Angel of Death Sebastian

Part I Survival Survival of the fittest. Sages call it the law of the wild. But in truth it is the law of all life. Men like to think themselves above the animals, but in truth they live their lives by the same principles. This is an unforgiving world, and there is no greater instinct in life than survival. There are other instincts. Love, greed, lust, fear, hate. But they are all part of survival. It is theorized that man created society and humanity, and that this is what sets him apart from the animals. Once, in my naive youth, I also held with this perspective. But now I recognize that what sets man apart from the animals is that animals kill to survive, while man kills to thrive. In all peoples, in all times, those who have power have gained and maintained their position by eliminating all rivals. The main tool is assassination. In the decadent empires of the south, assassination has become an art form. Assassination, when performed correctly, is the single most impersonal act a man can make. When done incorrectly, it is simply murder. But if a man can become completely impersonal; if he can kill another man for no other reason than that he will be paid for it, if he can kill without hate, or malice, or bloodlust, then he may become the perfect killer. Once, in my younger years, I found such impersonality horrifying. Now I do not. I am counted among those possessing it. Every man's life is shaped, to some degree, by death and mortality. But I learned to be death's master, and so I became, like an elemental force, the one who gave it to others. I am the bringer of peace.

- Artemis Entreri

Chapter One A Birth in the Midst of death

The flickering lights of a thousand campfires spread across the darkened valley. The last blood-red rays of the dying sun spilled across the far edge of the western mountains, both highlighting and shadowing the grim contours of General Sharboneth's face where he stood, perched on a rocky outcrop overlooking his forces. The past four days had been on the march, and there had been no time for anything other than planning for the campaign ahead. Now, on the eve of what might be his greatest victory, there was nothing left for the general to do except wait. The battle lines were drawn; the men had their orders. Sharboneth ran an eye lazily over his forces, his mind unconsciously analyzing the military soundness of their position. He relished this time alone, away from his aides, and usually he found an certain contentment and relaxation in it. Not tonight, though. Too much depended on the outcome of tommorrow's engagement. For perhaps the thousandth time he wondered if what he was about to do was really wise. Angrily he supressed the thought. He had built the Tethyrian Royal Army into a force to be reckoned with, ruthlessly crushing the rogue nobles and their bandit forces. Tethyr was surrounded by enemies, both within and without, and now that old fool, King Alemander Tethyr the IV, threatened to cave beneath the pressure of the nobles. Sharboneth would not stand idle and watch the monarch give back the land his armies had paid for in blood. A cool night breeze ruffled Sharboneth's grizzled black beard, bringing him back to himself. The sun had set. In the distance, on the far side of the encampment, a tiny line of torches approached. The prince and his party had arrived, and Sharboneth would have to be there to meet them. The general sighed, and began picking his way back down the hillside.

* * * * *

Prince Alemander Tethyr was a young man of about twenty years. Clean shaven with rakish brown hair and piercing blue eyes, he would have been attractive save for the cruel twist of his lips and the foppish and gradiose manner in which he carried himself. He liked to think of himself as a warrior, and wore a jaunty rapier at his side. The weapon was more ornamentation than instrument, though, as the prince was an indifferent swordsman at best. "Greetings, general," he said elegantly, inclining his head as if he were adressing an underling rather than a co-conspirator. "If you will forgive the observation, even the elements contrive to hide this night's work." He gestured expansively. "The night is black and moonless, and the evening winds cloak even our voices." He gave a chuckle at his own cleverness. General Sharboneth frowned and did his best to hide his dislike of the man. Alemander may not have been more than a pretty rooster with petty ambitions, but he was close to the king, and had already proven an invaluable tool. "Are your men in position?" The prince assumed a hurt look. "You wound me, general! Do you think I would betray your confidence?" Ass, thought the general. "Is that a yes or a no?" The prince sniffed. "They are in position." "Good." At least he's managed to do that much by himself. "Can we be assured of the king's ignorance regarding the advance of my army?" Alemander gave a cruel smile. "I have surrounded my father with men who are loyal to me alone. The few reports of your advance that have leaked through have been downplayed. The old doddard suspects nothing." Sharboneth nodded. "Good. Now remember, my troops will reach the palatial estate at dawn. I will personally direct a straightforward attack on Castle Tethyr at daybreak. The castle itself is well constructed, and could sustain a siege of many months. That is why it is imperative that a small force of my men infiltrate the castle before the battle is joined. To that end, you will have your own men in place at the southern gatehouse just before dawn." Alemander yawned. "We've been through this before." Sharboneth ignored the complaint. In order for the plan to work, every detail had to be exact. "My men and yours will attack from within while I attack from without, setting fire to the royal chambers to destroy any evidence of your own treachery. You are one of the few people who are allowed to see the king directly, so you will have to be the one who kills him." "Ah, I prefer the term 'remove'" interjected Alemander. "It's so much less... indelicate, don't you agree?" Fop! "Very well, then, remove," Sharboneth said impatiently. "Once the king is dead and my men are inside, we'll have broken the backbone of any remaining resistance. After that it's all finished except for the fine details." Alemander nodded, his lips twisting into a feral grin. "And before the day is out, I'll be crowned king. 'From the ashes of the crushing and unexpected disaster will emerge a new government, jointly ruled by the two of us.' I came up with that myself, as a sort of acceptance speech for afterwards. Glorious vison, is it not?" Pompous ass! thought Sharboneth. "Glorious," he said aloud.

* * * * *

The prince and his retinue had departed, but Sharboneth had not yet retired. He expected one more visitor this evening. He had not long to wait. Less than fifteen minutes after the prince's departure a man clothed in the uniform and armor befitting a captain of Sharboneth's elite troopers entered his tent. So quietly did the man move that the general was not immediately aware of his presence. Sharboneth gave a start as he realized he was no longer alone. Gods! How does the man do that? He knew this man was no soldier of his, no matter what uniform he wore. The man said nothing, and Sharboneth felt a shiver run up his spine. The general had used this man before, and always with great success, but somehow the assassin always made him uneasy. Sharboneth had risen to his rank by facing all manner of foes, and he feared almost nothing. The assassin was an exception. "You startled me," muttered Sharboneth. Still the man said nothing. No shouts, no alarms, thought Sharboneth. I am guarded night and day by men personally loyal to me, How does the man get past them so easily? The general adopted a gruff, irritated look. It would not do to show weakness in front of this man. "You know what I want?" The assassin gave a slight bow, barely more than an inclination of the head. "Make certain the prince's body is never found. I want no evidence that he did not die a natural death." Again the assassin bowed. Sharboneth eyed him nervously. That should have concluded their business; the man had already been paid. The general stood, and went to fetch himself a cup of wine. "Would you-?" he started, but by the time he had turned back, the man had disappeared. How does the man do that? he wondered again.

* * * * *

A baby cry rang out, filling the small and dank torchlit chamber and echoing off the cold stone walls. The gnarled old nursemaid checked the limp form of the young mother. "No pulse." Her voice was old and tired. "Her encounter with the prince earlier must have caused complications." Everyone knew that Alemander was a cruel man, given to tempestuious fits of rage. The young lady had been brought in senseless, nearly beaten to death. Still the man should have known better than to beat a pregnant woman. "At least the baby's healthy." "And noisy," said the middle aged guardsman who was standing nearby. He sighed. "Another of Alemander's bastards we'll have to put to death." The nursemaid clutched the bawling infant protectively. "Not that! There's been enough bloodshed in this misbegotten family! I won't add another innocent to the list!" "What then?" asked the guardsman in surprise. "If the prince learns we spared the child, our heads will rest on pikes before morning! You know his policy as well as I. No potential heirs! I have my orders." "The prince will learn nothing," insisited the nursemaid. "The druids take unwanted children. We'll pass the child to them, with no story of its origin. No-one will ever suspect." "If you do this, you do it alone," said the guardsman shortly. "I say we just slaughter the brat. Life with the druids is no pleasure. It would be a mercy blow." "I'll make the journey alone then." Her tone brooked no argument. "A life with the druids is better than no life at all. I will leave on the morrow." "You'll be missed," protested the guardsman. "And the brat's howling during the night will be heard." The old woman was resolute. "Then I'll leave tonight. The commander of the west gatehouse owes me a favor anyway. And I won't be gone long enough to be missed. The other servants can cover for me easily enough, and none of the other women with child are due for several weeks yet." The guardsman bit his lip, uncertain. "It's better just to end the little bastard's life, here and now." Wordlessly the old woman pulled the child closer to her breast. The guardsman sighed resignedly. He had no taste for the slaughter of children. "Very well. Begone with you then. I'll dispose of the girl's body."

* * * * *

Prince Alemander was in an ebulliant mood. All his plans would soon come to fruition, and he would have the power he had always craved. A cup of wine in one hand and one of the serving girls in the other, he made his way to his private chambers. He was feeling especially energetic tonight; the girl already had a darkening purple bruise under one eye from where he had struck her earlier. He could almost feel sorry for her. It was unlikely she would survive until morning. He made his way past the sentries at his door and stopped cold. There was already someone waiting for him in his chamber. Recognizing the waiting man, he thrust the girl to one side, already forgetting her, and shut the door behind him. "Well, well. This is a surprise. I expected you earlier." The other man shrugged. The prince scowled. "I assume you are as good as your reputation?" The man gave a slight nod. "Well then," said the prince, a little annoyed that the man hadn't yet deigned to speak, "your instructions must have already reached you. I shall reiterate them to make them clear." He paused expectantly. The other remained silent, much to the frustration of the prince. Alemander prided himself on his ability to irritate others, and disliked men who couldn't be provoked even to speech. "You are to find Sharboneth and eliminate him, sometime near the aftermath of tomorrow's battle. And make it thorough! I want no hedge wizard or priest able to use his remains to summon his spirit." The other man gave the ghost of a smile, and nodded, almost mockingly. There was something in his eyes which told of amusement. If Alemander hadn't known better, he would have sworn that the assassin knew something important. Suddenly he felt uneasy. "Then get to your business," the prince barked. "I have other things to see to!" The assassin was gone before he finished speaking. For a long moment Alemander stood, thinking back on the words he had exchanged with the man. His eyes rested on the serving girl, huddled against the far wall, and he smiled. She had heard too much. She would have to be disposed of. But his blood was up, now, and he needed something to sate both his lust and his rage upon. She would not die quickly. No indeed.

* * * * *

Smoke curled up and wafted through royal chambers of King Alemander Tethyr IV. From the distance came the clash of weapons and the screams of dying men. Twenty imperial guardsmen lined the walls, a final line of defense for the king. The royal thaumaturgist stood at the king's right arm. The two huge doors to the chamber boomed once, then swung wide. For a moment the guardsmen tensed, fearing that Sharboneth's forces had finally breached the final ring of King Tethyr's defenses. Instead prince Alemander strode in, bearing proudly a huge and ancient two-handed sword. King Tethyr smiled grimly, the light of madness filling his eyes. "How goes the battle with these treasonous upstarts?" he asked. The king refused to believe that his forces were being defeated. To his mind, it simply wasn't possible that some rabble led by some commoner should threaten him. "Not well, father," said the prince, "but the tide is about to turn! Behold the sword of our ancestors, father!" He unsheathed the great blade. "With you to wield it, none shall stand against us!" The king stood, reaching out for the sword. A trickle of spittle leaked from a corner of his mouth. The prince lunged forward with the sword, snarling. The king might have been old and senile, but in his youth he had fought a fair number of battles. With the speed and luck of the mad, he yanked himself out of the path of the blade, so that instead of being pierced through the heart he recieved only a scratch on his right arm. "Treachery!" wailed the king, backing away. "Guards! Your king is betrayed! Slay him! Slay him!" The guardsmen hurried forward, surrounding the king protectively. The prince smiled. A moment later the guardsmen had seized the king and carried him forward. The king, uncomprehending, still struggled and spat incomprehensebly. "These are my men, father!" laughed the prince, lifting the sword for a second blow. The king looked about him in confusion. Were all his men traitors? His gaze fell upon the thaumaturgist, who refused to meet his gaze. "Even you, Vintharius?" The wizard bowed his head. "I can see which way the winds of change blow." "Enough prattle!" roared the prince. He lunged, piercing the king through the chest. Shock passed over the old man's face. Then, as his eyes began to glaze, be began to laugh, raspily and painfully. "I suspected... made sure! There is... another! Your brother!" Alemander's victorious smile faded. "Brother?" he demanded, grasping the dying kings robes. "What brother? Where? Where, you old fool?" The old man crumpled to the floor. "Beyond your reach... protected by the greatest mage alive..." "Who? Tell me who, old man!" But the king had passed beyond. The smile was frozen on his face forever. Still frowning, the prince let his father's corpse fall to the floor. Slowly his scowl was replaced by a sardonic smile. His shoulders began to shake, and he burst out with a cackle of laughter. "A brother, father? A brother? What is that to me? Who will ever know about my brother now that you are gone? Soon I will rule all of Tethyr! No brother can keep me from my destiny!" The prince turned from the corpse. "Who is your king?" he bellowed, spreading his arms wide. The assemblage dropped to their knees in homage. The prince gave a feral grin. "You may rise." He sat idly on the throne from which his father had ruled, draping his right leg over one of the throne's golden arms. "Now something must be done about my father's body." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Give it to the dogs. That would be fitting." He chuckled. "That is my first order as king of all Tethyr!" A man stepped out of the shadows in the far end of the royal chamber. Alemander's eyes widened. The assassin! "Do you bring news from the front?" he asked, summoning the man forward. "Has general Sharboneth fallen?" "I bring news," answered the assassin. His hands moved, almost faster than the human eye could follow, and a whirring sound filled the air for a split second. The royal wizard's head toppled from his shoulders, neatly severed by some incredibly sharp instrument. The wizard's body tottered forward, arms flailing, blood spuring from the neck. The prince stared in horror as the body crumpled to the floor a moment later. "Guards!" he shrieked, sinking down into the the throne and throwing up his arms. "Strike that man down!" The guardsmen leaped forward, surrounding the assassin. They were battle-hardened veterans, men who lived and died by their skill with their swords. Two blades appeared as if by magic in the assassin's hands and whirred into action, cutting a swath of death that was almost too fast for the mind to comprehend through the guardsmen's ranks. The guardsmen were like sheep led to the slaughter. The assassin killed and killed again. An instant later the two surviving guardsmen were fleeing for their lives. An instant following that, they were dead as well. Horror- struck, the prince had watched this nightmare unfold. He had soiled himself already, and was stammering out pleas and curses, holding the ancient sword before him. Almost contemptuously the assassin lashed out. His glancing blow sent the ancient sword skittering across the bloody marble floor. The prince was dead before he had a chance to scream. The assassin paused a moment, stooping to remove a purse of gold from the prince's body. Calmly he counted out the proper amount owed to him, then let the rest fall to the floor. "Half done," he murmured under his breath.

* * * * *

The general stood on a slight rise, from which he could see the burning palace and most of the battle that raged there. From time to time he would give an order to one of the young aides at his side, and the aide would run to deliver it to the lieutenant or company commander the general had ordered it given to. The battle was all but over already. One of the general's elite troopers made his way from the palace to where Sharboneth stood. As the man drew nearer, Sharboneth recognized him as the assassin he had employed. "Leave us," he barked to his aides as the assassin made his way up the hill. As the man drew closer Sharboneth noted he was carrying a huge two-handed sword strapped to his back. With a start he recognized it. "You were able to retrieve the sword as well! This is good fortune. As a symbol, the Sword of Tethyrian Kings will be invaluable to me in my consolidation of power." "It isn't for you," said the assassin. "I took it for myself. A memento." Sharboneth scowled. "What do you mean? Is the prince not dead? Is the contract not completed?" "The body of prince Alemander is ashes," said the assassin. "One contract is fulfilled." "One contract? Was there more than that? What do you mean?" "Only this," said the assassin, lashing out. His blade pierced Sharboneth through the heart instantly, cutting through sinew and bone as if they were paper. The general gave a shudder as he died, his mouth hanging open in stark incomprehension. With a twitch the assassin removed the sword fromt he general's body, which slumped to the ground. The assassin studied his victim for a moment. "You have an interesting face, my friend," he murmured. He bent over the body, taking his payement, then poured a vile of incredibly concentrated acid onto the remains. He stood. "The contracts have been fulfilled." His silver ring glittered in the dusky light. Etched onto its surface were two fangs, dripping poison.

* * * * *

The stunning loss of central control in the Tethyrian power scale led to devastating consequences. The common people, for as long as anyone could remember, had been downtrodden and overtaxed to the point of desperation by the social elite. Now that the king and his heir were dead, there was no-one powerful enough to take the throne for himself. As the remaining lords and nobles squabbled for whatever power they could grasp, civil war erupted throughout the countryside as commoners rose in a blood-lusting, unstoppable mob. Over the course of the next ten days, the mobs swept the country, pillaging the cities and putting to the sword any who had or made claim (however distant) to the royal blood of Tethyr. When the mobbing and pillaging had finally died, Tethyr had been changed forever. Bandits had sprouted like weeds,, and petty lordlings held tyrannical sway over patches of land. Tethyr became a shadow of itself, and was thrown into a state of extreme anarchy in which only the strong and charismatic survived. It has never recovered.

Chapter Two Zazesspur: Through the Eyes of a Baby

The calishite caravan was pulled into a tight circle. The fluttering and uncertain light of the campfires within contrasted sharply with the silvery light of the huge desert moon which hung low above the horizon, making the area within the caravan circle seem even darker than that without. A nervous little man, dressed in expensive finery and flanked by four men-at-arms, sat huddled over a small glowing campfire. Seated directly across from him was an old woman, dressed in rags and eating voraciously from the bowl she held protectively in her lap. The man watched for a time, disgusted by the woman's growling and smacking, as she consumed the stew he had given her. At length she finished, and with a grin held out her bowl for more. "Not yet," said the merchant. "It isn't good for the digestive system to overindulge. Let's talk for a while, and if I like what you have to say, you may recieve more." The old woman cackled. "You want to know about the demon, eh? Well, I might have a story or two." "I want more than stories, old woman. Everyone has heard stories." She cackled again. "I've seen him. Not once but twice. These old eyes of mine know what he looks like. Now there's a story I'll wager you haven't heard yet!" The merchant leaned forward eagerly. "Tell me!" "The first time was the night before Castle Tethyr fell. I may be the only survivor of that place. Oh, and the child too - one of the prince's bastards. That was the reason I left that night, to take the child to safety. Lucky for me I did. If I hadn't I would no doubt have perished the following day." "The Viper!" broke in the merchant angrily. "Tell me of the Viper!" "He met with the prince that evening. I don't know why. I saw him leaving the prince's quarters. He was dressed as a royal guardsman, but I knew it was him. I only saw him for a second, but there was something in the way he moved, something that spoke of danger. He saw me." "What did you do?" "What did I do?" The woman laughed. "I bundled the child up and got out of there as quickly as I could. I had intended to take the child to the druids, but the next day Castle Tethyr fell and the the mobs rose. You remember what it was like? I knew my life would be forfeit if anyone found out who the child was. Even now, four years later, they hunt down and execute those rumored to be even remotely related to the royal family. And there I was with the prince's son in my arms! "I dumped the brat with the first old couple that would take him." She reflected. "They seemed kindly enough, though they might've been planning to sacrifice the child in some bizarre ceremony, for all I knew. I didn't really care one way or the other by that point. Much longer, and I'd have left the child by the roadside to die." "Devils fly off with your high-born child!" sputtered the merchant. "I asked about the Viper! If he saw you, why would he have let you live?" The old woman shrugged. "Who knows what goes through the mind of such a one?" The merchant shook his head in disgust. "I'm sorry I wasted my stew on you, old woman. Your concocted story does me no good. How can you even be certain it was the Viper you saw?" A craftly look passed over her face. "I wasn't, until yesterday, when I saw him a second time. But if you've no wish to hear my tale-" "Sit!" barked the merchant as she started to rise. "Tell me, and if your story rings true, you will be rewarded." The old woman smiled and sat again. "It was at that last hamlet. I saw something. A man, dressed like one of them." She jerked a thumb towards the four men-at-arms. "I heard him cry out from a back alley. I only stopped for a moment, to look in. I was afraid the demon might see me." The merchant looked unconvinced. "One of my men? But that's impossible." Instinctively he glanced up at them. "None of my men are missing." The old woman shrugged. "I didn't say he was one of your men. I only said he was dressed like one of your men. And from the brief glance I stole before hurrying on, he was being tortured by the Viper." "Then you saw him? You saw his face?" She nodded. "It was the same man I saw that night in the palace." "What did he look like?" She shrugged "Ordinary. Nondescript. Average. The only feature that stood out were his eyes. He had the eyes of a demon!" The merchant frowned. "It might have been the Viper," he said doubtfully. "It might have been him. But why me? I am not important. I have few enemies. why would the Viper be after me?" He glanced up to his guardsmen. "Did any of you talk to the man she-" Only one of the four still stood the other three were lying in their own blood. "Gods!" shrieked the old woman, bolting back from the fire instinctively, not yet aware that she was already dead. One of the assassin's daggers was planted in her left eye, the hilt protruding slightly. "Wha-!" began the merchant as he scrambled backwards in a movement that saved his life as the dagger meant to take his life merely took off his right ear. The assassin frowned at the man's incredible luck, then stepped forward slowly. There was no reason to hurry. "It's the walk," he said, almost conversationally. The merchant was dumbfounded. "The walk," the assassin repeated again. "Every person has a way of walking that is entirely unique to that person. Once you've mastered a person's walk, it becomes quite a simple matter to emulate their mannerisms. You hardly need any other form of disguise. Watch." For a moment the assassin was gone; the guardsman had returned. So perfect was the impression that even though the merchant knew that the man who stood before him was no guardsman he was fooled, just for a second. "You see?" asked the assassin, back again. And the merchant did. "Please," he moaned, clutching his mangled ear, "I want to make a deal!" "Oh?' A sword came into the assassin's hand. The point nudged the merchant's throat. "I'm listening. Who do you want me to kill?" "I.. I'm willing to pay!" The assassin nodded. "You will pay. My services are very expensive, but my work is absolutely guaranteed. I never miss. Who do you want me to kill?" The merchant was weeping softly. "I don't want anyone killed! I'll pay you whatever you want if you will only spare my life!" The assassin smiled. His sword darted forward, taking the merchant through the heart. The merchant looked down at his wound in shock and amazement, then looked dumbly up at his killer. The assassin shrugged. "I am in the business of assassinations. I don't intend to let a perfectly good contract go unfulfilled." The merchant's eyes glazed as he died.

* * * * *

Joram and Hyullis never asked where the child came from, and the nursemaid never volunteered the information. It was a troubled time; questions were dangerous. The old couple never even asked the nursemaid's name. The child was enough. They named him Athos. The old couple had never been able to have children. To them, the infant represented a second chance at the family they had hoped for in earlier years. And they were certainly good parents, gentle and kind. Perhaps they spoiled him. Certainly they tried to. But Athos was strange, even in his youngest years. He was a quiet child, even when he was a toddler. He tended to be thoughtful. And, when Joram or Hyllis spoke, his listened. Certainly not traits common to young children. He was quiet when he moved too. He displayed an astonishing dexterity. He taught himself to walk before his first birthday. His hands were nimble and quick, and his coordination was surprising for one so young. Once, when he was playing with some of the older children from the nearby farms, he was dared to balance on one foot atop a high wooden fence which had been greased. The other children had never really taken to Athos, and had devised the prank as a way to humiliate the boy. Once he had climbed up onto the fence, they rushed forward and began shaking it. Unconcerned, Athos had maintained his position, never even placing his other foot down. (The other children were not pleased with this, especially young Bilyth, the oldest of the lot, whose grip had slipped on the grease, causing him to fall and wrench his shoulder painfully.) But, more than that, Athos was intelligent. He had learned to speak before his second birthday - cohesive sentences with properly pronounced words; no babytalk. Even before he learned to speak he was putting together fairly intricate puzzles. By his fourth summer he had already learned writing, reading, and basic mathematics - at least as much as Joram had been able to teach, which was far more than what most grown men had mastered. And he was mature. Sometimes he was even somber. He was a small boy. Not scrawny or undernourished really, but slight. Hyllis sometimes worried about him. Wasn't he too thin and oughtn't he eat more? Joram would shake his head when she voiced her concerns, explaining that Athos was just a boy yet, that he would get bigger, just give him time. Hyllis would muble something about how men didn't understand children, and would worry anyway. Indded, Athos did look fragile, as if he were cut from fine porcelain. He was an attractive child. He was never cute; never cherubic. Nor was he truly handsome. He was beautiful, with features so perfectly and finely cut that he could almost be mistaken for a girl. His only physical drawback, if it could be called that, was his pale skin. Both his hair and his eyes contrasted with it, and it simply refused to darken, even under long hours of sunlight. Still the old couple loved him. His intelligence and accomplishments made them proud. And even if once in a while, late late at night one or the other of them wondered who his natural parents had been, or pondered whether or not royal blood flowed in his veins, it didn't matter. Whoever he might have belonged to before the nursemaid came, he was theirs now. And they were proud of it. And so the days went by and the seasons changed; winter into spring into summer into fall. And life remained the same for Athos. Until the day Joram allowed Athos to journey with him into the nearby city of Zazesspur.

Chapter Three Zazesspur: Through the Eyes of a Child

Originally Zazesspur had been the seat of Tethyr political power - a small city of beautiful and stately buildings. During the 'Ten Black Days of Eleint' which followed the deaths of the king, prince, and general the city was sacked; looted and burned by the angry mobs. Despite this the city's population had doubled within a week of the burning as the refugees, loyalists, and former nobles fled from all parts of Tethyr to the only center of stability they knew. Today it was three times as large as it had ever been, the greatest and most populous city in Tethyr. The old city, which had been put to the torch, became the center of the new city, the newer parts sprouting up and radiating out from the former ruins in a mazelike wheel. The outer edges of this 'wheel' were little more than a tent city, where merchants hawked their wares and where the poorest of the city's residences lay. Joram kept Athos close to his side as they made their way through the city. The crowds were heavy and Athos was distracted. The boy was amazed at the myriad of sights and sounds that assailed his eyes and ears. Just inside the eastern gate a pair of dirt-encrusted beggars moaned and pleaded with the passing throng. One had a dirty rag tied over his eyes and a cane by his side, the other had no legs below the knees. Both held out dingy wooden bowls in hope of a few copper pieces. Catching sight of them, Joram halted and fought his way across the way to get to them. He dropped a Tethyrian silver piece into each bowl before walking on. Athos noted that both boys snatched the valuable coins from their bowls as soon as he and Joram had passed, leaving only the few coppers which had been there before. He also noticed that the boy with no legs sat strangely, as if he were kneeling on real legs instead of resting on his rear. Curious. "Look there!" exclaimed Joram after the two beggars had passed out of sight behind them. "Jugglers!" Athos looked to see what fascinated his father so, but saw nothing extraordinary. "Where?" he asked, standing on tiptoe, thinking that perhaps his view was blocked by passerby. "Just there," said Joram, pointing again and privately wondering at the boy's lack of perception, "not more than a score of paces distant." Athos watched the two men for a moment, then looked up at his father in surprise. "Why are you so excited, father?" he asked, perplexed. "They are doing nothing a normal person could not." The two men were juggling a series of small swords back and forth between them. A small crowd had gathered around them, applauding appreciatively every now and then as the jugglers performed a particularily intricate trick. Joram chuckled, taking Athos by the hand and leading him away. "You should try to do what they are doing sometime. I think you will find it far more difficult than it looks." The boy frowned. He didn't see how that could be, and resolved to try this 'juggling' himself, as soon as possible. A movement to the left caught Athos' eye. A young boy of twelve or so was walking behind a fat merchant, his right hand moving within the pouch which swung freely at the merchant's side. The boy looked up, feeling Athos' eyes upon him. He gave a weak smile. Athos smiled back, and gave a little wave. The boy nodded and scampered off a moment later, something in his hands. He joined a group of other boys his age, and they darted off into the crowd, snickering. The merchant walked on, unaware that anything had happened. Before Athos could puzzle out exactly what had happened a tall skinny man dressed in flowing robes stepped in front of him and grinned gap-toothedly. "Does the young master like toys?" he asked in Amnish accents, holding out a stuffed animal pelt cut to look like a came which had obviously seen better days. His breath was noxious. "No thank you, sir," said Athos, backing away. "It's alright, Athos," said Joram, urging the boy forward. "How much for the toy?" The swarthy man smiled, his eyes narrowing. "Ah! You have a good eye, sir! This very toy was once a possession of a young prince of far distant Thay! It being a priceless heirloom, I cannot let it go for a paltry sum." "I can offer you no more than two silvers," said Joram apologetically, turning away. "A moment, kind gentleman!" protested the man. "Ordinarily I would not dream of doing such a foolish thing, but as my poor family is in dire need of money, and because the young master looks so disappointed... I offer you the chance of winning this prized toy in a game of chance." Joram turned back, interested. "A game of chance?" "A mere distraction for one of your intelligence, good sir," said the man, gesturing to a rude wooden table standing at the side of the street. "I possess three cards, one of which bears the sigil of the sun." He had now reached the table and fished from some pocket three worn cards. "I will show you the card bearing the sigil of the sun, then place the three cards face down on the table and mix them up. If you can keep track of which one is the sun card, you win the toy." As he spoke he laid the cards down and began shifting them, demonstrating." "Father," said Athos, "I don't want the toy, really." Joram stepped forward. "It sounds simple enough. But I'm only betting one silver." "Agreed, agreed!" The swarthy man was eager. The merchant picked up one of the cards, displaying it to Joram. It was the sun card. "Once upon a time," he began, gesturing broadly with his left hand, "the sun was captured by an evil demon." In a deft movement he placed the sun card face down with the other three cards. "The demon spirited the sun off to some lower plane of existance - perhaps Tarterus, or maybe Hades." Now he began rearranging the cards, picking them up and placing them in different positions. To his credit, the cards moved quickly, but it was fairly simple to keep track of the card which must have been the sun. "Now, the world was a dark and lonely place without the sun, and many adventurers and brave souls ventured out, seeking the demon to ask for the sun's release. He turned them all away with this riddle. Perhaps you, sir, will be able to bring back the sun." He finished and leaned back, smiling, to allow Joram to make his choice. Joram reached forward to where the sun card must be, but Athos caught his sleeve. "The sun card isn't on the table, father," said Athos. "I saw him slip it into his sleeve as he gestured during the story." The swarthy man looked surprised, then indignant. "Is that true?" asked Joram. "Of course not!" snapped the man, putting on a great show of being offended. "I am insulted at being so wrongly accused! Now, make your choice!" Athos reached forward, quickly overturning all three cards at once. None of them bore the sun sigil. Joram was furious. "I choose the card within your pocket, charlatan!" Already the skinny man was racing off, darting through the crowds and melting into the flow, his cards forgotten. Joram looked at Athos. "You have a very sharp eye. I'm sorry that he made off with the toy." Athos picked up the three cards teh skinny man had left behind. The moon, a skeleton holding a scythe, and a beautiful woman made of ice. "I didn't want the toy anyway, father." Joram smiled, then rumpled Athos' hair. "Let's go," he said. "We've a full day ahead of us."

