true.'
'Waterdeep is a fine cauldron of such things,' Durnan put in. 'Yet a cauldron full of alert and wary wizards, sorcerers, and priests. Dragons need magic to hide among men. Magic that might well get noticed.'
The Keeper turned to Raumorth and said, 'You see? They knew, or suspected, already-and yet stood with us.'
'Lady,' Durnan said, 'a few secrets are always preferable to the Watch and the Guard laying waste to several city blocks against some mighty foe.'
'Nay, nay,' Mirt said. 'Let's discharge the bargain. Ye say it, Lady Taunamorla, plainly. Thy service in Waterdeep is-?'
'I am the guide and central contact for more than a few hidden-in-human-shape dragons dwelling in Waterdeep. We watch over things, manipulating and sometimes mind-whispering to the Lords of Waterdeep-'
'And mind-blasting those who'd overthrow them,' Raumorth interrupted.
Mirt nodded and said, 'And yet… the wards? The Watchful Order? Hath no one seen ye for what ye are?'
'Who do you think had a hand in crafting the wards?' Raumorth asked.
'And some Waterdhavians have seen our true natures,' the Keeper of Secrets added, 'but seen fit to leave us alone.'
'They have?'
'Of course,' she replied. 'They saw our work, and judged us.'
She turned and started to walk away along one alley, Raumorth's shielding parting into a dark tunnel before her.
Mirt blinked. Raumorth was gone! Nay … nay, he was the tunnel, stretching into a dark archway that arched up and around the Keeper, and moved away with her.
Taunamorla Esmurla turned to fix the two men with eyes that were suddenly larger and darker than before- and yet held many tiny stars.
'Why do you think,' she asked Mirt and Durnan softly, 'Waterdeep hasn't erupted into battle and ruin long ago? With Halaster and Skullport and Under-mountain below, and half the greedy grasping humans in Faerun visiting or dwelling above?'
The two men stood for a long time in the dark and empty alley, as Watch patrols trudged past.
'Six dragons, I tell thee! Six!' One Watchman growled, turning into the alley to empty his bladder thoughtfully into a discarded cask. 'And gone, like a mage's tricks! Yet they were real. They broke the balcony clear off Shandledorth's.'
'Aye, I saw. A wizard playing at snatch-teleport, mayhap? Thrusting a lairful of dragons into our laps and whisking them away again?'
'Why play such games?'
'To impress nobles who hired him? To awe revel guests? To make a name for himself, or pass some test?'
'If he's a wizard, that's reason enough for all manner of lunacy,' an older Watchman said.
There was a general grunt of agreement, and the patrol left the alley again, and moved on.
Mirt glanced up past dark shutters and rooftops, to where the stars glimmered, and growled, 'There's … something magnificent about being a dragon. Something grander than we are. Something…'
'We don't understand,' Durnan finished his friend's sentence. 'Now let's be getting home. 'Tis late-or rather, early-and Luranla's probably thrashed all the sailors in the Portal senseless by now.'
Mirt snorted, 'Think she's a dragon, in disguise?'
Durnan shook his head. 'No. Oh, no. You ask her, and I'll watch from a safe distance. Tethyr, perhaps.'
THE TOPAZ DRAGON
The Year of the Turret (1360 DR)
Up ahead, Kraxx could see the sun's light reflecting from the shell of her one perfect, topaz egg. The egg that only moments before had been stolen from her lair.
She could catch the thieves if she were on open ground. She would dive on them from above, dismantling their mangy little bodies one at a time. She would bite their heads off and smash their bones into pulp. Then, just for the shear pleasure of it, she would smear their remains across the land, leaving the stain as a reminder for all those who would dare steal from her again.
But the thieves were smaller than her, more agile and able to maneuver through the jungle, and the island had little open ground. Only the short sandy beach and the open caldera of the island's active volcano escaped from the clawing jungle that covered everything else. The trees parted as the great topaz dragon forced her bulk through the brush.
Up ahead, the egg disappeared from her view. With a final desperate burst of speed, the dragon broke through the last of the trees, emerging at the base of the basalt mountain in the middle of the island. She caught one last glimpse of her egg, shining golden and orange in the mid-afternoon sun. Then it was gone, carried into a lava tube at the base of the volcano.
Unfurling her wings, Kraxx closed the distance with one quick sweep. Slamming her head into the lava tube, she let out a tremendous roar, shaking the walls and spraying the inside of the tunnel with her billowing breath. But it was too late. The thieves were already beyond the reach of her attack. She clawed forward, but it was no use. Her body got stuck at the shoulders. She was simply too large to fit inside.
Pulling herself out of the tunnel, Kraxx took to the air, circling the volcano. It had not been the first time her eggs had attracted the attentions of the greedy and the powerful. There were those who would pay dearly for such a prize-including the dracolich who lived deep within the volcano.
Kraxx watched the molten lava bubble from the top of the open basalt mound. No, she-would not take the undead creature's bait. She would have no chance of defeating him there, inside his own lair. But if he could get the egg inside without coming out, then perhaps she could get it out without going in.
With a keening wail, the topaz dragon turned away from her circling and glided back out over the jungle, toward the ocean.
¦GOS-*
A loud crack rattled the windows of the captain's cabin, and every pirate aboard Expatriate let out a hoot.
Captain Clay came out into the sunlight, absently flipping one of his twin daggers in his left hand. The sky was a perfect clear blue. The sea was at a dead calm, except for the hint of a tiny ripple.
Lifting a handkerchief to his face, he wiped the ever present line of sweat off of his brow then looked up at the billowing sail. A smile spread across his parched, withered lips. It wasn't a hard wind, but it was wind all the same.
'Mr. Mansa. In my cabin.'
A portly man turned away from the bustling crew and answered, 'Aye, Cap'n.'
Inside it wasn't much cooler than on the deck. Even though the windows were open, there hadn't been a breath of wind, not even the slightest breeze, in so long.
Clay sat down behind his large oak desk. Sifting through a pile of parchment, he selected one that was to his liking and unrolled it.
'You wanted to see me, Cap'n?'
'Aye, Mr. Mansa,' said the captain without looking up. 'Now that we have some wind, I want to discuss our course of action.'
'Should I round up the other mates?'
'In good time, Mansa, but for now, I'd like to figure out where we're going and set a course while the winds
