eradicate the queen from his thoughts. “What were you saying? I promise I’ll pay attention this time.”
“I was wondering about your gardener, or maybe your householder, whom I met outside?”
“I don’t have a gardener,” Demascus said dumbly. “But I got this lease from a dwarf who smells like fried onions. Is he out there?”
“No dwarf. A human woman. It’s not really important, but she was quite rude.”
He glanced into the courtyard. Empty.
Fable made a try for freedom. He slammed the door before the cat could slip out. Fable sniffed as if to say, “I didn’t really want out,” and sauntered away, tail straight up.
“She’s gone now,” Demascus said. “I hope it wasn’t one of our, um, unexpected guests from last night come back to check on things.”
Riltana gave him a skeptical expression and said, “They’re not really known as early risers.”
Oh, right. He glanced at the queen. The monarch had no doubt run into streets filled with strangers on her way to his house. Her identity hidden, he doubted anyone had called her Your Majesty or made allowances a ruler might be used to. Except the queen didn’t strike him as someone who’d remark on a passing commoner’s inability to pierce her disguise. Which meant someone particularly noteworthy really had been loitering-
Arathane waved a hand. “It doesn’t matter; I was only trying to make small talk. I came here for a more serious reason.”
“Would you like some tea or coffee?” Demascus blurted. He realized he was falling woefully short of being a good host. He was used to Riltana’s and Chant’s visits, and of course Fable’s extended stay. The thief was unimpressed with social niceties and had never once gotten her nose out of joint over not being offered a place to sit or a refreshment. The cat cared only that she was fed on a regular schedule. But a queen! She was probably-
“Don’t bother; I have to get back before the bells strike the next hour.”
“At least have a seat,” Demascus said, and gestured to one of the two chairs that hadn’t been smashed. “Then I’m guessing you’ll explain the serious reason that brought you here without a royal escort.”
Arathane sat with a dancer’s ease on the edge of the chair. Demascus pulled up the other chair, and Riltana brought a stool from the kitchen. The queen glanced at Riltana and said, “I’m sorry things didn’t work out between you and my niece. With Carmenere’s new diplomatic position in Tymanther, I expect you don’t get to see much of each other.”
Riltana colored, and said, “No, we don’t.” The topic was a sore one for Riltana. Demascus had learned not to mention the silverstar. The thief had driven her friend away by exploiting Carmenere’s link with the queen, and, through that link, access to the palace and a certain painting.
“I’m sorry,” said Arathane with complete sincerity.
Riltana nodded, managing a smile. “But that’s also not the reason I’m here,” the Queen said. “And to answer your question, Demascus, if my regular escort was with me, I wouldn’t have come to you. It’s not seemly that I openly hire ‘outside contractors’ to deal with issues of state. But the trundling wheels of bureaucracy sometimes fail to keep up with a rapidly evolving situation. And the Firestorm Cabal still has a way to go to earn my trust …” She shook her head.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t trust a Firestormer as far as I could fling a dead rat,” said Riltana.
The queen nodded. “Essentially. So, in the meantime-”
“You want to hire us for something dangerous,” Demascus suggested. “Great. I’m in.”
Riltana smacked him on the shoulder. “Some bargainer you are.”
“I’m sure Her Majesty will pay us a fair commission for whatever she has in mind,” he replied, grinning. “Go on, Your Highness.”
She returned his smile, and it was like the sun had come out. “Something’s happened to Akanul’s arambarium mine. All contact was severed six days ago. We’ve dispatched two separate teams of elite peacemakers; neither has returned. Reports about possible causes are sparse, conflicted, and seem almost designed to panic the Stewards. I’m afraid, based on essentially no real intelligence that the Stewards are going to do something incredibly foolish, like blockade the Bay of Airspur and then declare war on Tymanther!”
“Hold on. What’s arambarium?”
“Arambarium is-”
“And why would the Stewards-and you, presumably-declare war on another sovereign nation over it?”
“Because,” said the queen, “Tymanther and Akanul have never been-”
“And what’s Tymanther’s connection to arambarium?”
Arathane held up her hands. “Stop! I’ll answer your questions. But only if you stop interrupting me.”
“Sorry,” said Demascus. He put his finger to his lips and gave Riltana a look. The windsoul rolled her eyes, but nodded.
Arathane took a deep breath and settled farther back into her chair. She said, “Arambarium is an extraordinarily rare mineral. It looks like polished silver in its natural state. Those with an interest in such things have long recognized the mineral as inherently magical and as a possible component in a variety of rituals. However, a few decades ago Akanul war wizards secretly discovered that the power locked within even a single grain of arambarium was far greater than anyone previously realized. More than that-arambarium is uniquely tuned to elemental and primordial magic. Used as a component, arambarium could enable spells of air, earth, fire, and water and other violent energies to be stepped up by orders of magnitude! A warship with an arambarium-alloyed keel can cut through the sea much more quickly. A staff of fire wrapped in arambarium thread could rain down destruction on an entire neighborhood. And a genasi soldier outfitted with an arambarium-laced harness is one few would dare to cross swords with.”
“Well backstab me and call me a rat’s aunt,” said Riltana in a reasonable tone. Demascus shushed her.
“But as I said,” continued Arathane, “arambarium is rarer even than the most exotic spice. We know of only a single deposit in all Faerun-the mine my mother secretly established just off Akanul’s coast. In the decades since we’ve been extracting the mineral, only a few precious pounds have been dug out from tiny, meandering veins. Then, a few months ago, we found the mother lode.”
Demascus lifted an eyebrow.
“The arambarium we’d been mining up to this point is nothing compared to what the miners stumbled upon in a deep cavern. The Stewards were making plans to exploit the new find when … everything went dark.”
“What’s the Tymanther connection?” said Riltana. “What would the dragonborn care, even if they knew about it?”
Demascus interjected, “I doubt
“That’s what the Stewards believe, and that Tymanther has taken action,” said Arathane. “For no good reason! It’s all rumor derived from speculation based on zero evidence. We need to confirm whether Tymanther really is our enemy in this matter. If so, attacking our mine … is an act of war.”
“Huh,” said Arathane.
“But if they’re not responsible,” the queen continued, “our misguided response could cause a war where none was needed, while whoever’s really responsible for depriving us of our arambarium supply continues unchecked.”
“You need someone to find out what’s actually going on at the mine,” said Demascus.
The queen nodded, “And report back, which is demonstrably harder than it sounds. We need clear intelligence before we devise a response. A bungled policy could do more damage than no policy at all.”
“You said you’ve already sent peacemakers?” Riltana asked.
“Yes. Not to mention a special team of spies hand-picked by the Steward of Earth. But we’ve heard nothing. The mine is a blind spot. Not knowing what’s going on there is a like a tumor in the underbelly of Akanul.”
“Where’s the mine?” said Demascus. “You said it was off the coast? Give me landmarks to steer by, and I’ll see what’s going on.” Anticipation of finding trouble made his heart beat faster. Or maybe it was just Arathane’s presence. He couldn’t be sure. He also suspected he was being more than a little rash.
“Hold on!” said Riltana. “I’m expert at sneaking into places-you need me along, too. But I don’t work for free. Neither does Demascus, except he’s too polite to remind you.”
“You’ll be compensated,” said Arathane. “And you’ll have my thanks, if you succeed.”
Riltana shook her head. “More coin I don’t need. What I do need …” The woman dropped her head, then