* * * * *

That evening, they supped in the tavern room of the The Singing Crossbow, the inn they would be staying at. "And what will you have with your meals, sirs?" asked the serving wench, a plump girl of seventeen or so. "Water and unfermented goatsmilk, please," replied Joram. She nodded pleasantly and moved off. "Look father!" said Athos, picking up his silverware. "Be careful with that," admonished Joram as the boy tossed the utensils in the air. "Juggling," said Athos after a moment as the knives and forks began an intricate circular dance in the air. "It's easy." Joram was astonished. "You have a gift, boy," he murmured. "But you'd better stop. You don't want to attract attention, and I don't think the barkeep appreciates his silverware being tossed about." The boy nodded and caught the dancing silverware, placing it back on the tabletop. The serving girl returned after a short time, bringing their meals: steaming rabbit stew and an exotic looking salad full of leafy vegetables of colors and textures Athos was not familiar with. They dug in heartily. Well into their meal, a man stumbled into the tavern and wandered to the bar. He began singing lustily and off-key melody. His face was unshaven and his hair was wildly tousled. The Singing Crossbow was not the kind of establishment which catered to crowds of raring drunks. It was a quiet place, and the man looked wildly out of place. He surveyed the room unsteadily for a few moments, barely keeping his feet. His bleary eyes fell on the table where Athos and Joram sat, and he waved merrily. "Ho friends!" "Ignore him," instructed Joram. Athos looked down at his dinner. The man was undeterred. He stumbled acros the room towards their table, and sat in one of the empty chairs heavily. He giggled. "Hello, my quiet friends!" he said, clapping Athos on the shoulder. "I am Luskag, and I am a dead man!" Athos wished he were somewhere else. "Take note, Athos," said Joram. "This is what alchohol does to a man's mind." Either the man didn't hear the gibe or he decided to ignore it. He leaned back and propped his feet up onto the table. He was still smiling stupidly. "I tell you I am a dead man! Aren't you curious about death? Have you no questions to ask a dead man while you may?" "No," said Joram acidicly, turning back to his stew. "What? None?" The man's breath stank of cheap ale. "And you, boy? You have no questions?" Athos said nothing. "You are rather lively for a dead man," said Joram. "Your breath may stink like a day old corpse, but you are still very much alive, I think. Just drunk." The man swung his feet off the table and leaned forward, grinning. "I am not believed?" Joram shook his head. "Go away. Leave us to our meal." The man leaned back again. "I am not believed," he murmured almost thoughtfully. "You are newcomers to this city?' he asked, then laughed. "To our fair city?" Joram studiously ignored him. After a moment his gaze shifted to Athos. Uncomfortable, Athos finally gave a slight nod. "Ah," said the man, nodding, "newcomers. You wouldn't know how our thieves' guild operates then, would you?" "We don't associate with thieves, stranger," growled Joram. The other man shrugged. "Incidentally, I am a member of that guild myself. Or, rather, I was a member. Five days ago they called me before the guild council and charged me with witholding the percentage that every guildmember must pay when they make a score." He winked at Athos. "They said I was cheating them. They were right, of course. I do it all the time. I've just never been caught at it before." He shook his head solemnly. "They pronounced me a dead man." Joram was ignoring the man, but Athos found himself trying to follow what the man was saying. "They didn't kill you right there, on the spot?' he asked. The man smiled. "No need. they always execute a rogue member the same way - in public and very messily. Serves as an example to other guildmembers, you see." Athos shook his head, not understanding. "But you aren't dead yet. Why not flee the city?' The man's smile melted away. "No use in running, boy. The guild has a long standing agreement with an assassin." His face went grim. "They say he's part demon, and I'm inclined to believe them. I've seen his handiwork before." He shook his head again. "One thing's certain. You can't run from him. He'll find you." "What's his name?" "His name?" The man chuckled. "In his business, a name is power. I don't know what his name is. I doubt that anyone who did would live for very long." His voice dropped to a whisper. "People call him the Viper." A chill worked its way down Athos' spine. For a moment a superstitious dread hung over the room. "Remember this, boy. He is the true ruler of this place. To see him is to know terror. If you live your life in poverty and misery but never cross his path, count yourself fortunate." The man scraped back his hair, standing suddenly, looming above the boy. He threw back his head and howled. "Viper! Come and take me, you filth!" He sat down heavily on the floor, missing his chair, and collapsed in gales of laughter. "Come Athos," said Joram, "I've lost my appetite. Let's get to bed." As they mounted the stairs Athos heard the man bawling at the barkeep. "Dwarven spirits, man! Fetch me your strongest dwarven spirits!"

* * * * *

There was no moon that night, and the city of Zazesspur was cloaked in blackness as thick as pitch. A ghostly wind played across the rooftops, whistling softly, eerily. Athos stood at the window, the room dark and quiet behind him, looking out at the tiny points of light that marked streetlamps and windows, pondering. Joram was in bed, his breath making a tiny shushing sound as his chest rose and fell slowly. The inn was still. It had been for hours. No doubt the doors were shut, the tavern room carefully cleaned and empty, the patrons either retired to their rooms or gone out into the night. And yet Athos couldn't sleep. He wondered what had become of the drunken man. Perhaps he had taken a room. More likely he had drunk himself into a stupor, and the barkeep had thrown him out into the street. A piercing wail rang out suddenly, shattering the night. It was a cry of desperation, of terror, of pain, and with terrible certainty Athos realized it came from a human throat. The cry was abruptly cut short. Joram jerked awake. "What was that?" he whispered loudly. "Athos?" "Here father," whispered Athos, terrified. The cry had emanated from somewhere within the inn. The cry sounded again, closer and louder than before. It was a man's voice, crying in agony. Athos had a sudden vision of the drunken man, wounded and fleeing his assassin. Joram began rooting around in the darkness, searching for something. There was a click, and then a flare of light. He had lighted a small lamp. Athos could see that in his other hand he clutched a knife. "I'm going to see what's going on," he said, heading for the door. "You stay here." "No father!" protested Athos. "Don't go! Stay here, where it's safe!" "Stand back, Athos," commanded Joram, brushing by the boy. Athos reached out, grasping his father's sleeve. "Don't go!" he said urgently. Joram ignored the boy, and opened the door. The hallway was pitch black. He stepped out, peering down it. Athos stood rooted to the spot, afraid to leave the room. Joram held the lamp higher, and started down the hallway. "Who's there?" he demanded. The light, and Joram, moved out of sight, to the right of the doorframe. From where he stood, Athos could only see the weird shadows cast by the small light moving on the far wall. "Blessed Tyr!" he heard his father exclaim in horror, "What are you doing?" The the light was extinguished and Athos heard his father scream. And suddenly he knew that his life was in danger. He knew - knew! - that if he wished to escape the assassin he would have to be silent. Paralyzed with fear, he sharnk back against the wall, sweating, ashamed of his cowardice. This was not the way heroes behaved in stories. How dare he hide here! His father needed him! Had he no more love for his father than this? It was a betrayal! And yet he could not move, could not think. He was powerless against his own fear. And now, in the very hour when he needed to be silent most, he found that he could not. His heart rang in his ears loudly. Quiet! he ordered himself. Silence! His breathing was so loud that it seemed to him that it must be heard throughout the inn. He held hs breath for as long as he dared, placing his hand over his mouth. Be silent! He felt hot tears streaming down his cheeks, and he was ashamed of that too. A tiny rush of wind touched his face. Someone or something brushed past him in the darkness, and stopped. He fought down the urge to shrink back. Be still! Be still! He shut his eyes tightly in terror. And then he was alone. Perhaps he had been still enough. Perhaps the assassin had been fooled. Be Still! The assassin hasn't left! He's waiting, waiting for you to betray yourself by moving, by making a sound! Every minute became an hour, every breath an agony. And he waited, determined that he would not move. And waited. And waited. He stayed there until morning came, frozen by fear, his muscles trembling from the effort of holding himself still for so many hours.. Eventually, when dawn came, he realized he was alone. As the light grew, he dared to look into the hall. When he caught sight of the carnage, bile forced its way into his throat. The city guard arrived later. "What happened here?" the captain asked the innkeeper. "A thief who was slated for death was executed last night." The innkeeper was almost nonchalant. "Apparently the other man was fool enough to get in the way." The captain nodded. "The Viper's work," he said dismissively. The Viper! thought Athos. The assassin the drunkard spoken of! The captain made as if to leave. "Well, there's nothing more to be done here," he said, looking at the innkeeper. "I don't envy you, having to clean up that mess." "Wait!" said Athos, grasping the hem of the captain's tunic. "Aren't you going to find this killer and bring him to justice?" The captain laughed and turned away. "Who is this ignorant brat?" "The other man's son," replied the innkeeper. "Which reminds me." He turned to Athos. "Unless you have some money, you'd best be on your way. My inn is not a haven for vagrants and orphans." "What?" asked Athos, hardly understanding. "Do you have money?" asked the innkeeper. "My father had all the gold." "There wasn't any gold on him when I found him," said the innkeeper. "You'd better go." Athos felt a flash of rage go through him. He hurled himself at the man, only to be snatched off his feet by a nearby guardsman. "Liar!" he shouted. "I saw you take the money from his body!" The innkeeper produced a gold piece, and slipped it into the captain's waiting palm. "Do your duty, captain." The captain chuckled. "We'll escort him out for you." He gestured, and a second guardsman stepped forward to help his companion with the boy. Together, they managed to seize the struggling boy by the feet. Athos was carried upside down, swinging back and forth and unable to get a grip on either of his captors. They carried him down the stairs, to the whooping and hollering of their comrades, and hurled him face first into the mud outside. Athos scrambled to his feet and ran. Behind him the soldiers' laughs faded. He didn't stop until his lungs were on fire and his legs gave out beneath him. He looked around him and realized he had no idea where he was. He huddled against a wall and sobbed. "Can't you cry somewhere else?" whined a nearby beggar. "You're going to ruin my business." Athos ignored him, and clutched the only possession he had left to him. Three worn playing cards.

Chapter Four Zazesspur: Through the Eyes of a Boy

A slight figure darted its way through the midday crowd which thronged the city streets. It was a dark-haired boy of twelve or so years, in continual motion as he picked his way through the throng, cutting a purse here, lifting some jewelry there. It had been nearly five years since Athos had been stranded in this city. Forced to rely on his wits alone he had honed his abilities in order to survive. He ducked behind a covered litter that was making its way slowly through the crowd. The litter was bourne by four heavily-muscled kushite manservants, and attended by four guardsman of the same nationality, who were armed with pole arms that they used to push back the passing throngs.. He trailed along behind it for a few moments then, more out of curiosity than anything else, he decided to investigate further. He darted out into the crowd again, making a tight arc that brought him alongside the litter. Diving into a roll which took him under the reach of one of the surprised guardsman, he came to his feet and leaped through the bright silks which swathed the litter. He landed in the lap of a profoundly fat man, who was wearing a huge golden amulet. The man goggled in surprise and dismay. Athos snatched the amulet with one hand, the other cutting an arc across the obese man's neck, severing the chain to which the amulet was attached with a small dirk. The fat man gasped in panic at the sight of the blade, then in relief as he realized he had not been struck down. "Guards!" he shrieked. The litter lurched wildly as the servants dropped it. The guardsmen rushed forward. Instantly Athos was on his way again, leaping upward through the silks that made up the litter's ceiling. He paused a moment there, poised atop the gilded wooden supports, then leaped out over the guardsmen's heads and into a laid out spin which took him squarely into the tight-pressed throng which was moving steadily past on either side. He landed easily on his feet, dodged a blow from an outraged woman with an ugly scar, and without looking back, raced in the opposite direction.

* * * * *

Scant moments later, he had joined a group of six other boys in a nearby alley. "Whaddijya get, runt?" asked Rathan, cuffing him on the head. Rathan, at eighteen years of age, was the oldest present. He was also the self-proclaimed leader of the group, which called itself the 'rat pack'. Although he was a coward when it came to dealing with others his own age, Rathan bullied the other boys, who were all much younger and smaller than he was. "Not much," said Athos, dodging the brunt of the blow. Rathan grinned, his acne-scarrred face crinkling grotesquely. "Then you ain't gonna have nothing to eat." He grabbed Athos' shirt. "Hand it over, runt!" Grudgingly, Athos handed over a small pouch filled with gold and silver pieces. Rathan glanced into the bag. "Better than I thought. There's plenty here for me to gamble, drink, and whore off." He laughed. "There's even enough left over for me to be generous to you pansies." He reached down into the bag and pulled up a single copper piece, which he flipped into the dirt. "There you go, boys," he said with a sneer. "Don't spend it all in one place, mind you." He laughed as he strode off in the other direction. Athos scowled after him. Someday, Rathan, he thought to himself. Someday. "How much did you really take today, Athos?" asked Valle, youngest of those present. "More than ever before," said Athos with a smile. "If I scored this much every day, there would be a price on my head for certain." "Did you keep any of it back?" asked Shand from the back. Shand and his brother Helmus were virtually identical, lanky boys with dark hair and a dusky complexion, both of whom were orphaned at a very young age. Athos pretended to be shocked. "You don't think I would let that lumbering fool Rathan have my hard-stolen profits, do you?" He produced a smaller pouch seemingly from nowhere and held it aloft. "There's enough here to ensure we eat for the rest of the week." The other boys gave a cheer. Athos kept the amulet hidden. He was still working on a fund with which to leave the city and get home, although he was beginning to lose hope. Surely if his mother was alive, she would have come searching for him by now. Besides, he didn't know how to contact a fence without alerting Rathan, and Rathan would be very angry to learn that Athos had been keeping anything back from him. "What did you others take today?" he asked the rest of the boys. "Not much," admitted Shand. "As usual, Rathan took all of it." "Well," said Athos with a smile, "I took enough for all of us. Let's get to the Spinning Wheel. I'm in the mood for a good meal." Eagerly the other boys joined him. Tonight they would sleep in warm beds with full bellies.

* * * * *

Arkail Rhassan, junior guildmaster of the thieves' guild, strode toward his rendezvous boldly. A young man just coming into his middle years, he was in excellent physical shape, and the sword that rested at his hip was well-familiar to his hands. He was a darkly handsome man, with sable black hair and eyes, and a small goatee cut in the southern style. His face would have been almost pretty, save for the many scars which crisscrossed it, telling of battles past. He halted in the appointed spot for the meeting, a small culdesac at the end of an abandoned alley. He glanced around, trying unsuccessfully to make the figure of the man he was to meet out in the darkness. "Where are you?" he whispered at a last. "Here, Arkail," called a soft voice from behind him. Arkail jumped, then turned to face the man who had spoken. "You know what I want you to do?" The other man nodded. "What's your price?" asked Arkail. The man looked amused. "You've not the abilities to accomplish this task yourself?" he asked. "I'm surprised." "Of course I do," snapped Arkail. "But the guildmaster's death must look like an accident, and I must be present. I want no chance of it being discovered that I was involved in his demise." "There will be no chance of that," said the man in the shadows. "As for the time and the place, I will choose. Be assured you will be present." Arkail nodded. "And the price?" "Two million platinum pieces, of Waterdeep or Calimport mint." Arkail gasped. "I cannot pay that! I haven't the resources! Perhaps one million, but never two!" The other man shrugged. "Then the job won't get done. I am no merchant - I do not haggle. Besides which, I wasn't finished naming my price." Arkail started to protest, then stopped himself. If that was the price he must pay, then that was the price he must pay. "Continue," he said resignedly. The shadowy man nodded. "I want a favor from the guild - an intangible that I may call on at any time in the future during your lifetime." Arkail considered. "What sort of intangible?" "You'll find out when I ask for it." Arkail thought for a few moments, then sighed. "Very well. I will meet your price." "Good," said the other man. "You will be contacted as to when and how I will collect it." Arkail waited a moment. "I guess that's it then," he turned to leave, then looked back. "Know this, Viper. I am not afraid of you. If you fail me in this, I will hunt you down." After a hard look, he turned and made his way to the mouth of the alley. The Viper remained silent until long after Arkail was gone. "That, my friend," he said at length, "was a threat. I do not take threats lightly. How long shall I allow you to live?"

* * * * *

"Do the dagger trick, Athos!" slurred Vermos. He, like most of the other boys, had been drinking heavily after consuming a large repast. Vermos always was the show-off, constantly getting himself into trouble by trying to do more than he was able. He was the oldest of the boys, and nearly the largest, standing only a few inches less in height than Drake. Athos, as always, had refrained from drinking. Valle had done the same. "Yes, come on Athos!" put in Shand. "Do the dagger trick!" Athos sighed. "All right. But it really is nothing. I can't even think of a good way to use it in a swindle." The other boys leaned forward, watching intently. Athos unsheathed a small, sharp dagger with his right hand, placing his left hand down on the table and splaying the fingers apart. This action caught the barkeep's attention. "Hey, you street rats!" he grumbled, shaking his fist. "The sign at the door says you're supposed to leave all weapons at the front until you leave!" "We can't none of us read, sir!" Valle piped up merrily - a fact which was not far from the truth. Only Athos could read well, and only Valle wanted to learn how to read badly enough to learn. Athos was teaching him slowly and steadily. The other boys were illiterate except for a few common words and phrases, and also rough approximations of their own names. "Besides, sir," said Athos, "this is only a knife for cutting meat, not a weapon." The barkeep scowled. "All right then, but mind you don't chip my table with it." Athos smiled. "Wouldn't dream of it, sir." His right hand began moving, slowly at first, as he would jab down with the dagger's point, tapping its tip on the table between the fingers of his left hand at different points. The rythm picked up, and became a whirring sound of raps as the dance with dagger quickened. "Impossible," said the barkeep as the speed became too quick for his eyes to follow. As suddenly as it had started, the dance stopped. Athos twirled the dagger through his fingers and bowed as the boys cheered him. "And now with my other hand," he said, flipping the dagger from his right hand to his left. "This time I'll get it right." "Wait a minute, Athos," said Valle with some alarm. "Last time you nearly severed your finger. There's no need for showing off." "That was last time," said Athos with a grin. "I've got a good feeling this time." He plunked the pouch of gold onto the table. "I'd bet all I have left on it." "What would we sleep on tonight of you did that?" laughed Drake. "Surely not a bed." Drake was the tallest of the boys, and in his own way the most identifiable. He had light blonde hair and green eyes, a rarity this far south. He was big enough that he could have been a bully, but had always instead been a gentle giant. The barkeep stroked his chin, his eyes narrowing at the boys' talk. "What would you bet against?" he asked. "Oh, he's jesting, sir," said Valle. "No I'm not," interjected Athos. "I'd bet it against, say, the price of the meal we just had and the price of a good night's sleep." The barkeep eyed the large sack greedily as the other boys began pleading for Athos to back off from the foolish gamble. "How much is in that?" he asked. "Forty gold," said Athos, ignoring the pleas of his comrades. More than the price of a week of such meals and lodging! thought the barkeep greedily. "All right, then. I accept your wager." "Excellent!" cried Athos, picking up the dagger again. "No!" cried Shand. "Don't risk it!" "Shut up, boy!" snarled the barkeep. "He's already accepted. It's too late for him to back out now!" "Too late for you, too," said Athos with a smile. The others grew quiet. "Don't hurt yourself, Athos," said Valle seriously. "You know your hands are valuable to all of us." Athos paused, concentrating. He exhaled once, heavily, and splayed the fingers of his right hand out. There was a thin line on the ring finger, a mark indicating the place where he had been scarred by his earlier attempt. He took another breath, exhaled slowly, and began. The dagger began its dance slowly, then picked up speed. Pat, pat, pat, pat, pat, pit, pat, pit, pat, pit, pat, pit pat, pit pat went the dagger's tip. Sweat stood out on Athos' forehead, concentration etched into his brow. The barkeep held his breath, watching as the dance of the dagger picked up speed. Pit pat, pit pat, pit pat, pit pat, pitpat,pitpat, pitpatpitpatpitpatpitpapitippitipitipitipitipit. Still it continued, faster and faster, until it was going as fast as it had before. "Faster!" wailed the barkeep, as he realized he was losing the wager. "You were going far faster than that with the other hand!" Athos knew that he hadn't, but he picked up the pace even more. The rapping became a humming. The motion of the hand and the dagger was a blur too fast for the eye to follow. Athos smiled. The barkeep threw up his hands in defeat. "All right! I concede!" he said in disgust, walking off. The boys cheered. The barkeep whirled, and gave them all an unkind look. "I have the feeling that I've just fallen prey to a swindle. Why is that?" Because you have, thought Athos, lauging silently to himself. The scar was a self-inflicted scratch. He had never had trouble with the dagger dance before, left or right-handed. "I have no idea," he said aloud. "The wager was an honorable one. If anything, you should feel happy for me, that I have not injured myself."

* * * * *

"Once upon a time the moon was captured by a demon, who spirited it off to one of the lower planes. Perhaps you, good sir, can recover it before it is lost forever." The man looked down at Athos haughtily. "It takes more than fast hands to fool me. The moon card is here!" he said as he triumphantly flipped the middle card over. His jaw dropped at the card he had chosen. "Sorry, sir," said Athos. "That is Lady Ice." "I've been swindled," howled the man. "Give me back my silver! You put the card in your pocket, you little thief!" Athos was unoffended. "Not so, sir. the moon card is here." So saying, he flipped over the left hand card, revealing the Moon card. "Perhaps you would care to test your skill again?" "And lose more silver?" sniffed the man, only slightly mollified. "Take your game elsewhere, scoundrel!" Athos smiled as he turned to Valle. "See? That's how you do it. You lose sometimes, but if you've got it down you can usually come off with the money. And the best part is that you can never get into trouble for cheating, because you aren't." Valle shook his head, uncertain. "Your hands are quick, Athos. I don't know if I can get it right." "We've got all day and a thousand fools to practice with," said Athos, gesturing broadly to indicate all within the marketplace. "You will learn."

* * * * *

Thousands of miles to the east, in a cavern far below the decadent capital of the ancient empire of Mulhorand, an obscene ceremony was being performed by the cult of Set in honor of the foul god they served. Hundreds of black-clothed and turbaned men and women knelt before a pool of stagnant water from which sprang a flame which shot upwards hundreds of feet. The flame changed colors rapidly, going from orange to blue to purple in a matter of moments and reflecting off the cavern walls eerily, creating fantastic shapes and shadows. The entire cavern was filled with the murmurings of the cult members, who were reciting ritual prayers. The high priest took his place at the altar. He surveyed the cavern for sever minutes, then raised his arms. The chanting of the cult members faded and died. The high priest spoke, his voice betraying a slight lisp. "Our lord has found a mortal worthy of becoming his avatar. We must find this person and sacrifice him." He held out a grotesque object. "He whom we hold most highly has bestowed this object of divine power upon us, so that we may locate the person whose body will house our lord's spirit. The time has come to search him out!"

* * * * *

The inner city of Zazesspur was comprised for the most part of ruined buildings. In some areas, rubble was still strewn in the streets. Although the inner city was teeming with life during the days, at nights the streets were usually clear as nearby residents locked themselves into their houses. Some parts of the city were rumored to be haunted by the undead. Others were dangerous because of the street gangs who made their homes there. One single tower - made of what had once been white marble, but which was now blackened and gray - still stood tall, its upper parts silhouetted by the full moon. It was this place that the locals feared and avoided most carefully, for it was known to be the home of a mad wizard, Grimwalde by name. Horrible sounds issued from its windowless walls in the dead of the night as unspeakable atrocities were committed within. Some claimed that the mage was dead, and that the tower was haunted by his ghost. Others said that he was some sort of demon, and that he howled in the night because he was caught in this plane of existence and not the plane upon which his kin resided. Still others claimed that the very forces of the lower planes were housed in the tower, ready to break out and devour the populace of the city. Only Grimwalde himself knew the truth of what went on within those walls, and he was neither demon nor ghost - though it could be argued that he was mad. It was insanity which fascinated the wizard most. He was making studies on the insane for his master, a wizard of much repute in far off Calimport. The screaming and wailing which penetrated the tower's walls was that of the subjects of his tests and experiments. Some of his studies included curing madness. Other studies included creating it. These last were the wizard's personal favorites.

Chapter Five First Blood

The lamps were low as the final business on the guild agenda was finished. The council met in a spacious chamber within the guildhouse. The chamber was filled with an immense oaken table which formed an arc around the back of the room. At the center point of the table's arc stood a podium which sat to the right of the guildmaster's chair. It was this podium from which guildmaster Denthal addressed the council. The council members were scattered around the table, a few jotting down notes. Tulmara, the secretary, was noting down everything that had been discussed. For a moment she looked up, her eyes resting on Arkail, who lounged indolently across the table from her, and the two exchanged a bored glance. She was a ravishingly beautiful woman who had managed to keep her good looks past her teens and use them to advance herself. She had lustrous raven hair which cascaded well past her shoulders, unmarred skin that was delicate and white, and large innocent brown eyes. Her eyes were the only thing innocent about her, though, for within she was hard and cold as any two men Arkail had ever known. They had taken to each other immediately. "The Shadow Thieves have made preliminary inquiries," droned the guildmaster, concluding his report. He was at his seat, reading from a sheaf of papers. "At our next meeting, we will discuss with a representative of that worthy organization the possibilities of cooperation between us." He sighed again, pausing momentarily to go through his notes and make certain that everything on the agenda had been covered. It had been a long night. "Until then we'll have to wait and-" From the far side of the room came a slight hiss, and the guildmaster looked up. There was a thwacking sound and the guildmaster's eyes crossed, as if he were straining to see the crossbow bolt that had suddenly appeared between them. He toppled bacwards soundlessly, dead before he hit the floor. Immediately the members of the guildcouncil leapt from their seats, come ducking low beneath the table for cover, others backing into defensive postures and eyeing the shadows. "Guildmaster Arimos failed to pay me my proper sum," said a voice from the shadows. "I have exacted my vengeance." All whirled towards the sound, several firing crossbows and similar missile weapons. "Who are you speaking of?" asked Tulmara incredulously. "There is no Arimos here." "No?" asked the voice, slightly amused. "Then who did I just slay?" The voice had come from the opposite side of the room this time. Again several bolts were fired on it. "You slew guildmaster Denthal!" said Arkail in surprise. "There is no Arimos here!" "Really?" called the voice from a different point in the room. "My mistake then." Again some of the council members fired crossbows, though this time notably less did so. "Who are you?" asked Tulmara. There was no answer. "For the sake of the gods!" raged Arkail to the other council members. "Can we get some better lighting in here?" Rymond, the council treasurer spoke from under the table. "I've got a lamp in here somewhere," he said, fumbling with a pouch. "Give me a moment." Arkail unsheathed his shortsword and leaped into the shadows, striking out blindly towards the place where the voice had last been. He encountered nothing but air. "How am I doing so far?" Arkail jumped at the touch on his shoulder, and the sudden whisper in his ear. "You!" he hissed back, recognizing the voice. "What are you doing?" "Fulfilling the contract," the Viper whispered back. "You fool!" Arkail spat. "I resent that," whispered the Viper. "I'll meet you later to discuss your payment." "Wait a minute-" Arkail started, but the other man was gone. "Here we go," said Rymond a moment later, his lantern flaring up brightly. "Except for the council members and the guildmaster's body, the room was empty.

* * * * *

"You idiot!" Arkail fairly screamed. "Please keep your tone down," said the assassin. "You sound upset. Were my services not satisfactory?" "Not satisfactory?" sputtered Arkail in disbelief. "Not satisfactory!" "Why?" "You were supposed to make it look like an accident!" shouted Arkail. "I did." "A natural accident!" Arkail shot back. "An act of the gods! That didn't look like an accident! It looked like a cold-blooded murder!" "You should have specified. I am a natural force - entropy. And when I kill someone, it is an act of the gods." Arkail sputtered. "You deliberately misinterpreted me!" The Viper shrugged. "Let's discuss my payment. I am very certain you don't want to renege on it."

* * * * *

Valle sat alone in the alley, holding a board across his lap. In his right hand was a small blunt stick. His left hand rested palm down on the board. He began to tap the stick between his fingers. "Not so difficult," he murmured, tapping the stick slowly between his splayed fingertips. He began to increase the pace. "Ow!" he yelped, suddenly striking one of his fingers. "There's no trick to it, really," offered Athos, approaching. The smaller boy looked up, the finger he had struck in his mouth. "How does it work, then?" "Simple," said Athos, sitting cross-legged facing Valle and taking the board. He splayed one hand down on the board, took the stick, and rapped out a quick rythm. "It's a pattern. Watch carefully. You start behind your thumb - let''s call that point 1-1. then you move to the space between your thumb and your index finger. That's point 1-2. Now you move back to point 1-1. Now you move to the space between your index finger and your middle finger. That's 1-3. After that, you again move to 1-1. From there you move to the space between your middle and ring fingers. This time you move back to point 1-2. Let's rename that point 2-1, because now it's the starting point. You move from point 2-1 to the space between your ring and pinky fingers. That's space 2-2. Move back to 2-1. Now you move to beyond your pinky finger, point 2-3. Now repeat the process, going backwards. Go over the pattern again and again. If you start out slowly you can pick up the pace over time." Valle took the stick and, with Athos' help, began to go through the pattern. He was slow and clumsy the first time through it, but the second time he was more confident. "Ouch!" he cried, striking the same finger again. Athos laughed. "Don't worry about it. Train your hand where to go. When the muscles in your hand know the pattern, you won't even have to think about it." Valle looked up at him. "Thanks Athos. You always seem to come through for us." Athos turned away. "Yeah, well, you have to learn to take care of yourself."

* * * * *

Arkail paced the room endlessly. "The guild's falling apart! None of the other council members trust us!" he exclaimed heatedly. "How are we going to keep it together? Someone had the representative of the Shadow Thieves executed yesterday!" "I know," purred Tulmara softly from where she sat on the bed. "Did you pay the Viper?" "Of course I did," spat Arkail, "much as I didn't want to. You don't refuse to pay the Viper." Tulmara nodded. "That was wise. He would have killed you if you hadn't." She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "He is much too dangerous to be allowed to live. As soon as we have consolidated power in the guild, we must destroy him." Arkail shook his head. "The Viper is no longer the issue here. I'm speaking of our inability to take control of the guild!" "Sit down," she said, patting the bed beside her. "Now is not the time to get distraught. We simply need to analyze the situation facing us." Arkail looked pained, but he eventually sat. "Good," said Tulmara. "Now, the way I see it, each of the factions is considerably weakened and frightened. There's never been a better time to seize power. We simply have to find a way to take it." "But how?" exploded Arkail. "No-one trusts us now! And with funds at an all time low, we'll have to cut members from the guild!" Tulmara shook her head. "Cutting members isn't the answer. The proper course lies in the opposite direction." "What do you mean?" asked Arkail. "If we were to expand, we might gain the other members' trust," she answered. Arkail chewed his lip thoughtfully. "Expand our operations? But how would we support it? And in what direction were you thinking about expanding?" Tulmara smiled.

* * * * *

"You're the one they call Athos, right?" Athos looked up as the man sat down. "I'm eating my breakfast here, if you don't mind." The man grinned lecherously and leaned forward, displaying a set of yellowed teeth. Athos was immediately struck by the man's extreme case of bad breath and his bad complexion. "Handsome boy, very handsome." He mad a move as if to caress the boy's cheek. Athos drew back, avoiding the hand. "I am eating here. I want no part of your company." The man smiled and leaned back. "You are an intelligent boy, Athos. I want to make you an offer you would be a fool to refuse." "I know of your offer," said Athos, his appetite gone. "I would spit in your face if I wasn't afraid you'd enjoy it." "Is that a refusal?" asked the man in surprise. "I'm talking about a lot of money." "It's a nonviolent refusal. That can change if you don't leave me alone." The man leaned back and chuckled. "Threats from a boy. How quaint." Athos stood and made as if to leave. "Rathan!" the man called. "This boy doesn't seem to want to accept my generous offer. I can't force him, but perhaps you can talk some sense into the lad." Rathan's sneering visage came into view. He stepped around to grab Athos by the ear. "Listen here, runt. I've decided you can make me more money working for this man. Besides, I always said you had a pretty face. I might even pay you a visit myself, just to see how you're enjoying your new vocation." He gave Athos' ear a shake. "You're going with this man, and that's settled." With a painful tug, Rathan shoved Athos back into his chair. "I don't want to have to get physical with you over this. You know how much I hate getting physical. I've already been forced to beat Valle." He chuckled to himself. "Poor lad felt the same way about it as you do. Eventually, though, he came around." Athos felt a rage burn within him, consuming his soul. The room spun about him. "Rathan," he said, "I'm going to kill you." Too quickly for the eye to catch, Athos' hand snapped out, and his dagger found it's way into Rathan's left eye. Rathan stumbled backwards, unaware of the fact that he was dead. He tripped over a chair and went down. Athos pulled the dagger free from Rathan's eye as the older boy instinctively moved backwards, and made an arc which drew a line across the other man's neck. The man gasped once, then blood jetted from his throat, covering Athos in a warm and sticky wetness. Athos was off and running before the serving girl could scream.

* * * * *

Valle entered the small dingy alley. Athos sat across from where he had vomited earlier. "Athos?" He looked up. "You're in a lot of trouble. The city guard want to hang you on the highest wall. They're serious, and they've got a good enough description of you to track you down." Athos remained silent. "This is serious, Athos." "I'm not sorry. I would do it again!" Valle sighed. "I think I've got a way out for you. You're well known as the best of the rat pack, and now the thieves' guild wants us. I talked to them, and they can offer you protection if you'll become a member." A rush of terror engulfed Athos. That night - the assassination! "I... I don't know. What did the others do?" "They all joined." "And you?" "I told them I'd join if you did." Athos sighed. Could he sign away his life?

