I had spent the night thinking. Milling through my thoughts in my sleep.
Why did the Master trust a Duergar? HOW did the Master trust a Duergar? Would she have let it sleep under her roof?
As I awoke, I was glad to see my bed not stained by blood. Though the noise it made, rummaging around its room, had kept me on edge. Making my way to the kitchen, I greeted the rest of the party. As always, the tiefling was eager to cook breakfast. I was not eager to eat the tiefling's breakfast.
I urged him to sit and prepared a traditional breakfast for the rest. Though I would not call myself a great cook, my mother did not raise a fool. "A good meal makes for good work."
The storeroom was dreadfully understocked on usable produce. I do wonder how the tiefling had cooked for us before, but I decided not to dwell on it for too long, as the answer probably would've been too much for even my stomach.
Then, the child's eyes widened, a realization. Where was his "guest"?
The rambling bastard had trashed its room. I wondered if it even knew the utility of a chamber pot. I had warned them. Now they were going to see the error of their ways. Yet the tiefling had the guts to try to accuse me of not keeping an eye out.
Yet I was not the one that invited a traitor into my own home, now was I?
But, I could not let their foolish actions bring harm to the people of Parabor. Who knows what that rambling bastard was capable of?
We split into groups, with the lizard staying behind to make "wanted posters". The Duergar was not the only one invited to our home. The strange orc from before had also joined us. Though I feel less worried about him, I still do not trust that this orc is here to help us.
But this was a good chance to observe him, the strange orc joined me in the search.
In my mind, there were only a few places the Duergar could have gone: Back into the mines; To the temple; Or to the Master's grave.
And right I was, for when we approached the Master's grave, there too, was the Duergar.
It approached the Master's grave, and I stopped it.
"Why?", I had asked it. It wished to see the Master, to hear the Master. "Do not touch the gravestone.", I had said to it, keeping a keen eye out for any suspicious actions.
Yet, suspicious it was not. It was, familiar.
As it sat for a moment, it reached into a satchel, and presented the Master with a gift. A Citrine gem.
I don't know if it was a conscious choice. Did he just have the gem on him, or did he specifically choose that one?
Maybe there was more to this Duergar than I thought.