Galimer by the sleeve. Dru tried to restrain Rozt'a, but when she saw her husband standing slack-jawed and blinking in the morning sunlight, she broke free. Neither Wyndyfarh nor Sheemzher made any effort to stop Galimer's wife from embracing him.
Galimer was steady on his feet. His balance accommodated Rozt'a's vigorous greeting, but he never looked at her, never acknowledged her words or kisses. After a few moments of hugging a warm statue, Rozt'a released him. She turned on Wyndyfarh.
'What's the matter with him? What have you done to my husband? He doesn't recognize me. He doesn't know me or if he's dead or still alive!' As always, her hands dropped to her sword. She showed five-fingers worth of steel.
Lady Mantis was unimpressed. 'Your husband contemplates the paths of his life. It is a long journey and he has barely begun.' Her voice was as musical and pleasant as it was imperious. 'When you return, he will be ready and waiting for you.'
Dru spoke up quickly, before Rozt'a said something they'd all regret. 'We're not going anywhere without Galimer.'
'Damn straight we're not,' Tiep affirmed from somewhere behind Dru's right shoulder.
'Your Galimer's mind is on a journey it very much needs and his body is in no condition to follow you. I am giving you a chance to right the wrongs you've done me. You cannot bring my servant back to life, but you can avenge others against my enemies and return to me with proof that my will has been done.'
Considering the lady's magical prowess, that didn't sound like an easy assignment, but if it were the only way to get Galimer back… Dru tested his resolve and found that he'd agree to almost anything if it would release Galimer from mindless torpor.
Predictably, Tiep took a more pragmatic view: 'If you can't avenge your servants, how in blazes are we supposed to pull it off?'
Lady Mantis studied Tiep with slow menace. 'That is not my concern. If you wish to redeem your companion, your path leads beyond Weathercote Wood to the ruins called Dekanter. Sheemzher will guide you there.'
When he heard the words 'Dekanter' and 'Sheemzher,' puzzle pieces fell into place in Druhallen's mind. He was tempted to believe Tiep was right: They'd been set up. The goblin had laid his trap-Wyndyfarh's trap-back in their Parnast rented room. The plot seemed perfect, except for one small detail: Tiep's theft had been pure opportunism. There had to be something Dru was missing. In his mind's eye, he recalled the map on Amarandaris's wall and wished he'd made time for curiosity.
While Rozt'a and Tiep sputtered their unwillingness to be guided by a goblin, Dru stood silent, shaking his head. He drew Lady Wyndyfarh's attention.
'Is Dekanter not where you wished to go? I promise you a chance to view the wonders of Netherese magecraft as no human has seen them in four thousand years.'
Bitterness and anger got the better of discretion as Dru answered, 'Yes, we wanted to go to Dekanter. It was never that much of a secret, but the whole world seems to know now. If you had a commission for us, you could have asked.' He nodded his head in oblivious Galimer's direction. 'Now it's too late. You've sent our negotiator on a journey.'
White lightning played across the lady's eyes. 'Don't push me,' she warned, all soft and pleasant and oozing lethal power.
Dru braced himself for a mental onslaught and wasn't surprised when Wyndyfarh's image went cloudy in his mind's eye. He glimpsed someone who was more raptor than woman, with wings as well as arms and an obsidian beak.
Wyndyfarh warned Dru, 'I have set you a task that serves you as it redeems you. Accept it, if you wish to release your friend.'
Seeing Wyndyfarh as she truly was-as, perhaps, Tiep had seen her from the start-Druhallen understood that everything else was shapeshifting or pure illusion. Her lips need never move to convey her points. Having seen her in her true form, Dru knew as well, that Lady Mantis wasn't natural or native to Faerun. He didn't want to do her bidding but to save his friend-?
'Please don't argue with her,' Rozt'a pleaded. No telling what Wyndyfarh had put into her mind. 'We're talking about Galimer here. He'd go to the ends of the world for you, and you know it. If she wants us to avenge one man or one hundred, don't bother her with questions. Just say yes.'
