Entreri looked back the way he had come. In truth, one direction seemed as good as any other to him at that time, so he gave a slight bow and walked back, out of the domain of Taddio, who had no idea how lucky he had been this day.
The building stood three full stories and, decorated with elaborate sculptures and shining marble, was truly the most impressive abode of all the thieving guilds. Normally such shadowy figures tried to keep a low profile, living in houses that seemed unremarkable from the outside, though they were, in truth, palatial within. Not so with the house of Pasha Basadoni. The old man-and he was ancient now, closer to ninety than to eighty-enjoyed his luxuries, and enjoyed showing the power and splendor of his guild to all who would look.
In a large chamber in the middle of the second floor, the gathering room for Basadoni's principle commanders, the two men and one woman who truly operated the day-to-day activities of the extensive guild entertained a young street thug. He was more a boy than a man, an unimpressive figure held in power by the backing of Pasha Basadoni and surely not by his own wiles.
'At least he is loyal,' remarked Hand, a quiet and subtle thief, the master of shadows, when Taddio left them. 'Two gold pieces and one silver-no small take for one working that gutter section.'
'If that is all he received from his visitor,' Sharlotta
Vespers answered with a dismissive chuckle. Sharlotta stood tallest of the three captains, an inch above six feet, her body slender, her movements graceful-so graceful that Pasha Basadoni had nicknamed her his 'Willow Tree.' It was no secret that Basadoni had taken Sharlotta as his lover and still used her in that manner on those rare occasions when his old body was up to the task. It was common knowledge that Sharlotta had used those liaisons to her benefit and had climbed the ranks through Basadoni's bed. She willingly admitted as much, usually just before she killed the man or woman who had complained about it. A shake of her head sent waist-length black hair flipping back over one shoulder, so that Hand could see her wry expression clearly.
'If Taddio had received more, then he would have delivered more,' Hand assured her, his tone, despite his anger, revealing that hint of frustration he and their other companion, Kadran Gordeon, always felt when dealing with the condescending Sharlotta. Hand ruled the quiet services of Basadoni's operation, the pickpockets and the prostitutes who worked the market, while Kadran Gordeon dealt with the soldiers of the street army. But Sharlotta, the Willow Tree, had Basadoni's ear above them all. She served as the principal attendant of the Pasha and as the voice of the now little seen old man.
When Basadoni finally died, these three would fight for control, no doubt, and while those who understood only the peripheral truths of the guild would likely favor the brash and loud Kadran Gordeon, those, such as Hand, who had a better feeling for the true inner workings, understood that Sharlotta Vespers had already taken many, many steps to secure and strengthen her position with or without the specter of Basadoni looming over them.
'How many words will we waste on the workings of a boy?' Kadran Gordeon complained. 'Three new merchants have set up kiosks in the market a stone's throw from our house without our permission. That is the more important matter, the one requiring our full attention.'
'We have already talked it through,' Sharlotta replied. 'You want us to give you permission to send out your soldiers, perhaps even a battle-mage, to teach the merchants better. You will not get that from us at this time.'
'If we wait for Pasha Basadoni to finally speak on this matter, other merchants will come to the belief that they, too, need not pay us for the privilege of operating within the boundaries of our protective zone.' He turned to Hand, the small man often his ally in arguments with Sharlotta. But the thief was obviously distracted, staring down at one of the coins the boy Taddio had given to him. Sensing that he was being watched, Hand looked up at the other two.
'What is it?' Kadran prompted.
'I've not seen one like this,' Hand explained, flipping the coin to the burly man.
Kadran caught it and quickly examined it, then, with a surprised expression, handed it over to Sharlotta. 'Nor have I seen one with this stamp,' he admitted. 'Not of the city, I believe, nor of anywhere in Calimshan.'
Sharlotta studied the coin carefully, a flicker of
recognition coming to her striking light green eyes. 'The crescent moon,' she remarked, then flipped it over. 'Profile of a unicorn. This is a coin from the region of Silverymoon.'
