Of all the people he never wanted to see again, Aradin is at the top of Zevlor's list. The sheer disgust he feels toward the irresponsible bastard is demotivating enough that it's a couple days before he can bring himself to track him down. When he does, though, he's easily able to ply him and his new compatriots with enough drink to loosen their tongues. Aradin never has thought much of Zevlor and never will, but that makes him careless.

By the time he leaves the man asleep in the booth at the tavern, Zevlor knows everything Aradin knew about the Nightsong, and he's come to a few conclusions the man himself never had the perspective to glean. In fact, he's relatively certain he knows what Lorroakan wants with this priceless treasure, and it seals his opinion of the mysterious wizard. The last thing the world needs now is a replacement for Ketheric Thorm.

Tracking down Tav's camp takes another half a day, but he's rewarded when he gets there by the sight of the Nightsong herself. Approaching her, he feels the pain of his own diminished Oath more sharply than ever, because here is someone of greater moral strength than he's ever known.

But that's not how she treats him. There is no coddling in her demeanor, but she speaks more like a teacher to an errant child than a spirit of divine vengeance, and at least some of the guilt that weighs him down is set aside for the moment, in light of the crystal-clear moral duty before him. Yes, he'd be happy to hurt Lorroakan just for what he's done to Rolan, but this is clearly bigger than tiefling interests, even bigger than Aylin's interests, because how long would it really take a sadistic wizard with ill-gotten immortality to turn his attentions toward gaining even greater power?

It's an undeniable gamble to venture forth with just the two of them, but Zevlor is loath to wait for Tav, and Aylin is even less inclined to seek assistance. He's careful to share all his observations with her, including the volume and variety of summons Lorroakan appears to have at his command. She seems unintimidated, and he's convinced she'd go and do this alone if he refused to join her.

So, it's only a few days after they last parted ways that Zevlor re-enters Sorcerous Sundries. Again, he's cloaked, and at his side...well, she was supposed to try to be discreet but evidently aasimar don't do discreet. It seems as though they don't like lines, either, because she's about to make a beeline for the staircase before Zevlor puts his hand on her arm halting her for a moment.

"Rolan," he greets wryly. "The Nightsong would like a word with Lorroakan."

If that sounds like asking permission, it sort of is, but only on Zevlor's part. Aylin's aura is all but crackling with righteous indignation.

"...you may wish to make yourself scarce, if you can," the tiefling says. "There's no way this ends quietly."