own avenues. Even now, my agents are scouring the city, hunting for this Raven character.'
'Your'-Ampratines looked stunned, well, as stunned as a creature made of elemental air could look-'agents…?' He struggled to turn the question into a statement, with some success.
'Indeed,' said I, rising unsteadily to my feet. 'I will have this small matter solved, with no further involvement on your behalf.'
'Milord, I…'
'Tut, tut.' I touched my hand to my forehead. Both hangovers, long delayed, were now rushing to the fore. 'If you say you cannot help, I will not press the issue. Have faith in the Wands family intuition.'
The genie looked unconvinced, but said, 'As you wish, milord.'
I smiled at the djinni. There was no mistaking who was in charge of this relationship. 'But if you could, whip up one of your mystical omelets, tonic to any drinking binge. I think better when the entire Realms isn't pulsing in time with my heartbeat.'
Ampratines started a warning, then merely said, 'Of course, milord.' He wafted from view.
I stood on the porch of the Nauseous Otyugh, steadying myself on the railing, and tried to look deep in thought. Actually, I was counting the seconds until Ampi's return with the cure to my now-thundering headache.
'That's the Raven?' I asked the halfling. 'She's a woman!'
'Hush!' hissed the small red-haired humanoid from beneath the folds of his brown, tattered robe. 'She's no more a woman than I'm a red dragon. She be a dopple-ganger! And she'll notice if ye shout and goggle at her like a fish!'
The woman who was not a woman was seated at a table across the crowded common room. She was dressed in traveling leathers and a blue cape, and she was facing us, which made surreptitious observation difficult. She had a large valise sitting on the table next to her. She cast an errant glance in our direction, and I retreated into the folds of my own brown cloak and hood, turning slightly away from her, trying not to goggle like a fish.
Her companion at the table might have been a hill giant, or perhaps an ogre, for he was as tall as Ampi, and nearly as massive. The companion was dressed in an all-encompassing cloak as well, one of crimson, which made him look like a large sunset at the opposite table.
We were at the Jaded Unicorn, a place that had the unfortunate fate of gaining notice in the aforementioned Volo's Guide. As a result, the place was filled with newcomers, travelers, hardened mercenaries, and dewy-eyed would-be adventurers. As the Unicorn had a bad reputation (according to Volo), the traditional garb was heavy cloaks with the hoods pulled up. It looked like a convention of spectres, wraiths, and grim reapers.
The exception was the Raven. She, I mean it, had her hood down, showing off golden hair that pooled on her shoulders like spilt ale. She looked as if she had elfin blood in her. Her ears were slightly pointed, and her chin tapered to a soft, rounded end. I had to remind myself that all this was an illusion. She-it, I mean-was a shapechanger, and could look like King Azoun or my Granduncle Maskar if it so desired. A doppleganger in its true form was a slender humanoid-sexless, hairless, and pale gray in shade. Altogether an unappetizing thought.
The Raven was in animated conversation with the giant sunset at her table. Her brow became furrowed at one point, and she tapped her oversized case with a slim hand. We were too far away to hear what was being said, but it was obvious they were haggling about something.
And it did not require a master mage to figure out what they were arguing about. The case was about the size and shape that could carry a wizard's crystal ball. Or a Tripartite Orb of the ancients.
Whatever Sunset said seemed to calm her down, for her features cleared. She listened, then nodded, then grabbed the satchel and strode toward the door. Sunset remained at his seat. All eyes were on her, but when she arrived at the doorway, the doppleganger turned and, for the briefest moment, locked eyes with me. I don't know if it was true or not, but I felt as if the world suddenly shifted on its axis and spun in a new fashion.
Then she, it, was gone. I turned back and noticed that the giant Sunset had disappeared as well, probably back to some hidden room with a cabal of Red Wizards ofThay.
'C'mon!' snapped the halfling. 'We'll lose 'er if we don' get movin'.'
