If he told Alias of Dragonbait’s behavior, with no one else to substantiate his words, would the swordswoman believe him? Probably not. Alias was very attached to the lizard. She felt safe with him.
Which left Akabar to decide whether or not to tell the swordswoman of the markings on her scaly follower’s chest. Trying to get the creature to remove his shirt to prove it would no doubt prove painful and perhaps even violent. And was no guarantee of Alias’s reaction. It was possible that she would perceive the lizard keeping his markings hidden from her as an act of betrayal, but it was more likely that she would feel even more attached to him, believing him to be a fellow victim. Were Akabar to try to convince her otherwise, she would no doubt accuse him of jealousy or paranoia.
No, he would be better off waiting, keeping a close watch on the lizard until he could discover some incontrovertible proof of the creature’s guilt. But would it be too late by then? he wondered.
As he reached The Old Skull, Akabar remembered he had one other subject which required some consideration—his meeting with the sage. Alias, intent on reaching Yulash, had not really shown any interest in the mage’s self-appointed mission to the sage of Shadowdale, but it would not have slipped her mind. She would ask about it. In the face of his uselessness the evening Dragonbait had destroyed the kalmari, the Turmishman was loath to confess his failure to gain an audience with Elminster.
The hooded one flipped down his shadowy cowl and shook out the full, gray beard that he had kept tucked within it. “Surely our guest hasn’t given up waiting on my pleasure so soon,” he joked.
Lhaeo looked up and shrugged. “For a magic-user he seemed a bit impatient.”
“Takes all types,” Elminster commented sagely as he threw his cloak over the chair Akabar had only recently vacated. He sat down and stretched out his long legs.
“Did you discover what you needed to know?” Lhaeo asked.
“I have all the pieces of the puzzle and I have put them all together. But the picture makes no sense.”
“Oh?” Lhaeo said, a little surprised.
“I may have to make that journey to the other planes after all.”
“Shall I begin packing?” Lhaeo asked.
“Not just yet,” the sage replied. “There’s a good chance the puzzle may just throw itself on the fire.” But a rare ache crept over his bones and he knew he was wrong. “In the meantime, maybe ye’d better dig some of the old Harper scrolls out of the vault.”
Lhaeo nodded and slipped out of the office jangling a set of great iron keys. Elminster retired to his study to research a single puzzle piece.
Back at The Old Skull, oblivious to the sage’s concern, the four adventurers tended to their own business.
Akabar worried about the meaning of the sigil he had been unable to trace and considered how to trap Dragonbait into betraying himself.
The lizard kept his own council and told no one of his plans.
Olive counted the platinum coins four more times, finally tucking them neatly into the pockets of her backpack.
Alias slept the morning away, and when she awoke in the early afternoon on the last day of Mirtul, she felt refreshed and peaceful.
16
Run Aground
Giogioni Wyvernspur, suddenly aware of his duty to posterity, began the first entry in his journal, despite the inconvenience of the rocking boat. With a stick of soft lead he scrawled:
The last day of Mirtul has dawned fair and bright, and the Dragonmere’s southern coastline is now in sight. The trip across the lake from Suzail has been a pain in the britches. The ship, on which that cad Vangerdahast has seen fit to book passage for me, is no larger than a festhall and a good deal less clean. A violent storm last night threatened to capsize this vessel, and consequently dinner was not served. But all that hardship is behind me. We will dock tonight in Teziir and proceed to Westgate in the morning, traveling along the coast, with land in sight at all times, thank Tymora.
This business of being a royal envoy might not be so bad, Giogi thought as he closed his journal. All he had to do was carry a letter from Azoun to a member of Westgate’s ruling council, find out if they knew anything about this Alias person, and then keep an eye out for her in case she showed up within the next two months—all at the crown’s expense.
As he stood at the upper deck’s railing, the Wyvernspur noble could pick out snatches of the conversation the captain was having with Teziir’s harbormaster. Something about an increase in the docking fee—another ten gold pieces was owed. A reasonable sum for making it to land, Giogi thought, but the ship’s captain had another opinion.
“Outrageous! I won’t suffer such extortion. I’ll bring her in without your help. See if I don’t!”
Somewhere astern, on the lower deck, a high-pitched voice asked another passenger, “Penurious, our captain, or merely recalcitrant?”
Giogi turned toward the sound of the voice. Funny, I didn’t notice any halflings aboard before.
The passenger the halfling had addressed was a lady cloaked from head to toe. When Giogi saw her face he froze. The halfling was male, completely unfamiliar, but the woman’s face—he couldn’t be mistaken. It was her!
“Why, Master Phalse,” the lady smiled. “If I had known you were traveling on the same vessel, I might have forsaken dinner with the captain for your company.”
“Dinner with the captain, dinner with me, while poor Zrie is left alone in Westgate. You can be so cruel, Lady Cassana. You know he falls to pieces without you.”
So, Giogi thought, Alias isn’t her real name, after all.
The Lady Cassana laughed with cruel amusement. “He needs the reminder occasionally. What are you doing here? I didn’t notice you board.”
“That’s because I only just popped in. I thought I might accompany you. How’s your arm?”
The lady frowned. “How did you know about that?”
“My master’s been scrying you to be safe. There was a blur as the One approached your bird form. When she passed by we noted the dagger in your wing.”
Cassana shrugged. “All healed when I polymorphed back to my own body.”
“Well, our condolences on the failure of your mission.”
The lady snarled. “The beast sleeps with his damned sword, so I could only use the subtlest of magics lest I alerted him to my presence and he dispelled my attacks. My creature would not approach him, branded as he is. I almost had the mage and the thief, but Puppet managed to shake me off in time to raise an alarm.”
“Well, there will be other opportunities,” the halfling replied, shrugging.
“We were lucky she had the brands checked for magic, or we might still be searching all compass points. But it was a fluke she had it done again near Zrie’s old rock garden, and a fluke that my creature spotted her in the gap. Don’t you think it’s time your master got involved in this?”
“There is no need when he has such efficient, clever helpers as myself.”
“Oh? And what have you done lately to earn such praise?”
“Planted a tracking device in the One’s, or as you would say, Puppet’s, party. A device strong enough to be detected despite the enchantment of misdirection about her.”
“Planted with the thief, I presume.”
Phalse nodded.
“But, how did you find the party?” Cassana asked.
“Upon interrogating Nameless I learned of a peculiar desire he had to sing in Shadowdale. Like father, like daughter. I kept watch on the town. As soon as my scrying power became blurred, I knew the One must have arrived. Sneaking in was a bit perilous—the town is heavily warded against my kind, but nothing I couldn’t handle. Now, aren’t you glad I didn’t let you kill poor, foolish Nameless?”