The Emerald Scepter

argued with Junce.

'You said it wouldn't be much longer,' the fellow pleaded. 'Once their House was wiped out, you said I could see her, take her away. How much longer is this going to take?'

'As long as it takes,' Junce snapped, glaring at Pilos. 'Now I've got this one to contend with, too,' he added, pointing at his prisoner. 'There's no telling what his family is likely to do. And Vambran is still out there, and he may come hunting for them. Until I know he's dead, it's not over.'

'Look,' the man continued, 'I'll take her far away. North to Cormyr, or south, to the coast. Somewhere that she won't be a problem for you. But let me take her now. Please.'

'I said no!' Junce spat. 'Now stop asking.' He turned to paw through Emriana's personal belongings, which he had gathered onto the table next to Xaphira's, ignoring the man and signaling that the discussion was at an end.

But the man wouldn't accept such an answer and crossed the distance between them, grabbing at Junce's shoulder, spinning the assassin around. 'That's not what we agreed on,' he said, his voice insistent. Junce's glare was ice, but the other man didn't back down. 'I willingly worked with you, remember? I came to you when I found out Xaphira was trying to sniff you out. I gave her to you, on the condition that I would get her back, unharmed, when you got what you wanted. I held up my end of the bargain, now you-'

The man, whom Pilos just then recognized from Emriana's description to be Xaphira's old companion Quill, crumpled in a heap as the larger of the two thugs smacked him hard in the back of the head with a sap. As Quill sagged into unconsciousness, Junce sighed.

'Thank you, Borth. His whining was detestable, wasn't it?' the assassin said, clapping the large man on the shoulder. 'I've really heard enough out of him,' Junce finished. He turned back to rummaging through Emriana's belongings, but then he stopped again, turning back to the wizard and her two grimy companions.

'I almost forgot to ask,' he said, looking amused. 'What are you three doing down here, anyway?'

The woman laughed, her voice clear and rather pleasant. 'With all of this nonsense going on,' and she gestured casually toward Pilos, 'I almost forgot, too. Lavant wants to see you,' she explained, rolling her eyes. ' 'Immediately,' ' she intoned, trying to sound like the fat priest.

Despite the gag shoved in his mouth, Pilos gasped, drawing a curious stare from everyone except Junce, who sighed in exasperation.

'You know,' the assassin said, clearly disgruntled, 'if you keep talking about things where our enemies can hear us, they'll know too much.'

The woman smirked. 'Who, him?' she replied, gesturing toward Pilos. 'What's he going to do about it?'

'Nothing,' Junce answered, turning to depart from the chamber. 'Because you're going to take care of him for me.' He paused and glanced down at the still form of Quill. 'Both of them. And get it right this time,' he finished, jabbing a finger in the air toward the woman. 'No more mistakes.'

'Whatever you say,' the woman replied. 'Lak, Borth-I guess we're making another trip down to the docks tonight.'

CHAPTER 2

'Isn't that the ridiculous little House mage that Talricci employs?' Lobra Mestel asked, her mouth full of pastry. Falagh glanced in the direction his wife was pointing. The figure she indicated was scurrying through a doorway on the far side of the chamber, but even through the crowd of dancing guests, the spectacles, graying head of hair, and frumpy robes were unmistakable. It was Bartimus.

'What in the Nine Hells is he doing here?' the man wondered aloud.

'It's Sammardach at the Generon,' Lobra said, her mouth filled with food, dismissing the wizard with a wave. 'Everyone who is anyone in Arrabar is here. I'm sure he's toadying with Talricci.'

'Yes, but Talricci is still a wanted man,' Falagh replied, frowning and absently stroking his black moustache. 'I would have thought he was smarter than to show his face in this crowd.'

Lobra shrugged and reached out to snatch up another miniature custard pastry from the table before her, which stretched from one end of the great chamber to the other and was filled with all manner of sweet confections. The couple had covered perhaps a third of the table's length, but already Lobra's flimsy paper cone was filled to overflowing.

