around him. He blew out all the candles but one, which he carried with him into the next room.
He set his candle on the nightstand, dropped his housecoat to the floor, and sat on the bed. He heard the crinkling of paper as he did so, and felt it buckling through the nightgown covering his posterior. The significance of the sensations trickled into his brain, and he stood up and felt around for the stray paper.
It was folded carefully and creased multiply, though the latter he had done himself. He opened the note and held it close by the candle.
'Midnight. Urgent. -Z.'
Ahegi's eyes widened, darting back and forth. How long had the note lain unattended on his bed? He didn't know, but he was already late.
He quickly put his housecoat back on and gathered it around him, then thrust his feet back into his slippers. Taking his candle, he left his suite, pausing a moment to place a grain of sand on the handle of his door. Should anyone try to penetrate his apartments, they would dislodge the sand and he would know.
He looked around, but the hallways were empty save for the guards at each end of the center hall. He moved toward the light and turned down the center hall, passing the guard without acknowledging his presence.
He rapped on the ornate double doors to Massedar's rooms. No response. He knocked louder. Then a third time, louder still.
He heard a voice, groggy and slurred, ask, 'What?'
'Sire, thou ordainest an audience with me?'
He heard Massedar rise out of bed and stumble in the dark, followed by a few moments' fumbling as he attired himself. Feet shuffled over to the doors, and Massedar cracked one open.
'Upon what twaddle blatherest thou?' asked Massedar.
'Thou hast asked for to speak with me,' said Ahegi, greatly affronted.
'Art thou mad?' sneered Massedar. 'Constrain thou thy dreams to thy own sleep, and leave me be.'
He shut the door and threw the bolt once more.
For a moment, Ahegi was confused, then his tired brain put everything together. He moved quickly back to his suite, habitually checking that the piece of sand was still in place. Once inside, he lit a candelabrum and went back into his bedchamber. He looked at his window. It had been left unlatched. They had slipped the note through his window, though whether by magical or cunning means, he was unsure.
He had been late already when he had discovered the note, and he had wasted even more time since. He threw on his warmest clothes, grabbed his heavy cloak, and left his chambers at a pace so brisk he was almost running. He took the stairs two or three at a time, nearly losing his balance, then strode through the foyer and puffed out the front door and into the night.
The chill air, the sound of rain, and the cold dampness that leaked in through his boots (for, in his haste, he had donned the pair that was not waterproof) reawakened Ahegi. His mood swung from bitter reproach to the gods for the inhospitable weather, to deeply burning ire at being ordered to inconvenience himself with the uncomfortable nocturnal trek, to deep-seated fear at what penalty he might suffer for his tardiness. He hoped he had not been expected to share in the prayer time, for, if so, his absence would prove troublesome.
What chance events would convene a meeting in this manner and on such short notice? Was this a test of loyalty, or had something transpired? Was there an opening, a weakness to be seized and exploited? Or perhaps a bold move was planned, the timetable moved forward behind the concealing cloak of the accursed rain.
He tromped across the city to the docks, his breath puffing out a regular stream of clouds. Every few steps he wiped away the precipitation that tickled the end of his nose. There was very little light, most of it provided by taverns or the occasional street lamp that had not run out of fuel. The poor visibility made it difficult to spot the puddles in the dark. In his anger and apprehension, Ahegi moved as directly as possible, and thus by the time he got to the meeting place, his legs and feet were soaked through and he could not discern between the squishy noises of his stockings and the splashing of the puddles. Yet despite the chill and the rain, beneath his cloak he sweated with prolonged exertion, activity to which his soft lifestyle had not inured him.
Once at the docks, he moved to the farthest end, enduring the easterly breeze that blew the rain, walking all the way to the Long Wharf where it jutted out into the Alamber Sea. He stomped up the gangplank of the only sailing vessel moored at the Long Wharf and crossed the deck to the main cabin. He wiped the droplets from his nose again, then knocked in the appointed pattern: Knock-knock. Knock. Knock-knock-knock.
A small slit opened in the door, and the beam of the bull's-eye lantern shone directly in his eyes.
'Who goes?' asked a harsh voice.
Ahegi blinked rapidly, and, when his eyes adjusted to the glare, he saw a hard pair of eyes glowering out. The lantern illuminated the guard's face starkly from the side.
The password required that the visitor cough before answering, which Ahegi did. It was an easy requirement considering the weather.
'Ahegi, of Wing's Reach,' he answered, using the common tongue. 'I was summoned for an urgent meeting.'
'That's not for two days,' grumped the guard.
'No, not that one. The one tonight.'
'What are you talking about?' The irritation in the guard's voice was plainly audible.
'An urgent meeting, tonight, at midnight. A note was left on my bed.'
'We sent no note.'
'It was signed with…' And only then did he realize that the Zhentarim would never sign such a note.
'With what?' growled the guard.
Ahegi's eyes narrowed. He glanced quickly back to the dock, and he thought he saw a shadow move, disappearing down an alley. He ran back down the gangplank to the alley and cast wildly around, but he saw nothing, and the pounding rain washed away all sounds. He wondered if the rain and darkness and lingering flare of the guard's lamp had played a trick on his old eyes.
Perhaps it had, but he could not take that chance. Someone had lured him out there, compromising his schemes, and he thought he knew who it was.
With a curse as black as the pits of his heart, Ahegi headed back for Wing's Reach as fast as his aging body would allow.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Though the rain continued to pour hard and chill, it could not repress Kehrsyn's mood. She smiled as she walked back to Wing's Reach, occasionally indulging in an extra skip as she skirted the larger puddles. Everything had paid off. She'd found a place to live, wrangled some coin, garnered the protection of a man who treated her like she dreamed her father would have, pulled off several daring incursions for the betterment of Unther, and tricked Ahegi into revealing himself for the traitor he was.
Arrogant ass, she thought, you're about to reap the tiger. Wait until Massedar finds out what I know. You and your slimy ways will be gone forever.
If only she could figure out whom Ahegi reminded her of, all would be right with the world.
Kehrsyn stepped into the foyer of Wing's Reach, and her irrepressible smile brought smiles to the faces of the two guards on duty. She shook out her hair and tried to dry the rain from her mouth and chin with the equally wet cuff of her blouse. Sniffing with the cold, she pulled off her cloak and shook it out, taking care to keep her back, and therefore the counterfeit wand wrapped in her sash, away from the guards' eyes.
'Need some help warming up, lass?' heckled one of the guards.
'Sure,' said Kehrsyn, feeling a little saucy. Then she interrupted herself with a pout. 'Ooh, but you're on guard duty. Too bad. Your loss.'
'My offer is open,' said the guard, with just a hint of desperation.
'Mine's not,' she replied with a smile, and the other guard laughed at his companion's expense. 'Have a good night, boys,' Kehrsyn added, slinging her cloak over her back in such a manner that it looked casual but concealed the wand.
