"We're just testing the effectiveness of the spell," Midnight said, and the burly fighter started slightly, bumping his head on the top of the crawlspace. "Let's go, then," the mage said, and the heroes left the hiding place.
As Midnight and her allies journeyed across the city, Gratus stopped from time to time to point out various safe houses whose residents were likely to admit them should the need arise. "Lashan had friends in the city," Gratus noted softly as the heroes passed one such house. "And many of them do not approve of Scardale’s declared neutrality."
"I've been curious about something, Gratus," Midnight said softly. "Exactly what is it you do in Scardale? You aren't a mage, a fighter, or a thief. How do you make ends meet?"
Varden laughed. "I'm not so sure he isn't a thief."
Gratus leaned close to Midnight. "I was Lashan's Minister of Propaganda," he whispered. "The city pensioned me off, but they refused to turn me over to the likes of these two boobs from Hillsfar on the condition that I keep my mouth shut about Lashan's possible return. Now I sell boots."
Wulstan overheard parts of what the old merchant said and quickly moved to Gratus's side. "You'd better watch what you're saying, old man, if you know what's good for you," the fighter growled.
Gratus replied mockingly, "So the rumor is true… people from Hillsfar have no sense of humor whatsoever."
Wulstan reached for his sword, hut his partner quickly raised his hand. "Stay your arm!" Tymon warned. "We can't afford to have our invisible shield fade. The moment we attack something… anything… we will become visible."
Adon stepped between Gratus and Wulstan and looked at the mage. "If only one of us attacks something, will the spell be canceled for us all?" the cleric asked quietly.
Varden took Gratus by the arm and pushed him in front of Midnight. "The way magic works nowadays, I wouldn't be surprised if we are never visible again," the thief said with a grin.
Midnight's flesh paled. She had not even considered the possibility that the spell might work too well.
"Imagine the fortune that could be amassed in this town by a thief gifted with invisibility," the thief went on, apparently happy for the first time in hours.
The Hall of Records, where Midnight and Adon had met Gratus earlier in the day, came up on the left. The building looked the same as it had earlier in the day, although a lone Zhentilar stood guard at the doors.
"I was worried they'd burn the place down," Gratus whispered as they passed the guard. "There are some very interesting papers I'd like to retrieve from there."
They continued on to the end of the block, then took a sharp right. Immediately the heroes spotted the warehouse where the assassins had landed and the Zhentish garrison beyond that. As expected, the sounds of revelry floated through the streets from the garrison. A token number of guards were posted outside the fort, and the entire building that served as the Zhentish headquarters was brightly lit.
"Bane must be allowing his soldiers to celebrate with a victory party," Midnight said softly as she led the heroes into an alley next to the warehouse.
"How very different from the way he drove his troops in the Battle of Shadowdale," Adon observed. "I wonder if the Black Lord's defeat has humbled him in some way…"
"I doubt it," Midnight replied. "Perhaps he's simply learned to recognize the value of his troops. In any case, we might just be able to turn his lenience against him."
"You mean you've solved the problem of how we get in?" Varden asked, running his hand through his blond hair.
"We need to check out the warehouse before we worry about the garrison itself," Midnight said as she turned to Varden. "We should circle around the building and see if there are any other doors."
The heroes slowly moved around the outside of the warehouse, staying as close to the side of the building as possible. Twice groups of Zhentish soldiers passed them, singing bawdy songs and telling off-color jokes, but they never even suspected that six intruders were only a few yards away.
At the rear of the warehouse, Varden discovered another door, though this one was locked. The thief quickly took out his lockpicks, and in a moment the door was open. He opened it slowly and peered inside.
"We couldn't have come at a better time," Varden whispered as he turned to Midnight. "The warehouse looks empty. We should be able to move around freely." The heroes silently filed into the building, with Midnight in the middle so that no one would stray outside the invisibility spell's area of effect.
"Close the door," Midnight hissed when they were all inside.
Wulstan started to follow Midnight's order, then paused and looked at the door's lock. "It looks like it locks both ways," the fighter said, motioning for Midnight to examine the door.
Midnight nodded and removed a piece of the gum that she had left over from her incantation and handed it to the soldier. "Put this in the lock first. The door will shut, but it won't lock. Then we won't be trapped if we need to make a quick exit."
Wulstan and Varden both looked at the mage with surprised expressions.
"An old friend taught me that trick," the raven-haired magic-user said, her thoughts suddenly turning to Cyric. But then Midnight felt a dark, somber mood settle over her, and for an instant, she was almost overwhelmed by her sorrow. The mage closed her eyes, steeled her will, and dismissed the emotion. Cyric's dead, and there's nothing I can do about it, the mage decided calmly. Kelemvor's alive and in need of my help. I can grieve later.
Midnight's thoughts were interrupted when Gratus moved to her side. "Could that be something you're looking for?" the old man asked as he pointed toward the shadows twenty feet to the left of the door.
Midnight squinted. Something sparkled in the moonlight. It looked like tiny shards of amber light.
"It couldn't be!" she breathed, then advanced toward the light. Adon rushed ahead of her and bent down over a partially open canvas sack.
"Midnight, they're here!" the cleric cried, a broad smile lighting up his face. "The sphere of detection and your spellbook are right here!"
"The assassins must have forgotten about them in the confusion caused by our escape!" Midnight said, picking up the sack.
"I didn't forget about it at all," a voice boomed from a darkened corner across the warehouse. "And I was counting on your not forgetting it either." Durrock stepped out of the shadows and into the pale moonlight filtering in through the windows. He wasn't wearing his armor, and his disfigured face was uncovered as he walked toward the heroes.
Midnight nearly gasped as she saw the assassin's face, and a brief flicker of sympathy flared inside her. Then she felt the canvas bag slip in her grasp, and she tightened her grip on it. Quickly the mage realized that, since she didn't have the canvas sack with her when she first cast the invisibility spell, it was still visible!
"Thanks for showing me exactly where you are," Durrock growled as he drew his night-black sword. The assassin was striding straight toward Midnight. "I've been waiting here for you for some time now."
The heroes spread out as far as they dared, and as Durrock came close to the mage, several of them circled behind him. Midnight tossed the sack to the ground and tried to dodge the assassin's attack, but the scarred killer made a feint forward, then reached out and grabbed the mage's hair. Midnight screamed.
Suddenly a large wooden plank crashed over the assassin's head, staggering him and forcing him to release his grasp on the mage. As Midnight scrambled away from Durrock, a blue-white aura enshrouded each of the heroes as the spell of invisibility faded.
Gratus stood behind the assassin, the shattered plank of wood still in his hands. Durrock gripped his night-black sword more tightly and screamed with rage and pain. The assassin's sword flashed out just as Varden grabbed the old man's shoulders and yanked him backward. The sword bit into Gratus's chest and blood spurted from the wound.