Feldard readied his axe at the sudden voice from the dark. He recognized the fluid and lyrical manner of speech as being Elven though he had no clue what was being said. He studied the tunnel and door warily and sidled up beside Hasan, speaking low in dwarven to only the Siswa companion. “Was that a warning or welcome?”
Maruc braced himself for a flurry of activity and tried to strain through the dark to see Hasan’s expression and wondered if he recognized the voice. The priest could offer little in advice as even a low discussion right now would alert the speaker to their number. That and the fact that he didn’t understand the question—but the fact the the speaker hadn’t stormed into the room sword drawn meant that he wasn’t expecting any particular or immediate trouble.
Miklos lent on his staff next to Seath at the rear of the party, there was little he could do here save to be patient. He did not speak. Hasan was the only one qualified to do so without raising too much suspicion.
Hasan slipped past Feldard to the door. “We are Siswa, driven from above by terrible creatures disturbed from their blessed rest,” answered Hasan, as firmly as his surprise and nervousness would allow. “I am Hasan, and I speak for the Elya. Open this gate, reveal your face, and we can talk of the things we have seen and why you find yourself trapped behind this rubble.”
Saeth glanced backwards, tuning out the chattering between Hasan and the doorkeep. Even were she not more or less disinterested in what the Siswa had to say to get through, she knew her role was clear—to ensure that no one was behind her in the tunnel, and to protect the others if there was.
“Enter,” invited the strange-sounding voice.
The door cracked open a little more.