'I do hope you're not planning to consume all of that yourself,' Falagh commented, eyeing the cone of sweets. 'You'll be pacing the bedroom for half the night clutching your bowels if you do.' At his sour tone, Lobra's eyes grew wide with hurt, and Falagh knew a few tears were imminent.

Exasperated, the man attempted to smooth his features and give the woman an apologetic smile. 'I'm sorry, my dear,' he said, patting her arm and trying to sound more pleasant. 'I did not mean to snap at you. Sammardach only comes once a year. You should enjoy yourself,' he added. He was relieved to see Lobra sniff once and regain her composure. 'I'm going to go see what he's up to,' Falagh said once he was certain his wife would not make a scene. He turned and strode across the large room before she could protest. He was only mildly surprised when she fell into step beside him.

Falagh dared not hurry, for if he appeared distraught or on edge, tongues would begin to wag. In a matter of minutes, everyone at the Generon would presume something of interest had upset the man, and it would affect business for tendays to come. Rivals would attempt to learn what had so disturbed the Mestels, hoping to use the information against him in negotiations. Even if they learned nothing, they would bluff that they had inside knowledge, and transactions would inevitably take a downward turn, all based on the hint of a rumor. No, it would not do at all to seem anything other than at ease, enjoying the celebration of Sammardach.

It did not take long to spot Bartimus, who wandered through the various public halls of the Generon, his head swiveling back and forth, looking for someone. The wizard was perhaps forty paces ahead, passing through the crowds, unaware of his own social disgraces. More than a few scowls turned his way after he jostled elbows and caused drinks to slosh, but he never noticed.

Falagh groaned as the wizard spotted his quarry and made a direct line for the man. Grand Syndar Lavant was standing near a wall, engaged in polite conversation with the Lord of Arrabar himself, Eles Wianar. A small crowd had gathered, perhaps to congratulate Lavant on his appointment as Grand Syndar of the entire Temple of Waukeen, or just to bask in the presence of either the Grand Syndar or the Lord of Arrabar. Grozier Talricci stood next to the high priest, making a point of showing his close association with Lavant, while his sister, Marga Matrell, stood off to one side, looking disinterested in the maneuverings. Bartimus headed for the tall, graying man.

Why is he here? Falagh wondered in dismay, pulling up short and pretending to retrieve a pair of delicate crystal goblets of spiced wine. With House Talricci in disfavor, why would he risk arrest tonight of all nights? He casually watched the group as he handed one of the goblets to Lobra, who sipped at it while continuing to nibble at her snacks.

Heedless of the others gathered around the pair of luminaries, Bartimus shoved his way to the front of the crowd and approached closely enough to whisper something in Grozier's ear. When the patriarch of House Talricci heard the wizard's words, he jerked his head around to stare at the diminutive fellow, then turned to Lavant and said something in his ear.

Whatever was said, it was serious enough to force Lavant to excuse himself. Eles Wianar nodded and clapped Lavant on the shoulder before he allowed the newly ordained high priest to move off, then the Shining Lord of Arrabar turned his attention to the rest of the group. Lavant and Grozier left the chamber in a hurry, the high priest stalking in obvious ire, followed by Marga and Bartimus. The high priest's waddling gait caused the innumerable gems adorning his cream-colored robes to scintillate in the light of dozens of lanterns. At one point, he paused and made a deliberate gesture to someone on the opposite side of the room, and when Falagh glanced that way, he spotted a blur of magenta and purple vanishing through a distant doorway.

What the blazes is going on? he wondered again.

'Come on,' Falagh said, grabbing Lobra's arm once more and heading off after the high priest. 'Keep up,' he added when his wife nearly stumbled in her rush to turn and accompany him. Falagh felt the woman stiffen in displeasure at his gruff tone, but he did not care. Something was transpiring, and he did not wish to miss any of the conversation.