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Babushka only sees the footprints of a young woman, and nobody else. It does not appear anyone else has been in this room for a long time. She cannot determine the pace of the person who made the tracks, though.

"This is strange" she tells the others. "I can see a few footprints here that should belong to a young human woman, but no others. So she must have passed here alone.
Or is there a magical way to pass somewhere without touching the ground? she asks Jerrard.

"Is it possible that the tracks belong to someone else?" Imani asks. "It is doubtful that they would let her roam off on her own."

"Of course that's possible" Babushka answers. "All I can see is that they belong to a petite woman. But maybe she has managed to free herself and is trying to flee."

"I suppose the only way to find out is to follow the foot prints then," Imani says.

"There are such spells to hide ones passage." Jerrard comments as he looks around, "And indeed, we follow the prints, but keep that staff close, and eyes peeled."

"I'll look." Locky announces as she turns to look at the statues.

Religion: 1d20=11 Pass.

Locky splits from the others to go examine the statues. It's pretty clear they are meant to be representative of Sargonnas. She deduces that the dwarves must have come here to pray for his blessing and to commit sacrifices of metals to the flames.

Meanwhile, the rest of the party carefully moves forward, weapons at the ready, heading to the southwestern corner of the room. As they pass through the smoke, they spot a solitary huddled figure. The figure looks up, revealing a female human face, covered in dirt, tears, and dried blood. She screams, then flashes a knife!

"Stay back," she warns, her arm trembling, her breathing heavy in the oppressive heat, "or I'll kill you." The humble blade she wields is painted with dried blood, as well. The young girl, a teenager, is quite lovely--or would be, were she in better shape. Aside from the dirt and blood, her clothes are shredded and she looks like she hasn't had much to eat or drink in days.

"We mean you no harm." Jerrard says quietly, as he steps back, ensuring his hands are away from his weapons.

Imani places her hand on Jerrard's shoulder as she takes a couple of steps past him in approach to the girl. "She'll be a little more receptive towards me," Imani says gently as she sheathes her weapons at her side. She takes the time to undo her veil, and she pushes back her hood so that the young girl can actually see who she is.

"Syriana," Imani says gently, as if she was dealing with a child. "You know me. You know I'm not here to hurt you."

The girl's wild look seems to fade, and her eyes focus in on Imani. "Wh...what? Imani? What are you doing here?" she asks through parched lips. She lowers the knife, but only a bit. She's still on guard.

Imani slowly takes out her waterskin, and offers it to Syriana. "Here, it's water. The Khan sent me and these people behind me to save you from those that took you," she explains.

Syriana quickly takes the waterskin and begins drinking greedily, until Imani mentions the Khan. At which point, she spits out what's in her mouth and begins screaming, stumbling backward toward the wall. After a minute, her screaming stops and she stakes a moment to catch her breath. She keeps the knife at arm's length. "Liar! If you are in league with the Khan, then you mean to kill me, too. I'd have rather died at the hands of desert savages than those cowards he ordered to escort me to my execution!"

She looks like she might lunge at any second.

Imani holds out her hands with her eyes wide. Obviously, just from the look on her face she is surprised. "Syriana, I'm not here to kill you. I couldn't do that. I wouldn't do that!" she exclaims. "You are practically my real sister, and you are aunt to Malik."

Ulster looks between the two women with growing confusion. "Execution? Malik? Huh?"

Syriana narrows her dark eyes at Imani. "Malik...is that what he promised you? Him in exchange for me?"