Chapter Six The Thieves' Guild

"Step forward." Valle stepped to the table, squinting in the bright light that shined directly into his face. "Look down at the table." Valle complied gratefully, noting the many items there. "Look up," barked the voice a moment later. "Turn around." Valle did so. "What was on the table?" Valle thought. "A rope. A pen and ink. A dagger. There was a golden animal... a bear, I think. There was a big book. And a stack of papers. I think there was a belt. Oh, and there was some jewelry." "Not very good. You missed quite a few items. Now, describe the items you saw." "I'm sorry?" "The golden bear and the jewelry. Describe them and evaluate their value. How many pieces of paper were beside the book? How many feet of rope were on the table? Was the dagger a dirk or a knife?" Valle looked flustered. "I couldn't even guess!" "Not good at all. You'll take work. Face front again." Valle turned. "Pick up the book and read aloud from it." Valle picked up the book and flipped to the first page. "'An Intrinsic Study of General Lashan's Ambition's and Conquests.'" He looked up. "Read on." Valle looked down again. "'Recent events to the north have brought certain factions back into focus.'" "Stop. You can read. That is a plus. What is a twenty-four multiplied by three?" "Seventy-two." "What is one third of twelve?" "Four." "Very good. You know mathematics as well." A brief conference took place in the shadows. "Alright, then. You have the skills necessary to become a professional thief, but so do many of your compatriots. You will be much more useful as a spellcaster, and you have the basic skills necessary to become one. You will be sent to Calimport, there to study under archmagus Mistlsing." "Next," said the voice as Valle turned away. Athos stepped forward. "Look down." Athos did so. "Look up. Turn around." Athos complied. "What was on the table?" "A fifty foot length of hemp rope, probably of calishite make - worth about two silver pieces on the common market. A medium length parrying dagger, ordinarily worth about five gold, but with the ornamental design on the hild probably worth ten. Sixteen sheet of 8' x 12' paper. A book bearing the title Lashan the Conqueror. A golden ornament of a wolverine on a log - worth only about three gold pieces because it was simply gilded iron. An ornamental baldric or bandoleer, worth about thirty gold pieces. A piece of amber with an insect within it. Unless the insect is very rare, this item is worthless. Two rings, one set with a diamond and worth fifty gold pieces, the other set with a fake ruby and probably worth about two hundred gold pieces. A quill made from an ostrich feather the blue ink. A common copper belt buckle worth about one gold piece. There was also glove of the sort used by archers to protect their wrists when firing. It was worth about eight gold pieces." "Excellent. Face front again. Pick up the book and turn to chapter seven." Athos picked up the book, flipping quickly to the desired page. "Begin reading." "'Chapter Seven: Possibilities? "'Now that Lashan had secured his flanks and built up a strong suppy line, and with opposing forces in rout, he decided to allow his troops to embark upon an orgy of pillaging and looting. The destruction-'" "Stop." Athos looked up. "You may put the book down." Athos did so. "What is fourteen divided by seven?" "Two." "What do fifteen and sixty have in common?" "Both have denominations of one, three, five, and fifteen." Another hushed conference took place. "We need more spellcasters!" insisted Tulmara. "I've seen this one in action," Arkail shot back. "His natural talents would be wasted if we sent him off for training in wizardry. He is a born thief." "I believe I can settle the matter," said a soft voice. Athos turned to see who was speaking. A shadowy figure of average height and build was leaning against the far wall. Athos was surprised to see him there - he had not heard him come in. "Viper!" exclaimed a surprised Arkail. "What are you doing here?" "I've come to collect the favor promised me." Viper! thought Athos, his mouth suddenly going dry. My father's murderer! He was barely able to hold himself still. Arkail's face flushed in anger. "What do you want?" "I'll be training this one myself." Beneath the table, and beyond the viper's line of sight, Arkail's hand closed around the hilt of his dagger. Tulmara snatched his wrist before he could unsheath it. "You may have him," she said to the Viper, not looking at Arkail. "I know," he said, casually placing a tube to his lips. A slight twisping sound followed, and a needle pricked into Athos' neck. Athos cried out, and stumbled a few steps towards the door before crumpling bonelessly to the ground. The Viper walked over, picked the boy's limp form up, and threw him over his shoulder. "Good day," he said, leaving. After the Viper left the room, Arkail turned to Tulmara again. "Why didn't you let me kill him? Why did we give him the boy?" "He would have killed you long before your dagger cleared its sheath. What scares me more is the fact that he is training a possible successor. He never has before. The viper is dangerous enough. I can't even imagine what it would be like with two such men." "Why, then, did we give him the boy?" "We haven't the power to stop him yet. Not yet. But when we do..." Her voice trailed off. "When we do," Arkail finished savagely, "the Viper will die."

* * * * *

Athos came awake with a start. The man he had heard named the Viper stood over him. He wasn't too terrifying to look at. His face was vaguely oriental in cast, clean shaven and unmarred. His eyes were so deeply purple they almost looked black. He had middle length sable hair which was loosely tied into a ponytail in the back, and which partly obscured his face in the front. He was dressed all in black, complete with supple boots and gloves of kid leather. Athos felt a cold wind freezing into his soul. He wasn't fooled by appearances. This was the selfsame man who had murdered his father and countless others. "You're awake." It was a statement, not a question. "Welcome to your new home." "Wha... how..." A black gloved hand darted forth, slapping Athos' face before the boy could even flinch. A thin line of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. "You will learn the value of silence here." He paused for a moment before continuing. "Imagine, if you will, a person who speaks to himself as he thinks. His thought processes are slowed to the speed at which he can speak them. If he were to shut his mouth, even his untrained mind could think more in a second than he could speak in a day." Athos remained silent. "When you do speak, I will expect clear sentences that have been well thought out. Muttering and explicatives are for fools. In answer to the question you were about to ask, I selected you not only because of your potential, but also because of your true heritage, of which you are, at present, ignorant. I will tell you more of this when the time is right. "Now listen carefully, for what I am about to say is important to your well being." Athos listened. "You will spend some years in training here. When you are not training, you will be where I tell you to be. After a time, I may allow you free time within the city. Or I may not. "This is not a museum. You will not roam it to satisfy your curiosity. There are dangerous places here. You will go where I tell you to go, and do what I tell you to do. I will give you three chances. If you disobey me more than three times I will consider you unworthy of teaching, and I will kill you. "When your training is complete, I will give you a series of tests. If you fail any of these tests, whatever their form, I will kill you. "Do you understand?"

* * * * *

"Balance is the basis." They stood in a darkened room, the center of which was dominated by a tightrope strung between two posts which stood four feet from the floor. Athos stepped towards the tightrope. He landed heavily on the floor as his feet were swept from beneath him. "That is merely one kind of balance. I"m speaking of another kind altogether." The Viper sat down efficiently beside Athos. He sat for a moment, then pointed his finger toward the floor. His hand moved downward until it rested on the floor. His body moved, then, in the opposite direction, slowly but steadily. In a mere moment, he was entirely upside down, resting only on one finger. He held the position for a moment, then pulled down in a reverse performance of how he had gone up. Athos placed his finger on the floor. A shar rap across his temples sent him reeling backwards. "Learn how to sit first!" Athos pulled himself up, and regained his position. Again the assassin struck, this time striking Athos' in the side. Again Athos tumbled to the floor. "Feel the balance within you. Hold yourself to it." Athos struggled up to the sitting position again.

* * * * *

"Silence is a state of mind. You must reach through your body and hear it - the heart, the brain, the crackling of the bones in your toes. Now, slowly fade that noise to silence." The viper stood and walked, quickly and in great silence, across the wooden platform and back. The old boards didn't even bend to accommodate his weight. Athos stood. And was knocked off his feet once again. "Not yet. First you must learn to listen." Athos sat down and waited. The assassin made no sound as he sat down in front of the boy. A stinging slap rocked Athos back. "I asked you to say your name. Will you not answer? Also, I knocked you off your haunches. Have you forgotten how to sit so soon?" Athos shook his head. "Good. Then it will not happen again. Now, this time listen." Athos strained his ears. This time he heard a vague sound, but couldn't make it out. "Athos," he said hopefully. This time he managed to keep his balance when the blow fell. "I asked you your age. Now, this time listen." This time he heard the question. "Yes," he replied, "I am a boy." He nearly lost his balance again when the blow fell. "I asked for a simple yes or no."

* * * * *

The heavy wooden door swung inward, revealing a large room dominated by the shelves of books climbing the walls and the large oaken table resting amidst them. "Knowledge is power," said the Viper, leading Athos into the room. "You will study each of these books carefully, and memorize the information within them." The Viper handed him a thick tome. "You will start with this one." Athos glanced at the cover as the Viper left the room. A Locksmith's Guide to Locks, Both Exotic and Mundane

* * * * *

Athos was stunned. He had never seen so many different weapons in his life. The large weapon racks stretched on either side as far back as he could see, and the mirrored walls behind the racks made the number of weapons stretch to infinity as they reflected them back and forth. "This is the weapons room. This is where we will work on your physical combat abilities. In time, you will become expert with each of these weapons." Athos looked across the wide racks. All of these? A kick landed in his solar plexus and his breath whuffed out as he curled over in shock. "You must always be aware of your opponent. It will be long before your training in weaponry begins. First, you must learn to use your body as a weapon. "Now stand up, and avoid being struck."

* * * * *

Pook was a man who definitely enjoyed the pleasures that life had to offer. He reclined lazily on a soft divan among scattered exotic furs. A great cat lounged at his feet, licking its massive paws. A great bowl of exotic fruits rested in his lap, and he popped something in his pudgy mouth every few minutes and chewed slowly, closing his eyes and savoring the flavors. He was a plump man on the whole, with no facial hair. He always kept himself meticulously clean. The sweet scents of exotic oils surrounded his person. A casual observer might have taken Pook for a lazy fool. Not so. Behind that eccentric personality lay a cunning mind. Pook had arrived in Calimport seven years ago, a former Tethyrian noble fleeing the chaos of his homeland. he had with him a very small supply of cash, and a profound amount of laziness. He had an eye for both politics and money, and within five years had become a fixture in the Calimport underworld. Under his careful hands, the organization he now headed would soon become the biggest of its kind in Calimport. There was only one obstacle. The Viper. Pook had seen long ago that the man would have to be removed. Now he had a plan to accomplish this goal. He plucked another of the exotic grapes from its stem and placed it into his mouth. He chewed slowly, enjoying the sweet taste.

Part II The Viper

Continual motion. That is what I recall most about my time under the Viper. There was never a break or a letup. I was never given time to catch my breath or regain my feet. I was kept continually off guard and int a state of semi-shock. At the time I thought it was cold cruelty, but looking back now I am at least more understanding, if not grateful, that I was pushed to my full potential in such a way. Now, I am never off guard. Now, I am never shocked. Because I never knew what to expect, I learned to expect the unexpected and to assume nothing. Now, I trust nothing, least of all fate and the laws of probability. The Viper forced this upon me, and I hated him for it for some time before realizing the gift for what it truly was. The Viper still amazes and confuses me. His methods of teaching were superb, and I learned the lessons well. The Viper was brutal without being cruel. Strict but impersonal. Impersonality. The key to the perfect killer's existence. The Viper was to me the perfect killer - the only true assassin in a world of imitations. The Viper was, and still is in many ways, a mystery to me. I knew from the start that he was anything but human, but I still have no idea exactly what he was. A machine? Perhaps. Insane? Quite possibly. A man without a soul? Most definitely.

- Artemis Entreri

Chapter Seven The Cult of Set

When he had first arrived here, Athos had lain awake night after night, weeping. Nearly six years had passed since then, and he had no more tears to cry. He still lay awake night after night, but he had long ago forgotten how to weep. Now his eyes stayed open, as visions of the Viper's death danced before his eyes. Would he scream as Athos' dagger ripped up through his spine? What would be the message in his eyes as Athos cut his throat? One thing that never seemed to fade was the pain. Each night he lay scrunched up into a ball, his bruised muscles groaning inwardly with pain. He never cried out. Life no longer held meaning for him. It had long ago faded into a series of lessons and blows. He hadn't seen another person, besides the Viper, for all the time he had been here. He wondered what he would do if he did suddenly meet someone else. He hated the silence, but was afraid to break it.

* * * * *

The caravan wound its way slowly forward. Nekiset, High Priestess of Set, whipped the slaves bearing her litter mercilessly until they pulled up beside the wagon of Hodkamset. She was a very beautiful woman, dark skinned and well-formed. Her head was shaven in honor of her priesthood, and she wore dark robes of rich quality, befitting her station. Hodkamset, Lord of Set, was the most powerful of the wizards in the service of Set. More than that, he was touched by the hand of Set, and imbued with holy powers. He was the leader of the Cult of Set, and the spokesman of that god. His appearance changed according to his whims, as he was an expert in magical disguises. Lately he had taken to using his true appearance, that of a middle aged man with silvery hair that suggested age, but a clean-shaven face that was young and unwrinkled. He was, as usual, within the wagon's luxurious interior. Nekiset stepped out of her litter, still in motion, onto the back of a slave and into the wagon of Hodkamset. Hodkamset looked up from the artifact. "Why are we proceeding so slowly?" asked Nekiset. "Patience, priestess. The one we seek is hidden from our sight by powerful magics. He is not even on this plane. It will no doubt take us much longer." A messenger rode up, stepped off the horse and into the wagon, and fell to his knees, touching his forehead to the ground before Hodkamset as he spoke. "Master, Hamsetis has arrived in Zazesspur with his minions." "Good," smiled Hodkamset. "Now he has only to wait. Our own journey still lies before us. The road is long, but it will lead to Set's ultimate glory!"

* * * * *

Athos blocked a flurry of kicks and punches, and leaped a foot sweep. He launched a counterattack then, driving the Viper back. The assassin caught a kick calmly with one hand, then kicked the other leg out from under Athos. The boy landed well, his arm taking most of the shock, instantly lashing out with his free foot and managing to brush the Viper's chin before the assassin released Athos' foot and leaped backwards. Athos rolled back and snapped up, his body arcing through the air as he landed on his feet. The Viper turned and pulled a pair of oriental swords from the rack and sprang to the attack. Athos didn't show it, but he was surprised. The Viper had never before used a weapon against him. He backed off slowly, giving ground steadily and dodging the singing blades time and time again. Blows that would have taken his life scythed through the air harmlessly to the sides and over his head. Intent on watching the motion of the blades, Athos was caught by surprise when the assassin's foot swept upward in a front kick, connecting solidly with Athos' chin and knocking him backward off of his feet. As suddenly as it had started, the attack ceased. "You are ready to be trained with weapons."

* * * * *

Tulmara strode silently through the halls of the guild training center. She swept by the regular training rooms, which were filled with young thieves honing their skills in such things as picking pockets, opening locks, and climbing walls. She walked to an apparently blank wall, a dead end. Not missing a step, she reached up and pulled the torchholder on the wall to a certain angle. The secret door swung silently open, and Tulmara walked calmly down the steps. Arkail was at the bottom, training the eight men whom he had personally selected. "The Entreri troops are almost ready." She smiled. "The time for their use has not yet come."

* * * * *

The wall was slick with grease and smooth as a mirror. It rose forty feet straight up. "Climb," instructed the Viper. Athos placed his hands on the wall, feeling for tiny cracks to support his weight. Slowly and painstakingly, he made his way to the top. The assassin was there already. "Far too slow."

* * * * *

The darkness was complete. The targets would have been moved from their last positions - they always were. A tiny sound caught Athos' ear. He turned, and launched the first dagger without hesitation. He was rewarded by a rich thunking sound. Again he whirled. This time the noise had come from his right. Again he pinpointed the location of the sound. He hadn't time to listen for the thunk, for he caught another tiny sound, this one more like a squeek. Again he flung a dagger. The next sound was like a human laugh. Again there was hesitation. A plea for help came next, in the sound of a female's voice. the dagger was again flung with no hesitation. The last sound was unexpected. It was a baby's wail. Athos hesitated for an instant, startled, then flung the dagger. The lantern flared to life a moment later illuminating the room. Each of the targets had a dagger buried within their centers. All save one. The dagger had missed center on that one by a finger's breadth. The Viper looked at Athos' handiwork. "Better. You will learn to curb your personal feelings in the future." "I was startled," protested Athos. "I had not expected to hear that." "Why? Infants are a common enough target. I myself have disposed of many a royal brat still in diapers."

* * * * *

The tallest of the poles stood ten feet tall. The lowest stood four feet high. One pumped up and down through the hissing lava that lay below. Athos didn't know whether the lava was real or not, but it gave off heat. He didn't intend to find out. "Begin," said the Viper. The first pole was the second tallest, standing eight and one half feet over the lava. Athos breathed calmly, finding his sense of balance. He sprang upwards, landing lithely on his right foot atop the pole. The next pole stood only six feet from the floor, but it stood at a sixty degree angle. Athos made the long jump and proceeded to the next pole. This one was a fairly easy one, as it was only a few feet away. The trick was that it was too far from the next pole to make the next jump unless Athos used it as a foothold only for a moment and kept up his momentum. He continued on to the last pole, the one that was pumping up and down furiously. He had been watching its motion and knew it would be at its lowest point when he landed. It threw him upward into a full front flip that shot him onto the final platform. "Good," said the assassin. "Now come back."

* * * * *

Hamsetis, strong arm of Set, was a short, muscular, and dark-skinned man. Once he had been a slave gladiator for the Red Wizards of Thay. He had never lost a fight, but he had always hated his Thayvian masters. When the priests of Set had bought him out of slavery, he had sworn allegiance, and soon proved himself the greatest warrior in their organization. After a year of studying tactics, he also became their chief general. He paced the top room of the house he had rented. He didn't understand why Hodkamset and Nekiset couldn't pinpoint the man they were looking for with the artifact Set had bestowed upon them, but he knew that the distance between the cult and its quarry was lessening. Hodkamset had said they would either encounter him here in Zazesspur or in Calimport. He gave a good description of the one they were after. Hamsetis was confident the wait wouldn't be much longer. A slight tremor shook the floor beneath him. He cursed to himself. The basement wasn't set far enough into the ground to mask the sounds of the creatures his servants had brought into the city under cover of darkness. Construction of a subbasement was already underway, but it would be weeks before it was completed. Until then, he could only hope that those in neighboring estates wouldn't get too curious. He smiled to himself when he thought of what the minions kept below would do to the man they were looking for.

* * * * *

Grimwalde was intrigued. If what he had learned about this Viper fellow was true, the man was either violently insane or playing an intelligent game according to rules the mage could not fathom. He hadn't enough evidence to make a determination one way or the other. He had decided to capture this man, and study him. The mage in Calimport Gimwalde supposedly served was missing and probably dead, so he didn't need permission. He was excited. He would have to proceed slowly and carefully - taking the full measure of the man he was to face. Trapping this man would be no small affair. It would take a brilliant plan executed with finesse to absolute perfection, and not a little luck. The mage's own life would most probably be forfeit if he made even one mistake.

* * * * *

Athos followed his master down the winding stair case. Lower and lower they went, far beyond any point Athos had been allowed to see thus far. Athos was silently counting stairs, although it was, admittedly, getting difficult. The cold marble steps were each exactly alike. The marble wall curved smoothly, with no visible change. The only thing breaking the monotony were the magical balls of light which were placed at certain intervals along the walls. Suddenly the steps ceased, and Athos found himself on a smooth marble floor. He noticed another set of steps leading downwards, located off to his right. A myriad of tunnels branched off to all sides. Seemingly at random, the Viper chose one and headed down it, Athos on his heels. There was a subtle difference between these halls and the ones further upwards. Athos could sense that these halls were less tread, and this made them darker in some unknowable way. There was no life here - no libraries, no displays. He felt a loneliness here as tangible as living flesh. Still the Viper led him forward. How can he stand his own life? thought Athos. How does he live it so stoically and detached? He banished such thoughts from his mind quickly. The Viper was not a man; he was a machine. A perfect killer with no morals. How could such a one be expected to feel emotions? The notion ran contrary to common sense. The Viper halted before a large oaken door beautifully inlaid with picturesque figures which were hard to make out clearly unless one stared at them for some time. Elven work, most likely. Such sights were common in the house of the Viper - art and beauty were seemingly appreciated by the man, even if life and goodness were not. In a way of reckoning; the Viper was himself an object of the same properties - a cold and beautiful instrument of death, such as an adamantite sword or mithril crossbow, possessing some sort of inner fire or driving force but not truly existing as a feeling entity. "You have memorized the path we just took?" Athos nodded that he had. "Good. Keep to it in the future. There are worse things than death - and some of them reside in this level of my home. Some of my toys have a bite; take care not to stray from the path I have shown you." Again Athos nodded, this time in obeisance. The Viper turned back to the door. "Watch carefully," he instructed. He inserted his ring into a slot in the picture and twisted to the right. With a grating sound, a handle emerged from the door. Athos immediately ingrained the placement of the ring into his memory. The Viper gave him an identical ring. Athos turned it over in his hands - carved into its face was an engraving of two fangs dripping poison. "On the other side," instructed the Viper, "you need only touch the ring to the wall, and the doorway will appear." Athos had no time to ask what the Viper meant, for the assassin was already opening the door. Beyond lay a white marble wall, which apparently the door had lain flush with when closed. Athos started to look up to the Viper in confusion, but the wall began to glow. Slowly it faded into a gray mist which tickled Athos' nose for a moment before fading out of existence altogether. He had noticed the fading of the wall only peripherally. It was what was revealed beyond that caught his attention. A great city loomed before him. It was midday, and the scene opened onto a bustling marketplace. The huge orange orb that was the sun hung over all. Athos almost leaped backwards at the sight of it. It was real - he could feel the warmth of its rays on his face. He hadn't seen the sun for five and a half years. He looked down into the marketplace. People were everywhere. A small girl walked in front of the two, apparently not seeing them. She was close enough to touch, and Athos nearly reached out to do so. He stopped himself just in time. His master would not have approved. "Welcome back to the Prime Material," said the Viper. Athos' mind spun. The Prime Material? Did that mean he had spent his long years in training on another plane? Was it on one of the elemental planes he stood? Was it one of the outer planes, where the gods themselves dwelled? He returned his attention to the city. "Has it been so long?" he muttered aloud, much to the amusement of his mentor. "I don't even recognize it!" "This is not Zazesspur," said the Viper. "This is Calimport. I maintain a permanent portal in both cities - Calimport is the more important of the two, but Zazesspur is... my hobby. I will allow access to both cities in time, but for now you have access only to the one you are ignorant of." "Incidentally, virtually no time has passed here. Time fluctuates in the demiplane I keep my abode. Right now it very nearly matches that of the Prime, but usually it flows much more quickly here. You have barely been gone for twenty-three weeks from Zazesspur." Again Athos' mind spun. Twenty-three weeks! "You have two weeks leave. The way the time flow runs presently, that gives you just over eight days. You must fend for yourself during that time - a feat I'm confident you are more than capable of. "One final note. If you try to run, I will track you down and kill you slowly." Again Athos nodded his understanding. The thought of running had crossed his mind, but he had realized immediately the futility of such an action. "Go now," commanded the Viper. He watched as the boy stepped through the portal, then turned away. He had business of his own to attend to. Athos turned and looked back after stepping through. Already the portal was fading, revealing only the stained bricks of an old and abandoned house's wall. He looked around himself. He had no money, no weapons. Yet he didn't mind. He was free - at least for a couple of days. He fingered the ring the Viper had given him, then tucked it into his pocket, hiding it away. He made a mental note to do so each time he was allowed to come here. He had no idea if anyone would recognize it for what it was, but he didn't want to take the chance. Besides, he didn't like it, and the thought of wearing the Viper's symbol sent a shudder racing along his spine.

Chapter Eight Calimport: Jewel of the South

Athos skulked around the perimeter of the marketplace, unconsciously keeping to the shadows. His mind was a whirlwind. Life was everywhere here! And everything was so clear, so bright, almost surrealistic. He gazed up in wonder and admiration at the sun until his eyes stung. How long had it been since he had last viewed that golden orb? Was it possible that he should have forgotten its beauty? Yet, at the same time, he found himself uneasy. The bright glare seemed to melt the shadows, to strip away hiding places, starkly and nakedly revealing all. He felt uncovered, exposed. And the bustling people moved by, busily hurrying about their tasks, studiously ignoring Athos and each other. Athos might have been watching it all from a different world. A strange fear slipped over him. How much had he changed? Could he carry on a rational conversation again? Was he even capable of understanding these people, this world? Had he become completely estranged to reality? Had he become more like his mentor than he cared to admit? He brushed his fear away angrily. He would make contact! He felt someone reaching for him from behind, and he whirled, ready for trouble. A harlot stood there, smiling provocatively and looking him over appreciatively. She was an older woman, with a cloying perfume and a thick layer of garish makeup, skillfully and heavily applied but not quite able to conceal the deep lines under her eyes and the worn look of her face. A few others of her profession were grouped nearby. "And how long has it been for you, young sir?" she asked. Athos started. Had she read his thoughts? Then her meaning sunk in, and he turned away, his cheeks flaming with embarassment, disgust, and anger. "Too bad," she sighed in loud mockery as he departed. "Such a pretty face!" Some of the other women laughed. Athos whirled on her, his steely gaze locking with hers. She stumbled backwards, gasping at what she saw there. A towering man, ebony-skinned and wearing only a turban and a loincloth lumbered forward, a gigantic khopesh clutched in one hand. He was obviously a pimp of some sort, and, although he was uncertain of what exactly was going on, felt a need to assert his presence. "The lady deserves an apology." Athos turned his gaze on the big man. He noted weaknesses in every step of the man's gait. This one would be an easy kill. "Then give her one if you like," he said, turning away. The big man started forward angrily, thinking to teach the young stranger a lesson in manners, but something in Athos' manner made him reconsider. Athos continued onward, angry with himself for being provoked so easily. So this was the world he had wanted to see again so much. Well, what had he expected? He felt cheated, and a little bitter. He slipped through the shadows, avoiding the crush of bodies in the street. What would these next few days bring, he wondered? Would he return to the Viper embittered and cynical - disillusioned with the world he had left behind? Somehow he sensed that that was the effect his master hoped for. A flare of anger surged through him at the thought. He determined not to concede the point easily. He walked on. If the world hadn't improved, at least he had. The Viper had transformed him into a killing machine. He was lethal and sharp now. Perhaps it was reflex, but he found himself sizing up everyone he saw as potential opponents. no longer need he fear being attacked by some gang of bully boys, or being waylaid by a group of theives. In fact, he began to wish someone would try to to assault him. After the many training sessions with the Viper, it would almost be a release to engage someone he could defeat. But the street thugs and other undesirables sensed his confidence, and kept clear of him. He took stock of himself. He had no money, no weapons, and knew nothing about this city. Money was not problem. Even before his tutelage under the Viper, Athos had been good at picking pockets. Now it was almost a joke.

* * * * *

Hodkamset's head snapped up, his eyes lit with a maniacal fire which was freflected in his sudden grin. "He is here!" Nekiset was surprised. "On this plane?" "In thjis city!" he corrected her, a little irritated. Nekiset gasped. "Here? How?" The high priest shrugged, annoyed. "Maybe there is a permanent portal to another plane somewhere in the city. What does it matter? He is here - I have seen it. Set has delivered him into our hands." His smile faded. "We must act quickly. There is not telling when he may disappear again." Nekiset stood. "I will alert our scouts. He will be found. By nightfall tomorrow at the latest."

* * * * *

Athos cautiously entered The Hanging Noose. Within, all was light, sound, and laughter, and he almost turned and walked right back out of the crowded tavern. Instead, he forced himself to wind his way across the boisterous room, taking a seat at a small table int he back corner, where the shadows hung deeply. Nearby, a group of six drunken men were thronged around a table, laughing loudly, pounding their tabletop, and making lewd comments at the women nearby. Athos ignored them. Earlier he had purchased a change of clothing, in order to better fit in with the local styles. He now wore a dark, flowing cloak, designed with wide sleeves for free arm movement. Beneath it, only a little of his plain (but expensive) tunic was visible, but his fine gray trousers were in full sight right down to where they were tucked into his supple black boots. Hanging from his right hip was a finely-wrought parrying dagger, especially designed with two smaller side spring blades so that, at the push of a button, it could instantly become a triple-bladed weapon. he had a shortsword slung from his other hip - a 'gift' from a would-be attacker he had met in an alley earlier this night. Tucked discreetly out of sight in his left boot was a small dirk. After sitting, he locked gazes with the brightly smiling serving girl across the room. Her smiled faded worriedly, and she hurried over. As she passed the table of rowdies, one of them made a grab for her, which she deftly avoided. "What will you have, sir?" she asked, holding a menu in her hand. "The menu," he replied. She looked flustered. "I'm sorry," she stammered, "I didn't know you could read. So many customers can't." She handed him the menu. "I can't, myself, even." Athos glanced back up at her briefly, and her stream of thoughts ceased. She wrung her hands, watching him. He scanned the menu. "I'll have the roast venison and broiled potatoes," he said at last, "with a side order of calishite salad. And give me milk with my meal." She looked surprised. "Milk? But that's for children!" Another glance silenced her, and Athos returned his attention to the menu, considering what he would take for his dessert. A rough looking fellow with a worn eyepatch reached over suddenly from the next table, making a leering grab for the girl's skirts. She squeeled and leapt away, gigiling. Athos' hand shot out, snatching the man's outstretched arm, wrenching him from his seat to sprawl on the floor. The girl gasped, startled by the swift motion, and backed away, plainly fearing that things might become violent. "Do what you like when she's at your table," said Athos. "When she's at mine, I expect you to leave her alone. It disturbs my meal." The man hopped to his feet angrily, his five companions following suite. "You young brat! I'll take you apart!" Athos regarded him cooly. "I doubt it." The man unsheated a long dagger and began twirling it through his fingers. He gave an evil grin. "I'm going to enjoy this, boy-" Lightning quick, Athos lashed out, kicking three times in rapid succession. The first blow caught the man's knife arm, sending his dagger spinning across the room. The second connected solidly with his chin. The third caught him in the center of the chest, sending him reeling backwards to crash into the table where he had been sitting. He was unconscious before he hit the floor. The man's dagger thunked into a tabletop several feet away. A beat of silence hung in the air for a moment. "Gods!" breathed the serving girl. The other five men took a step back, not so eager to help their companion as they had at first appeared to be. Athos glared at them, waiting. They all seemed to have something else to attend to. "I am forced to cancel my order," Athos said to the serving girl after a moment, still fixing the five with baleful look. "My appetite has fled. Please accept my apologies." He turned and headed for the door. No-one tried to stop him. After he left, silence reigned for a few moments. Then people began whispering.

* * * * *

"It was him, Pook! I'm certain of it!" Pook snorted dismissively. "You are drunk. The Viper would never show his true face in public." The rat-faced man shook his head emphatically. "I have never been more sober. It was him, I tell you!" "How can you be so certain?" scoffed Pook. "You've only ever seen him once before in your entire life, and that was on a night of complete darkness." "I didn't need to see his face," said the man. "I've seen him kill." He shook his head. "If I live to be two hundred years old, I'll never forget that night. And tonight, I saw him again!" Pook seemed unswayed. "The style was the same!" insisted the rat faced man intently. "It was him. It was him, I tell you!" Pook frowned considering. "The Viper in a barroom brawl? Over nothing? That hardly seems likely." "I saw it," persisted the man. Pook chewed his lip thoughtfully. "Do you remember his face?" he asked at last. The man was confused. "yes, I remember it." "Well, then," said Pook, "find him and watch him." The man's face went white with almost superstitious dread. "Find the Viper? He's supposed to be unfindable!" Pook smiled. "He doesn't know we're on to him yet. He won't be expecting you." "I suppose not," the man said doubtfully. "But still-" "Are you disobeying me?" asked Pook menacingly. The man nearly tripped over himself in declaring his loyalty. "No, Pook, of course not. I'm your man, Pook, right to the end. It's just that the Viper-" "The Viper," said Pook shortly, "is too important to go unmonitored. And you are the one who is going to keep an eye on him. Do you understand?" "Yes, Pook," the man said, miserable. "Good. Now get going." Pook sighed to himself as the man left. The Viper in a barroom brawl? It was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard of! No, this man was not the Viper. But that did not mean that the mysterious young man was not dangerous. If he was as good as the rat-faced man made out, then he definitely bore watching. He might even prove useful. If so, then Pook wanted him on his side.

