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When the thief returned to the Hammer safehouse, he tossed the terrible artifact he carried at Karras' feet and turned to walk away.
"Where do thee intend to slip away to, thief?" Karras asked him. When the thief paused in the workshop's doorway, one shoulder leaning against the doorframe, he added, "Mine word is my bond. Thy deception at the temple is forgotten."
"Great." The thief's voice came in a low growl. He didn't look back. "Doesn't make where I'm going any of your business."
"Hast thou forgotten our deal? An Eye for an eye?"
The thief glanced back only momentarily. "You done with it already? No? There you go. I'm not waiting around for you to--" He let out a sudden huff of breath. "--to finish."
Karras stepped closer. "Patience is a virtue, thief."
"Mm." The thief crossed an arm over his belly, clinging tightly to his own side. "S-so is minding your own business."
Again Karras stepped closer, and again. As he drew even with the thief he ran sharp eyes up and down the form; no obvious injuries caught his gaze. "Art thou wounded?" In answer the thief shoved himself off the wall and took a few stumbling steps into the hall beyond. "The Order of the Hammer trains excellent healers."
The thief said nothing. He walked a few steps more and stumbled again, only just barely catching himself against the wall with one hand. He curled over the other, still pressed hard to his middle. A shudder ran through him.
Fascinated, Karras stood back to watch. "Thou art stubborn as a rusty cog, aren't thou?"
The thief turned, opening his mouth as if to respond. All that came was a hacking cough and another shudder, accompanied by a rush of air. Still Karras didn't understand, not until the thief retched again and a dark fluid spilled from his mouth.
"A pagan curse?" Karras asked him. He only glared before retching up more fluid and something more solid. At first glance it looked to be a terrifyingly large clot of blood, but closer inspection revealed seeds mixed throughout. Despite his own bile rising at the stench of decay, Karras took in every facet of the scene. "You ate of the Maw food. 'Twas a foolish thing to do."
"Yeah, well..." The thief moaned as another shudder ran through him. "M-maybe you should have sent--" He drew in a sharp gasp of air. "--sent a healing potion instead of a poem."
Karras raised an eyebrow. "Hast the fruit of the Maw any healing properties?"
The thief's hand slid along the wall until he was braced against his forearm. Another shudder took him, and again he moaned.
Sighing, Karras took the thief by the arm and led him back to his workshop. He was met with no resistance; the thief stumbled along beside him as if it was all he could do to keep on his feet.
"Sit here," the priest instructed, indicating a narrow wooden bench set against the wall. "And if thy stomach is further unsettled..." A glance around the room and Karras took hold of a bowl, upending the thing and sending the assorted parts within rolling in all directions. He shoved the bowl into the thief's arms. "...contain thy mess in this."
The thief retched again. His remaining eye, bloodshot though it was, held nothing but disdain.
The scent of rot was overwhelming now, and Karras took the Eye and hurried from the room, past the thief's mess and out into the fresh air beyond the temple doors. Yet another reason, he thought, to prefer machines to people.
An initiate, silent and compliant, cleaned the thief's mess. The thief himself leaned back against the wall, his eyes closed, the still-empty bowl held loosely in his hands. Karras crossed to the workbench and began to gather up the parts that had been in the bowl, all the while keeping a careful watch.
As Karras examined a now-bent clockspring, the thief stirred. The bowl began to slip from his hands as he forced his good eye open, and as the balance slipped beyond his control he seemed to jerk sharply awake. Only frantic scrambling allowed him to grab the bowl before it struck the floor.
"Thou art awake," Karras told him. Ignoring the wry smirk the thief directed his way, he took the bowl and began filling it with the homeless parts. "Good. Thou will be needed soon for the fitting of thine eye."
"Great." The thief glanced toward the initiate, then back to Karras. After his exertion he seemed even more worn than he had before. Gingerly he rubbed the heel of his hand into the empty eye socket with a heavy sigh. "Point me in the direction, and..."
"Art thou truly ready?" Karras interrupted. "Thou hast had an... interesting adventure."
At that the thief chuckled, smirk flickering on his face. "I suppose you could say that. Just tell me where to go."
"Brother Fillial will bring thou where thy need to be." Karras nodded to the initiate, who looked up sharply, his eyes snapping from Karras to the thief and back. "Won't thee, my brother?"
Slowly, the initiate nodded.
"My thanks." Karras turned his attention back to the miscellany at hand. If his gaze kept drifting toward the thief and the initiate, he didn't betray it. And if, even after the thief had left, his mind kept drifting that same way, it was for a purpose of his own.