of his men had second thoughts and decided to greet him with a thrown knife.
Then Zalarth of the Zhentarim stepped forward in the darkness and went to war.
'I think I know where he might be, or might have gone, at least,' Itharr said suddenly as they stared wildly around at empty battlements.
'Well?' one of the dalemen demanded. 'Speak!'
'Where we caught up to him earlier,' Itharr said, turning to Belkram, 'and he called us nursemaids. Remember?'
Belkram nodded. 'You think he's down there? At the cesspool?'
Itharr shrugged. 'He was after something there, amid the stink, and we interrupted him. He'll have gone back to it when he thought everyone was too drunk or to asleep to see him.'
'Treasure?' Belkram asked, raising a puzzled eyebrow.
'No,' Itharr said very quietly. 'Another gate, if I'm not mistaken.'
Belkram stared at him and swallowed. Then they were both sprinting through dark, empty passages, seeking stairs that led down and taking turns cursing and panting for breath.
The men of the dale thundered after them. 'The only folk crazier than these Harpers,' one grunted, rounding a stair post at breakneck speed in the darkness, 'is wizards.'
'Thank the gods for that,' said the man behind him. 'If they weren't, we'd still be kissing Longspear's feet- and another part of that Stormcloak's body, too.'
They'd bounded down another flight of stairs before the first daleman replied dryly, 'I'd wondered what you were about, those long evenings.'
He was answered in turn by a ruder suggestion. Then they were nearing the cellars, and Gedaern hissed them to silence.
Xanther waited and waited, but there came no further sound. He'd heard the wizard-one of Manshoon's killers, if his memory held right-muttering, and then the faint scrape of a boot on stone. Then, only silence.
Xanther carefully emptied one scroll tube into his lap and felt about until his fingers closed on the cold hardness of the gem. He knew what it must be, given the three words written on the inside of the scroll tube's cap that he'd read earlier, and closed his eyes as he spoke the first of those words.
The prism-shaped gem gave forth a cone of pale light. Good; he'd chosen the right word. By its light, he saw that the cesspool and its surroundings were empty of all people.
Hmm. 'Between the two bumps,' the wizard had said, and intimated that passage between them was critical to avoid falling into the cesspool. Xanther put away the tube's contents again, except for the handy gem, and got up. Two bumps, on the edge of the cesspool…
There was a sudden sound behind him. A muffled thud-no, a flurry of such sounds. The thudding of booted feet coming quickly down stone steps and along the echoing passage. Dalefolk!
Xanther hurried toward the stinking pool, eyes searching frantically. Ah-there! Two bumps!
He eyed the reeking pool and sighed. He'd have preferred time to make sure of the route before stepping out over that.
The sounds grew louder, and he heard the unmistakable voice of one of the men in leathers who'd fought Stormcloak in the great hall.
Xanther sighed again, and stepped out from the edge. The light in the cavern abruptly went out.
'A light!'
'Where?'
'Gone now, sir, but there was light here a moment ago, I tell thee!'
Throw your torch forward,' Belkram ordered. 'Those with bows to the fore, but no one advances until I give word.'
He and Itharr looked each other over quickly. 'Got a dagger or two, besides your blade?'
Itharr nodded. 'As usual.' He grinned as he added, 'I think it's your turn to go first.'
'My thanks,' Belkram told him in dry tones and darted forward, keeping low. He crouched near the guttering torch, peering around intently, then beckoned them with a wave.
What could be seen of the dark, foul-smelling cavern was empty. In the center of the cracked, uneven stone floor was the cesspool, its surface still. Itharr waved the men with torches toward the far reaches of the place, to light up every niche and corner.
He and Belkram exchanged glances and nodded. 'A gate, without doubt. We have to enter it in exactly the right way, or we'll never find it.'
'That could take days,' Belkram sighed.
'It could,' came a voice from behind them. 'But if you'll allow me to show you the way, it can take you but a moment.'
They all turned. In the passage behind them, the fat weaver, Jatham, stood in his night robe, holding a hand lamp and regarding them calmly.
Gedaern's eyes narrowed. 'You-'
'Serve Thay? Aye. I thought Elminster might tell you.' The weaver watched the frowning daleman come toward him and added, 'I'd like to make a deal with you, Gedaern.'
'Oh, aye? And what sort of deal could you and I come to?'
'You let me live, to leave the dale peacefully with my possessions on the morrow. In return, I tell you all I know of the other councillors' loyalties and doings, and show these two Harpers the gate they seek.'
'Just let you go, after all you've done? Why-'
'Or you could thank me. Most of what I've done, this last year or so, is work against the spells and schemes of the Zhentarim as much as I could. My efforts have kept many in the dale alive, even some here in this cellar now.'
'How could you save lives and trick wizards? Aye? Tell me that!'
Jatham spread his hands. In the gesture, his left hand let go of the oil lamp, and it hung motionless in the air in front of him, its flame flickering slightly. 'With my own magic, of course,' he said mildly. 'It's not much, but it's enough to make any thoughts of slaying me or driving me out of the dale very, very foolish indeed.'
Gedaern eyed the weaver suspiciously. He darted a glance to the two Harpers. They looked back at him expressionlessly and spread their hands to signal their indecision.
Gedaern frowned. 'What's to keep you from blasting us all with your magic the moment we go to bed, then?'
'I am,' said another voice from behind the weaver.
Jatham turned quickly. 'You should not have come down, love. This is not safe.'
'It was necessary,' Ulraea told him crisply. Her eyes were lined with sleep, and her unbound hair hung in wild tangles about her, but she drew herself up in her tattered nightdress proudly and regarded Gedaern with what seemed almost like a challenge in her eyes. 'Jatham is mine, Ged. I know him as no other in this dale, and I tell you he has not worked against us of the dale while Longspear lorded it over us, and will not do so this night. If you must, set a guard in our room tonight.'
Gedaern stared at her, openmouthed. It was several long breaths later that he visibly remembered to swallow. 'Ulla?' he said at last, voice cracking. 'Y-you… love him? You'll go with him?'
Ulraea nodded, eyes on his. 'If you'll let me.' She looked around at them all. 'If you're so fearful of what my Jath will do with his magic, guard me-and take my life if he works ill.'
Jatham reached for her involuntarily. 'No!' he cried, in an anguished voice.
'No,' Gedaern's voice overrode his, loud and flat. 'It won't be necessary. Go back to your beds, both of you, after you show us this gate and tell us where it leads. If you'll do that, we have a deal.'
He sheathed the notched, scarred sword he bore and walked slowly to where the weaver stood. He raised his hand, palm out, standing nose to nose with the Thayan agent.
Jatham did the same, and slowly they both brought their hands down to touch each other's chest in the old dale custom. A bargain was made. Both men nodded solemnly.
Then Jatham said briskly, 'The gate can only be entered by stepping out over the cesspool from a certain