The other two looked to each, surprised, as was Sharlotta, by the revelation. 'Silverymoon?' Kadran echoed incredulously.
'A city far to the north, east of Waterdeep,' Sharlotta replied.
'I know where Silverymoon lies,' Kadran replied dryly. 'The domain of Lady Alustriel, I believe. That is not what I find surprising.'
'Why would a merchant, if it was a merchant, of Silverymoon find himself walking in Taddio's worthless shanty town?' Hand asked, echoing Kadran's suspicions perfectly.
'Indeed, I thought it curious that anyone carrying such a treasure of more than two gold pieces would be in that region,' Kadran agreed, pursing his lips and twisting his mouth in his customary manner that sent one side of his long and curvy mustache up far higher than the other, giving his whole dark face an unbalanced appearance. 'Now it seems to have become more curious by far.'
'A man who wandered into Calimport probably came in through the docks,' Hand reasoned, 'and found himself lost in the myriad of streets and smells. So much of the city looks the same, after all. It would not be difficult for a foreigner to wander wayward.'
'I do not believe in coincidences,' Sharlotta replied. She tossed the coin back to Hand. 'Take it to one of our wizard associates-Giunta the Diviner will suffice. Perhaps there remains enough of a trace of the previous owner's identity upon the coins that Giunta can locate him.'
'It seems a tremendous effort for one too afraid of the boy to even refuse payment,' Hand replied.
'I do not believe in coincidences,' Sharlotta repeated. 'I do not believe that anyone could be so intimidated by that pitiful Taddio, unless it is someone who knows that he works as a front for Pasha Basadoni. And I do not like the idea that one so knowledgeable of our operation took it upon himself to wander into our territory unannounced. Was he, perhaps, looking for something? Seeking a weakness?' 'You presume much,' Kadran put in. 'Only where danger is concerned,' Sharlotta retorted. 'I consider every person an enemy until he has proven himself differently, and I find that in knowing my enemies, I can prepare against anything they might send against me.'
There was little mistaking the irony of her words, aimed as they were at Kadran Gordeon, but even the dangerous soldier had to nod his agreement with Sharlotta's perception and precaution. It wasn't every day that a merchant bearing coins from far away Silverymoon wandered into one of Calimport's desolate shanty towns.
He knew this house better than any in all the city. Within those brown, unremarkable walls, within the wrapper of a common warehouse, hung golden-stitched tapestries and
magnificent weapons. Beyond the always barred side door, where an old beggar now huddled for meager shelter, lay a room of beautiful dancing ladies, all swirling veils and alluring perfumes, warm baths in scented water, and cuisine delicacies from every corner of the Realms.
This house had belonged to Pasha Pook. After his demise, it had been given by Entreri's archenemy to Regis the halfling, who had ruled briefly, until Entreri had decided the little fool had ruled long enough. When Entreri had left Calimport with Regis, the last time he had seen the dusty city, the house was in disarray, with several factions fighting for power. He suspected that Quentin Bodeau, a veteran burglar with more than twenty years' experience in the guild, had won the fight. What he didn't know, given the confusion and outrage within the ranks, was whether the fight had been worth winning. Perhaps another guild had moved into the territory. Perhaps the inside of this brown warehouse was now as unremarkable as the outside.
Entreri chuckled at the possibilities, but they could not find any lasting hold within his thoughts. Perhaps he would eventually sneak into the place, just to satisfy his mild curiosity. Perhaps not.
He lingered by the side door, moving close enough past the apparently one-legged beggar, to recognize the cunning tie that bound his second leg up tight against the back of his thigh. The man was a sentry, obviously, and most of the few copper coins that Entreri saw within the opened sack before him had been placed there by the man, salting the purse and heightening the disguise.
No matter, the assassin thought. Playing the part of an ignorant visitor to Calimport, he walked up before the man and reached into his own purse, producing a silver coin and dropping it in the sack. He noted the not- really-old man's eyes flicker open a bit wider when he pulled back his cloak to go to his purse, revealing the hilt of
