out over a moonlit expanse of rock and scrub below, before the dark wall of the trees began.
'Ask, then,' he bid her simply, passing his belt flask over.
Sharantyr wet her lips with its water. 'The wand?'
'Most Myth Drannan wands can be speech-set.'
Sharantyr chuckled softly and waited.
So did he, of course. She rolled her eyes. 'Explain,' she ordered flatly.
Elminster grinned in the darkness and said, 'Unlike wands made today, ye can cause that wand of mine to unleash its magic by itself, with no hand upon it and no word spoken. Ye're familiar with the spell called 'magic mouth' by most? Aye, like that. When the conditions ye speak are met, the wand fires. I recalled that I'd never set that one-ye can only do it once-so I set it to discharge when someone in robes, or carrying a staff or wand, comes through the gate into the dale.'
'Into-Ah, that's why the 'keep low' warning for Harpers. A nasty trap.' Her last words had an edge to them.
Elminster looked at her closely. 'Are ye all right, lass?'
Sharantyr shook her head angrily. 'I'm just-Slaying Zhents is one thing, but killing people I have no quarrel with, and whose faces I haven't even seen, just doesn't sit well with me, that's all.'
Elminster put a hand on her shoulder. 'I'm sorry I've dragged ye into all this,' he said quietly.
After a long, silent moment she put strong fingers over his and said as softly, 'Don't be.'
They sat together, silent and unmoving, for a long time.
After awhile, Elminster looked up at the stars, chuckled, and asked, 'Can I have my hand back now, Shar?'
Sharantyr patted it and let it go. 'I've another question, Old Mage.'
' 'Elminster,' please. 'El,' if ye prefer. Ask.'
'Aren't you worried about all those mages the guard told us about? Will they not find you by magic?'
'Nay, they can't find me. Those who bear Mystra's burden can't be put to sleep, held immobile, or commanded by magic that strikes at the mind. To all magic that searches, spies, or tries to control, we are simply not there.'
'I thought thy amulet-the greenstone amulet like Storm wears-did that.'
Elminster grinned. 'I wear it to conceal those powers of the burden. Besides, if I wear it, I have it to give to a traveling companion in need of it. If I'd been wise enough to be wearing it when I went walking, I'd give it ye now.'
Sharantyr's eyes were dark again. 'Without it, how can I avoid being found by these prying magics?'
'Ah, yes.' Elminster grinned and put a bony arm around her shoulders. 'Now that's why these stars find ye and I hurrying about in the dark.' He rose and tugged at her hand. 'Come on,' he said briefly, and she got up and went with him into the night.
'Nothing, sir,' the ranking swordsman said, torchlight gleaming on his black armor.
'Do you mean,' Mrinden said in a voice thick with incredulous rage, 'that someone came through the gate, slew the watchman, and disappeared, all in the time it took us to get up the hill from the barracks? How stupid d'you think I am?'
'There's no trace of them, sir,' the senior Sword replied stolidly. 'They're either deep in the woods or are past us into the open dale already. Or they went back through that.' He inclined his head toward the flickering gate. 'You've seen the blood, sir.'
Mrinden turned to Kalassyn. 'Well?'
Kalassyn drew his fellow wizard into a face-to-face huddle and spoke in low tones. 'If they're past us, we'll never find them. It's either a personal affair-a man, maybe even one of ours, bent on killing whomever we left on watch, for his own reasons-or a lone meddler who will turn up in the dale tomorrow. There's been no time to bring in a large band and hide them all or get away without us hearing. Most likely they went back through the gate.'
Mrinden frowned. 'That trail is just a mite obvious, isn't it?'
'A trap?'
Mrinden nodded.
Kalassyn shrugged. 'We've no choice but to go through, unless you want to explain to Stormcloak or Bellwind why we did not. Sabryn went through earlier this evening, on some secret affair I'm not supposed to know the slightest thing about. Perhaps he needs help and tried to get to us.'
'And the attempt ended in slaughter? That means we'll be walking into alert and waiting death!'
Kalassyn shrugged again. 'You sound like one of the younger priests. What mage doesn't walk toward death, where'er he goes? Eh?'
Mrinden jerked his head about angrily to glare at the silently waiting men-at-arms. 'We're going through the gate!' he snarled at them. 'Form up in an arrow. I want twelve to remain behind and watch for any strangers in the trees. If you cross blades with anyone, send a band down to rouse the rest of the barracks. The rest of you, load crossbows and point them at the sky. Move!'
In weary silence the black-armored Wolves formed up, the senior Sword choosing the dozen who would stand rear guard. The two Zhentarim walked into the midst of the wedge of armed men, almost invisible in their black robes, and gestured curtly for the arrow to close around them, protecting their backs.
Mrinden addressed the men. 'This gate is perfectly safe. Simply walk into it as if it weren't there. You'll set foot next in a wooded area where armed and ready foes may be waiting. Don't stop to gawk. If something moves, shoot it and move on in haste to let the rest of us through.' He looked around. Expressionless black helms looked back at him. He drew in a deep breath. 'Right, then move!'
Without an answering word, the black-armored dealers of death marched forward into the oval of waiting light.
'They've come this way,' Itharr said, examining a faint heel mark of damp earth on a rock. 'I'm sure of it.'
'Elminster, aye, but who's the other?' Belkram asked, blade out, peering into the night-shrouded trees around them.
Itharr shrugged. 'We'll find out, no doubt,' he said dryly. 'Come on.' Silently they stalked on, alert and dangerous.
The two Harpers had been restless, unable to settle down for the night after they'd found Elminster's trail.
They'd been lying on the turf, heads pillowed on their boots, discussing where the Old Mage was most likely heading-northwest, it seemed, straight into the heart of lawless Daggerdale-when they'd both felt a peculiar creeping, prickling sensation. There was a sudden tension in their heads, a rising surge of power that slowly died away. This was followed by another flicker of force, then nothing.
'What was that?' Itharr asked, eyes wide.
'Strong magic unleashed,' Belkram said. 'I've felt it that strongly only once before, in a battle near the Greycloak Hills against Zhents out of Darkhold, when the spellsinger Andarra was dying. She spent her life-force in a song that made all magic go wild, so Zhent wizards would have to fight, dagger and sword, like all others. We all felt the effect of her sacrifice.'
'Strong magic,' Itharr said slowly, eyes narrowing. 'Elminster!' He rolled to his feet, wincing at the cold, and reached for his boots. 'Let's hence!'
Belkram grunted himself upright, breath curling around him like smoke in the night chill, and pulled on one boot. 'Hence away,' he agreed, feeling for his blade. So they did.
They were now entering the broken, wooded country of ridges and ravines that marked Dagger Wood, the southeast edge of Daggerdale. It would be easy to lose the trail, so the two Harpers slowed. Since Zhentil Keep's forces had hounded Randal Morn and his folk into hiding, the dale ahead had become lawless country, roamed by horrific beasts, brigands, and marauding Zhent-hired mercenary bands, mainly orcs. Not country for two men without magic to wander about in at night.
They were both thinking this, swords held ready as they came up over a ridge, when they saw a light ahead,