Druhallen had just decided that Lady Wyndyfarh was mostly hawk in her natural form, but now the face she showed him wore such a satisfied expression that he'd swear she was part cat.
'A wise woman speaks,' the lady purred, 'but it is neither one man nor one hundred that you must avenge. Save for Sheemzher, my servants are all insects whose minds I have awakened with magic. Many of them fell victim to a great and ancient evil. You will bring me proof that it can no longer harm them.'
Bugs! She was sending them off to collect butterflies! Perhaps it was just as well that Ansoain was dead and her son a prisoner. Dru would never live this one down otherwise. 'We'll bring them back in a gilt cage,' he muttered glumly.
That brought another laugh from the otherworldly woman. 'If any of them yet survive-and I doubt very much that any do-they will fly to me faster than you can walk. Bring me the golden scroll that defiled them. The Beast Lord who rules at Dekanter was beneath my notice before he found that Nether scroll. Now he has become a threat. I am not a god, Druhallen of Sunderath. You are wrong there, but I have sworn an oath to Faerun's goddesses of magic. I may not leave this glade. Bring me the golden scroll of Netheril and you will have done more good than you can measure and I will restore your weak friend to you.'
Dru bristled. Never mind that he knew Galimer's faults better than he knew his own and had on more than one occasion hung the same 'weak' label on him, but he wouldn't stand for anyone else belittling his friend.
'Galimer Longfingers is worth more than ten of your Netherese scrolls. Just tell us what we need to know about it and well be gone-the sooner to be back.'
'You know everything that's essential,' Wyndyfarh replied with the indignation of a woman unaccustomed to criticism. 'Sheemzher knows the Greypeaks and Dekanter. He'll answer your questions.'
Druhallen started to say something about not wanting to rely on a goblin, but that was the sort of remark that had gotten Galimer's mind separated from his body. Likewise, Dru stifled the perfectly logical question: If Sheemzher had all the answers, why wasn't he the instrument of Wyndyfarh's vengeance? Rozt'a stepped into the awkward silence.
'How long do we have? How much time before-?' Her head turned toward Galimer and left the question incomplete.
'No harm will come to Galimer while he is with me.'
Dru considered that good news, Rozt'a heard it otherwise and, taking a backward step so he could see both her and Wyndyfarh together, Dru understood. Rozt'a had never been a beauty and life on the road was taking a toll on her appearance, as it had on all of them. Her attractiveness- and Druhallen could personally attest that it was considerable-sprang from her competence and spirit. She was at her best in mercenary leathers, with a sword at her hip, and she would have looked ridiculous with long hair, or in a flowing white gown.
But leave her husband in the company of the dangerously beautiful Lady Mantis, a woman of enchanting beauty and wizardly might? That prospect struck fear in Rozt'a's bold heart.
'C'mon,' Dru said, prying her attention away from Galimer with a touch. 'If we head back to Parnast right now to get our gear and horses, we'll be on our way this time tomorrow and back before the moon turns-'
'Not to Parnast,' Lady Mantis interrupted. 'The village is too dangerous for you right now. I have sent word. All that you need will be waiting for you outside the Wood. You'll be within the mountains by sunset. Those who pursue you think only of roads, they will not look for you in the mountains between here and Dekanter.'
Pursuers? From Parnast? Well, surely Amarandaris knew they'd slipped through the palisade without their promised second meeting. The Zhentarim lord could have translated their absence into a beeline journey to Dekanter. He'd be ahead of them, unless somehow he knew they'd gone into Weathercote Wood first. How or why might Amarandaris know that? What was the trade between the Zhentarim and Weathercote Wood? What was the alliance between Wyndyfarh and the village? Dru sighed; he might never know the answers to those questions.
For now, all he needed to know was that the Network would be looking for him until they found him in Dekanter or elsewhere. The pool of acid in the pit of Dru's stomach grew deeper than he'd believed possible, then
