“Just my luck,” Pryce said miserably. “I assure you, Gheevy, that I came into possession of this cloak completely by accident and was totally innocent of any malice aforethought. If I had known what it meant and what it represented, I never would have touched it, but it was windy and wet and cold, and, well…” Covington let his words trail off into silence.
“If it’s any help,” the grotto manager said quietly, “I believe you. But who are you?”
Pryce glanced at the earnest halfling. ‘Trust me, the name would be meaningless to you… just a bunch of syllables you would be better off not knowing. Or, to put it more truthfully, would be better off if you didn’t know. For the shortest time it takes to figure out a way out of this, please just call me anything but Darlington Blade.”p›
“Very well… friend… I understand. But what are you going to do now?”
“Well,” Pryce said briskly, standing up and brushing off his trousers, “The way I see it, there’s nothing to do but cut my losses, try to prevent any more trouble, and go back where I came from, never to be seen in these parts again.”
“Butbut you can’t!” Gheevy blurted suddenly.
Pryce looked at the halfling askew. “Why not? I grant you, the eye at the gate might be a problem, but”
“No, you can’t just leave now!”
“Oh, but I can, my dear Gheevy,” Covington said patiently. “That is, if you’ll be kind enough not to say anything.”
“No,” the halfling said, agitated. “It’s not me. It’s you. It’s Darlington Blade!”
“I told you not to call me that!”
“No, you don’t understand! They’d hunt you down to the ends ofToril!” “Who would?”
“The wizards. The mages. The inquisitrixes. Berridge Lymwich!”
“Why?” Pryce asked in anguish. “All I did was borrow a cloak! I’ll put it back!”
“It’s too late! All those people you mentioned. They saw you. They called you… by that name. You didn’t disagree. Don’t you understand? Impersonating a mage is punishable by deathl”
The wine grotto was silent for what seemed like minutes.
A variety of emotions shot through Pryce Covington’s brain, but none showed on his expressionless face. Gheevy Wotfirr looked up at him in concern but said no more.
Finally the silence was broken by Pryce’s quiet, considerate, careful words.
“Oh, dear.”
“Are you all right?”
“Oh, my.”
“What are you going to do?” “Oh, no.”
Gheevy felt impelled to dispel the paralyzing mood that was filling the grotto. He gathered his courage and addressed the stunned man the only way he could. “Blade?”
“Yes?” said Pryce immediately, snapping out of his shock.
“What are you going to do?”
“Carry on,” Covington snapped. “With style.” He acted as if absolutely nothing was wrong. “All right, my dear Wotfirr, do you have any idea what Geerling Ambersong had in mind for Darlington BlI mean, for me?”
Wotfirr tried to speak but found he wasn’t up to the challenge. He shook his head vigorously.
“Do you have any idea where this Geerling Ambersong is?”
Gheevy shook his head again, then suddenly stopped and looked hopeful. “But I can show you where I delivered the ale and grog,” he offered. “He might be close by.”
Covington wasn’t impressed. “Let me guess,” he said aridly. “The Mark of the Question?”
Gheevy’s mouth dropped open. “That’s incredible!” he burbled. “How did you know that?”
“Rudimentary, my dear Gheevy,” Covington said airily, waving away the question with mock refinement. Then he abruptly leaned toward the halfling. “Where do you think I found this cloak?” he asked, then murmured, “Among other things…”
“I beg your pardon?”
Instead of answering, Pryce fell miserably to his knees. Unable to remain oblivious any longer, he let despair wash over him, driving him to his elbows, his face in his hands. For a time, the only sounds in the grotto were Covington’s groans. Finally, cupping the side of his head, he looked over at the halfling. “I wonder… can I trust you?”
The halfling straightened to his full height, his chin rising.
“Never trust a person by his words,” he intoned. “Only by his actions. You will note that I have not, and will not, turn you in. I will not have your death on my conscience for what I believe was an entirely innocent act.” He nodded with certainty. “I believe your remorse and confusion to be genuine.” Then he smiled kindly, with a small twinkle in his eye. “As is my pity for you, poor man.”
Pryce rose to his knees. ‘Thank you. I try. Now, would you mind doing me a small favor?”
“What have you gotten me into?” Gheevy Wotfirr complained into the night upon seeing the two corpses.
“Nothing!” Pryce insisted, motioning for the halfling to keep his voice down. “I just need your advice.”
“Well, then, my advice is not to have involved me in the first place!” the halfling retorted. “Oh dear, oh, dear. This is just awful!”
They had left Lallor under the cover of moonlight and the shadow of ale barrels. “Good friends” Gheevy Wotfirr and Darlington Blade had passed below the eye at the gate, carrying refreshments for their mutual friend and Blade’s teacher, Geerling Ambersong.
“But what if Inquisitrix Lymwich tries to follow us?” Gheevy had worried. “Or tries to get a wizard to track our steps?”
“I’m counting on Blade’s… I mean, my reputation to make her think that any attempt would be futile. If Lallor is truly Halruaa’s exclusive retreat, most of the wizards will be staying at vacation castles. I hope they’re not interested in being bothered. Besides, they would hardly dare to show up the city’s primary mage.”
His reasoning had seemed logical enough, and all went well until they reached the tree. Then the halfling became a trifle unreasonable.
“Do you know who that is?” Wotfirr wheezed, pointing excitedly at the second man.
“Don’t tell me,” Pryce replied sarcastically. “Fm keen to guess.” “It’s Darlington Blade!”
“Shush!” Covington pleaded, then tried to distract the excitable halfling by pointing at the first man. “Do you know who that is?*
To Pryce’s surprise, Wotfirr said matter-of-factly, “Oh, that’s just Gamor Turkal. But what are we going to do about”
“Just Gamor Turkal?” Pryce interrupted. “What’s so unimportant about Gamor Turkal?”
“Well, if you must know,” Wotfirr began hesitantly, ‘Turkal wasn’t exactly well liked around here. No one, myself included, could understand why Mage Ambersong insisted that he be treated with such deference and respect. Turkal certainly didn’t treat anyone else that way.”
Covington nodded with recognition. Given the situation, he could well imagine Gamor acting arrogant. “But he was my partner,” Pryce said somberly. “And when your partner is killed, you’re supposed to do something about it.”
Wotfirr let that sink in for a moment, then replied helplessly, “Okay. What?” It was the halfling’s turn to drop to his haunches and put his head in his hands. “I promised not to turn you in,” he said miserably, “and I can’t, I won’t, have your punishment on my conscience… but, oh, if only the Council of Elders weren’t so intractable in their laws!”
Pryce felt sorry for the little man, so he tried to find a way out for both of them. “Gheevy, I brought you here because I have to know what is possible and what isn’t. Gamor was hanging by his neck from this branch.” He pointed at the bent branch of the tree. “And Darlington Blade was sitting right there, leaning against the trunk.”
“Where?” Gheevy asked.
“Here,” Covington replied, showing him. “Do you think it’s possible that somehow Gamor accidentally killed Darlington
Blade and hanged himself in remorse?” “What?”