* * * * *

Athos woke late the next morning, the smells of breakfast wafting up from the common room below. He had traveled to a poorer part of the city after departing The Hanging Noose, finally settling on an inn called The Sleeping Spider. It had proved small but cofortable. He rolled out of bed, brushing off straw, and began going through a series of stretching exercises. He whipped through the motions quickly, eager to get on with the rest of the day. After splashing his face with some water he left his room, wandering down to the common room. He took his breakfast in a small booth near the back of the room. he was enjoying a light breakfast of milk and some exotic fruits when, suddenly, he sensed a prickling sensation at the back of his neck. Someone was watching him. He forced himself to stillness. The Viper had trained him for this. Casually he scanned the room, sinking back into the shadows of the booth. No-one appeared to be taking special notice of him. He closed his eyes to slits, listening intently. There was hushed conversation going on all over the room, from different groups, but nothing immediately caught his attention. He settled down to wait. Sooner or later, whoever was stalking him would trip up and show himself. A musical laugh caught his ear, and he looked up. It came from a girl seated across the room. She was about his age, and seated at a table with a group of young men. Curious, he cocked an ear and listened in. "So what did you do?" asked one of the young men. "I cut his purse, of course," the girl answered with a bright smile. "How did that help?" asked another boy, puzzled. "I didn't cut it from his belt. I slit it, near the bottom. The gold went tumbling out, and he had to release me to gather it up, or risk losing it to the people passing by." She had autumn hair, and her eyes were clear and blue, and sparkled with intelligence. Her face was classically beautiful, but not cold. She was tanned from the sun, and one ear was missing a tiny part of its lobe. Strangely enough, this only added to her appeal, making her even more lovely in an odd way. Athos shook his head. What was he thinking of? Someone was following him, and he was admiring the beauty of a stranger! She looked at him then, their eyes locking for a moment across the room as she noticed him for the first time. Something passed between them. Curiosity? Athos jerked his gaze away, angry at himself. She probably wouldn't have noticed him at all if he hadn't been staring like an idiot. All thoughts of who might be following him had fled, as a strange stort of embarassment descended on him. Was she still looking at him? He was afraid to look up, so he waited a few moments, then passed his gaze over the room, as though it were a casual and disinterested glance. She hadn't been looking, he was fairly sure, so he dared to look again. She was laughing with her friends. He sighed in relief. But once again she felt his eyes on her. Once again she looked up at him. She was showing interest. Again he tore his gaze away, this time studying his food intently. He felt a vague weakness in his stomach. Why could he not face her? I am Athos! he thought angrily. I fear nothing! He forced himself to look up again. This time she was staring directly at him, plainly curious. Some of her friends were looking around to see what she was staring at. He snatched his gaze down again, a lump building in his throat. He felt confined, as though he needed air, but was afraid to move. What should I do? he wondered frantically, on the edge of panic. I must leave now! He jerked to his feet, and made briskly for the door, not glancing once in the young girl's direction. He walked quickly, barely able to stop himself from breaking into flight. Hopefully it would give the impression that he was late for some appointment elsewhere and not fleeing from her gaze.

* * * * *

"Ah, sir! You have come to see the finest selection of jewels in the south, no?" "No," said Athos, ignoring the man and looking across the aisles. "I came to buy, not to look." He had wandered the streets for hours, angry and ashamed of the way he had behaved earlier. Already his mind was painting vivid pictures of how he should have behaved, what he should have done, what he should have said, as the events replayed themselves again and again in his thoughts. He felt a perfect fool. He was Athos, trained by the Viper - not some spineless idiot to be unnerved by the glance of a stranger! The greasy merchant rubbed his skeletal hands together gleefully in anticipation of an easy sale. "Good! Good! My diamonds are the finest in all the realms! I have wares from the distant north and the mysterious east. Are you looking for something exotic? Allow me to direct your attention towards-" "That won't be necessary," interrupted Athos. "I am capable of making my selections without your guidance. I would like to be left alone to make my decision." The smile evaporated from the merchant's face as he backed away. "As you wish, young master," he murmured, keeping a suspicious eye on Athos. Athos smiled grimly to himself. No doubt he would be watched carefully, but he wasn't here to steal. He was here to practice evaluating the gems themselves. It was a simple exercise, but it would help to calm him. "Artemis!" came a bellowing cry from outside the little tent. "Artemis! I've got you now, girl!" Athos looked up, wondering what was happening. A figure darted into the tent, looking around wildly for some avenue of escape. He stepped back in surprise. the hair, the face - there could be no mistake. This was the same girl he had seen this morning in the inn. Artemis. It must be her name. He liked the sound of it. It suited her. He stored it away in his memory. Behind her, a powerfully built man entered, wearing black robes and armed with a wicked-looking scimitar. "Artemis!" he said, advancing on her, "I told you I wanted you working for me!" "And I told you I would never be one of your sluts!" She backed away from him, looking for some way out. The man grinned, revealing blackened teeth. "You don't have your friends here to protect you now. Why don't you reconsider? My customers will take you bruised or unbruised, but they'd prefer you unbruised." Athos stepped forward, interposing himself. "Leave and live." The man seemed genuinely surprised that a perfect stranger would involve himself. "I warn you, boy. This is not your fight. Step away and I won't hurt you." Athos said nothing. The man smiled again. "I am a master with this, boy," he said, raising the scimitar. "I teach its use in a local weapons school. Do you really want to go up against me?" Both of Athos' blades cleared their sheaths in the blink of an eye. He assumed a defensive stance. The other man's smile widened. "I warned you, boy. Now you die." His body went into motion, the scimitar striking impossibly fast. The smile vanished from his face as his blow was parried and his feet were swept from beneath him. He launched himself into a roll, barely avoiding Athos' counterstrike as it swept down. The man rolled lithely to his feet, whirling. He smiled grimly. "I have the measure of you now, stranger. That trick will not work again." Athos remained silent, awaiting his opponent's next move. The man talked too much, and boasted even more. How could he have the full measure of him when they hadn't even begun the fight yet? The man attacked again, his scimitar striking again and again with skill and speed. This time there was an interplay of blindingly quick blows and parries between them. Athos fell back under the furious attack, exposed for a split second. The turbaned man grinned as he sent his scimitar in for the kill. Athos recovered instantly, revealing the feint for what it was as he parried with his shortsword and locked the scimitar in place with his parrying dagger. A click followed, and the twin blades of the dagger shot from the main blade. The dagger slid down until the scimitar's edge was held between the main and right spring blades. Now the shortsword was freed. The other man realized what was happening and managed to release the scimitar and leap back in time to save his life, but sported a long cut across his chest where the shorsword's tip had caught him. Athos flicked the parrying dagger slightly and the scimitar flew out of the shop and landed in the dusty street. Athos remained still, waiting. The other man backed out slowly, one hand clutching his chest, and stooped to pick up his scimitar. He stood, glaring at Athos. Athos stared back. "Next time I won't be so merciful." The man considered attacking again, and cursed in frustration. "I will have you, Artemis!" he said, pointing to her. "Sooner or later, I will have you!" Then he turned and fled. Athos waited until the man was out of sight, then sheathed hiw weapons slowly, and turned to face the girl. "You followed me here, didn't you?" She looked at him as if he'd spoken in another language, and he winced. Had he really said that? "I... what I meant," he stammered, awkwardly trying to recover, "was that I think I saw you this morning at breakfast." She brightened. "Oh, yes. At The Sleeping Spider. I remember." They stood in silence for a few moments, neither certain what to say. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful," she said at last, "but why did you help me?" Athos shrugged. "When I was younger I found myself in a similar situation. I just... it triggered something in me, I guess." "Oh." Again they stood in silence. Had he made it sound like he hadn't wanted to help her? He thought maybe he had, and kicked himself mentally. "Well, I've got to go," she said at last. He nodded. Then realized she was waiting for him to move out of the way. "Oh!" he said apologetically, stepping aside, "I'm sorry. I hadn't realized." She stopped at the tent flap, looking back, and gave him a smile. "By the way, my name is Artemis." She waited expectantly. He nodded again, unsure what to say. Again there was a noticeable pause. Finally he realized what she was waiting for. "Oh! Athos. My name is Athos." She began to giggle as she backed out. "I've got to go, Athos. I hope we run into each other again." Then she was gone, and he was left with the sweet memory of her smile.

* * * * *

Athos jerked awake, instantly alert. He rolled out of bed, weapons in hand. He hadn't long to wait. The window shattered inward as a man came hurtling through. The man rolled lithely to his feet, another man coming through the window on his heels. Athos exploded into motion, dispatching the first man before he had a chance to analyze the room. He kicked the second man in the throat, sending him flying back out through the window to fall two stories to the hard cobblestones below. The door splintered inward as another group of men rushed in, and Athos whirled to engage them. The first leveled a hand crossbow at Athos and fired. Athos leaned to one side, allowing the bolt to fly by him. He lunged forward, taking the first man's life before the others could react. The other five tried to take him by sheer numbers alone. They piled onto him, trying to restrain him with ropes. His shortsword quickly became useless in the crush of bodies, and he was forced to rely on his dagger. The men he faced were capable and experienced, perhaps not professionals but certainly no strangers to close combat fighting. Against Athos they didn't stand a chance. In seconds it was over, and he was examining the bodies. Ropes? Crossbow bolts dipped in a venom that paralyzed? These men had been trying to capture him. But why? He wasted no time pondering the question. This group had underestimated him, but there would be others. He gathered up his few possessions and left the room through the window, disappearing into the night.

* * * * *

Athos maintained a low profile for the remainder of his stay, moving from place to place across the city. Though he took great pains to be prepared for them, there were no more night attacks. He searched, but did not run into Artemis again. In a way he was relieved. He had no idea what he would have said to her anyway. Yet, strangely, he was also disappointed. He had wanted to see her again. Perhaps, if the Viper permitted him to visit here again, he would see her then. He consoled himself with that.

Chapter Nine Zazesspur Revisited

Athos was slammed into the wall. He groaned, sinking to the floor. "Stand," said the Viper calmly. "Pick up your weapons." Athos stood slowly, his lungs on fire. He was covered by bruises and shallow cuts. Panting, he leaned over painfully, retrieving his shortsword and parrying dagger. He assumed a defensive stance. The Viper nodded once, and lunged forward again, his twin katanas whirling. A series of ringing blows followed, and a moment later Athos was again disarmed. Still the Viper pressed the attack, cutting and slashing. Athos jerked himself out of the way each time, but only just barely, and another series of cuts and scratches opened up on his arms, legs, and face. Abruptly his feet were swept from beneath him. Relentlessly the Viper slashed downwards, holding back a killing blow only at the last moment. The tip of one katana was pressed hard into Athos' throat, drawing a bead of blood. The other hovered just above his breastbone. "Again," barked the Viper. "On your feet." Athos picked himself up again. "Why are you working me so hard?" he dared to ask. The Viper smiled. "I realize you may have gotten into some fights during your stay in Calimport. These you no doubt won. This does not mean that your training here is complete - far from it. I am still your teacher. Now, pick up your weapons."

* * * * *

Several weeks passed before he was allowed to visit the outside world again. Although he was often left with long periods of time to himself, he didn't dare leave without permission. And he couldn't quite build the courage to ask. As the time dragged on, he began to wonder if he would ever be allowed to go again. Then one day the Viper asked him whether he'd like another 'field trip'. "I was thinking you might like to see your home city again," the assassin said. "You can go if you like. I will show you the way." For a moment Athos dared to hope that the Viper would allow him to visit his foster mother and the small cottage where he had been raised. Then he realized that the assassin was speaking of Zazesspur, the city where he had lived out his youth. But he wasn't choosy. The years of confinement in the Viper's lair had left him hungry for contact with the outside world, and his recent excursion into Calimport had only sharpened his appetite. Eagerly he agreed. Once again the Viper led him down into the 'forbidden' level of his lair, where the mazelike tunnels wound in darkness. Again they made their way through the darkened labyrinth, the Viper leading. Athos stored the route in his mind for future reference. It was quite different then the one which led to the portal to Calimport. When they reached their destination, however, Athos discovered that the portal was identical, as was the manner in which it was operated. "Open it," instructed the Viper, obviously testing to make certain Athos recalled the method. Quickly Athos did so, and the portal unfolded itself. The Viper nodded, already turning away. "You have only one day this time," he three over his shoulder. "Make the best of it while you can."

* * * * *

Unlike his visit to Calimport, Athos entered Zazesspur under cover of night. He emerged from the portal to find himself in the center of the city, where most of the ruined buildings were. That part of the city had not changed; it was still dangerous by night. He pulled the hood of his cloak over his head, enshrouding his face in shadows. He had lived out most of his life on these streets, and he knew many of these people. He didn't think he would be recognized by anyone - he had grown from a boy into a young man, after all - but he didn't want to take the chance. He would have to take care in looking up most of his old friends. Most of them would be members of the thieves' guild now. He considered the dillema as he moved into the more populous regions of the city. How could he tell friend from foe? Dondon! he thought suddenly. He would look up Dondon first. The little halfling had had no alliances with the Zazesspurian guild, and wasn't likely to have made any during the intervening years. And, perhaps more importantly, Dondon was a friend.

* * * * *

It was early dawn when Athos located his quarry. The boy sat at the corner of Bell Street and Lantern Way, just as he always had. His small face was smeared with grime, and he held out the dingy beggar's bowl pleadingly. His legs were gone beneath the knee, and he sat squatting in the dirt. The occasional passerby, infrequent at this hour, would flip him a copper or two in pity. Athos smiled to himself. He knew full well that the scrawny boy's legs were tucked carefully beneath him - legs which ended in rather large and hairy feet. Because this was not a human boy at all. This was Dondon. The old halfling was as much a trickster as a source of information, and Athos had always liked him. Of course that had been years past... "Dondon," called Athos, approaching. Dondon's head jerked up in surprise. He looked about him. "Over here," said Athos. "Do we know each other, sir?" asked the halfling, trying to maintain his disguise. Athos laughed. "It's me, Dondon. Athos. You remember me?" "Athos?" asked Dondon, peering at him suspiciously. "I don't know any Athos." Athos pulled back his hood, stepping into the light. "I was a little younger when you knew me." Dondon stared at his face for a moment, then shook his head in amazement. "What happened? Even humans don't grow up that quickly!" Athos flashed a brief grin. "It's an interesting tale." "I don't doubt it. You humans never fail to amaze me." Dondon glanced up and down the street, making certain no-one else was near, then stood and approached. "I heard rumors - crazy talk, that you were taken by the Viper." Athos looked at him. Dondon was taken aback. "It's true then?" Athos nodded. "I thought so. I gave you up for dead when I heard that. I guess I underestimated your life span. what happened?" Athos was silent for a moment. "I don't want to talk about it." "Of course, of course," said the halfling, concerned. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry." Athos waved his apology away. "Not your fault. Dondon, I've been ignorant of what's happened here over the last several years. I really don't know how things stand here." "To business, then," said Dondon with a twinkle in his eye. "I should have known better than to think you might've looked me up for old times' sake!" "Dondon," asked Athos seriously, "you haven't joined the guild, have you?" The halfling gave a hearty chuckle. "What use would I have for them?" Athos nodded. "What about the other members of the 'rat pack'? The last I saw of them, they were all set on joining the guild." "They did," said Dondon, sobering. "You don't want to be seen by the guild, do you?" It wasn't really a question. Athos nodded grimly. "I'm not sure how they would react to my reappearance. I've been with the Viper, after all, and they might take out any grievances they've had with him on me. Not that I know, really, whether they have any problems with him." "They hate him," said Dondon. "The last I heard, the guild was training some sort of elite group specifically to search him out and destroy him." Athos smiled grimly. "You don't seem particularly perturbed to hear that," observed Dondon. "It's a nice thought, but I don't think they'll be able to accomplish their goal." Dondon thought this an odd response, but said nothing. "The members of the 'rat pack'," mused Athos, returning to his original subject, "Where are they now?" Dondon considered for a moment. "Let me think. Valle disappeared about the same time you did - the guild sent him off to Calimport for training under some fancy mage or other. There was a big stink about that not too long ago - they wanted him back, but the wizard refused. Said something to the effect that Valle was dead." "Dead?" asked Athos, his hopes falling. Valle had been the one he had wanted to see most. "Well," shrugged Dondon, "the actual story was that he was caught in the Nine Hells, but who's able to stay alive and be there at the same time?" Athos nodded glumly. "Yes, I suppose so. What about the rest?" "Well, Vermos got caught a month ago, stealing from a powerful noble. I believe his body still graces our lovely city walls." Athos felt bile rising in his throat. Vermos had always been a braggart who was constantly getting himself into more trouble than he could handle. It soundled like this time the boy had bitten off more than he could chew. "Shand and Helmus are still in the guild," the halfling continued. "I could put you in touch with either brother. They're pretty careful and relatively smart." "What about Drake?" The halfling shook his head. "Drake disappeared some time ago. The guild claims he was killed in an accident, but I smelled something funny when I heard about it. If Drake's dead, it wasn't any 'accident' that made him that way." Drake had always been second best after Athos, and although a strong rivalry had existed, the two had always been close friends. If Drake truly was dead, Athos would miss him. "Both of the brothers are guildmembers, then?" Dondon nodded. "If you decide to get in touch with them, be careful not to contact Helmus. Shand's the one you want to speak with." Athos was puzzled. "Why?" "Helmus is utterly loyal to the guild. He seems it as his first real family. He would probably view you as some sort of deserter." Helmus always had been impressionable. "And Shand?" The halfling shook his head. "Shand is walking a very dangerous line with the guild. He's been giving them trouble for some time now, and is openly scornful of them." He shook his head. "I've warned him to keep his tongue. the guild isn't very forgiving of rogue members. If he isn't careful, I suspect he's going to be having an 'accident' soon." Athos considered. "I think I'd like to see him."

* * * * *

It was nearly noon before Athos could arrange to meet with Shand. They met in a plaza the dock district, from which could be seen the open vista of the blue-green Sea of Swords. The plaza itself was deserted, except for a cracked and broken fountain, so weather-worn that it was impossible to tell what the statue at its center had once represented. Shand appeared at the far end of the plaza, peering around uncertainly. He was almost fourteen years old now, but to Athos' eyes he seemed somewhat unchanged. He caught sight of Athos. "Who are you? What do you want?" Athos smiled. "We knew each other as boys. Do you not remember me?" The boy shook his head, obviously ready to bolt at any moment. "Look at my face." Shand stared at him for a moment, then whitened in shock. "It's not possible!" he murmured, taking a step backwards. Athos nodded. "It is possible. I am Athos, who you thought was dead." Shand was still shaking his head. "I don't know what you are, but you can't be Athos. Athos was my age." "I've been somewhere far away," explained Athos. "Time runs... differently there. I am Athos." "Keep your distance," warned Shand, backing off another step. Athos halted, holding his palms up placatingly. "There's no need to fear me. I'm not a ghost." Shand laughed. "I don't believe in ghosts. And I'm not certain I believe in you. If you are who you say you are, why come looking for me?" "I thought I would look up my old friends," said Athos, a little surprised by the question. "Dondon told me that most of the rat pack was dead or vanished, and that you were the only one left it was safe to contact. The guild is still after me, I understand." Shand shrugged. "Yes, they're still after you - officially. Unofficially most believe you are long in your grave. Still, they have been hunting you for years, though I don't know why." Athos nodded. "I could hazard a guess. You are still a member?" Shand spat. "In name, anyway. Joining was the worst decision I ever made - and you were the one who talked me into it. I don't need them. They just take a percentage of my profits; they don't do anything for me. But there's no 'quitting' the guild." Athos nodded. "Dondon said as much. Won't you get into trouble for not reporting my presence and trying to delay me?" Shand laughed. "Oh, but I am going to report you. Did you think I would not? I am not such a fool as that. As for delaying you, well, as you can see, I am a boy while you are a full grown man. How could they expect me to stop you?" Athos smiled, but it faded quickly. "Be careful, Shand. Don't overstep yourself. I heard what happened to Vermos. The guild is dangerous. I can take care of myself." Shand grinned. "Vermos was a fool. I am not. And I have no intentions of risking my neck for you." Athos nodded. "Just be careful." A moment of silence descended on the two, and Athos wondered whether it was old memories or new suspicions that danced behind the boy's eyes. "Well," he said after a moment, realizing that he had nothing more to say, " I suppose I'd better get going. The longer we talk, the more likely someone will notice. It's been good seeing you again, Shand." Shand said nothing. Athos turned away. "Athos!" called Shand suddenly. Athos turned at the edge of the plaza. "Yes?" "I... I was wondering. What happened to you? Were you really taken by the Viper?" Athos considered. "Better if you know nothing. You'd be in trouble with the guild if you did." "You're right," said Shand after a moment, trying and failing to keep a not of bitterness out of his voice. "Keep your secrets." "I will," murmured Athos softly to himself as he left. "I always have."

* * * * *

Athos found he had one more stop to make before leaving the city. As he made his way through familiar streets, he considered how far removed he really was from his past - these people were like living memories to him now, almost unreal. He skirted The House of the Pleasurable Cat unconsciously. Outside, ladies of the night were already plying their trade. Seeing them made him reflect on the prostitute in Calimport. "How long has it been for you, then?" she had asked him. How long indeed? There had been a time when he would have been proud to say he had never given himself away, that he was saving himself for better things. Now he wasn't so sure. What did it mean, anyway? Nothing, except that he had missed something - and what did that matter, really? He shook his head and continued on. He wasn't certain how long he wandered, lost in thought. But it was very near dusk when he halted. He found himself near the east wall, gazing up at Vermos's body. It had been impaled on a twelve foot pole which jutted from the top of the wall at an angle, and the corpse's feet hung nearly level with his eyes. Vermos, he thought. Always the headstrong one. It was lonely here by the east wall, understandably so since this was the wall on which the remains of criminals were prominantly displayed, and the corpse's only companions were the cacophonous vultures, who scuttled over the body, picking at their grisly feast. But it must have been crowded here when they executed him, thought Athos. There would have been throngs gathered for the grim entertainment, howling obscenities and lusting for blood. They would have spit on the condemned, hurling garbage and rotten fruit. An ignominous death, Vermos. An ignominious death. A few of the vultures fled at his approach, but three of the braver ones stayed, refusing to leave their grisly meal. He pulled his shortsword out and shook it, letting out a yell. The remaining birds took wing in panic. He sheathed his sword. It was a temporary solution at best. He moved closer to the body. It had been here so long that the stench was fading, although it was still nauseating to stand this close to it. Bone was showing through the flesh in some areas, and the eyes had long ago been picked out. This is death. We are mortal. After a time, just as twilight was settling on the city, he turned and left. The vultures returned to their meal.

* * * * *

The Viper was pleased. Athos' attitude upon was somber, almost cynical. It was the effect he had hoped for. He had been disappointed when Athos had returned from Calimport, but apparently the visit to Zazesspur had done the trick. Within two days Athos was given permission to visit either of the two cities whenever he pleased, provided the Viper had nothing else planned for him. He was also given a schedule of the fluctuations of time between the Viper's lair and the Prime Material. For the next six months, the two planes would be exactly in synch with each other. Of course, after that, there was quite a fluctuation.

Chapter Ten Jitinder

Calimport was dark this night. The lamplighter's guild was on strike, and as a result only the upper class regions of the city had streetlamps burning. The cloudy sky obscured the moon and the stars, and a cool wind played along the avenues, tickling the rooftops and whispering along the walls. It almost seemed peaceful. But Jitinder knew better. This would be a night when thieves and murderers took to the streets. His work would be difficult this night. Silently he flitted through the shadows, between buildings and down sidestreets, occasionally taking to the rooftops. Jitinder was a man with a purpose. As a child, he had seen his parents torn to pieces in front of his eyes. Not long after, the mobs had come, looting and raping. He himself would surely have perished at the hands of the maddened populace, were it not for the monastary of St. Tchazzar. The monks there had taken pity on him, and raised him as one of their own. He had studied with the monks for twelve years. They had advocated patience and inner peace. And he had tried to adhere to their teachings. But his past haunted him, and in the end he knew he could not take that route. He had honed himself physically, dedicating himself to the destruction of the man he held responsible for the murder of his parents. The man they called the Viper. After his time with the monks, he had begun his search. But the Viper left no trails, no traces, and the hunt had not been easy. For six years he had followed rumors and myths, trying to track the Viper. The search had led him here, to Calimport, and, deep within his heart, Jitinder believed that this was the city where he would eventually find the assassin. He was here. Jitinder knew it. But it was frustrating. So far he had been here for over a year, with nothing to show for his effort. A less-dedicated man would have given up. But Jitinder was patient, that much of the monk's teachings he had learned well. He would wait. In the meantime, he spent his daytime hours as a personal guardsman for one of the cities wealthiest merchants. By night, he had taken to roaming the streets, hunting down muderers and thieves and making them pay for their crimes. It kept him honed, sharp. The Calimport underworld had quickly learned of this young vigilante, and were doing their best to learn his true identity. They called him Nighthunter, and shivered when they spoke of him. Sooner or later, Jitinder knew they would try to trap and kill him. He wasn't worried. He was the hunter, not the prey. He paused for a moment, listening. A dead silence hung in the air, a feeling of tension, of expectancy. He smiled grimly. Yes, tonight would be a good night for hunting.

* * * * *

The target was an older man named Mith, a wealthy noble from Calimshan who was paranoid about his own safety. He stood in a clothing shop, admiring the wares while his four guardsman stood watch at the door. Standing nearby was a gnarled old man dressed in the flowing robes of a guild wizard. The shopkeeper was nowhere in sight. Athos darted through the busy street, keeping close to the storefronts. After surveying his target, he made his way into the back alley which ran behind the little shop, searching for a rear entrance. He discovered a small rear window and a back door, but both were obviously little used. He tried the door first, and found it was locked. He picked the lock in moments, but found that the door wouldn't budge. Either there was something on the other side wedged up against it or it had swelled into its frame after years of disuse. He turned his attentions to the window. The paint was peeling from the rough wood frame, and the brittle panes were caked with grime. The window might make a good exit, but it would be too noisy and difficult to open to be used as an entrance. Instead, Athos sprang upwards, catching the top of the wall with his fingers and pulling himself onto the roof. He kept low. It wouldn't do to be seen from the front street. There was an old wooden trapdoor near the center of the roof. Athos approached it. It was locked, but the lock looked simple enough, so he set to work. The mechanism was rusted, and it took a few moments to pick it. Then it clicked open, and he prepared to lift the trapdoor. The hinges were probably rusted and would creak, so it was better to get in quickly, strike, and be gone before anyone realized he was there. He lifted the trapdoor, swinging down silently into the shop. Amazingly, the hinges made no noise. He landed almost on top of a young boy. It was unexpected, but he dealt with it, shoving the boy aside and moving quickly towards the target. A dagger appeared in his left hand. As he threw the dagger, he unsheathed his longsword, continuing forward. The dagger flew straight and true, taking the merchant in the back. Then, before the wizard had a chance to turn, Athos swept the shortsword out, taking off his head. Before the bodies had even fallen he had turned, dashing up onto a nearby table and scattering the wares. He leaped from the table at the back window, exploding through the blackened glass and rolling to a stop in the street. He sprang to his feet. "Stop," said the Viper, studying the situation. "Not bad," he said after a moment, "but you made a few mistakes." Athos waited for him to continue. The model of the shop and the mocked-up dummies of the merchant and guardsmen stood mutely, as if they were also waiting. "First of all," asked the Viper, "why did you not eliminate the boy?" Athos shrugged. "He was not a threat." "Wrong! In real life, people move! He could have tripped you, delaying you - perhaps costing you your life. And he could have screamed warning for those in the next room. Most important of all, he would have been a witness who had seen your face. Never leave witnesses alive. "Also, your manner of eliminating the wizard disturbs me. A wizard will always be your most dangerous opponent; therefore he must be your first kill. I cannot stress this enough. Fighters are easy enough to deal with, and thieves are even easier, as long as you don't let them get the drop on you. Priests are the easiest of all - they rely neither upon weapons nor magic, but rather on a combination of the two, and this makes them more indecisive. But mages have spells that can kill you from halfway around the world. Always take out the wizard first, preferably from a distance." This was an old lesson, and Athos had heard all of this before, but he listened respectfully. Obviously the Viper didn't feel that he had heard it enough. "Your method of leaving was acceptable," continued the assassin, "and it is probable that you would have escaped unseen, except by the boy, of course. However, there was a better method of egress. The roof. You could easily have outpaced any pursuit by leaping from rooftop to rooftop." Athos nodded. The Viper paused thoughtfully. "All in all, though, you did well. You are quickly approaching the day when you will take on your first assignment."

* * * * *

Athos lay on his cot, staring up at nothing, pondering. "your first assignment", the Viper had said. That phrase kept going through his mind. Harmless sounding words that meant he would soon have to murder another human being in cold blood. And why? Not for revenge. Not for loyalty. Not even for money. For fear. Fear of what the Viper would do if he failed in his task. He kept turning the matter over in his mind. Curiously, the thought didn't upset him the way he thought it should. Perhaps that was the most frightening aspect of all.

