'Because of this,' she explained, continuing in her tone of grave seriousness, 'my amulet of non-detection. It's probably my most important possession. If Storm hadn't mentioned you to me the last time we met, I probably wouldn't have acknowledged you at all. I don't make friends easily, and am exceedingly careful about who knows I'm a Harper and who doesn't.'
The master traveler fingered his beard for a moment. He realized that it was futile to argue, particularly since she was entirely right, and he was just being lasciviously selfish.
'An amulet of non-detection, eh?' he asked. She replaced it back into its safe hiding place, as the master traveler followed its journey with his eyes. 'Always wanted to get my hands on one,' the master traveler continued, adding, 'the amulet, I mean. That accounts for why you were able to get the drop on me so easily back at the Retreat yesterday.'
Chesslyn chuckled.
'And I thought it was because of my superior skills as a ranger,' she countered with a smile.
He replied only with a grin, glad that there were no hard feelings.
They once again continued on their way, Volo urging his steed forward so that they could ride side by side for as long as the narrow road would allow it. After all, they didn't have to part until the next sunrise, and much mutual enjoyment of each other's company could take place until then.
Volo struck up a new topic for discussion.
'So,' he asked, 'what do you think those two buffoons were looking for yesterday?'
'Probably the crystal wand,' she replied. 'Rickman is Selfaril's right-hand man, and the head of the Hawks. He probably sent them to investigate the slaughter. Kind of funny, though. My confidential sources are the best in Mulmaster, and I didn't know that anything had happened there. I was there just on the merest of coincidences. I had promised one of the elders that I would deliver his winnings to him, once they exceeded a certain amount.'
'Come again?'
'Only the elders of the Retreat were allowed to come to Mulmaster, and then only on a rotating basis as the need arose. One of the elders, Damon of Runyon, would stop by the temple on his visit and leave a series of bets with very specific instructions. When his winnings reached a certain point, it was my place to bring a portion of the kitty to him, and, for a tidy fee, to bring out new betting instructions. He was pretty lucky, at least up until now.'
'Obviously.'
'So, anyway. He must have been surprised at the attack.'
'At least.'
'As surprised as we were to discover it.'
'Right.'
'So how did Rickman know to send some men to investigate it?'
'And how,' Volo added, 'would they know to look for something as specific as the bloodstained Thayan crystal wand?'
'Unless,' Chesslyn continued, 'he knew what they would find, and how would he know…'
'… unless he himself was involved.'
'Agreed,' the Harper agent concurred. 'Curiouser and curiouser. The sole piece of evidence, the bloodstained wand, may not point to Thayan perpetrators since it might have been placed there by allies of Rickman.'
'Which still doesn't explain the reason for the attack on the Retreat and merciless slaughter within,' Volo added.
'Or why, beyond the obvious, Rickman would want to pin it on the Thayans.'
Volo fingered his beard once again, this time in confusion. 'What's the obvious?' he asked, unashamed of his ignorance.
'Rickman is Selfaril's right-hand man, and Selfaril hates Thayans,' Chesslyn answered.
'But he's married to one,' Volo countered.
'That's right,' she replied with a grin. 'Sometimes life's a bitch, ain't it?'
7
'Captain Rickman?' inquired an out-of-breath Hawk by the name of Danovich who hoped that the news he bore was sufficiently urgent to warrant disturbing the second most feared man in all of Mulmaster.
'What is it?' the captain of the Hawks demanded without looking up from the surveillance reports that seemed to form a blotter of paperwork upon his desk.
'You requested updates on the searches for the escaped prisoner, the released prisoner known as Passepout, and the travel writer Volothamp Geddarm?' Danovich asked tentatively.
Rickman looked up, his stern visage betraying the throbbing that resounded within his tortured brow.
'So I did,' he said in a sarcastic tone. 'Let me guess, they are all now in custody, along with Elminster, King Azoun, and the Simbul.'
'Uh, no sir,' Danovich answered, not comprehending Rickman's sarcasm, 'and I only have updates on the three I mentioned. Should I add Elminster, King Azoun, and the Simbul to the list?'
'Just give me the report,' Rickman demanded, a touch of weakness and exasperation in his voice. He couldn't help but be reminded of the inferior quality of men under his command since the Year of the Bow, when their fleet was destroyed by forces from Zhentil Keep. Back then men didn't just obey orders, they understood them as well.
'On the status of the escaped prisoner and the travel writer,' Danovich reported officially, his mustached upper lip trembling, 'there is no change. The escaped prisoner is still presumed dead, and the travel writer has not returned to Mulmaster since his observed exodus early yesterday morn.'
'As I expected,' Rickman observed, 'but what of the itinerant?'
'According to one of our spies upon a Sembian merchant vessel of the name Tanyaherst, the former prisoner Passepout was shanghaied by a press gang, pressed into service, and subsequently thrown overboard when it was determined that he would be more of a hinderance than an asset on their journey eastward.'
'Go on,' Rickman urged in stern seriousness.
'He was thrown overboard, evidently still groggy from the physical persuasion that was inflicted on his cranium during his recruitment. Given his condition, and the deadly Moonsea tides, he is presumed dead. Officially, unless we want to challenge it upon the ship's return to Mulmaster, he will be listed as missing after an unfortunate shipboard accident.'
'Any other interesting tidbits?'
'Well,' Danovich answered tentatively, 'the itinerant named Passepout was actually an actor by trade.'
'What does that have to do with anything?' Rickman demanded.
'Nothing,' Danovich replied sheepishly, 'just that I, too, was trained in the theater.'
Rickman rolled his eyes to try to suppress his rage at the incompetence and feeblemindedness that seemed to abound within the ranks of his men.
'Anything else?' he said, half under his breath.
'No sir,' Danovich reported.
'Then back to work!'
'Yes sir,' the Hawk replied doing a quick about-face, a smile crossing his lips as he left his superior's office, thankful that he, unlike previous men in his position, had not incurred the captain's wrath.
Rickman stood up and, hands clasped behind his back, strode to the lone window of his office, stopping only briefly to summon his batsman by means of the signal cord.
The batsman, Roche, arrived in a flash, finding his captain contemplating the sky over Mulmaster.
'My instinct tells me that a storm seems to be moving in,' Rickman asserted.
'The weather scryer in the Cloaks has predicted as such, sir,' Roche said officiously.