Relieved mildly that my ally was also using the female pronoun for our target, I followed the smaller cloaked figure out of the Unicorn. Our departure did not create any response or commotion, but then, we kept our hoods up.
Night had fallen like a drunken dwarf, and the streets were nearly empty. Those with something to lose were already squirreled away in their beds (unless bothered by their magical granduncles). Selune was full, however, and reflected like a beacon off our quarry's blonde tresses.
We followed her to a small rooming house near the river. A buck-toothed ogre denied us entry, but a few gold coins did buy the information that the young lady (who gave her name as Demarest) had just arrived, always carried the valise, and was staying on the second floor, near the back of the inn.
So it was that, almost a full day after Granduncle Maskar first manifested himself, I wore a voluminous robe and edged along a window ledge, a similarly dressed halfling in tow. The breeze off the surrounding plains was brisk, and at several points, I was afraid the cloaks would catch the wind fully and send us spiraling, head over boot heels, over the low buildings of Scor-nubel like errant paper kites.
For the first time that evening, I regretted giving Ampi the night off. He was most perturbed about my pursuing magic-killing artifacts, so I gave him leave. Even now, he was probably curled up in some merchant's library, digesting some history of the Heartlands, or the Collected Romances of the Obarsksyr Line, while his master was about to take involuntary flight.
Progress was, therefore, slow. Were we near the front end of the building, we would have undoubtedly been spotted by the watch, in their plate mail and copper helmets. As it was, we did our best to imitate gargoyles when someone passed below us in the alley, and spent the rest of the time inching toward the desired goal, a lit window. As we approached, the occupant within doused the light. We halted for another long moment to ascertain that the faux Demarest had not dimmed her lamp in order to see clearly outside. Then we resumed our onerous march.
The window was latched, a wise precaution even on the second floor in Scornubel. The halfling Caspar produced a long, thin piece of wire that, wedged into the slot between the window halves, sprang the latch easily.
'In ye go, lad,' hissed the halfling, smiling with his ivory-white choppers.
'Me?' I whispered back. 'I thought you halfling folk would be better at the 'sneaking into someone else's room' sort of thing, being closer to the ground and all.'
The halfling gave a disgruntled snort. 'Well, I could, but then ye'd be out here on the ledge, twice as big as life, waitin' for the copper-top watch to pick ye off. Of course, if that's yer choice…' He let his voice trail off.
I could see his point. I also realized that if I wanted the Tripartite Orb, I had better get my hands on it before he did.
I slid into the room as silently as I was able, the cloak's ability to muffle my steps offset by its own bulky weight. The moonlight was full in the room, and reduced everything to blue highlights and ebon shadows. Demarest, the doppleganger thief known better as the Raven, was asleep on a wide bed, only her hair, now shining like silver in the moonlight, visible above the wide comforter.
The valise was on a low table across from the bed. It would likely hold the orb, the halfling's gold, or both. It would pay, I thought, to open the satchel and check. If the halfling's gold were not in there, I was sure that I could convince Uncle Maskar to make good their financial loss.
The satchel's large metal clasp opened with a ratcheting click, the bag falling open on the table. There was another click, which at first I thought was an echo. Then a very steely feminine voice behind me said, 'Step away from the bag, or I will drop you where you stand.'
I am by nature very good at taking orders, as befits a nonmage in a family of wizards. I put the satchel down on the table and took two steps backward, holding my hands up in clear view. I left the bag open, more from not being told to do otherwise than from any innate curiosity. Within, there was a glint of crystal, not gold.
'Now turn toward me,' said the dulcet voice.
I turned slowly, and as I did, I could see Caspar's silhouette at the window. I tried not to flinch, but only hoped that he had planned for this possibility. The woman seated on the bed did not seem to notice him.
The doppleganger was carrying a crossbow, one of those drow-made hand-held jobs that looked every bit as dangerous as it was. She held it level on me and kicked the comforter off her. She was fully dressed beneath the