* * * * *

Timoth Hinsdale, better known to his customers as Pip, glanced up from polishing his glassware, viewing the newcomer with thinly-veiled suspicion. The first thing he noticed was the man's eyes. A person's eyes were windows into his soul, that's what Timoth had always stoutly maintained. And this man's eyes were empty. To Pip, that spelled danger. Pip hadn't always owned The Sailor's Pipes. It was only within the last five years or so that he had settled down, married, and begun to start a family. Before that, he had been a member of an adventuring company, and had roamed the northern realms, fighting monsters and daring tombs in lost cities. He was fond of saying that for all its fearsome predators and rough barbarians, the northern realms were a far safer place to live than the south. At least there trouble came from in front, where a person could see it coming. Here, it came from behind, like a dagger in the night. Yet here was trouble, right in front of him. Pip could sense. The Sailor's Pipes was not busy this evening. It seldom was. It was a cozy place, tucked away in the east quarter, far from the busy thoroughfares of the city, frequented mainly by locals. It was a comfortable establishment. Pip knew his customers and they knew him. And that was the way he preferred it. It was not a place for mysterious strangers, and Pip gave the man a long, unfriendly stare. Athos stared right back, and entered. He had wandered the streets aimlessly earlier this day, watching the ebb and flow of life from the shadows. He was uncertain why he came; he was so uncomfortable around other people that it was almost painful to speak with them, and held himself apart rigidly. Yet at the same time it was a sweet misery, and he could not stop himself, drawn to it like a moth to the open flame. He took a table against one wall, sitting with his back to the wall so that he had a clear view of the rest of the room. The room was nearly empty, but there was someone who caught his attention. It was ayoung man, not much older than Athos himself, with long raven hair pulled back into a ponytail. His face was dark, and a few strands of hair fell over piercing blue eyes. The two locked gazes for a moment, each measuring the other. The dark-haired man stood, and smiling, approached. Athos watched him move, saying nothing. Very few weak movements. He was obviously well-trained in the fighting arts. If he intended Athos harm, it would not be an easy fight. "This is a local tavern," he said, sitting. "Everyone knows everyone here. We don't like strangers much, I'm afraid." Athos said nothing. The other only smiled more broadly. "So Let us sample some fine elven wine, and become acquainted. That way you won't be a stranger." "I don't drink." The dark-haired man cocked an eyebrow in surprise. "No?" he asked, amused. "I was under the impression you were human and needed sustenance. How is it that you do not?" Not human, thought Athos. How far was that from the truth? "Alcohol," he said aloud. "I don't drink alcohol." The other man clicked his tongue in disapproval. "Too bad. You really have no idea what you're missing." He sighed. "But then, I suppose that's the point. Still, I don't mind sampling elven wine by myself. Perhaps you would care for something else? My treat." He gestured towards the bar. "Pip keeps a running tab for me." Athos said nothing. The man seemed unfazed. "My name is Jitinder, by the way. I'm a guard by trade." "I am Athos," said Athos grudgingly, after a moment's silence. Jitinder nodded. "And what will you have, Athos?" "Water," replied Athos. Jitinder laughed. "I don't mind picking up the tab for water, although I warn you, water here in Calimport isn't the same water as everywhere else in the world." He motioned to a young serving girl, who approached quickly. "Hello, Ysmina," Jitinder addressed her. "Wine for me and water for my new friend." She smiled prettily. "Will you be taking supper sirs?" "Nothing for me," answered Jitinder, looking to Athos. "You?" "I'll have whatever the house special is today." She nodded and spun off. "She is Pip's daughter," said Jitinder, glancing after the departing girl appreciatively. "Well-rounded, but a bit too plump for my tastes." Athos said nothing. "So, Athos," Jitinder said, turning back to him, "exactly what kind of man are you, who doesn't drink alcohol?" It was a barbed question, and Athos knew it. He wants to know who I am. "Alcohol deadens the senses and weakens the mind." Jitinder chuckled. "It also excites the senses, and pleasures the mind. But, each to his own. You are not from our city, I take it?" "I am a newcomer," answered Athos, suddenly wary. Jitinder nodded. "I suspected as much. You have a strange accent. Where are you from then, and what brings you to our city?" Another barbed question. What was this man after? Athos must be very careful. "I live far away," he said, choosing his words carefully. "I came here for personal reasons." "And how long do you intend to stay?" The question was asked casually, but Athos sensed there was an intensity behind it. "Not long," answered Athos. "But I'll return." Jitinder shook his head in amusement. "Mysterious fellow, aren't you?" Athos shrugged. "Just private." Jitinder chuckled again. "Keep your secrets, then. You certainly have that right." "I will." Just then another person brushed quickly into the tavern, rushing up to the barkeep. "Hello Pip!" a feminine voice said brightly. "How's the pipe collection?" Athos whirled, recognizing the voice. "What do you care, Artemis?" replied the old man, a twinkle in his eye. "You don't smoke, and none of my pipes are worth enough to steal!" The girl assumed a hurt look. "Steal? Me? I would never stoop to such a mundane task!" She laughed musically. "Besides, I took enough money from a rich fool today to last me at least until the end of the week." She smiled mischieviously. "And you'll never guess how I did it." "No, I never will - I won't care enough to venture the idea that you pilfered it," replied the innkeeper, not missing a beat. She assumed a scoffing look. "For your information, it was the most brilliant swindle ever devised. Thought it up myself, of course. But, if you're not interested in hearing about it..." Pip shook his head, covering his ears. "I'm not." She ignored his protests and happily began detailing her earlier adventures. "Artemis," said Jitinder to Athos, seeing where his attention was focused. "A young girl who enjoys living her life on the edge. I like her." Athos glanced back to Justin. "And she returns your favor?" Jitinder laughed. "I only wish. Half the rogues in this city crave her affections. I can only claim friendship." Athos looked back to where she sat. She was still recounting her exploits to the innkeeper. "And who does she give her affections to?" "Well, well, who's asking all of the questions now?" said Jitinder with a smile. Athos flushed. "She gives herself to no man. She says she wants to be properly married." Jitinder snorted. "I don't believe in the institution myself." He considered for a moment. "I don't believe in denying myself pleasure of any sort, for that matter." Athos thought for a moment. "And who is she thinking of marrying? A wealthy merchant? An important noble?" Jitinder laughed, shaking his head. "She's not attracted to wealth or power. She's still wating for the one. I've told her it's nonsense, but still she waits. Tyr only knows who the lucky person will be. I can't picture her trying to marry money, though." "Indeed," said Athos softly, his gaze still focused on the girl. Jitinder noted the look in his eyes and smiled. "I'd forget what you're thinking of, friend. She's never been immediately attracted to anyone - at least not in a romantic way." He shook his head. "Except for someone she met a couple of weeks ago, and that will probably fade quickly." Athos felt his hopes falling. "Oh?" "Yes. Apparently some mystery man saved her from an unwarranted attack by one of the city's less-then-desirable slum lords." A hard look came into Jitinder's eyes at that. "When I learned of the incident, I hunted the man down and made sure he wouldn't bother her again." He shook his head. "Anyway, it was probably more gratefulness she felt for the man who saved her than any kind of attraction, and that's why I think the feeling will fade fairly quickly." Athos mind spun, as an unexpected surge of adreneline flooded his system. What? What! He held his composure with a will of iron. This was ridiculous! Jitinder was probably right - he was simply a passing fancy. Perhaps it wasn't even him she was interested in. She probably wouldn't even remember him. "Hello, Jitinder!" said Artemis, appearing at the dark-haired man's elbow. "Who's your companion?" Athos felt his heart jump into his throat. She blushed, recognizing him. "Oh! Hello again!" "We meet again," said Athos, smiling. That seemed to come out alright, he thought silently, trying to keep himself from saying something stupid. Or had it been too cliche? She giggled. A sound that sent shivers down his psine. Was she laughing at him? It had been cliche to answer that way, he was certain of it now. An itch had sprung up underneath his collar. Athos thought it strange; a moment ago his shirt had been quite comfortable. "Won't you join us?" asked Jitinder, standing to hold her chair for her. Athos jerked up too, trying to be polite. The girl looked at him strangely, and he sank back down again, feeling clumsy. Perhaps it wasn't considered good manners to stand while a lady was seated. He felt a fool. Jitinder seated himself again, looking at Athos. "You didn't tell me you knew Artemis," he said, half-accusingly. "Well, I don't - not really," said Athos, feeling the itch growing under his collar. "This is the one who saved me that day from Marpell," put in Artemis. "You should have seen him with those swords." "Indeed?" Jitinder looked at Athos with new respect. Artemis nodded. "I told you about him, Jitinder." "In great detail," Jitinder said archly, grinning. Artemis blushed deeply. The itch under Athos' collar was slowly growing unbearable.

* * * * *

For five days Hodkamset had secluded himself within his private chambers, communing with his deity. Strange smells and sounds emanated from the rooms, as he performed rites to which only he was privy. At the end of five days he summoned Nekiset. She entered cautiously. She had failed in her task to retrieve the Viper, and knew that even a high priestess was not above reproach. Hodkamset was kneeling in meditation as she entered, surrounded by black candles. "He is within our reach now," he intoned. She was surprised. She had thought that perhaps now that their quarry knew they were after him, the gap between them had widened beyond hope. The high priest's eyes snapped open. "Through Set, all things are possible," he said accusingly, as if reading her thoughts. She smoothed her brow, and bowed deeply. "Set has made it known where we may find him?" "No," frowned Hodkamset, "Set demands we work to achieve his goals, so that we may prove our loyalty. He has made known a method by which we may locate the one we seek." "How?" she asked. He stood, facing her. "Find the one they call Nightrunner. Watch him. He will lead us to the one we seek. Set has spoken.

* * * * *

"You are absolutely positive?" demanded Pook. The little man squirmed uncomfortably. "They are seeking the Viper, master - I am certain." Pook chewed his lip thoughtfully. He had wondered for time what these newcomers to the city were about. "Why do they seek him?" The little man squirmed again. The scars were still fresh from the beating Pook had given him the last time he had had no answer. "I don't know," he admitted, "some religious nonsense, from what I can gather. They call themselves the 'people of Set'." Pook's eyes narrowed dangerously, and the man flinched. Pook was secretly pleased with the effect he could generate. Fear was a powerful motivator. "Did they specifically mention him by name?" Again the little man cringed, afraid to answer honestly but more afraid to lie. "No. But the description is the same." Pook leaned back, fingering his chin. He was silent for several minutes. "Perhaps," he ventured at last, "the Viper has not eluded our grasp after all." He turned a baleful eye on the cringing man. "Keep track of them - they may lead us to him."

* * * * *

"You have the sketch?" asked Arkail. "Here," responded Tulmara, handing a drawing over. "This is what Shand claims he looked like. He was uncooperative." She had been forced to have the boy beaten badly. If his attitude did not improve in the near future, it was a certainty that he would die. Arkail nodded, looking the drawing over briefly. "We leave for Calimport tonight. We should make port in one week. It will be a long, difficult trail, but eventually we will find him. And he will lead us to the Viper." The Viper was too dangerous to be allowed to live. Arkail had personally researched the assassin's movements, trying to pinpoint the center of his operations. He searched through libraries, examined guild records back as far as they went, and had consulted every sage he could find. It soon became obvious that the Viper did not - and had not ever - live within the city of Zazesspur at all. Instead, all clues pointed to Calimport, capital city of Calimshan, far to the south. Calimport - oldest and most powerful to all the southern cities, and rival to powerful Waterdeep in the north. It made sense. Arkail turned away from Tulmara. It was time to prepare the Entreri - the elite squad of assassins he had trained specifically to deal with the Viper. Entreri. He liked the name. It seemed to resonate with an inner power. He had chosen it himself. It was an ancient oriental word, which dated back several millenia. It meant 'father of all assassins' literally, and the story went that it was the actual name of the first asassin, the man who had purportedly created the art. And the young men he had trained were well worthy of the name. He smiled grimly to himself. Soon the Viper would be no more.

Chapter Eleven Artemis

The Merry Halfling, Athos' destination, loomed up on the left, its worn wooden sign (which depicted a halfling holding a mug of foaming beer aloft, hair feet propped up jauntily on the table before him) hanging unmoving in the slight breeze. He felt a tremor born of nervousness flutter in his stomach, which built steadily as he approached the front steps. It grew and grew, and when he reached them he lost his nerve, and walked by the front doors nonchalantly, continuing down the street. He walked on until he reached the end of the block, raging at his foolishness internally but maintaining an outward facade of unconcern, then stopped as if he had forgotten something and turned back towards the inn. His gaze passed over it as though he could care less, as if it were just another sight, but the nervous flutter returned to his stomach, and his knees felt wobbly. He continued past the steps once again. This time he walked two blocks before he stopped, before turning himself around boldly. He was furious with himself. This was silly! He was Athos, trained by the Viper himself! He would just go into the inn and see if she was there! The Merry Halfling came into view again as he walked, and he felt his nervousness return. Quickly he shoved down his anxiety, replacing it with bravado and striding forward more purposefully. He would go in! Inwardly, his mind was in turmoil. What if she was there? What would he do then? Should he stay, and order something to eat, ignoring her? Would that be rude? Would it be more foolish-looking if he approached her? What would he say to her if he did? What if she didn't recognize him? What if she wasn't alone? How could he leave without approaching her? He knew that turning and running from the inn would be the silliest thing he could do, but he wasn't certain that that wouldn't be exactly the action he would take. The wooden steps of the inn loomed before him, and he halted momentarily. This is foolish, he though, climbing the stairs slowly. It was early noon and there wasn't much chance she would even be here. Yes, she probably wasn't here. The wooden door stood before him, but suddenly he was frozen, unable to make himself reach for the handle. This was ridiculous! He was Athos! Invincible in battle! He had faced the Viper! No mere girl should be able to make his knees knock together so! Why should he care about her? He'd only met her twice in his life. "I won't!" he said suddenly, wincing as he realized he had spoken aloud. He turned to go. Artemis was coming up the steps behind him. His heart jumped into his throat. She hadn't looked up yet. What should he do? What should he say? Mentally he tried to compose himself, and failed miserably, wondering about his appearance. Was his exression foolish? Was his hair mussed? Did he appear as nervous as he felt? She looked up at the top of the stairs, wondering who was blocking the door. "Oh!" said Athos, a little too loudly to his own ears, as he turned to let her pass. "I'm sorry!" Brilliant opening, he thought to himself. His voice had cracked on the 'sorry', and it sounded as weak as he felt. Inwardly he kicked himself. "Athos!" she said, smiling. "I wondered when you would appear again. I've missed you." He tried to keep the adrenaline out of his voice. "I did? I mean.. you did?" "Yes," she smiled warmly. "You were such good company that night." Athos hadn't thought he'd been very good company. He smiled though, some of the tension easing out of him. "Well, were you coming in or going out?" she asked, indicating the open door. "Coming out," he blurted. "I mean, going in." She smiled again. "Great, let's have lunch together." Athos blushed, his heart racing, and followed her in. "Hello Zip!" she beamed as she stopped to speak with the innkeeper. Athos stood behind her, shifting uncomfortably and wondering whether he should proceed to a table or try to join in the conversation. "Hi Art," he answered, sparing her a quick glance, then looking over to where Athos stood. "Hello, then. Who've you brought with you? You're new boyfriend?" Athos flushed, feeling very uncomfortable, and began wishing he'd proceeded to the table instead of waiting. What would Artemis think of the halfling's comment? "Not yet," she replied easily, with a knowing smile. "Not yet." "It's me, Athos," he put in, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction. "I was in here not long ago-" Zip chuckled, holding up a palm to forestall argument. "I was only teasing you. I never forget a face, and there's not much chance of forgetting yours." He leaned toward Athos and winked. "Have a good time with her." Now Athos felt very, very uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken. Surely she would be offended by that. Artemis, though, only laughed musically, turning away. Zip chuckled and went back to cleaning glasses. Athos turned back to Artemis. She was scanning the room, looking for something. "Looking for someone?" he asked her, then immediately winced. Had that sounded as bad as he thought it had? "I.. I mean, are you looking for Jitinder, or some of your other friends?" "No," she answered distractedly, "Jitinder never eats lunch. He's up all night, and sleeps late into the days sometimes. He finds that afternoon meals don't agree with him. I was looking for a table... There's one." She pointed. "It'll do wonderfully, I think." It was a table for two, situated far back in the room, away from most of the other customers. It didn't look like a wonderful table to Athos. He wasn't used to eating with other people. This was going to be uncomfortable enough as it was, without it being intimate as well. During the meal, Athos found himself wishing fervently that Jitlin did eat lunch, and that, more importantly, he was here now. Jitlin, with his witty style and his good humor, had provided all the interesting dinner conversation last time. Now the meal seemed to drag on forever, as the two sat in uncomfortable silence. Artemis tried to make lighthearted conversation, but Athos didn't know how to respond. He wished the meal would come to an end, even though he didn't dare eat anything in any way other than slowly and deliberately for fear it would be ill-mannered. "I wish Jitinder were here," he said suddenly. "Oh?" "He's so much better at talking than I am." She gave a laugh. "I'm sorry," she said, "it was just the way you said that. So innocent. Jitinder? Yes, I suppose he can be a lot of fun to be around sometimes. Most of the time I get tired of him, though - he's really kind of an ass. He goes far beyond the bounds of civility just to get a laugh. I like being alone with you much more." Athos flushed, then stared down at his plate. "Thank you," he managed to mumble. "So, how long are you staying in Calimport this time?" He looked up again. "Only until nightfall." She smiled "It seems to me that you are probably missing the best sights this city has to offer." "Oh?" She nodded seriously. "Yes. I've got plenty of free time today. Why don't you let me show you Calimport, as you've never seen it before." I must be doing something right! thought Athos. "Why, umm, I... Well, why do not you?" That hadn't sounded quite right. Artemis leaned back, uncertain. "You don't have to if you don't want to." "No!" he said quickly. "I mean Yes!" She still looked uncertain. "I mean... I'd love to," he clarified. Her smile returned. "Well, then, it's a date."

* * * * *

Nekiset looked up from the precious wine she was sampling, annoyed at the interruption. "What news have you?" she demanded. The servant bowed low, terrified. "We have been unable to locate the one they call Nighthunter, great mistress. Apparently, he only comes out at night." She flung the wine into his eyes. "Fool! that is not news! Leave, and if you have not found the one they call Nighthunter by midnight you will find yourself on the sacrificial altar of Set! Every moment that passes, the one we seek gets further away!" The man scurried out, wiping his eyes furiously. In his panic to leave he did not see the high priest, who was entering, and stumbled into him. "Imbecile!" roared Hodkamset, making even Nekiset jump. He raised an ornamental whip, and began putting it to good use. After a few moments, he ceased his assault and stalked into the room while the man slinked off. "Who was that idiot?" he demanded. "A fool who brough news of failure." "Failure in what?" "Locating the Nighthunter." Hodkamset turned, looking into the now-empty corridor after the departed man. "He will grace our altar tonight!" he pronounced, smiling grimly. "I promised him such a fate if he did not return with news of Nighthunter's discovery." she replied coolly. Hodkamset turned back to her, his eyes blazing. "And I say he will be sacrificed regardless! Have a care to remember your place, witch!" Nekiset shrank back from him, as if expecting a blow. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, while inwardly she raged.

* * * * *

Athos smiled. Artemis was sampling the exotic silks from Amn, putting them on and pantomiming a regal princess. She was being playful, but he couldn't see her as anything else but a princess. All day she had shown him the wonders of Calimport. They had wandered the bazaars, seen the works of the city's greatest artists, sculptors, and architects. They had wandered through some of the more famous museums, and gazed at the city's greatest palaces. Athos wasn't particularily impressed with any of them, but he was impressed nonetheless - by Artemis. She was beautiful and vibrant, and he felt alive when he was with her. Moreover, he felt like he was someone. Gradually she'd coaxed him out of his shell, and now he laughed with her freely, and felt all his earlier discomfort slip away. he felt as if he were in heaven, if he deserved such a place. She put down the silks as the owner of the shop shooed them out, realizing they weren't here to buy. "Oh, well," said Artemis. "There are other purses to slit!" Athos smiled at her. She began whistling a spry old sailor's song, and Athos stopped, surprised. "How do you do that thing with your lips?" he asked earnestly. She rocked back. "What thing? Whistling?" "I suppose. What you were just doing." "They don't have whistling where you come from?" she asked, surprised. "Well, first you pucker your lips, just so," she explained, doing just that. Athos imitated her. "Then you blow air through them. Constrict them when you want to make a higher note; loosen them when you want to go lower." Athos blew, but no sound came out except for a whoosh of air. Artemis laughed. "No, no!" she said, leaning closer, "Round your lips, like this." Suddenly their faces were only inches apart, and Athos found himself staring into her eyes. Athos leaned forward slightly, and their lips touched in a tender kiss. A moment later, he jerked back, flushing. "I... I'm sorry." "Don't apologize," she said, pulling him closer again. This time she kissed him.

* * * * *

On his way back to the portal, Athos whistled brightly, clicking his heels and dancing every few steps, intoxicated with a feeling he had never felt before. He would definitely be making more trips to this city in the future!

* * * * *

"We have located the one they call Nightrunner. He is hardly more than a boy." Nekiset looked up at the man, her eyes turning his blood to ice. "He is under constant surveillance," the man stammered. "You are to be sacrificed tonight," she said, smiling cruelly. "But.. but it's well before midnight, and you said-" "I changed my mind," she said, almost annoyed. "You should feel honored"

Chapter Twelve Grimwalde

Grimwalde smiled to himself. All the precautions were in place. All that remained was the arrival of the Viper. Patiently he waited. He never saw the man appear, but suddenly he was there. "Who do you want me to kill?" Grimwalde laughed. "To the point, aren't you?" The Viper glanced back and forth. "I don't like it here. Perhaps we should reschedule our appointment." Grimwalde saw his quarry backing out of the trap, removing its head from the noose. "No! Wait!" The Viper paused. "All right, then. Who do you want me to kill?" "You are aware of who I am?" "Yes," snapped the Viper, not liking the turn in the conversation. "And you are aware of what I do?" "I research all my clients thoroughly, before meeting with them. I will not agree to a contract until exactly who you want me to kill. So, dispense with the pleasantries. I am an assassin, and such gestures are lost on me. Who do you want me to kill?" Again Grimwalde smiled, this time in victory. "I want you to kill me!" he cackled gleefully, awaiting a reaction. He hadn't long to wait. The Viper flung a dagger at Grimwalde instantly, as he turned to back out of the alley. The dagger passed harmlessly through Grimwalde's form - he had earlier cast a spell which projected an noncorporeal identical image of himself through which he could both speak and see.. The Viper backed into a magical wall of force - another of Grimwalde's spells - which blocked the exit to the steep walled alley. Now Grimwalde began casting - through the projected image - his third spell. Knowing the limits of the projected image spell, the Viper began looking around for the true body of the wizard. It would be nearby. He spotted it off to the right, disguised as part of the wall by another spell - this one a very effective illusion that the Viper would not ordinarily have been able to see through without the magical charm he wore around his neck and beneath his clothes. As he started for it, pulling out a crossbow and aiming, a pair of earth elementals sprung up from the ground, lumbering forward as another pair pulled free of the dirt behind them. They were unwieldy creatures, composed entirely of bits of earth and rock, and shambled about on two leg-like appendages, flailing with two arm-like appendages. The Viper knew they were magical beings, summoned here by the wizard from another plane of existance. Grimwalde finished his mind control spell, and smiled confidently, waiting for the glazed look of one controlled to come into the Viper's eyes. "Stop what you are doing and give up your weapons!" The Viper didn't even look at him as he sprang forward, firing the crossbow at the wizard's true body and attacking the first two earth elementals with twin longswords that had appeared in his hands as if by magic. A dull pain erupted in Grimwalde's shoulder, and he looked over at his body to see what was wrong. The crossbow bolt was embedded within it. Impossible! thought Grimwalde. A lucky shot - the Viper could not have known where his true form lay! One of the earth elementals had stepped in the way of the Viper's shot, and the bolt had brushed by it, saving Grimwalde's life as the shot went wide of its true mark. Already the Viper was driving back the elementals. The swords the assassin wielded must surely be magical, thought Grimwalde distractedly, for the elementals were being slowly destroyed, thick chunks of earth and mud flying off their shambling bodies with every stroke of the Viper's blades. The assassin was very quickly whittling the unearthly creatures down to nothing. For a lesser mage the speed of the assassin's recovery and the ease with which he seemed to be handling the earth elementals might have been unsettling. Not so for Grimwalde. He knew exactly who he faced, and had prepared for the encounter accordingly. He began casting another spell. This one was a bit more powerful than the first. With this spell he would blast the Viper's mind with a magical mental barrage. The utter fury of the spell would turn the assassin into a mindless automaton for a few days before his santiy returned. Griwalde hadn't wanted to use this spell; he'd wanted the assassin's mind as unaffected and as close to its natural state as possible. Oh well. He finished the spell as the Viper destroyed the first of the elementals, reducing it to a pile of dirt. He was still ducking nimbly under and leaping over the attacks of the remaining three. The spell was so powerful that Grimwalde was physically draned when he finished it. He felt it flow from him, reaching across the distance between him and the assassin. The force was almost overwhelming, and for a moment Grimwalde shut his eyes. When he opened them again, he fully expected to see the assassin stretched out on the ground, mewling like a baby. Instead, the Viper had cut down another of the earth elementals. He appeared to be unaffected by the spell. Nothing had happened. The Viper felt the magical charm around his neck tingle with power, and he realized it was protecting him from a powerful mental attack. He began to understand what this mage was after. Grimwalde was becoming dismayed. He ran though a variety of spells - even resorting to the weak charm and sleep spells - as the Viper finished off the remaining elementals and raced towards his body. Grimwalde saw that he would die in mere moments. He had to take some action! Just as the Viper was upon the body, Grimwalde cast the only spell he could think of that would save his life - a spell Grimwalde had been so confidant he wouldn't need that he almost hadn't memorized it this morning. The Viper's swords whistled down, arcing through nothing but air as Grimwalde teleported. The assassin glanced around the alley, looking for other possible attackers. There were none, and a few moments later he left the alley, opting to scale the wall and use the rooftops for locomotion rather than test the magical wall of force again. He was almost angry. The wizard had been trying to capture him! And he knew enough about Grimwalde to realize that the wizard would try again. His lips curled into a feral smile, grim and foreboding. Grimwalde was a mouse playing at trapping a cat. The Viper would not allow the man to live for much longer.

* * * * *

The ship arrived in Calimport early the next morning, and Arkail and eight other men left it moored to one of the docks in the lower section of town. They began their work. Their eyes were hard and cold, and they moved with a purpose. By the end of the day, they were settled into an old cottage near the docks, and were already investigating quietly into the present state of the underworld of Calimport, learning and absorbing any information that might steer them in the direction of the Viper.

* * * * *

The rusted iron door protested squeakily as Athos was flung forcefully from behind to land facedown on the floor of the cell. "What is the purpose of this?" he asked quietly of the Viper, turning to look back at the assassin. The Viper closed and locked the cell door. "Even the best of assassins may be arrested," he said, only his face visible through the bars in the small rectanglar window set into the top of the door, "perhaps by mistake or through bad luck. It is important to be prepared for such an eventuality." He turned away from the window and Athos hoisted himself to his feet to get a better view of what was going on outside the small cell. The Viper seized a dummy and placed it behind a desk sitting across the room from the cell. The dummy's back was to the cell door. The Viper crossed his arms and leaned back. "How are you getting out?" Athos considered. "If I had a pair of lockpicks, I could pick the lock." The Viper's lips curled into a slight smile. He shook his head. "It is ordinary for those arrested to be strip searched. In such a case it is hardly likely that the authorities would leave you with a set of lockpicks. Even if you had them, you must have observed how the cell door squealed. Its noise would surely give your efforts away." Athos conceded the point. "Alright, then, how do I get out?" The Viper smiled. "By being prepared." He extended his arm, pulling back his sleeve to expose a small scar on his arm. He then opened his shirt, exposing a larger scar across his stomach. He peeled off the smaller scar first, revealing a small needle with a tiny cap at its tip which rested beneath the false scar. "Take off the safety cap, and you have a needle dipped in Athkitlis." Athkitlis was a powerful poison which induced immediate sleep. "Why not a more powerful poison?" asked Athos. "Remember where you're keeping it. If its container is broken while you're still carrying it, you certainly want the effects to be nonlethal, don't you?" Athos nodded. "First, take care of the guard with the needle." "How?" asked Athos. "Make a blowgun. Usually they'll leave you the materials to do so - a rolled up napkin would do the trick. Use your mouth if you have to." The Viper reached down and pulled off the second scar, revealing a pair of long wire lockpicks, both very thin but effective. He looked up, locking gazes with Athos. "In most cases, being prepared will save you when you're in a tight situation." "And if it doesn't?" asked Athos. "Then you have to save yourself," responded the Viper. "Or you will die."

* * * * *

"Hello, Zip," said Athos quietly. Zip whirled. "Athos! When did you come in?" "A moment ago." The halfling turned away from Athos, calling over to where Jitinder sat. "Hey, Jitinder! Athos is back in town!" "Athos!" boomed Jitinder energetically, standing and gesturing. "Come, have a seat!" Athos patted Zip on the shoulder and crossed the room. He smiled as he sat down. "It's been a whole week. What have you been doing with yourself?" queried Jitinder. "What have you been doing with your own self?" Athos shot back. Jitinder shook his head, still smiling. "Always one to dodge a question." Athos shrugged. "I don't know much about you either, except that people sometimes cringe when they hear your name." "Only the criminals," said Jitinder, his smile fading slightly. "But I don't mind telling you why - it's common enough knowledge. The Viper slew my parents when I was a child, and I've been hunting him ever since. He's not an easy man to find, but I'll find him. And when I do..." He shook his head. "Anyway, I try to keep the streets clear of crime. Criminals are no better than animals, and deserve no mercy. I've got quite a reputation among the underworld, as I understand it. The price of fame, I suppose." Inwardly Athos sighed with relief. He was very glad he hadn't given away the truth of his past to Jitinder - the man was a vigilante, and one with a death wish against the Viper! "Now, then," Jitinder said, his smile returning, "that's my story. What's yours?" Athos shook his head. "Your story was already public knowledge. Mine is not, and I prefer to keep it that way." Jitinder's eyes narrowed, but he let the subject pass. "Very well, then, if you really don't trust me to keep your secret." Athos shook his head again. "It isn't that I don't trust you, Jitlin." Jitinder waited several moments for Athos to finish, but Athos remained silent. He leaned back, shrugging. "Anyway, that isn't what I've been wondering most about you. I've been wondering why you've been acting so strangely around Artemis - so hostile, I mean." Athos jerked back as if struck, his eyes growing wide with concern and surprise. "Hostile? I hadn't meant to be rude! What did I do?" Jitinder chuckled, shaking his head. "It isn't rudenss, I think. You just act so uncomfortable when you're around her - like you were on pins and needles. Why don't you relax? I already told you that she likes you." Athos shifted uncomfortably. "That's exactly what I'm talking about!" exclaimed Jitinder with a laugh, pointing. "You're uncomfortable even at the mention of her name! What is it? What's so terrible about Artemis?" "I'm afraid," admitted Athos after a moment. "Araid of what?" "Afraid that I'm going to make some huge blunder, or insult her in some way, or just say something wrong. I don't know how to act around her." Jitinder smiled. "You act as though you've never been with a girl, Athos." "I haven't," replied Athos seriously. Jitinder tsked. "I don't understand some people's need for denial. But I wasn't talking about that - I just meant you act as though you've never before been around a girl, talking with them and acting witty and all that sort of thing." "I haven't," replied Athos seriously. Jitinder rocked back. "You haven't!" he said, shaking his head in disbelief. He smiled. "Come on, now, really!" When Athos' expression didn't change, Jitinder leaned forward, astonished. "You're serious, aren't you?" Athos nodded, perplexed at the other man's amazement. Jitinder shook his head. "Well, then... we've got a lot of ground to cover, haven't we?" Athos stood. "I can't now. I have to go. I've got to get back to... I've got to go." Jitinder leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. "Very well, then. Some other time. When will you next be in town?" "I really don't know. Soon. I'll look you up." Jitinder's eyes narrowed as he watched Athos leave. "Indeed. Farewell." Athos turned at the door. "Farewell," he said, and then he was gone. Jitinder reached down, lifting his weapon from where it lay near his feet. He stood, and made his way to the door. A moment later he was gone, following the elusive Athos, determined to uncover his secret.

* * * * *

"One of our patrols has spotted the one we seek," Nekiset reported, panting. "We've sent reinforcements, but the patrol is in the market area of town, far distant, and our help will probably arrive long after the fight has been joined." Hodkamset peered his nose at her. "If the patrol fails, I will personally see that any survivors are flayed alive to serve as an example to the rest."

* * * * *

Athos was aware he was being followed the instant he left The Merry Halfling. He walked forward as if nothing were amiss, stopping at the next turn and, acting as though he'd forgotten something, turned left. He did this again for three more turns, until he had made a complete circle. He scanned the streets behind him from time to time, but saw nothing. Whoever was trailing him was good. Certain now that he was being followed, even if he had failed to root out his pursuers, he turned and jogged down a side alley, vaulting up the steep wall that lay at its dead end and catching hold of the rough edge of the rooftop with his fingertips. In almost the same motion he pulled himself up and over. Not pausing to look back, he ran up the steep tile roof, leaping its apex and running down its far side. The next house was ten feet distant, but with the built up momentum he made the jump easily. This roof, however, was constructed of weathered and very old shingles, and they ripped loose under his feet, skidding down the slope towards the street. He skidded backwards and teetered at the bring for a moment, the darkened street below, before finding his balance and holding himself from the thirty foot fall. He ran up this second roof as possible, again vaulting the apex. This time the roof didn't continue sloping downwards on the other side. Instead, it stopped altogether, giving way to a ten foot drop onto a raised open-air patio. Athos tumbled through the air, barely managing to avoid landing on the fine wood and glass table which sat at the center of the patio. He rolled as he landed, springing lithely to his feet. He could hear sounds of pursuit now, both on the rooftops behind him and the street below. The next jump was too far and high to make, especially from the patio, so he turned back towards the house, darting through the open doorway which let out on the patio. He found himself within a large bedroom, furnished with a bed large enough for two, a pair of chests, and a large mirror. the door to the room stood open, and vague smells of cooking wafted up from the lower floors of the place. He darted out of the bedroom, across a foyer, and into a second bedroom across the hall, on the far side of the house from where he had entered. This bedroom had a window facing the way he had come. It opened after a good tug, and he was through it in a moment, leaping through open space towards the window of the house across the street - the very same house whose roof he had used first. His fingers caught hold of the sill, and for a moment he clung there, grasping for purchase, his legs swinging wildly. The wood of the sill was old and rotten, though, and with a creak it gave way beneath his weight. He plummeted to the street below, rolling to reduce the shock. A moment later he was on his feet. To his right, six men approached, cutting off that avenue of escape. They were wearing the same black clothing with red sashes and turbans as the men who had attacked him in his room at the inn earlier, and had wicked-looking scimitars out. Some sort of huge crocodile, which stood four feet tall and nearly eighteen feet long, waddled along behind them. The men seemed perfectly at ease with it, as if it were some exotic pet. Athos whirled to his left, but a similar group of four men, identical in dress, blocked that direction. This group was accompanied by a huge scorpion of only slightly smaller dimensions than the crocodile. Who are these people? thought Athos, then drew his weapons. He looked about for some avenue of escape, found none, and sprang towards the smaller group in hopes of taking them down quickly enough to get past them.

* * * * *

"That's him!" breathed Childric to no-one in particular from where he lay in the shadows. "That's him! I've got to tell Pook!" He started to get up, then stopped himself, thinking. Pook wanted the Viper dead. Maybe that was what was about to happen. He had better wait and see.

* * * * *

"Is that our man?" asked Melvic. "Should we be helping those black-robed ones?" "Not quite," replied Arkail softly. "We have no idea who they are, or what their purposes are. The enemy of our enemy is not necessarily our friend. Besides, that one isn't the Viper." "How do you know?" "I've seen the Viper before, although that means virtually nothing, as the man is a master of disguise. However, I recognize this one as the Viper's apprentice - I have a good sketch of him made up from the boy, Vermos's description." "So what do we do?" asked Melvic. "Nothing. This one may lead us to the Viper in time, but for now, we just sit back and watch. This should be very interesting."

