst other things."
"What do you mean?" Sandor asked.
"Remember those rats? I think they were crossbreeds. Part rat, part dragon."
Orla winced at the idea. "We need to get going," she said.
They emerged from the Chenowith mausoleum without incident, and found the Pictish tomb. Nigel had recovered some garments from the caverns that the priest said belonged to Veldargo, and Laddie quickly picked up a scent leading away from the tomb. It led to the cemetery wall.
From beyond the wall, they caught a scent of smoke.
Nigel climbed up the wall, and found himself on familiar streets once again. They were scarcely a block from the Green Dagger house. Bells were ringing, and Londoners filled the streets, passing buckets of water down the cobblestone alleys.
Veldargo had covered his tracks well. The Green Dagger headquarters was in flames. Nigel cursed under his breath. They had recovered the book and the golden key, but they were missing the key pages, and the key was drained of all magic.
Nigel sat on the wall, and watched the house burn to the ground.
