As the magic engulfed him, Gustin started to look much older than usual, balding on top, bushier beard on his chin, and burly. Only his eyes remained his normal bright green.
'You make a charming elf,' he said as his hair slowly faded from brown to gray.
Sophraea blinked. The same sparkling light swirled around her.
She reached up her hands to touch the tops of her ears. Both ears felt as rounded as ever.
'They look pointed to me,' said Briarsting, realizing what she was doing. 'That's a good disguise. Your face is completely different. Moon elf, I'd say. You even look taller.'
She stared down at herself, saw a colorful skirt hem and elegant shoes beneath the edge of a brilliantly embroidered cloak.
'So, are you ready to call on Stunk?' said the seemingly elderly and heavily built wizard.
Sophraea shook her head at the visual change in Gustin's appearance. It was a good disguise. Yet, to her ear, the excited optimistic lilt in his voice revealed clearly that the man standing before her was Gustin Bone. Well, perhaps Stunk's servants wouldn't notice that. She resolved not to talk much when they were in Stunk's house. His servants had encountered her far more often than the wizard.
'Let's take the Mhalsyymber gate,' Sophraea suggested, setting off briskly, as if to outrace her second and third thoughts about Gustin's hasty plans.
'Hey,' said Gustin, for once forced to quicken his own steps to keep up with her, 'do we know where Stunk lives?'
'Of course.' She shook her head at the newcomer to Waterdeep. 'He bought three mansions in the North Ward, leveled them, and built his own mansion on Brahir Street. It's supposed to be one of the largest private houses in all of Waterdeep. It took them almost a year to build it to his'satisfaction.'
Heading to the Mhalsyymber gate, Sophraea could not remember a time when the City ofthe Dead felt so strange. The usual whispers and rustles were gone. All around her, the still hush felt like it was extending to the very edges of the graveyard, probing the wall that still protected Waterdeep from those within the cemetery.
The topiary dragon glided smoothly beside them. Just before they came into sight of the gate, Briarsting halted the leafy guardian.
'He can't pass the wall,' said the thorn. 'But I can come with you if you need an extra sword.'
Sophraea shook her head. 'No, it will probably cause less comment if it is Gustin and me. But can you take a message to my family? Just don't let them know that I'm going to Stunk's.' The last thing she needed was Leaplow or Bentnor and Cadriffle or her uncles to decide that she needed rescuing and to storm Stunk's mansion.
'Do you think that wise?' asked the thorn. 'Better than Leaplow roaring after us,' she said. 'Ah, well,' Briarsting admitted, 'he's not the coolest of heads.'
'Let my father know what the gnomes said,' Soph raea instructed him. 'About disturbances below. And that Feeler and Fish should be looking for unstable graves.'
Then she had a second thought and added, 'And if you see my mother, tell her that that you passed me on the way and I said I was going to the shops.'
Before she returned home, she would think of a better explanation. But she hoped that Reye wouldn't be in the courtyard and Briarsting would only speak to her father. It was always easier to explain things later to Astute. Reye was far more skeptical of her excuses.
With a bird whistle, Briarsting sprang onto the neck of the topiary dragon, waved at Sophraea, and turned the beast back toward Dead End House. She watched them leave with a worried frown, wondering how badly things would go that night when the haunts started marching through the Dead End gate.
Gustin reached out and gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze. 'It's still morning and early morning at that,' he said. 'We have plenty of time to get to Stunk's house and find that shoe. We could stop this curse before supper.'
'I hope so,' said Sophraea, but she lacked the wizard's confidence. A strange sense of anticipation shivered through her bones as they walked toward the gate leading out of the City of the Dead. She knew the restless dead were all around them, waiting for nightfall in their crypts, tombs, and graves.
If they didn't find a way to stop the curse, Sophraea realized, than tonight's parade of the noble dead would be even larger and more dangerous than before.
The streets of Waterdeep's North Ward were almost as deserted as the pathways of the City of the Dead. Except for a few servants hustling around, well-wrapped in wool cloaks against the cold afternoon wind, Sophraea and Gustin saw almost nobody on their journey to Brahir Street.
'Do you think that the hauntings are keeping everyone inside?' Sophraea worried as they marched along. The closer they came to Stunk's mansion, the more empty the streets. Not even a broadsheet seller was abroad, screaming about the latest scandals.
A splat of rain mixed with sleet hit the back of Gustin's neck and slid under his collar. 'I think they're just all staying inside to enjoy hot fires, warm ale, and toasted sausages,' he said with a shiver. 'That's what I'd do if I was rich.'
'Mulled wine,' Sophraea suggested, pulling her hood even tighter around her ears. Illusion or no illusion, the tips of her ears were now burning with cold. 'And spiced dark cakes. That's what Myemaw always makes on days like this.'
'I continue to be impressed by your grandmother's grasp of proper nourishment for the occasion,' said Gustin. 'I would gladly give up warm ale for mulled wine and dark cakes. But I rather think your uncles and your brothers and your large male cousins would be with me on insisting that toasted sausages should be included in the feast.'
'And cheese melted across bread crusts. That's their favorite in winter.'
Gustin sighed with satisfaction. 'Another excellent choice. Do you think Stunk will serve us refreshments?'
'I'm just hoping we don't end up being somebody's snack,' Sophraea remarked.
They heard shouting from somewhere ahead of them. Voices rose, a mixture of noise and curses, the anger clear in the tones. For a moment Sophraea felt relief. At least there is some life out on these streets, she thought.
A large figure dashed from one dark alley opening to another, dodging out of sight. Concealed inside the usual long coat and cap, it could be anyone, but it certainly looked tall and broad enough to be a Carver.
'Something's happening,' she said.
'Go carefully,' Gustin answered.
More crashes came from nowhere, like mallets pounding on stone. Heavy running steps, boots dashing over cobblestones, more shouts, and then the noise rose with a pattern of bangs that sounded like large children running past a fence dragging a board against the metal posts.
At guarded gates up and down the road, armed men ran out into the street. They stared and turned and yelled questions to each other.
Yet, the street ahead was clear. Guards glanced about, something almost fearful in the poses of these big men well-armored against any threat. No one lingered outside, each hustling back to their posts.
'Here,' said Gustin, plucking a broken half brick off the street. He slipped it into the basket that Sophraea carried. He grabbed another and added it to the first. 'Take these. You should be prepared.'
'What do I need those for? The basket's heavy,' she protested.
'You never know when a half brick is going to come in handy,' said Gustin, rooting around to see if there were any more on the street. He did find a couple of more broken shards of yellow brick, obviously fallen off some builder's cart, and slipped those to Sophraea's basket as well.
A couple of gnomes, carrying tool bags, hurried past them. One wagged his eyebrows at the other. 'Visitors to Waterdeep,' he said to his friend. 'They really do believe the streets are paved with gold:'
'Come on,' said the other. 'Let's get back to Warrens.'
'Don't you think that Stunk's guards will be suspicious of a basket full of bricks?' said Sophraea as the gnomes rushed out of sight.
'First of all, it doesn't look like a basket,' said Gustin. He pulled back to look down at Sophraea. 'More like a very small velvet lady's purse or amulet tied to your wrist. Secondly, I doubt they'll look that close. If they do, we have bigger problems than what you're carrying and we might need those bricks to help us escape.'
Sophraea glanced down at her arm and blinked. She hadn't looked at the basket before. It was just there, as