* * * * *

Jitinder panted as he dropped down onto the patio, turning towards the open door into the house. Gods, but you are a difficult one to keep pace with, Athos! he thought silently. He leaned over the balcony, looking into an empty street. The drop was not inconsiderable, and it was probable that Athos had not taken this route. But where then? He turned back to the gouse, gripping his weapon more tightly. The house? He stepped through the open door, and came face to face with a lanky middle-aged man with a red expression, who reeled back in surprise. "Who are you? What do you want? What are you doing in my house?" "I am Nighthunter," he replied, as if that were all the explanation he needed. The man fell back, open-mouthed, and Jitinder brushed past him. Jitinder examined the first room carefully, making certain Athos was not hiding in the shadows, before he caught the sounds of battle. He rushed across the hallway, and peered out the window in the house's far side, looking down into the street below. His jaw dropped in astonishment as he caught sight of what was happening there.

Chapter Thirteen Secrets Exposed and Misinterpreted

Athos went into motion, his body a blur as the weapons he carried whistled about in blinding speed. He cut down the first two men before they knew what was upon them. But the third leaped back as the scorpion darted forward, its stinger shooting out. Athos threw himself to the side as it brushed by his chest, causing stinging pain in the exposed flesh it touched there as it ripped his shirt. The two pincers moved simultaneously, and the right one almost caught his foot. He leaped just in time, and lost his balance for a moment, stumbling backward. By the time he had recovered, the second group of men had closed the distance, and he found himself encircled. The scorpion backed off to his right, while the crocodile loomed behind the men on his left. The men around him were harrying him, and as he would move to engage one, another behind him would attack. He dodged blow after blow easily, but knew he would tire soon. These men weren't trying to kill or capture him. They were merely holding him here as a delaying tactic. They must be awaiting reinforcements. "No!" came a shout from above as Jitinder somersaulted down into the fray, landing easily on his feet. "He is mine!" A humming filled the air as Jitinder whirled his weapon in deadly arcs about himself. The blade licked out, cutting down one of the men in black. Athos recognized it as a naginata - an oriental weapon. It was a cross between a spear and a polearm. It had one large blade affixed to one end, and another smaller blade attached to the other end. It was slighly shorter in length than the average spear, making it very manueverable, but had a long reach. The one Jitinder wielded was pitch black. The dark-clothed men reeled back in suprise at the unexpected assault, and Athos took the opening as an opportunity. He leaped forward, breaking through the circle, taking one of the men in the throat as he did so. At the same time Jitinder's naginata swept out again, giving another of the men a mortal blow. The crocodile sprang forward to kill the unwanted intruder. The remaining men facing Jitinder, three in all, backed off and let the creature pass. One of them took out a small crossbow - this one they only wanted to kill, not capture. The scorpion lunged forward again, its stinger racing towards Athos' face. He ducked, and wondered momentarily why men who wanted him alive would use a beast such as this, which would surely slay him if it landed a hit. His shortsword swept up, and the scorpion shrieked. This time the tail pulled back without its stinger, and greenish blood oozed from the huge cut, leaking onto its shiny black shell. It chittered and clicked more as if in anger than in pain, and it scuttled forward again, intent on catching him in its pincers. Meanwhile, the crocodile had rushed upon Jitinder, engaging him as the man with the crossbow worked to load a bolt in his crossbow and began cranking the windlass. The bowstring began its slow climb to the lock. The crocodile lunged forward, its mouth gaping. Jitinder met the lunge calmly, his naginata sending the crocodile reeling back in pain. Again the crocodile lunged, and this time Jitinder knew would not cause enough pain to the enraged creature to save him. Instead he rammed the large blade into the thing's eye and used it as a fulcrum as he pole-vaulted onto the thing's back. It roared in pain, thrashing and twisting wildly, and Jitinder was hard pressed just to hang on. At the same time, the scorpion and Athos played a game of cat and mouse, each circling the other warily. Suddenly Athos was pulled off his feet from behind. A choking cord with a large hard lump in its center was slowly crushing his larynx, and he realized that in a moment his neck would surely be broken. One of the other men had managed to get behind him, and he cursed himself mentally for allowing himself to be distracted - the Viper had taught him bettter than this. He recognized the cord as what it was - an effective assassin's tool. The lump in the center was where the scarf had been filled with a large rock, to give the fibers of the cloth more strength in such an attack. Athos jabbed backwards with his parrying dagger, striking the man behind him solidly somewhere between his upper chest and his waist. The man screamed in pain, but did not release his hold. The world began spinning, and Athos realized he was losing consciousness. He flicked the trigger on the hilt of the parrying dagger, and the two spring blades were activated. With a click they sprang out to either side of the main blade, which was still buried in Athos' attacker's body. Again the man behind him screamed, this time his hold loosening slightly. The world swam back into focus. Athos began twisting the dagger. This time the man let go, falling backwards and, in so doing, wrenching the parrying dagger from Athos' hand. Athos gasped for air, stumbling back from the still advancing scorpion as the thing scuttled quickly forward, its pincers clicking ominously. Jitinder had managed to retain his hold on the crocodile, which bucked and twisted like a whirlwind. For the first few moments it had been all he could do just to hang on, but he now he raised his naginata and plunged it forcefully into the beast's other eye. The crocodile thrashed in pain, and tried rolling over, hoping to crush its tormentor. Jitinder leaped clear of the beast, rolled once, and came to a standing position. The crossbowman had managed to load his weapon, and was raising it to aim. His two companions were hanging back, their swords out. He leaped toward the three men. Athos kept himself from stumbling any further back from the scorpion; it was harrying him, and he preferred to choose his own ground. Instead, he reversed his motion, and suddenly rolled forward, underneath the gigantic insect, shearing off one of its six legs at the joint in the same motion. The leg gave way with a click, and was surprisingly easy to cut through after the sword bit through the chitinous armor. The scorpion lurched to one side, not realizing yet that it was less one leg. The ring within Athos' pocket tingled suddenly, and he was nearly crushed as the monstrous insect suddenly flipped over onto its back. He barely managed to roll out of the way. Then, before it could right itself, he lunged forward and stabbed it through its softer underbelly, piercing into its brain area. It quivered for a few moments more, reflexively, as he backed away from it. Jitinder leaped forward, disembowelling the men on the right and left of the crossbowman in two neat strokes, batting away their feeble attempts to block his attack. The crossbow was pointed directly at his face. the man's finger was on the release. His naginata arced down, just as the release was pulled. The bolt never left the crossbow. Jitinder's blade severed the string, releasing the force within it as it whipped, quite literally, through the crossbowman's head. The corpse tumbled to the ground, and suddenly he had no more foes to fight. the crocodile roared impotently, striking out blindly at nothing. Jitinder swiftly imparted a death blow. The remaining men facing Athos turned and fled. Panting, he let them go. He fished in his pocket for a moment, producing the ring the Viper had given him, holding it up to the light. He had read, in one of the books in the Viper's library, that scorpions had a piece of magnetic dust within their brains from which they determined their sense of balance - what was up and what was down. Was the ring magnetic? No, there must be more to it than that. He had distinctly felt the ring tingle. There must be some magical properties- "Murderer!"cried Jitinder, lunging forward, striking out with his naginata. Athos barely managed to parry the humming blade, so surprised was he. "What?" he managed, backing off a few steps in shock. Jitinder sneered. "Listen to my weapon, foul one! Hear your death approach!" Again he lunged, and again Athos was almost skewered. "I spit in your face!" screamed Jitinder, his face contorted in fury. "Why are you doing this?" asked Athos, backing off under a series of crushing blows which resonated up his sword arm painfully. "I know you, Viper!" Athos shook his head. "I am not the Viper!" "And now you lie! So much like the coward you are!" The blows fell faster. "Why do you think I am the Viper?" protested Athos, hard pressed to parry the lightning strikes of Jitinder's naginata. "I've seen you in action before - serpent! I recognized your fighting style! From when you slew my parents!" "I am not the Viper!" yelled Athos. "I will never be him! Never!" "You lie!" spat Jitinder. "Explain that!" He motioned to the ring which Athos had dropped when Jitinder had first sprung upon him. Athos shook his head. "It is mine, but I am not he! He gave it to me!" Jitinder's face set. "I have no more use for words, assassin! Let my weapon speak for me as it drinks your lifeblood!" He concentrated on his next attacks, and Athos found himself giving ground steadily. Athos felt a cold wave of anger wash over him. This fool who knew nothing had judged him worthy of death on the basis of the ring he wore! "I!" he cried, leaping forward and parrying the main blade of the naginata with his shortsword. "Am!" he continued. catching the haft of the naginata with his free hand as Jitinder whirled the smaller blade at his face. "Not!" He twisted the naginata slighly, weakening Jitinder's hold. "The!" he shouted, punctuating the word with an upwards kick to Jitinder's jaw, which sent the other man arcing backwards to land hard on his back. "Viper!" he finished, flicking the naginata to one side and putting the tip of his shortsword to Jitinder's throat. Jitinder stared up at him for a moment, then closed his eyes. "Finish it, then," he said, so quietly that Athos barely heard him over the roaring of his own heart. "I am not the Viper!" he cried. "I am not the Viper." He pulled back, removing the tip of his sword from Jitinder's throat, and backed off a few steps, panting. Jitinder opened his eyes. "What's your game?" he asked suspiciously, not reaching for his weapon, but eyeing it. "I am not the Viper!" maintained Athos. "Why can't you believe that?" "You are the Viper!" cried Jitinder, leaping towards his weapon and lifting it in one motion. "I will never believe otherwise!" Athos backed off a few steps, then turned and fled. Jitinder looked after him, stunned. Belatedly he realized he should probably be giving chase. Instead, exhaustion overcame him, and he went and leaned against the wall, catching his breath. Tears stung his eyes. After a moment, he turned and sprinted in the other direction.

* * * * *

"Come on," whispered Arkail to the Entreri troop. "Let's see where he's going. Maybe he'll lead us right to our prey." Quickly the other men moved from their hiding places, stealthily following Athos' trail.

* * * * *

Childric got up from his own hiding place, certain that he had seen more than he'd wanted to. He sat down just as quickly as nine men appeared from almost nowhere, and followed the one he had earlier thought was the Viper. Who are they? he wondered. What have they to do with this? Pook will want to know. After they had gone, he stood again. And dropped back down just as quickly, as the entire area was suddenly flooded with more of the black-clad, red-sashed men. This group was much larger than the previous two, and accompanied by two of the gigantic scorpions. More cult members! What were they doing here? He still had no idea how the Viper concerned them.

* * * * *

Athos ran heedless, tears he had thought long gone rolling down his cheeks. He came to the marketplace, dark and abandoned now, and made his way to the wall where the portal to the Viper's lair lay. Quickly he tapped his ring on the wall, and a moment later, he was back within the confines of the Viper's lair.

* * * * *

Across the marketplace, the Entreri troop halted, watching carefully. "A magical portal," murmured Melvic. "And a magical ring. We'll have to get one like it." "Not so," replied Arkail. "All we need is a wizard - one of them can crack the magic. Now that we know its location, we only need the wizard." He smiled grimly. The noose his tightening around your neck, Viper, thought Arkail. Can you feel it?

Chapter Fourteen Past Revealed Obscurely: Future Uncertain

Grimwalde shrieked out a formless cry as the crossbow bolt was pulled from his shoulder. "Dolt! Imbecile!" he raged, lashing out with his free hand and striking the young acolyte who had grasped the bolt. The skinny young man staggered back, spatters of blood flying from the shallow cut Grimwalde's ring had left on the acolyte's right cheek. "It had to come out, lord magist," protested the high priest in a calming voice, stepping forward and holding his palms up placatingly. "The blessings of Selune only extend so far." "Don't babble to me about the blessings of Selune, you old faker! I pay you well for your services. I expect healing, not obscure hedge magic and bumbling apprentices who tear the flesh from my bones!" Again the old priest held his hands up. "My apologies, lord magist. I should have attended to the removal myself." The gaunt old man's voice was calm and untroubled. He shot a look at the young acolyte who stood clutching his cheek with a wounded expression and a baleful look in his eyes. "Nyklos obviously was clumsy. We are both extremely sorry." The young man gave Grimwalde an icy glare. He didn't look very apologetic. Grimwalde glanced at the other three acolytes, who had helped to hold his injured arm still and who had all backed off a step after the wizard had struck their companion. "I don't care to hear your pathetic excuses," he snapped. "I expect results!" He started as a bolt of pain seized his upper arm and shoulder, and nearly cried out again. "Gods, my arm throbs!" he yelled, his free hand instinctively moving to clutch at it. The old priest nodded his head sagely. "Of course, of course." He gestured to one of the remaining acolytes. "Harod, see to the potion." The smallest of the three, a plump fellow with a hangdog face and bushy eyes, nodded briskly and moved away, rummaging through one of the bags the priests had brought with them. The high priest approached. "This will only take a moment, lord magist." "That's what you keep saying," answered Grimwalde testily. "I keep waiting." The old man raised his hands to the height of Grimwalde's chin, opening his fingers and presenting the palms upwards. His head tilted slightly backward as he looked upward, and his eyes rolled back. Somberly he intoned a series of arcane phrases. The words were pronounced and easy to understand, but they were in no language Grimwalde was familiar with, and although they had meaning when he heard them and fairly crackled with sorcerous power, they immediately faded from his mind the moment they were spoken. Grimwalde was unconcerned. He knew enough about priestly magic and the mechanics of wielding it to expect this effect. Besides which, he was in pain at the moment and didn't really care. After a few moments the priest's incantation was complete. His eyes appeared once again and he looked down at Grimwalde. "This my sting a little," he said. "Are you ready, lord magist?" "Yes, yes. Get it over with!" Gently the old man laid his hands on the wizard's shoulder. Grimwalde winced as they connected, expecting a spasm of pain from the increase in pressure, but instead he found himself gasping as if he had been thrown into an icy lake in middle of winter. The priest's hands were freezing with an unearthly cold, and instantly chills ran through Grimwalde's body. "Away!" he cried after a moment, reeling backwards from the unexpected onslaught. The old priest backed off with a slight bow. He waited a minute for the wizard's shivers to subside. Grimwalde's teeth were still chattering. "You could have warned me it was going to freeze me, you old goat! What manner of healing is this? You save my shoulder from infection merely to deliver it into frostbite?" The old priest gestured, and two of the acolytes hurried forward with a blanket, which they wrapped around the wizard. "It is different each time, lord magist," he explained with a shrug. "For some it is heat. For others cold. For still others-" "You should have warned me, you old badger!" Grimwalde clutched the blanket and waved the acolytes off angrily. "Away, leeches!" He peered down at his shoulder. The wound had closed and a small pinkish scar was all that remained. Experimentally he moved his wounded arm. He still felt twinges of pain around the wound, but he discovered that aside from some tightness in the muscles, he had full range of motion. The priest stepped forward with a chalice one of the acolytes had handed him. "Drink, lord magist," he said, handing the vessel to the wizard. "It will soothe the pain and speed the healing. Fortunately the bolt failed to strike bone, but for the next few days it would be advisable to keep your arm in a sling, to prevent unnecessary irritation." Grimwalde accepted the chalice with misgivings, and sniffed the hot brew that was within. He took a small sip, then spit it out in disgust. "What manner of foul poison is this? Do you seek to make me forget the pain in my arm by assaulting my tongue?" He hurled the goblet at the priests. "Out! Get out of my sight, all of you!" The priest bowed politely and backed out of the room. His acolytes scrambled to follow, looking relieved at the chance to depart. Grimwalde gazed after them balefully. He was furious, not just at them, but at the whole situation. The very idea having to be put through all this made his blood boil. And most of all, he was angry at the Viper. I had him! he thought. I had him in my hands, and I lost him! He was more than simply angry - he was a little frightened. He had planned for months, arranging for the perfect trap. He had studied his prey vigorously. He had examined the area where the trap was set time and again, and he had lain awake nights perfecting his spells and planning for any eventuality. And the Viper had escaped! Even more frightening, the man had very nearly managed to kill him! Grimwalde was still a relatively young man, only thirty-two years of age, and still hot-blooded and quick-tempered. He fingered his neatly trimmed black mustach distractedly, then brushed his hands through his short wiry hair, his mind replaying the encounter for the hundredth time. Perhaps he should await the return of his master, Thenedain. He pondered the thought momentarily before summarily rejecting it. No! He would do this alone - and prove once and for all he was Thenedain's equal. Still, it was disconcerting. This was the first time he had been undone by the object of his study. What had gone wrong?! He realized, of course, had had happened. He had been viewing the Viper as a curiousity to be studied, not as a possible threat. He had known the man was dangerous and resourceful, but somehow he had never considered the notion that he might have been putting himself in harm's way. He had underestimated the assassin. He shivered again, reminded of how dearly he had almost paid for his mistake. But he would not repeat his error. He would not underestimate the man again. He would construct a new plan, a new trap. This time there would be no mistakes. And what if the man really is undefeatable? He shook the sudden eerie feeling off. He would not underestimate his prey again. Now, how would he lure the assassin a second time?

* * * * *

"Deepshadow sends his greetings, Viper," said the small man, his pale eyes darting about the small darkened booth nervously. Outside, beyond the thick curtain which served as a doorway/partition, the main tavern room bustled with the sounds of dining patrons. The Viper gave a slight bow from where he sat at the small round table, the flickering light of the candle on its surface painting his features in an eery uncertain light. He indicated to the chair opposite, gesturing for the other man to join him. "It has been long since that one last called on me." The little man licked his lips. "This is an unusual location for such a private meeting," he said at last. "Are you certain we may speak freely here?" "Do not be concerned. We are in private. What does the master of the Shadow Thieves desire of me?" The man shot a second distrustful glance at the curtain, then sat. "The death of Arkail Rhassan. My master wishes to put an end to the rise of the Zazesspur guild." "He sent my usual fee?" The man nodded. "Yes, I have it here." His wiry fingers produced a small leather bag, which he slid across the table to the Viper. Carefully the Viper undid the drawstring, spilling the contents onto a leather-gloved palm. Four gemstones of various shapes, sizes, and colors looked up at him. He turned each one over carefully, examining it, before nodding. "Another point before our business is concluded," said the small man. "My master stated specifically that he wanted this operation quiet - he doesn't want anyone to know who killed Arkail or why. He was most insistant upon this point." "Indeed. There is nothing else?" The little man shook his head and started to rise, then stopped himself. "One more thing before I go. Deepshadow made me memorize this phrase. 'The walls, the ground, the night, and dead men all.'" "That's all of it?" The man shrugged. "All he made me memorize. I don't know what it means, but he seemed to think that you would." The Viper stood. "I think I can puzzle it out." The little man jerked once as he died, a surprised expression on his face as the life faded from his eyes. Carefully the Viper arranged his body on the chair, to look as if it were slumped over in exhaustion, or drunk. A moment later and he had departed the booth and was on his way. So, Deepshadow wanted Arkail dead. How convenient. His desires coincided with the Viper's own. The assassin smiled grimly to himself. It was always better to be paid for your work.

* * * * *

"Excuse me, master Athos." Athos was awake and on his feet in an instant, a dagger swiftly appearing in one hand. If the older gentleman who stood attentively just inside the doorway was alarmed or surprised by Athos sudden reaction, he did not show it. "I apologize for disturbing your rest, master Athos," he said smoothly, "but master Viper desires to see you in the Octagonal Chamber." "Who are you?" Athos demanded suspiciously, taking a step backwards. He hadn't heard the door to his room being opened, and had certainly never seen this man before. "How do you know me?" The older man shook his head. "I see that master Viper failed to mention my presence. He usually does, during the initial training process. I am Entrus, master Viper's foremost personal servant. Most of the other apprentices know me well, as I often have occasion to serve them. No doubt the same will hold true for you, young master, in time." Athos eyes' narrowed, and he took another step back. "What do you mean? What Octagonal Chamber? What other apprentices?" "Oh, my," the man said, one eyebrow lifting archly. "You're one of the more recent arrivals, aren't you?" "I have been training here for nearly seven years." The man seemed surprised. "More recent than I had thought. You must be very promising indeed if he has decided to bring you out of the isolation stage this quickly." Athos rocked back, a sudden wave of confusion passing over him as the meaning of the man's comments started to sink in. Can this possibly be true? he thought in shock. I am not alone? There are others? I've been here for seven years and seen no-one. It must be a trick! He eyed the old gentleman who had appeared so suddenly in his room. But then who is this? The man gave a quiet cough. "Really, master Athos. We shouldn't keep master Viper waiting, should we?" Athos stood frozen for a moment, then slowly straightened and sheathed the dagger he had bared. "Very well, then," he said, making his decision. "Lead on." The servant nodded, turned, and made his way out the doorway, leading the path down the hall without a backward glance. Athos paused only for an instant, then followed, his head still swimming. In just a few moments, the man's words had changed his entire world. He wasn't alone? There were others here? He considered the man who had introduced himself as Entrus, automatically inventorying and catogorizing his appearance as he had been taught. The manservant was dressed in flowing silks of a vaguely oriental fashion Athos wasn't familiar with. The clothing was tailored well but not constricting, allowing easy range of motion. The man himself walked perfectly erect, with the carefully controlled stride of a man who, while aged, is still vigorous. He was clean-shaven, with neatly clipped hair which had nearly given over completely to gray from whatever its youthful color might have been. He possessed alert gray eyes, tightly compressed lips, and a worn and lined face which bore an expression and demeanor of unshakable calm. Athos had expected the man to lead him downward, towards those areas of the Viper's home which were forbidden to him, but to his surprise the path seemed to lead upwards, to those halls he was already well familiar with. At length Athos spoke. "There are other... apprentices here? Young men like myself, in training?" The manservant spared him a nod. "Oh yes, sir. Not all men, of course, and the term 'young' is subjective, but there are others." Athos' mind was roiling with questions. "And I will meet them?" "In due time, perhaps. Training is very specific for each individual. Some, of course, are still in the isolation stage, and others are far advanced, and no longer train against mere apprentices." Athos pondered this. "You make it sound like there are a great many here. Why have I never seen them?" The manservant shook his head. "Not very many, actually. Around thirty, at any given time. New ones are recruited, and some die in the training, so the number is never constant. And, of course, the Viper ordered that you were not to be contacted during the isolation phase. None of the apprentices would disobey his missive, of course." Athos considered this. "Why then have I never seen signs of anyone else?" "Those that are advanced out of isolation are well enough trained to conceal their presence. And, of course, those that are still in the isolation phase are unaware of the presence of others. Also, the immense size of master Viper's home makes it extremely unlikely any apprentice would stumble into another." "They are aware of my presence here, then? They have been... observing me?" "I should think some of them have. It is even possible one of them is watching you now." Athos glanced around him, at the featureless walls of the corridor. There didn't seem any place in which a watcher would be able to conceal himself, but all the same he felt an uneasy feeling crawl up his spine. All this time, and he had never felt the hidden eyes? "This way, sir," said Entrus, gesturing to a doorway that Athos was surprised to find he recognized. "This is the Octagonal Chamber?" he asked, walking by the older man and opening the door. This room was known to him as the Study. "It has six walls, not eight. And I thought it was called the Study." "It is," came the cold and clear voice of the Viper from behind him. Athos whirled to find the Viper standing where the servant had been a moment before. The master assassin's hair was slightly whitened and made to look much shorter than it actually was, while his face bore the faint marks of makeup around the cheeks and eyes. "Where-?" Athos started to ask, then caught himself as he realized what had happened. "A disguise," stated the Viper matter of factly. "Today we begin working with them." Athos' jaw dropped. "A disguise? But how-?" "A disguise is not merely the act of hiding behind makeup," continued the Viper as if Athos had not spoken, "It is the art of assuming an entire personality. You will not that I did not say 'false personality'. That is because personality must be absolutely real, in every respect, and a part of you." Athos snapped his mouth shut and listened attentively. "There are five points that are imperative to assuming a disguise, and makeup isn't one of them. Neither is costume. Both help, but they are accessories, not substitutes. "The five points are: eye movement, head movement, gait, manner of speech, and manner of gestures - or lack thereof." The Viper gave Athos a hard, appraising look. "Consider for a moment. In assuming the personna of the chief servant of the Viper, what did you notice concerning these five points?" Athos concentrated, thinking back. "Your voice was different," he ventured after a moment. "The way you-" "How was my voice different?" Athos paused, considering. "It was less precise sounding. It was an older man's voice, although it didn't have a quaver, so I'm not certain why it seemed that way.... It was the way you said things - not just inflections but the things you said. The tone was very formal and dignified, in a respectful sort of way." Athos shot him a look. "Your true voice has never held any respect, only control." "True. And your observations are fairly good so far, for a first try. Go on." Athos collected his thoughts. "You walked stiffly but not slowly - I remember thinking about that specifically." "Describe the gait more precisely." "It was the gait of the man whose responsability is to take care of a museum filled with priceless artifacts - and a man who finds satisfaction in his work. You stepped carefully, and again there was definite respect in your walk - this time for your surroundings. It was the walk of an old man, but not a tired or sickly one." "Very astute. Please continue." "Let's see... There was almost no arm or hand movement - no gesturing." The Viper nodded. "Remember that no movement is just as definitive of personality as great movement." Athos thought. "You kept your arms by your sides because that was where you felt they should be. The position was uncomfortable to you, but it was your nature to be more comfortable with discomfort, I think." "Exactly. Continue." "Let me think," said Athos. "Head movement. There was very little of this, and and you always held it up, but not in a haughty way. It was much like your arm movement, and I think it was generated from some of the same feelings." "Good. It's important to make the five points correlate, and often one is generated for the same reason as another. Continue." Athos nodded. "Last of all, there was eye movement. I don't really know what to make of it. You looked down whenever you mentioned 'master Viper' - probably in fear as much as in respect, but otherwise you kept a calm and commanding gaze, as if you were keeping a constant vigil over your domicile." "Very colorful description, but essentially correct." There was a moment's pause, while Athos gathered his courage. Finally he mustered the temerity to ask what he had been wondering about. "Are... are there other people here? Within this place?" He asked it hesitantly, having weighed the risk against the worth of the question. To his surprise the Viper seemed neither offended nor scornful. "You bring up another interesting point. In assuming a disguise, if it is possible, reach down into the depths of the person you intend to deceive and pull something out to catch him off his guard. This will distract him, and make it more likely that he will not penetrate your disguise." And that answers my question not at all, thought Athos silently.

* * * * *

The mage bent forward, back hunched over, examining the wall. He was a young man, barely out of his apprenticeship, with a boyish clean-shaven face and intelligent brown eyes, but he was an expert in his field - a prodigy, and for this sort of work there was none better. His fingers gently caressed the rough surface, expertly divining each crack and bump. The subtle sorceries he wove did not require words to give them form, but merely the touch of his hands. Surrounding him and shielding him were four of the Entreri troop, each dressed in plainclothes and facing out towards the crowded marketplace, who had taken up position to fend off the occasional passerby and block view to the rest. Most who passed gave them a single disinterested glance, if that. After a few minutes more, the mage straightened, frowning slightly, a troubled expression on his brow. He glanced over to where Arkail stood, stroking his beard impatiently, and nodded. He looked as if he were about to say something, but a quick gesture from Arkail silenced him. The Entreri men shifted, surrounding the two of them in a different pattern, as Arkail turned and walked into the passing crowd, the mage close behind. The Entreri men spread out, so as not to appear to be traveling in a group, while still remaining close enough to provide protection if called upon, and soon they had melted almost completely from sight. The mage moved up until he was beside Arkail, keeping pace. Only when they had moved a good distance from the wall the mage had been examing and were safely ensconced in the anonymity of the crowd did Arkail speak. "Well?" he asked, sparing the young mage a quick glance. "Difficult," said the mage. "It will take time and money, and I cannot guarantee success. Inter-planar gates are almost impossible to create, for any amount of time, but as the gate already exists, all that must be done is to find a way to open it." He gave Arkail a warning glance. "I don't mean that that will be easy. It may well take months to discover a way to open it. And it will definitely cost. But it might be possible." "We saw it operated by a ring," stated Arkail. "So you've told me. If we had a ring similarly enchanted, it wouldn't be a problem. In fact, I doubt you'd need my help. But we don't have a ring, so we must go the hard route." He gave Arkail an inquisitive look. "There is no chance of getting access to any such ring, is there?" Arkail shook his head. "Extremely unlikely." The mage sighed. "Then we do it the hard way. And, as I said, it won't be cheap." "Allow us to worry about the expense. You will be well paid." The mage nodded. "Very well, then. I shall get started immediately." He pondered. "You know," he said, in the manner of one who is thinking aloud, "this would be a lot easier if we could find out exactly what plane lies on the other side of the gate. Then we could cut straight to the chase, open our own portal, and not have to worry about opening the one that's there." "There's virtually no chance of that, I'm afraid," said Arkail. The mage shook his head. "Let me be the judge of that. Perhaps there is a way... Well, it's somewhere to start, anyway." He glanced at Arkail. "How soon do you want me to start?" "Immediately."

