(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

"She asked her question. I could not answer it, though she assured me the
answer was plain as the nose on her face. My fellow Sensates found me
screaming in the sensorium when they arrived the next morning. I begged
them to kill me, and they complied. None even suggested that I relish the
new experience, so horrible was it. And... here I am. Now I must rest."
I was hesitant to ask, but I needed to know. That sense of familiarity welled
up, like a bloated boil in the back of my mind. "What was the question?"
She was quiet for a moment. When she did answer, her voice was tired and
sad, "It was: How does one change the nature of a man? I thought hard on
her answer, and said, 'With love.' She said all people love themselves too
much to be changed by something as simple as love. And then she... she... I
must rest now." In the back of my mind, I could almost see a hook-nosed
figure with ebon skin asking me a similar question... but I couldn't remember
my answer.
We only waited a few moments more before a thunderclap and a billow of
smoke heralded Lothar's arrival.
He set his steely gaze on me, unsurprised at our presence, "Have you come
to reclaim the chatterbox yet? Its endless yammerings weary me."
I nodded, and pulled the severed head from my bag. "I have the skull of
Soego, a wererat Dustman missionary and spy."
Lothar took the head of Soego from me and examined it carefully. His
gnarled old fingers pried apart loose lips to check Soego's teeth, lifted the
lids to gaze into pale, vacant eyes. "A Dustman missionary and spy, eh? This
will be satisfactory." His fingers twisted through an arcane gesture. "Your
friend will be waiting for you above ground, where you came in. Now leave, I
have work to do."
As much as I wanted to see Morte again, Lothar seemed to be one that
could offer answers, "Now hold on... you collect the memories of the dead.
Perhaps you can help me find the answers I seek."
Lothar's lips thinned, drawing a long crease across his aged features, "Very
well, scarred one. Perhaps we can talk. Come."
495