The words came out of Aeotha as if dragged, but they did provoke at least one reaction in Skandra. The Vel was shoved back into place on his belt, hiding in the small of his back and under that black coat of his. It seemed strange that they would still be here, and still hiding in the house, when another body had been found. It was a man, wasn't it? What if that had been... Skandra swallowed hard. Easy to be glib and also to think about the wonders of the world, but now that he was thinking about it, it seemed like all of the nightmares this family could have conjured had been rolled into one and visited upon them. Skandra grimaced over his shoulder, toward the bowl, where no doubt the dead body was soon to be eaten by mouthless, eyeless creatures that floated in the sky. If that's what they were.
His skin was starting to crawl.
"I am Eavra," the lady elf whispered. "My children are Duca and Luca. I do not know what happened, priestess. There was a man - a beggar - and it has been hard since my husband died - and the man knew much about a great many things, and I thought... I let him stay with me, m'lady, and - it has been hard since my husband died - and he had money, though I don't know where a beggar obtained money. He was a tinkerer by trade - his smile was so lovely - and I thought that it would be all right to let him tinker-"
"Tinker," Skandra said harshly. "With what?"
"N-n-nothing especial, my lord," and her eyes rolled hard to look at him; she was still pointed directly at Aeotha. "M-my lord, please believe, if I had known-"
"Don't call me that," the Immortal snapped. "Who was he? What was he tinkering with?"
"He gave his name as K-K-Kay. Potions and powders, in the main, my lord," she was gathering herself quickly, but the telling of her tale was still a chore. "He had a great many small fires burning, controlled fires, and the smells were delightful. Strange and delightful. He would set me in his lap while he worked, and tickle my chin, and - it has been hard since my husband died, my lord."
Skandra was barely listening to her. The red of her cheeks did not register as it should. There was only one feeling rising in his throat. A further dread. No, that, and anger. Pure anger of the sort he could not control. Skandra wanted the Vel in his hand once again, in case the story was true, but how could it not be true? An alchemist had visited her. This was done with alchemy, wasn't it? There was no other explanation he could immediately credit. And while it was possible, it betrayed every notion of what Skandra thought one could do with potions and powders and the like. What was the theory behind opening such a doorway? And who-
"What," Skandra dropped to his heels, very close to her face, his voice low. "Did he look like?"
"L-l-like you, but older, m'lord," she stammered. "Eyes like yours, m'lord, but k-k-k-kinde..."
"Shantar," Aeotha's gasp was small, but audible. "She's talking about Shantar."
"No," Skandra retorted immediately, his voice still low. "No, she is not."