* * * * *

There was a vague rushing sound as the portal opened, and suddenly the cool wind of the Zazesspurian night wafted over Athos, bringing with it the vaguely sweet smell of night lilies, which bloomed there this time of year. The Viper glanced back at him once, then stepped through. Athos followed a moment later, and the portal sealed itself immediately after. It was a bit chill tonight, but not enough to make it uncomfortable. Overhead the moon was full, casting silvery light into the darkened and deserted streets. A few thin, long and misty clouds wandered high across the sky, and the wind wisped gently across the night city. Athos raced after the swiftly departing figure of the Viper. The master assassin was incredibly quick, and very difficult to follow, as he seemed almost instinctively to melt into the small patches of shadows. A lesser trained man would probably never have noticed his passing, even had he been staring exactly at the path he moved along, and even Athos had difficulty, but he managed to keep pace. The two flitted silently through the shadows, wending their way through the sleeping city. At this hour, the streets were nearly completely abandoned. There was only the occasional drunk tottering home from an alehouse, or a pair of guardsmen from the city watch, making their appointed rounds. Once they had to pause in a darkened doorway as a team of scrawny horses hauled a wagon filled with vegetables trundled by, headed in the direction of the marketplace. The sleepy-eyed farmer who drove it never looked up. Inwardly, Athos' heart pounded. An hour ago the Viper had appeared at his chamber door, and announced that tonight they would be going on an assignment. A real assignment. "You're going to take your first live mark tonight," the Viper had said, and sparing him no details had instructed him to dress and arm himself. Athos had felt a cold vise grip his heart, and a sudden chill had run down his spine. A 'live mark'. Tonight, for the first time ever, Athos would be called upon to kill. He had known that this time would come, of course. He was being trained as an assassin, after all, and killing people was the trade. But up until now it had all been practice dummies in mock-ups. Tonight it would be the real thing. He would be called upon to end someone's life - a stranger whom he had never before met, and who had never done him any harm. He was uncertain how he would react. But he said nothing, and followed the Viper further into the city. As they moved, Athos found himself wondering about the target. The Viper had told him nothing. It could be anyone, from a petty thief to a merchant prince, or perhaps a noble of some kind. The only requirement was that someone was willing to pay to have the target eliminated. It might be a man or a woman, either young or old. The Viper was an equal opportunity killer. It might even be a child. Athos paled as he considered this, and found himself hoping fervently it was not so. They had moved from the lower quarters of the city and the houses were nicer, the streets cleaner and better lighted here, as they began to enter the high city. This area was slightly better patrolled, but they still had very little trouble avoiding city watchmen. Luckily for the watchmen, Athos thought to himself. The Viper would make short work of anyone who tried to hinder them. As they passed through a side alley and headed towards a well-lighted street that was one of the main thoroughfares of the city, the Viper suddenly changed his course, bounding up a wall and taking to the roofs. Unhesitatingly Athos followed, and the traveled from rooftop to rooftop, beneath the silvery light of the moon, quiet as wraiths. A few minutes later and they took to the streets again. This was definitely the best section of the city. Here, interspersed between small parks and gardens of exotic tropical plants, were the estates owned by the wealthiest of the Zazesspurians. There were walls around most of them, and the guards that patrolled the streets here were well-armed, with fine armor. The Viper threaded his way along the walks, heading for one wall in particular. It was low, standing only about fourteen feet in height, and made of smoothly-joined stone. At the top jagged shards of glass were embedded in the rock, jutting upwards as a deterrant for any who sought to scale it. He looked back at Athos and gave a gesture. Athos raced to the foot of the wall, and turning, made a cup of his hands. The Viper leaped, using Athos' hands as a step, and, without pausing, hoisted himself atop the wall. He paused there a moment, listening and looking about, then disappeared down the far side. It was the work of a moment for Athos to scale the wall. Smoothly-joined it might be, but there were small cracks and crevices aplenty, more than enough to give him purchase. At the top it was a small matter to splay his fingers out, avoiding the jutting shards of glass, and grip with the fingertips. He was atop the outer wall of a very large estate. Athos gazed down. There was a second, much higher wall around the house proper, and Athos could see torches stationed along its top, indicating that it was probably patrolled by personal guardsmen. Filling the area between this inner wall and the wall on which Athos was perched was an exotic garden/courtyard filled with high vegetation, low-hanging trees, and appealing flower and fruit plants. There was no sign of the Viper. Obviously the master assassin had already entered the foliage. Athos took a moment to look at the garden area. The plants were aloud to grow wildly and thickly, with small cleared paved areas running throughout. Somewhere off to the left, hidden by the dense foilage, came the tinkling sound of a fountain. And off to the right, Athos heard movement. He listened. Heavy crackling, ponderous movement. Definitely not the Viper. Probably some sort of exotic animal, let loose on the grounds at night to discourage trespassers. It was about twenty yards to the left of him, and upwind, so Athos had no doubt he would have little trouble avoiding it. He sprang down, landing lightly on the balls of his feet in the damp earth. He gazed around for signs of where the Viper might have gone, but found nothing. It didn't matter, he knew full well the assassin would be headed for the inner wall, if he hadn't reached it already. Quickly Athos made his way forward, whispering between the trees and through the thick, leafy foliage. Lithe branches hung down in his path, and knotty roots sprung up from the ground, hidden in darkness, ready to trip his feet. But Athos sidestepped these obstacles almost as if he had a sixth sense, walking the grounds with the surety of someone who had been born here. He stopped in a moonlit glade, listening. The wind had shifted slightly.and he was aware that it no longer favored him. If the creature which was prowling the grounds had a keen olfactory sense, it would scent him. The crackling had turned in his direction, and he heard a low grumbling. The creature had scented him. He unlimbered his shortsword and raced on. A moment later, he very nearly lost his footing. He halted headlong, almost tripping over the freshly slain body which lay inert in the uncertain light. It was a thayvian white tiger, fully 500 pounds. Athos had never seen one in the flesh, but had read of them. They differed from the more common tigers principally in size (they were larger) and ferocity (very prone to bloodlust and rage), as well as the lighter coloring and the reddish markings around the eyes. This one, Athos saw at a glance, was a female. It had died with its fangs bared, and now snarled soundlessly up at Athos, sightless eyes fixed on the moon. A gaping wound under the throat told where something very sharp had nearly separated the gigantic furred head from the torso. The Viper had come across it only minutes ago, no doubt, and finished it off. The crackling sound of something large approaching brought Athos out of his momentary reverie. The other creature, likely this one's mate, had scented the blood, and was bounding forward. Athos turned and fled. Less than ten steps later he emerged from the edge of the garden, entering the cleared space between it and the inner wall. Less than ten yards from the inner wall, a roar of fury sounded from behind him. The other creature had found the body of its mate. Issuing a further roar, he heard it bound after him, charging from the thicket behind him. Not looking back, Athos sprinted to the wall, and reaching it, leaped onto it. Not halting his momentum, his fingers found purchase and he began hauling himself upwards. Below him, he felt the impact as the second tiger (he could see now that it was the first one's mate) impacted the walls, and with a roar, lunged upwards at Athos' foot. The hot, fetid breath of the beasts slavering jaws bathed his left foot with moisture as he jerked it up, out of the way. The gigantic jaws snapped shut less than three inches from the sole of his foot. The creatures claws scrabbled on the stone, and with an angry roar it slipped, sliding back to the base of the wall. Immediately it gathered itself for another leap and surged up again. This time Athos was several feet above the level he had been at before, and the jaws missed him by some distance. As before, the tiger slipped down the wall. Enraged, it circled, staring up malevolently at him, and roaring its anger. Athos spared it hardly a glance, continuing his climb. The inner wall was rougher than the outer, and so provided even better purchase, and Athos made quick time. Suddenly, the flaring light of a torch appeared over the edge of the top, and a man's face appeared, peering down. The roaring of the tiger must have alerted one of the guardsmen. Athos hugged the wall, shifting his body to move under a slight overhang. He was still ten or twelve feet from the top. If the man spotted him, he wouldn't be able to climb the rest in time to get to him before the guard could take action. A well placed shot with a bow would make short work of him. The guardsman need not even be a good shot. If Athos was dislodged from the wall, the fall alone would injure him. And the tiger waiting at the bottom would find him an easy meal... The man's eyes narrowed as he peered down into the darkness. One of the things favoring Athos was that the guardsmen held a torch. Not only did the light from the torch make the man effectively night blind, it also illuminated his position. Likely he couldn't see a thing beyond the radius of his torchlight, while Athos could see him very clearly. The man squinted down into the darkness, and muttered a curse. "Shut up, you loudmouthed beast!" he yelled down after a moment. "You'll wake the master, and then I'll see you skinned and turned into a rug as you belong!" The tiger have another roar, enraged. "Foul creature," muttered the guardsman. He shook his head and started to turn away, then uttered a sharp cry of distress. Athos heard the sound of steel rending flesh, and suddenly the guardsmen was flung over the edge, and hurtled past, his torch following in an eery blaze of light which trailed down to the ground. "Are you coming?" asked the Viper. "We haven't got all night." Athos pulled himself to the top, and over the edge. He looked back down. The torch had gone out when it had struck the ground, so all was darkness at the bottom of the tower, but the tiger had stopped roaring. Athos wondered whether it was busy rending the corpse of the guardsman. He turned to the Viper. "Why? He would have passed on in another moment. Why kill him?" "He would have slowed us," stated the Viper evenly, moving relentlessly forward. Athos trailed after him, along the landing which ran about the inside of this inner wall. The inner wall apparently constituted the outer wall of the house proper, for there was no interior courtyard that Athos could see. Instead the center of the building was filled with roofs, which stood only a few feet higher than the wall itself. The Viper led the way to an open doorway which led into the house. Within was a guard station, cheerily lit by torches and the firelight from a crackling fireplace. There were a set of myshi cards on the plain wooden table, and a second guardsman sat slumped in one of the chairs, his head lolled back in death, a crimson gash opening his throat. Apparently the Viper had already been here. Without pausing, the Viper led him through a second door and into a darkened hall. They raced down it, coming to a stairwell at the end. Slipping quietly down the stairs, they made their way down a second hall, this one interspersed with ornate wooden doors and lit every ten feet by a softly glowing oil lamp set into the wall. A side hall intersected it after about twenty feet, and the Viper turned to the right, leading them into it. There was a massive wooden door at the end of this second hall, and the Viper halted before it. He looked it over once before turning to Athos. "It's locked. Pick it. Quietly." Athos crouched down, examing the door handle from every angle as he had been taught, checking for hidden mechanisms that could mean traps. Finding none, he produced his lockpicks, made a selection, and bent to the task. A moment later he stood back, replacing his tools in the pouch at his side and nodding to the Viper. The Viper seized the handled and opened the door, swiftly entering. Athos followed, swinging the door shut behind them. Within, the splendidly appointed room was lit by a soft lamp on the gigantic redwood table which dominated the left side of the room. A four poster bed was set against the far wall, adorned with silks. Thick oriental rugs carpeted the floor, and beautiful paintings hung on the walls. A thin, older man with a black bushy beard was up late, working at the desk, writing something. He glanced up as they entered and gave a violent start. "Who are you?" he started to ask, reaching for the hand crossbow that lay, cocked and loaded, on his desk. The Viper had already reached him, and seizing his arm, gave it a mighty twist. The man cried out as he was flung back into his chair. A moment later, one of the Viper's katana blades was at his throat, gently pressing him back into his seat. "Sit still, and stay quiet." Athos had ignored the man completely, concentrating on examing the room and making certain there were no other occupants. Satisfied, he approached. "This is the mark," said the Viper to Athos. "Finish him." The man looked up at Athos, his wide eyes pleading. "What... I don't... who are you people? What do you want with me?" His expression was one of helpless bewilderment. Athos felt a lurch go through his stomach. He lifted his shortsword. One pass through the heart would finish the man. Swift and relatively painless. "Please," said the man. "I have children... please! Please!" Athos felt a tremor run up the length of his arm. He lowered it. "Finish him," commanded the Viper again. Athos looked at him. "I... I cannot." "You can and you will!" responded the Viper. "Strike!" Athos' lower lip trembled. "I cannot. I... I will not." A dizzy feeling of fear overcame him. Never, in his entire relationship with the Viper, had he dared to defy the man. He drew himself up, waiting to die. The Viper smiled grimly. "That is one, boy. Remember that you have only two more chances. The penalty for disobedience is death." "Please," pleaded the man, repeating the word as if it were a prayer. "Please!" "I cannot," said Athos, looking at the ground, his stomach roiling. "I cannot." "I see," said the Viper. He reached out, casually clubbing the man over the back of the head with the hilt of his sword. "We'll see how long that lasts."

* * * * *

The screams kept coming, incredibly. Athos' ears rang from them, and the sights he had seen inflicted on this man would burn in his memory forever. The man had pleaded, had begged for the mercy of death a hundred times. The Viper had left him the use of his tongue, up to the very last, so that Athos could savor his screams. The Viper was a machine, going about his terrible work relentlessly, oblivious to the man's pleadings and ravings. He was merciless. Athos turned away and retched, not for the first time. This time no bile would come, and he found himself crouched on the floor, stomach spasming with dry heaves. He was locked in a small room less than three feet wide by three feet long. The ceiling, likewise, was only about four feet from the floor, leaving him insufficient room to stand. The far wall was a thick sheet of transparent glass, and beyond it lay the room where the Viper slowly tortured the man to death. The Viper had been slowly destroying the man Athos had earlier refused to kill - naively out of a sense of mercy. He had been at this task for several hours. And the man, while still alive and screaming, was at this point barely recognizable as human. Tiny holes in the bottom of the sheet of glass allowed Athos to hear every whisper the man made. The Viper halted for a moment, seeing that Athos had turned away. "Look," he commanded. "Face me!" Athos turned his eyes toward the glass, and the terrible work that the Viper had done. "This is your work!" said the Viper. "You will look!" He turned and continued his work. Gradually the screams faded to moans. The pleading and cursing faded to a murmur. The Viper finally turned from his work, facing Athos through the glass. "It will take this man approximately three days to die. This is your fault. This is the mercy that you showed him." "No," moaned Athos. "Yes," said the Viper. "He will linger, in great pain. Will you slay him now? Will you end his suffering?" "Yes!" cried Athos. "Please! I'll kill him! Let me kill him!" The Viper shook his head. "I don't think so. You made your decision already. Now you will bear witness. You will watch this man die." Athos slowly sank down, his back pressed against the wall behind him. His head rolled back in defeat, tears streaming from his eyes - as they had been for some time now. "Why?" The Viper shook his head. "Admittedly, this man did not deserve to die such a terrible death. That was your work. However, he did deserve to die. They all deserve it. I've never slain a man who didn't." "What about my father?" cried Athos, too filled with hurt and rage to care what the consequences of speaking freely might be. "Your father," said the Viper, "most certainly deserved to die. But you never knew your real father. You were speaking of that man who raised you, no? He also deserved death." He cocked an eye at Athos. "You do know why he came to Zazesspur, don't you?" Athos turned away, unwilling to give the master assassin the pleasure of an answer. "Of course you don't. Let me spell it out for you. He came to Zazesspur to sell you." "That's not true," said Athos quietly. "That's not true!" "It is true. If it were not, why did your foster mother never come looking for you?" Again Athos turned away, his hands over his eyes. "I'm not listening to you." "You'd better listen Athos," said the Viper, steel in his voice. "This is the real world, and the real world is pain. Life is pain, Athos." He gestured back to the suffering man. "Death is a release, not a punishment. Remember that, Athos." Athos slumped over, weeping. He kept the position long after the Viper left, the moanings of the man in the next room loud and clear in his ears. He felt disgust, repugnance, and horror. He felt crushing loneliness. But most of all he felt a deep sense of betrayal. As much as Athos hated and feared him, the Viper had come to represent a father figure in Athos' mind. He had trained him, after all. Now, however, he felt as though the Viper had crushed all humanity from him, laughing as he had done it.

Chapter Fifteen The Entreri Troops

It was a night for screaming. One man of the two patrols which had been dispatched to capture Athos had survived the encounter. The sole survivor had crouched among the fallen, laying as if dead until the exchange was over and reinforcements for the forces of Set had arrived. The man was a coward and a traitor to the cause. Or perhaps, Nekiset mused as she watched him writhe and groan under the hot kiss of the coals, the man had told the truth when he claimed to have been clubbed down and passed out during the battle, and had come to his senses afterwards. It made little difference to her whether the man was a coward or not. She would savor his cries and pleas for mercy all the more. His death would serve as an example to others. He had failed, and failure would not to be tolerated. However, pleasant and distracting as the task of torturing the unfortunate soldier to death might prove, Nekiset could not forget that this failure meant that once again the one chosen by Set for the ultimate service had managed to elude their grasp. Hodkamset would not be pleased, and even Nekiset paled at the thought of his rages. It had been the one called Nighthunter who had foiled them, arriving in the pitch of the melee and taking the forces of Set from behind. Damn the headstrong boy! But for his meddling, the chosen vessel would be within their grasp! Who could have predicted his sudden appearance at such a critical moment, or his ferocious defense of the boy called Athos? She left the dying man to his final hours, pacing the hallways in deep thought. Yes, it was obvious that the Nighthunter must be eliminated. He was an unknown, and further he no longer served any purpose in her designs. But the real problem was Athos. How would they lure him again? Straightforward attempts at trapping and capture had failed twice, and now more than ever he would be on his guard against them. And there was no way of determining when or where he would appear again. Suddenly an idea dawned on her. She pondered it, examining the still-forming plan for flaws. When she had made up her mind that it would work, she mustered her courage. Hodkamset would not be in a receptive mood this day, and it would be wise to avoid crossing his path, lest she become an outlet for his frustration. Still, time was of the essence. Steeling herself for the encounter to come, she made her way to his chamber. "Yes?" he asked as she knocked, the tone of his voice clearly announcing his annoyance at having been disturbed. She took a breath and opened the door boldly. He stood over the alter, ceremonial dagger in one hand. He looked as if he were tempted to use it on her. "You disturb my meditations, woman," he barked, a fire smoldering in his eyes. "Can you not see that I am in the midst of ritual?" A young woman, barely out of adolescence, lay bound hand and foot on the alter before him, terror and resignation plain in her eyes. A slave, no doubt, taken for ritual sacrifice so that the high priest would be able to commune with Set. A hopeful look sprang into her pale blue eyes as she caught sight of Nekiset. The priestess spared her hardly a glance. What was a slave girl slated for sacrifice to her? She had more pressing concerns. "We are approaching our task in the wrong manner," she said, refusing to flinch before his gaze. "What task?" he growled. "Our mission here. To capture the chosen one." His eyes narrowed. "How so?" She ignored the dangerous look in his eyes and continued on. "We are searching for this one person with brutal ferocity and single-mindedness." Hodkamset frowned. "You would have us do otherwise?" he asked, his voice mild but his eyes glittering dangerously. "Yes," she replied boldly. "If we continue in our present course, we will eventually be arrested by the city guard. It is a miracle that we have not brought their wrath down upon us already. If that happens, our task becomes even more difficult, if not impossible." A tinge of anger colored his cheeks. "We have been careful!" he protested. She shook her head. "Not careful enough. And we have yet to catch the chosen one. I believe it is time to consider a new plan of attack." "What, then?" She took a breath. "The one we seek is a killer of much repute. The underworld here must have some knowledge of him. Not only will an alliance with them provide us with new avenues to investigate, it will undoubtably go a long way to protecting us from the wrath of the city. Surely we can come to some mutally beneficial understanding with them." He considered this for a moment. "And how do you propose to contact them?" he asked at last. It was an angry question, but there was a certain amount of interest in his tone. Outwardly Nekiset remained impassive, but inwardly she was sighing with relief. He was going to go for her idea after all. She took another breath and continued, outlining her plan.

* * * * *

The markets were crowded this day, and the streets of every quarter of the city were thronged with thousands of people from all walks of life. Partially because of the large crowds roaming the streets, but more because of the gaily-painted costumes so many of the people wore, Athos decided early in the day that this must be a holiday of some kind. Ordinarily he would have been curious as to what the holiday was, and why and how it would be celebrated, but today he could scarcely muster any interest at all. After what had happened between him and Jitinder that night in the alley, he had felt a great hurt, and strongly desired to speak with Artemis. But after the three days spent in his glass prison, listening to the dying man's moans, he knew he was walking the edge of sanity, perilously close to madness. There was an aching in his heart and a heaviness in his soul. Still, there was one hope left to him. He must see Artemis. She was his one light, his one hope of redemption. And the desire to talk to her was so strong it was almost a physical need. However, in order to speak with her he must find her first, and that was proving no easy task. She was nowhere to be found, though he searched the places she frequented, the places she had taken him. As the day wore on without success, the search began to take on an almost dreamlike quality. More than once he spotted a girl among the crowd that looked like her from behind or from the side, only to find that it was not her when he approached. It seemed more and more likely to him as the day slowly passed that she was deliberately hiding from him, avoiding those areas where he would search. Another man might have abandoned his quest then, but Athos was driven by a need to strong to admit defeat. The rosy shades of dusk colored the sky, and in certain quarters of the city the snapping crackle of fireworks was erupting as the revelry began, when at last he finally caught sight of her. She was some distance away, standing at a merchant's stall in the lower markets, her normally bright face devoid of happiness, her smile gone, her brow troubled. "Artemis!" he called over the noise of the busy marketplace, pushing his way through the busy throng towards her. She whirled, and catching sight of him her eyes went wide. Expression paling, she stumbled backwards, then turned and ran. "Artemis!" he cried again, forcing his way clear of the crowd. She was nearly out of sight, fleeing down a small side alleyway without looking back. He pulled up short for a moment, a vice of pain closing on his heart. She feared him! "No!" he said to himself, brushing back tears. "No!" It wasn't that. Never that. He would talk to her, make her understand... He raced after her. "Artemis!" he cried. She was swift, but he had been trained by the master assassin himself, and quickly closed the gap. "Artemis! Wait!" he panted, approaching. She looked back once, then veered to the side of the alleyway, where a cluster of wooden crates stuffed with refuse lay stacked up against the wall. Hardly slowing, she yanked it so that it fell behind her, in an attempt to block his path. He dodged easily through the falling debris, losing no speed. "Wait! Please!" She looked back again, a frightened look in her eyes, and suddenly went sprawling. Athos stopped himself short, nearly running into her. "Artemis!" he panted. "Why are you running? I have to talk to you!" "She doesn't want to talk to you," said Jitinder icily, emerging from farther down the alley, naginata in hand. He took up position about ten feet away. Artemis scrambled on her hands and knees, getting behind him. "But I... I have to talk... I need to..." "Not interested." Jitinder's voice was hard. Athos locked stares with him. "Why do you think I'm the Viper?" he asked. "Why?!" "I don't," Jitinder said levelly. "Not anymore. But you know him, and that's enough for me. Artemis feels the same. Leave her alone. Stay away from her." His eyes gleamed dangerously, and his fingers tightened around the haft of the naginata as if he were anticipating having to use it. Artemis huddled behind him, defiance painted on her frightened expression. She said nothing. She didn't have to. The message was there, in her eyes, the way she stared at him like a monster. "Artemis, I..." Athos started, but his voice failed him, and he felt a great pain growing in his heart, as if he had been stabbed. "You don't understand," he finished weakly. "We don't care," responded Jitinder. "Just go. And tell your master that I'm coming for him. Soon." Athos backed off a half step, a numbed expression on his face. A single tear crept down his left cheek. He half stumbled, then turned and ran, unable to face their terrible gazes any longer.

* * * * *

"I can hold it open for a few moments only,." The young mage rubbed his slender fingers together nervously. "It is a difficult spell to master, and I don't know what plane-" "You don't know what plane lies on the other side," Arkail finished for him. "I know. You've been repeating that for the last half hour. We only need it open for ten seconds or so. You can manage that, can't you?" The wizard sniffed. "Yes, I believe so. It is, however, a difficult spell-" "I know it's a difficult spell!" snapped Arkail, tiring of the mage's constant tirade. "Yes," the mage snapped right back hotly, "it is a difficult spell! You have no knowledge of the forces involved in such work! And you have stepped up your deadlines. I need more time to perfect the process!" "Time is one thing we don't have," said Arkail. "Now let's get on with it." The mage gave him a suspicious look. "What is this all about, anyway? What's on the other side of that portal, and why do you want to get there? You've kept it a secret long enough." Arkail shook his head. "That's business that doesn't concern you. How long before you can get it open?" "Two minutes, perhaps three. But there are risks-" "We'll take them." Arkail turned to the eight men ranged around him, each waiting alertly for the word to go ahead. "Remember, this is not an elimination. This is strictly recon. We have no idea what's on the other side, and that is to the Viper's advantage. Stay calm and follow my lead." The mage paled. "Viper? You're going up against the Viper? What manner of madness have you dragged me into?!" Arkail gave him a hard look. "Never you mind. Just open the portal, as you were paid to do." The young mage shook his head. "Maybe you people are all set to commit suicide, but you can count me out. I'm smart enough not to mix in the affairs of the Viper. You can find some other fool to do your sorceries. If the Viper finds out I'm treading on his domain, I'll be dead before morning." Arkail seized him by the collar as he backed away. "Open that portal, right now, or you'll be dead before nightfall, and won't have to worryabout the Viper or anyone else. I personally guarantee it." The mage blanched, but shook his head. "You never said anything about exposing myself to this kind of risk. I want double what you promised, and I want it now." Arkail released him, considering him with distaste. Killing this man would gain him nothing, and paying him, even double the amount promised, would not be difficult. Gold is only gold, after all. He had bigger game in mind. He jerked a nod at one of the Entreri troop, and the man stepped forward. "Pay him." The man produced a pouch, and tossed it to the mage, who caught it clumsily. Arkail waited as the young man hastily examined the contents of the pouch, conting the gold that lay within. "Just a minute," said the mage, looking up after a moment. "I said double. This isn't enough." "Half now," said Arkail. "Half when we return." The mage looked doubtful. Arkail shook his head. "Don't try my patience. It's the best I can do. We don't have enough with us to pay you double, and besides, it will ensure your... good faith. I don't want that portal closing behind us and leaving us with no way back." The young mage shook his head. "Of course not, of course not. Very well, then." A moment later, and he had begun the incantation, stepping back and facing the wall. Arkail and his men waited. At first nothing happened. Then, very faintly, the outlines of a doorway began to fade into existance. Almost as quickly as the phantom doorway had appeared it vanished again, leaving featureless blank wall again. Beads of sweat started out on the young mage's face, and his eyebrows knit together in concentration. A few seconds later the doorway appeared again, this time not fading but coming more distinctly into existance, until the doorway was the reality and the blank wall gone. A cool breeze issued forth from the hole in the wall, darkness laying beyond. The mage, still sweating from the strain of holding the portal open, turned and gave Arkail a nod. Instantly the eight men rushed in, quickly and efficiently, Arkail right behind them. He stepped through, giving a quick look around before turning back to the mage. "You, too!" he ordered. "I don't want you out of my sight." The wizard gave a vicious grin and made an obscene gesture, letting the spell lapse. The portal rushed closed, and the blank wall reappeared. The mage fingered the moneypouch at his side a little regretfully, wishing briefly that he had its mate. Still, he had to be happy with what he had been able to get. There was no way he was going to follow those fools into the Viper's lair.

* * * * *

Arkail swore under his breath, suddenly confronted with a darkened and featureless marble wall rather than the portal to the Calimport marketplace. He turned to his men, who had secured the immediate area and were waiting for instruction. "It seems we have been betrayed. We have no avenue of retreat. Therefore, the plan changes. We are trapped here until we slay the Viper, or Athos." He left unsaid the second part: "or until they slay us." His men calmly nodded their understanding, uneasy perhaps, but far from panicked. He had trained them well, and they were prepared for any eventuality. Arkail regarded their surroundings again. Cold dark marble walls curved upwards ten feet, meeting at the top and making the hallway in which they stood seem like a tunnel. The lighting was soft and white, although it was scarce, and appeared to come from magical globes of light set into the apex of the ceiling at twenty foot intervals. There were no side passages leading off in other directions for as far as he could see. The only direction to go was up the hallway, to discover where it led. Arkail proceeded slowly and deliberately, leading the team, scanning the floor and walls, searching for release levers or tripwires, watching carefully for detection devices of any kind. His most careful attempts turned up nothing, and this unnerved him more than if the Viper's voice had appeared in the empty air, promising death. No traps? No detection devices of any kind? Surely the man could not be this confident. But apparently he was. They proceeded down the hall in silence for several minutes, before Arkail noticed a change in the light somewhere far ahead. As they neared, he realized that the hall let out into a large chamber. After pausing and listening to make certain nothing waited for them there, they entered. It was a spacious circular room with a high, domed ceiling ringed by eight of the light globes. Apparently it was a nexus of some sort, for their tunnel was not the only one which led here. There were several other hallways, along with a set of stone steps set into the floor of the room which led downwards, and an entrance in the far wall which led into a staircase which led upwards and curved out of sight. He turned back to his men, and issued a series of commands in hand gestures. "Miridor, take watch at the mouth of this tunnel," he communicated, leading the rest out. He didn't want to end up lost in this place. Deciding it would be best to spread out and cover more ground, he split the group into teams. Melvic and Nithis he ordered to take the staircase heading up. Shiffen and Mran he ordered to take the tunned ninety degrees to the right, while Tranlos and Per he told to take the one opposite it, to the left. All groups were to double back and meet here in twenty minutes, reporting what they had found. Finally, he mostioned for Drake to follow him down the steps leading into the depths of the Viper's domain.

* * * * *

Athos was at his desk, pouring over a volume on Waterdhavian politics. He had been slumped over the book for an hour now, trying to concentrate, and still he hadn't finished the first page. A deep and heavy weight had settled on his soul, and although he tried to distract himself from the sorrow by throwing himself into his studies, he seemed incapable of mustering the will to concentrate on the spidery handwriting which splayed across the ancient page. Instead, the words swam before his vision time and again, and he found himself drifting back to that terrible conversation with Artemis. The pain in her eyes was more than he could bear. A cold numbness had engulfed him since that encounter. He was as quick in the learning of his training as ever, but now a vague fear was haunting him. Had he now passed beyond the point of no return? Was he doomed, forevermore, to be a monster? Was he beyond redemption. He started, momentarily distracted, as the door to his chamber opened, and the Viper peered in. "We have visitors," the Viper said quietly. "Come along and help me dispose of them." "Visitors?" It took Athos a moment to understand. "Yes, unexpected and uninvited ones." Athos pulled himself out of his chair. "My weapons-" he began, as both his favorite shortsword and parrying dagger appeared as if by magic within the Viper's hands. "I have them already," said the Viper.

* * * * *

Melvic was an elf, a rare sight in the realms since the departure of most of that mystical race to fabled Evermeet. He was of moon elf stock, slender and graceful of manner, and had been deadly with the longsword at his sight even before he had been recruited into the Entreri troop. Trailing a half step behind was his companion. Nithis was human, but a looked enough like Melvic that the two could have been brothers. Small of frame and fair-skinned, his alert blue eyes showed competence and intelligence. His weapon, a practical and well-used falchion sword, was out and ready. Its hilt was no stranger to his hands. Melvic led the way up the long staircase. It spiraled around and upwards, the curve making it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. Surrounded on both sides by the same curving featureless marble walls as in the hallway they had left below, and capped by the same apexed ceiling along which were interspersed the coldly glowing light globes, it felt as if they were crawling through a tunnel. Quietly and carefully the two were making their way upwards, making hardly a sound. "Clumsy," said the Viper, standing next to Athos and listening to them approach. "But better trained than most." He turned to Athos. "Take them out." Athos listened to them approach for a moment. The Viper mistook his pause for reticence. "Unless, of course, you want me to do it?" Athos shuddered. "No. I'll handle them."

* * * * *

Melvic spotted it first, as they rounded the final curve of the staircase and discovered that it opened into yet another hallway, which ran perpendicular to the staircase. A dark cloak lay splayed out on the floor, resting partially against the far wall. They halted, Melvic peering carefully both ways down the new hallway to make certain it was clear. He glanced back at Nithis, giving the 'all clear' signal, and they stealthily entered the hall. Melvic stepped to the cloak, giving it a considering look. An ordinary garment, it probably have excited any interest from him except that here, in the endless and featureless halls, it was an anomoly. Something in the folds of the cloak glittered in the strange light, and Melvic crouched down to get a better look. A golden brooch. He reached forward, fingering it gently. There was some sort of slick coating on it making it sticky to the touch. He started back at a sudden nip of pain, and drew back, looking at the sudden trickle of blood on his forefinger. Someone had sharpened the brooch's sides. He felt a wave of dizziness pass over him, and suddenly, horrified, he realized he had been poisoned. He started to turn back to Nithis, to warn him, but with a roaring sound the world went dark, and he slumped to the ground, dead before he hit it. Nithis lurched back from the falling Melvic just as Athos dropped from where he was hanging over the doorway, landing lightly behind the second man. Athos took him from behind, and the second man as quickly as the first.

* * * * *

Miridor stood watch at the tunnel warily, his back pressed up against the cold marble wall and his hands caressing the small hand crossbow he held. He had taken a position of strategic strength, and would be able to cover all the entrances to the chamber. He waited motionless, eyes attentive. Suddenly he straightened, his grip tightening on his weapon. Someone was coming down the stairwell Melvic and Nithis had gone up. And whoever it was was coming quickly. Suddenly Nithis appeared, stumbling down the last few steps and fell to his knees. Both hands were pressed against a bloody wound in his torso, and he groaned. "What happened?" demanded Miridor, approaching and realizing as he asked the question how absurd it was. There was no point in asking where Melvic was. "The Viper?" Nithis groaned, scrabbling towards Miridor, extending a bloody arm and pointing back in the direction of the stairs. "He's coming!" Miridor nodded grimly, and stepped over him, taking up position at the bottom of the stairs and leveling his crossbow expertly, waiting for something - anything - to appear. He grunted once as Athos killed him, the crossbow tumbling from nerveless fingers as he fell. Athos stood, swiftly removing Nithis's clothing, as he gazed upon his bloody work. He had to admit there was a certain horrible exultation in it. Suddenly he felt a cold chill pass through him. It was bad enough to murder someone, ending a life - it was pure evil to take satisfaction from the deed. He cocked his head, listening for a moment, then moved on. His work was not yet finished.

* * * * *

Shiffen and Mran stood gazing upon another doorway identical to the one through which they had entered. They looked at each other, and then Shiffen started forward. Carefully he made his way into the new hallway, looking back and forth, and then looking back he gave Mran a nod. Mran nodded back, then halted, looking back the way they had come. Had that been a noise? He listened for a moment, then shook his head. It seemed almost silly to think that someone could sneak up on them here - everything was so utterly quiet, save for the vague whispering sounds of the slight breeze that played through these tunnels and echoed off the walls. Suddenly his eyes caught on something - or rather the lack of it. His line of sight continued back the way they had come for some thirty yards before the tunnel branched off again. There, using a small piece of graphite, they had left a slight mark to denote which way was the right way. But the mark was no longer there. Mran took a step back, squinting, wondering if it were just a trick of the light. No, the wall was blank. Alarmed, he turned back to Shiffen. Athos looked up from Shiffen's corpse and struck.

* * * * *

"What was that?" Per looked wide-eyed at Tranlos. That had definitely been a human cry. "I think that was a good enough reason to rejoin Miridor in the main hall and find out," he said after a moment. Tranlos nodded. They started back. And halted almost immediately. The next branch was bare of markings. "Gods!" snapped Per, "This place! I guess we didn't even notice that the tunnel had branched." Tranlos turned to Per, not quite convinced that they hadn't. He was fairly certain they had marked one of the halls. "Perhaps. Which way do we go?" "We'll have to split up. You take the right and I'll take the left. One of us will find a marking at the next branch, and double back for the other." "I don't know, Per," said Tranlos, slightly unnerved. "I don't think we should separate." Per gave his companion a scornful look, attempting to bolster both of their courage levels. "We can't do that. What if we choose the wrong one and can't find our way back? We'll really be lost then. Besides, we'll only be a few feet away from each other, on opposite sides of the wall. We'll be within shouting distance, and if either of us gets into trouble, a call will bring the other." "Alright," said Tranlos, still uncertain. The two moved forward into their respective tunnels cautiously. Tranlos paused after only a few steps, listening. Silence. He uttered curse under his breath. He was only a few yards from his companion. Logic dictated that he should have been able to hear Per's footsteps. The acoustics of this damn place! "Per?" he called uncertainly. No answer came. He waited a moment or two. "Per?" he called again, a little more insistantly and turning back in the direction from which he had come. "What?" came the irritated response. Per had halted at the sound of Tranlos's second query, somewhat annoyed. They hadn't been separated for more than a few moments and already the man was calling for him like an unnerved lamb. He waited impatiently for a moment, but Tranlos did not respond. He took a step back the way he had come, calling a little louder this time, irritation falling away as a sudden premonition of foreboding grew. "What is it?" Still there came no answer. Per waited there a moment, listening and indecisive. It was only a few steps back to the fork in the hallways, and from there he would have a clear line of sight to where Tranlos was, or at least he should have. But a chill had settled in his spine at the ominous silence, and he found it difficult to get his legs to move. He paused there a minute longer, the silence stretching, then, cursing himself for an indecisive coward, he mustered his courage and strode forward, his sabre coming out of its sheath and into his hands as he moved. He approached the corner with cautious expertise, and swung around, crouched low and ready for an attack. The second hall was quiet and still. And completely bare of any sign of Tranlos. After a moment, Per straightened, entering the hall and moving forward. "Tranlos?" he asked, fearing the worst. There was no sign that any human had passed this way, much less that there had been a struggle of some kind, but Per knew Tranlos, and Tranlos would have responded by now. He inched forward, moving sideways so that he could keep a constant vigil on the stretch of hall behind him as well as that in front. He didn't want to get caught from behind. His alert eyes searched the walls expertly, looking for telltale cracks which might mean some sort of secret entance, and combed the marble floor for signs of a covered pit, or some other trap. The walls and floors were featureless and blank here, as they were everywhere, and there was still no sign of his companion, not even a droplet of blood on the wall. "Tranlos?" he called again, much more softly this time, not expecting an answer. He halted suddenly, five yards from the end of the hall, where it made a sharp ninety degree left turn and continued on beyond his sight. The hair on the nape of his neck prickled. There had been a whisper of movement coming from somewhere just ahead. He took tight grip on his sabre and calmed himself. He was an expert swordsman, well skilled in its use, and should not allow himself to be spooked. If the person or persons who had taken Tranlos were waiting for him around that corner, he should be prepared enough to face them in combat. He didn't move, undecided. Should he go forward? Surprise, he knew, was a deadly weapon. He knew where his opponent was, and that the opponent was waiting for him. Knowing the trap was half the battle of disarming it. If he timed it correctly, he should be able to get around the corner and close with whoever was waiting before they had a chance to respond, perhaps turning the tables on them and surprising the surpriser. Still... He glanced around at the hall he was in. He was a sitting duck here if his unseen opponent had a missile weapon of any kind. The hall was thirty feet long, with no cover of any kind. He was close enough now that he should be able to close before the opponent could get off a shot, but if he was heard backing off, he would have put too much distance between himself and the opponent. Retreat would be suicide. Unless the opponent didn't have a missile weapon. And if the unseen man had a crossbow (which seemed the most likely missile weapon, considering the environment), then why hadn't he used it already? Why wait until Per had proceeded nearly the entire length of the hall, when it would have been more prudent to cut him down at the halfway point, when neither retreat nor advancing would be possible for him and the hall would have been one long shooting-gallery deathtrap. No, it didn't make sense. His opponent wanted him to close within striking distance. And if that was what he wanted, then that was exactly what Per didn't want. Per took a step back, concentration still one the bend in the hall ahead. No movement, not even a shadow. He took another step back. There was a whirring sound from behind him. He whirled, just in time to take Artemis's blade in the throat, his blade falling from suddenly nerveless fingers. He gasped once, making a gargling noise as blood sprayed, then toppled backwards lifelessly.

* * * * *

The steps led down into darkness. Apparently, these lower levels of the Viper's domain were not lighted by the magical light globes which illuminated the upper halls. Arkail paused, suddenly uncertain. If he lighted a torch, he and Drake would be an easy target for anyone waiting in the darkness below. On the other hand, he couldn't go on without light, and didn't want to go back up the steps, leaving this area unexplored. No tactician left a blind spot in his rear flank. Besides, if this area was unlightened, then perhaps it meant that this was an area the Viper didn't want visitors intruding upon. Which meant this was exactly the way he should go. He made a gesture, and took up an alert position where he could keep an eye both on the stairs up and those that led down, while Drake pulled off the backpack he had been carrying and rooted through it for a torch. A moment later, and the torch was lit and Drake had donned the backpack again. With one hand the boy held the torch aloft, while the other clutched a sabre, ready for combat. Arkail led the way downwards, while Drake guarded their rear. It was unlikely they would be surprised from behind, as Miridor was covering the hallway nexus above, but Arkail had trained his troops not to take chances, and all of them, even young Drake, had learned the lesson well. Arkail focused his attention on the way below. If something came up out of the darkness which lay coiled beyond the hazy and uncertain edge of the torchlight, it would have the element of surprise, but they would have the higher ground. And from the quiet, Arkail was fairly confident they had nothing to fear. The flickering light of the torch played across the grayish-blue marble walls and steps harshly, making them appear bone-white etched in black shadows. The air was cooler down here, as if they were penetrating the depths the earth, and Arkail had the eery sensation of entering a mausoleum. Carefully they made their way to the bottom of the steps. A large set of heavy oaken doors lay at the bottom of the landing, and ordinarily Arkail presumed they would seal off the area beyond. Now, he saw as they approached, they loomed open, inky darkness waiting beyond. Arkail paused, considering the doors, suspicious of some trap. They opened inward and he could see the thick hinges which supported them, but he still searched diligently for some hidden trap. A few minutes later, finding nothing out of the ordinary, he took a step into the large room that lay beyond, reaching back to take the torch from Drake and holding it aloft. "Gods!" he breathed, staring around him. Drake gasped from behind him, catching sight of what lay beyond. Suddenly a shrill scream erupted from above, back in the direction which they had come, and Arkail whirled. He spared Drake a glance. "Stay here," he ordered. "Get behind the door, and load the crossbow. If anyone comes through who isn't me, kill them." Without waiting for Drake's nod, Arkail raced up the stairs, taking the torch with him. A moment later and Drake was left in darkness.

* * * * *

Arkail flew up the stairs, steps sure and quiet, holding the torch before him. He paused about fifteen steps from the top, listening. He heard nothing, and could see nothing in the square view of the room afforded him by entrance to the stairs beyond the white, domed ceiling, with its ringing light globes, but his nose detected something. It was faint but unmistakable - the coppery smell of blood. He set the torch down, still lighted, and prepared himself. In a final burst of energy, he fairly exploded up the last few steps, leaping forward and rolling in an attempt to elude any attack that awaited him at the top. Coming to his feet warily, unharmed, his eyes widened at the sight that awaited him. A pile of bodies was stacked neatly in the center of the room. His men. There was Per, mouth agape in surprise and head nearly severed from his body. And beside him was Miridor, face down but with a horrendous gaping wound in his back. And Tranlos. And Mran. And Nithis. And Shiffen... Shocked as he was, he tore his eyes away from the sight, looking around him in something near to panic. His eyes darted from hallway to hallway, searching for some sign of an attacker. There was none. Suddenly a movement from the bloodly pile of corpses drew his attention. A low groan emanated from one near the edge of the pile. Was one of his men still alive? He darted forward, bending over the stricken man. It was Melvic! Quickly he helped turn the dying elf over. "What happened, Melvic?" he demanded. "Who-" Athos lunged upwards, catching him in the windpipe with the blade of his sword. Arkail sputtered, dribbling a bit of spit from the corner of his mouth as he died, still confused.

* * * * *

Drake swung the right-hand door closed, taking position behind it and quickly removing his crossbow from his pack. Unhindered by the encompassing darkness which surrounded him, his fingers expertly set the bolt in place, winding the windlass and arming the weapon. He had been trained to know his weapons the way he knew his own body, and loading in a crossbow in the dark was a skill he had drilled into himself. He settled down to wait, his eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness. While the room in which he waited was filled with impenetrable blackness, a very faint light spilled down the steps from the room far above. He would be able to see anyone approaching while they would necessarily be blind, and he should be able to get off a shot. He settled down to wait, ears cocked attentively, listening for sounds of anyone approaching. He felt a calm overtake him. Whatever was happening above did not upset him. He would not be panicked, or even allow fear to rule his actions. He was well-skilled, and not afraid to die. The air huffed out of his lungs as he felt himself jerked from behind and slammed into the floor. He tried to trigger the crossbow but found it was no longer in his hands. Lungs on fire, he tried to rise, only to find he was being held immobile, a boot on the back of his neck. Dimly he wondered who his attacker was, and how he had managed to get down the stairs without being seen to take him from behind. Or had the unseen man been in the room behind him the entire time, waiting for an opportune moment to strike? He tried to squirm, but it was useless. A blow to the back of his head left him dizzy and reeling with pain. "Athos!" called the man who held him. "Come down here - you've one yet to slay!" The room brightened as a light came down the steps, and Athos entered a moment later, pushing past the closed door and holding aloft the torch that Arkail had departed with. He was dressed in Melvic's clothing, blood smeared over him, and his eyes held a glittering, dangerous look. He gazed down at the still-struggling Drake and recognition dawned in his eyes, his expression changing to the haunted look of a man gazing upon a nightmare. "Drake?" he asked hollowly. The boy did not respond, glaring angrily up at him. "Drake," Athos repeated, and this time it was not a question, but a resigned statement. "You... you were supposed to be dead." "Yes, he is," stated the Viper evenly. "You will ensure that he becomes so." Athos looked up. He was not fool enough to plead, but there was a desperate look in his eyes. "He was... is... a childhood friend. Couldn't-?" "Your childhood has passed," said the Viper. "You are an assassin now. You have no friends. Only victims." He gave Drake a cursory glance. "He came here to kill you. I expect you to return the favor." "But he is good... He is talented!" Desperation was showing forth in Athos's tone. "He could become an apprentice!" "Never!" spat Drake from his prone position. The Viper shook his head. "I don't take apprentices. No matter whether they are talented or not." "You took me!" "That was for reasons of my own. Slay him." Athos closed his eyes, uncertain he could force himself to do so. He started to lift the shortsword, then dropped it again. Great Gods! he thought. What have I become? Drake glared up at him. "Kill me!" he spat defiantly. "I deserve that much at least! I deserve to die like a true Entreri!" The Viper laughed. "What did you say?" he asked. "Entreri?" Drake refused to answer, and the Viper's amusement grew. He looked at Athos. "Kill him. Remember the first time you defied me. Don't make this two." Athos raised his sword. He couldn't allow that to happen again, especially not to a childhood friend. It would be a mercy blow. "Entreri!" yelled the boy as Athos' blade came down. Athos stood for a moment, looking down at the corpse. His knees buckled, and he sat down heavily. What have I done? Dear Gods! I am damned! I am damned forever! After a time, he became aware of his surroundings once more. The Viper was lighting lamps about the room, and Athos realized he had never been here before. Unsteadily he got to his feet. The Viper turned to him, in the middle of lighting another lamp. "Magical lighting isn't right for painting," he explained. The room, Athos saw, was filled with portraits. They lined the walls, stood on stands, and a few were even laying flat on the several worktables which were scattered about. Each was exquitely rendered, by a master hand. Each depicted a person dying. Sometimes the wound was visible; in other portraits only the victim's face was rendered, but Athos knew that he was staring at the faces of dead men. "I like it when they see me coming," said the Viper. "That is a treat. When a certain expression takes my fancy, I feel the need to recreate it in art." Athos approached, regarding the portraits with a horrible and morbid fascination even though he wanted to turn away. The Viper looked at him. "You see, I combine two art forms into one. Magnificent, aren't they?" Athos stared at him. "I hate them. I hate you for painting them." "Really?" The Viper seemed genuinely surprised. "What is there to hate?" "The fear. The fear in their eyes. I hate it." His gaze returned unwillingly to the paintings. "You took their lives when you slew them. Did you have to strip their dignity as well? Does that fear have to live on here forever, immortalized?" The Viper shook his head. "You misunderstand my work. These stand as condemnation for the ones I slew. Fear deserves death. Justice was done." Athos paused, staring at one of the more recent renderings. "My father," he said, turning away. "Your stepfather," the Viper corrected. "Yes, he provided me with an unexpected surprise. His last expression is one of my favorites." Athos turned to him. "I thought there was nothing left you could take from me," he muttered. "I was wrong." Unable to remain in the room any longer, he turned and fled. The Viper watched him go. Yes, he was doing his work well. Soon Athos would come to appreciate the beauty of death.

Part III Fear

Fear. The prime emotion of my younger life. I lived in perpetual fear then - of myself, of the Viper, of the world at large. Now I cause fear. Though it is my constant companion, I am no longer tormented by it. It is a favored ally. Fear brings the worst out of people. Fear is ugly. Fear is my tool. If a man fears you, he will be paralyzed, both in thought and action. This makes him slow, and gives you the advantage. I hate and despise fear. It may be my best tool, but it is not my best-loved. I know fear. Most people live with fear all their lives. They fear pain. They fear the unknown. They fear losing loved ones. They fear death. I never feared these things. I was forced to live with pain every day of my life. Each day brought surprises, a few good but most bad, and I never feared the unknown. I lost all my loved ones early in life, and I had no more to lose. I was confronted with death and mortality at every turn, and I did not fear it. I did fear the Viper, and that was worse than all the others. And now I fear nothing at all. I am the perfect killer and that is all that matters.

- Artemis Entreri

Chapter Sixteen Meaning of a Word

Athos lay on the hard mat he called a bed, thinking. Over the past years, during the time he had spent training with the Viper, he had felt his humanity slowly stripped away. His return to civilization had showed him just how estranged he really was. But now, he found himself wondering whether humanity was only a vague concept, an outdated phrase best left to scholars and philosophers and their dusty tomes. Man held no real ingrained and instinctive civility, he only liked to believe he did. He was beginning to think that man was a reactive creature only. He knew himself to be solely reactive. He had thought there were people in the world who were different - those that acted upon their environment instead of reacting to it, and that had given him the hope that perhaps someday he would find the strength to act upon his own environment. He considered more fully on the matter. When he was younger his friends had joined the thieves' guild out of reaction to fear. He had thought Jitinder independent. But Jitinder was only reacting to something that had happened to him in his childhood. He had built his life around avenging the murder of his parents. He had thought Artemis free, and had been highly attracted to her because of her independance. How many times had he sat on this same mat, daring to hope that she was as attracted to him as he was to her. How many hours had he whiled away, thinking of her, of some impossible future together with her. He had even childishly compared his name with hers, thrilled by the similarity. Yet she had run from him as if he were a plague. She had reacted with fear and horror; loathing and revulsion, and the dreams had died in his heart, turning to ash. He was no longer certain there was even such a thing as humanity.

* * * * *

Asib Ben-Orr, wizard-for-hire, was pleading for his life. His right hand was pinned to the wooden wall behind him by a small crossbow dart, which was pierced through his wrist. His fingers spasmed uncontrollably, a trickle of blood making its way down the wall. His left hand was engaged in weakly pulling at the crossbow bolt which held him pinned, trying to get himself free, but it was a half-hearted attempt. He already knew he was a dead man. "I see," said the Viper from where he stood several feet away, "that you are curious as to why I am killing you." "Please!" cried Asib, "I'll give you anything you want-" The Viper studied him for a moment, the man's pleas and cries falling on deaf ears. "You are the mage who opened the gateway to my home." It was not a question. At this revelation the mage burst into sobbing. The Viper had found him, and he was a dead man. "You understand, then, that I must kill you?" asked the Viper. The mage continued to sob. "Tell me that you understand." The young wizard was unable to manage words. Finally, in between sobs, he nodded dumbly. "It can be quick and painless," said the Viper, "or it can take a long time. I assume you prefer a painless death?" The weeping man managed another nod. The Viper smiled. "Ask for it then. Ask me to kill you. Beg me." He studied the doomed man's face, noting the expression.

* * * * *

Zip was sweeping the floor. It was too early for breakfast and too late for late night customers, so the tavern room was empty. He felt a chill wind breeze in from the open door leading outside, and shivered. It had been a warm night, so he had left it open earlier, but now it seemed that the morning was bringing in a cold front with it. He turned and went to the door, shutting it. He hesitated then, looking at the lock. It was old and rusty; disused. He had only used it a handful of times since he had first purchased the inn. He shivered again and locked the door. The bolt grated and protested, but slid into place with a little pressure. In light of the truth about Athos, Zip felt he could not be too careful. To accept such a one into his inn so readily, to put a viper like that to his breast... He shook his head and shivered again, a different sort of chill descending on him. He must be a poor judge of character indeed. He turned, going back to his work, this time sweeping behind the bar, sighing as he did so. He had dropped a glass earlier while straightening up, and tiny shards dotted the wooden planking. His hand had always been a steady one, but tonight... well, accidents happened, he supposed, even though they did not usually happen to him. Something shiny sitting in the corner captured his attention, and he bent down to examine it. It was a ring - a fairly valuable one, at that. One of the patrons had lost one earlier, and the description given matched this one. Zip chuckled, pocketing it. It looked pretty valuable, and he wasn't certain he would be able to bring himself to return it. He stood, then jerked back in surprise. "Hello Zip," said Athos from where he stood before the bar. His eyes were sad as he read the expression on his former friend's face. Zip took an involuntary step backwards, his eyes narrowing. Slowly and meaninfully he turned his back on Athos, retrieving his broom, and went back to work. "You can ignore me if you like, Zip," said Athos sadly. "It does wound me, but I can understand. I have a message. I... I need you to deliver it." Zip gave no sign of having heard. "It's for both Jitinder and... and Artemis. Tell them.... tell them I will return here in two days, just at nightfall. Tell them I feel I owe them both an explanation." Still Zip continued his work, not turning. Athos shook his head sadly. "Good-bye, Zip."

* * * * *

"You are the one called Pook?" Pook regarded the beautiful dusky-skinned woman before him, appraising her before replying. "I am," he said at last. "I am Nekiset," she said. "I represent the cult of Set." Pook pretended ignorance. "The cult of Set?" "A religious organization." "Ah," he said, "I see. Or rather I don't. What has this to do with me?" Nekiset took a calming breath, irritated by the obese man's manner. "We are inquiring about the one called the Viper." Pook pursed his lips, considering. "I know of him." Nekiset paused, uncertain how to phrase her request. This could be a disaster if Pook's guild helt the Viper in high standing. Finally she decided to be bluntly honest. "Do you know how we may locate him?" "Why? What business have you with him?" "Private business," said Nekiset icily, and Pook gave her a knowing look. "I see," he said, smiling. They both knew what sort of business the cult of Set had in mind. Pook chuckled. He reached over to the silver tray at his side, and plucked up one of the sweetmeats there. Placing it on his tongue, he chewed slowly, savoring the taste. "I have some information," he said at last, "that may prove helpful in your search, to be sure, but I am afraid I do not share it freely." Nekiset nodded. Here it was, then. "Name your price." Again Pook chuckled, this time to himself. These people would be doing him a favor by eliminating the Viper, and they would pay for the privilege of doing it. Knowing he could turn the situation to his best advantage, he began to bargain.

* * * * *

"I have a second assignment for you," said the Viper Athos waited. "After your display last time, I think you can go alone. It is a very simple assignment." "My target?" Quickly the Viper outlined all he knew about the man - where he worked, where he lived, where he was likely to be at any certain time of the day - everything except who had contracted the man's death, and why. Athos was sickened to learn that the man had four children and a wife who depended on him, and he mand a mental note to avoid killing the man in front of them. "And why does he deserve to die?" asked Athos, when the Viper had concluded. "Because another man contracted his life. I do not know what his evils are, but he possesses them, just as every man does." Athos departed on his terrible mission. It went smoothly, and Athos accomplished his task with ease. He left the body arranged in a dignified manner, hands crossed over the chest, and closed the staring eyes. "Was his last expression fearful?" asked the Viper after Athos returned. "No," responded Athos, glad to be able to disappoint his master. "I took him from behind. He never knew what struck him." "Good," said the Viper. "Desire to see a man's face is no excuse for inefficiency. That is why the expressions I paint are so valuable. I kill perhaps one in thirty who realize his fate before it takes him." Athos said nothing, hating himself for it. As he retired to bed that evening, Athos realized he had not even thought of the possiblity of not obeying the Viper's commands and letting the man live.

* * * * *

Tulmara looked up from her desk. "What is it?" she asked, facing a pale young errand boy. "Master Arkail..." the youth stammered. "He was found this morning, ma'am... His head was, anyway. At the top of the steps to the guildhouse." Tulmara fell back into her chair, mind reeling. "What?" Arkail was dead? "Yes ma'am," said the youth, and stood there uncomfortably in the resulting silence. "Only his head, you said?" she managed after a time. "Yes ma'am," he said. "There was a note attached to it... in a manner of speaking." "A note?" She suddenly quivered with rage. "Bring me this note!" The youth bowed awkwardly, and started to back away. "Ah, ma'am? The note is... attached to the head in such a way that we cannot..." he gulped. "We cannot separate it, ma'am." "Bring it!" she cried. He bowed and hastily retreated. Tulmara paced the room in shock. Arkail was dead. Was the Viper unstoppable? A moment later the youth returned, bearing Arkail's head on a silver tray. He placed his grisly burden on her desk. Steeling herself, Tulmara approached and forced herself to look. The message was scrawled bloodily into Arkail's forehead. "'Arkail returns to Zazesspur, head held high'" she read aloud. "There was candy on the tray when we found it, ma'am, but we removed it." Tulmara glanced up at the youth. "Leave me," she said in a broken voice. "Leave me!" Again the boy made a quick bow and beat a hasty retreat, stammering an apology. Tulmara didn't hear him. She was looking at something imprinted into Arkail's forehead - a symbol. A symbol of the cult of Set.

* * * * *

"I want to know something." The Viper was never surprised, but he regarded Athos with interest. Athos had never before come to him for any reason. "Ask, then, and I will decide whether or not to answer." Athos cleared his throat. "You are continually reminding me that I never knew my true father - that... that Marinbow, the man I knew, is not my birth father." The Viper regarded him a moment before responding. "Yes. Your true heritage is of somewhat more... noble stock." "Who were they?" The Viper shook his head dismissively. "No-one of any importance now. Suffice it to say that your mother was a chambermaid and that you are a bastard." Athos waited. "You will tell me nothing more?" "Not yet. The time is not yet correct." "When will the time be correct?" "After all your training is complete." Athos was frustrated. "I see," he said. He paused a moment, but did not turn to go. "Am I correct in assuming you trained me as an apprentice because of my heritage?" "I haven't finished training you yet." Athos ignored the correction. "You said that you didn't train apprentices, but you trained me. Not because of my talent alone, either. You aren't an old man, and I doubt if you would want a successor, so that can't be it. It's because of my heritage, isn't it?" "It is." "This is all some sort of game for you, isn't it? Taking me on as an apprentice was just another move towards winning some twisted game, isn't it?" The Viper shrugged. "All of life is a game. The sooner you realize that truth, the better you will play it." Athos shook his head. "If life is a game, I do not understand it." "That is why I am still training you." Athos nodded, frustrated with the Viper's lack of answers, and started to turn away. He stopped himself, and faced the Viper again. "One more thing." "Yes?" "You laughed when Drake said he was an Entreri. Why?" "The reason lies in the meaning of the word." "What does it mean?" The Viper considered, as if the answer was difficult to phrase. "It means," he said at last, "ultimate assassin." "Ultimate assassin?" "Yes. I laughed because he was hardly worthy of the title. It's an ancient word, and I doubt he understood fully what it meant." Athos regarded the Viper. Entreri. If it meant ultimate assassin, then there was only one Entreri in existance. That much Athos was certain of.

Chapter Seventeen Dondon

Zazesspur was hot this day. Athos wandered the streets in a haphazard sort of way. He had thought he would never return here again - yet here he was. There hadn't seemed any reason to return to Port Calim. He felt rejection there, and a hurt so painful it made his heart ache. He was even debating the wisdom of trying to contact Artemis and Jitinder, and was wondering whether it might be wiser not to go through with the meeting he had set up. Also, there was a certain amount of risk involved in any such visit which could not be discounted. He had been attacked twice now by the black-clad men, and he had no doubt that more attacks would follow. He wanted to know more of their purpose before venturing again into the unknown. Probably it had something to do with the Viper. Perhaps they meant the master assassin harm of some kind. Certainly they weren't friendly. He wondered briefly whether the Viper was even aware of their existance. How will you handle that little addition to your game, Viper? Athos shook his head. The Viper had never asked him anything about his visits to the outside world, and this puzzled him. It wasn't out of character for the man, but neither was it in character. The master assassin was a difficult man to anticipate, and Athos got the feeling he knew more about Athos' visits than he let on. He dismissed the subject from his mind, catching sight of the person he suddenly realized he had come to see. "Hello Dondon." The halfling looked up. Today he was playing a blind beggar, but Athos knew full well that Dondon could see him clearly enough through the bandage which was wound around the top of his head. "Athos?" he asked. "Is that you? I can't see a bloody... wait a second." A moment later the cloth had been taken off, and a grinning Dondon stood facing him. "Athos!" he said. "Where have you been?" "I..." suddenly a wave of shame engulfed him. "Attending to things," he said at last. "Dondon, I can verify Drake's death. He was a member of the Entreri squad." Dondon was confused. "The what?" "The Entreri squad - the group that the guild sent to kill the Viper." "I see. I assume they failed, then?" Athos nodded. "I thought you should know about Drake." "Yes." The halfling nodded. "Too bad. You didn't see it happen, did you?" "I made it happen," Athos said softly. Dondon gave him a strange look, not certain how to reply. "I took out every member of the squad," Athos continued, sounding as if he were delivering a confession. "They made it as far as the Viper's base of operations before I stopped them." "But..." The halfling was perplexed. "But I thought you wanted them to... well, to succeed." "I did." The halfling shook his head, failing to understand. "Then why did you kill them?" "Because I was afraid of what the Viper would do if I didn't. I did want want them to succeed, though - in both their missions." "Both?" asked the halfling, and it dawned on him. "They were sent to kill you as well, then." Athos nodded. "I murdered them." "Don't talk crazy," said Dondon. "You killed in self defense." "No," said Athos. "I killed them because they couldn't kill me." Dondon shook his head. "Look, I don't pretend to understand, but I trust you. You did what you had to do. Don't let it weigh you down needlessly. I'm you're friend, Athos." Athos looked up at him. "Thanks, Dondon. I'm glad you... I feel better, having told you." Dondon nodded sympathetically. "So," said Athos, forcing a little cheer into his tone, "how are things here in Zazesspur? Pretty much the same, I would wager." Dondon gave a hollow chuckle. "Hardly. All the demons, daemons, and devils of the lower planes could never have caused such a stir if they were let out upon the city." "Oh? Something's happened, then?" Dondon nodded. "Two days ago the former guildmaster's head was delivered to the front steps of the guildhouse, but I guess you'd already know that." "Actually, no," said Athos, "although I'm pretty certain I know who delivered it. What kind of affair has it caused? An internal struggle? Are the leaders battling for the now-vacant position Arkail held?" "Just the opposite," said the halfling. "Tulmara assumed the position with no complaints. The problem was that the head was delivered with the symbol of Set carved into it, and Tulmara is now certain that they are allied with the Viper somehow. I guess you would know the truth of that-" "I don't even know who this Set group is," said Athos. "I've never heard of them." "Well, then," said Dondon, I guess that means they aren't allied with the Viper." "Not necessarily," said Athos, reflecting on how little he knew of the master assassin's movements. "Who are they?" "A powerful underground religious group from Mulhorand. They worship Set - apparently he's one of the older gods." "They're here to convert?" "Hardly. Whatever their purposes here are, converting isn't one of them." Athos considered. "You must have heard something." "No-one understands their presence here," Dondon denied. "That's what makes them so suspicious. They arrived about a year ago, and dug in. They've got some sort of creatures with them that they let out at night. Big, nasty-looking things, full of teeth. Fortunately, they don't let the creatures prowl alone. They keep them leashed, and travel about in small groups as if searching for someone." Athos cocked his head, an idea forming. "What do they look like, these patrols?" "Well, the members and underlings dress all in black, with red or yellow sashes. They wear some sort of head wraps, leaving only their eyes uncovered." Athos nodded. So, these are the same ones that attacked me in Calimport, he thought, or at least members of the same group. And if the Viper delivered Arkail's head with the symbol of their cult on it, then he must be aware of their presence, maybe even their purposes. But what do they want with me? A thought suddenly occurred to him. Could this have something to do with his mysterious heritage? "I'm interested," he said a moment later, "exactly how did this group receive entrance to the city? Dressed like that, with dangerous and exotic animals, I don't see how they got past the city gates." "They only wear those clothes at night, when they roam the streets. During the day they disappear, or seem to. I don't know exactly how they got in the city, but I can hazard a guess - small groups in plain clothing." Athos considered. "That seems likely. It's how I would do it, anyway. Who leads them?" Dondon smiled. "That was the question everyone was wondering. I cracked it soon after they entered the city. The man's name is Hamsetis." "Hamsetis," Athos repeated, rolling it around his mouth. "Strange name." "A strange man," Dondon conceded. "Short fellow, muscular, with dark skin. It seems he isn't used to sneaking about, and although he was instructed by his superiors to keep a low profile while within the city, he himself doesn't seem to see the value of it. He was fairly easy to locate and identify." "What are his orders?" Dondon shrugged. "I couldn't guess. That's the million-gold-piece question at the moment. If you find out, be sure and let me know." "I will. So, what as the guild done in response to all of this?" Dondon lowered his voice. "Nothing yet, but there's a tension on the streets - like when a storm is approaching. A war will explode between the two groups soon, you mark my words. I only hope I can watch my back and keep out of it. Tulmara has the full resources of the guild and this is home ground to her, but from what I understand this Hamsetis is supposed to be a formidable leader in battle. Some kind of general back in Mulhorand, or something like that, and he's never yet lost an engagement." Athos nodded. "One more thing," said Dondon. "Yes?" "Shand has quit the guild." Athos was surprised. "I told him to be careful in what he did!" he swore. "Now the guild will want him dead!" They might even contract the Viper to slay him - and that could mean that Athos would have to kill him. "No doubt," said Dondon. "But the move was hardly unexpected, after what they did to him." "What did they do to him?" "I understand they beat him so badly he couldn't move for two days." Athos was silent for a moment. "It was because of me, wasn't it?" Dondon nodded. "Because he talked to you, yes." Athos cursed himself silently. Would this always be his legacy to others?

* * * * *

He had some free time on his hands after speaking with Dondon, so Athos began wandering the streets in the hopes that he might run across Shand. He didn't put much stock in the idea, however. If Shand was on the run from the guild, the wisest action he could take would be to go into hiding and stay there. Wandering the streets would be the last thing Shand would do. Had he the time, he was certain he could have tracked the boy down using the the techniques the Viper had taught him. As it was, he didn't even bother to begin. It was late in the day when they found him. He was on the street of lanterns, one of the major thoroughfares in the slum section of the city, when abruptly the late afternoon traffic melted away, leaving the street virtually abandoned. Interested, but not alarmed, Athos stood his ground, waiting to see what was happening. A moment later, they appeared. A dozen or so members of the cult of Set, at the far end of the street. Athos turned faced them for a moment, realizing that they were after him and wondering how they could possibly have found him. He measured the distance between them. He could escape. But when he turned, he found that there were a dozen more only twenty yards behind him. "They only roam the streets at night," he murmured, recalling Dondon's words. They were certainly risking quite a bit appearing in daylight like this, and again Athos wondered at their actions. Why did they want to capture him so badly? The last of the townspeople disappeared from the street. Silence hung heavy for a moment, and neither the cult members in front of him or those behind moved. Athos looked around furiously. There were no side alleys he could reach. The windows and doors nearest him had been shut and barred. He looked up. There was a three story climb before him on either side - and this only at the wall's lowest point. He knew he could not scale it before they would reach him. He was forced to admit that they had boxed him in quite effectively. Perhaps if he hadn't been so preoccupied with his musings on Shand, he would have realized he was being trailed. But now... He shot forward, towards the wall on his right, and the two groups of cult members rushed him, a roar emanating from them as they sprang to the attack. Apparently these members had no compunctions about using weapons against him, because he saw more than one sword out and waving in his direction. He couldn't make it up the wall in time; that was certain. Making it to the wall, he put his back to it and prepared to sell his freedom at dear cost. The false scars on his arm and his side which held his wire lockpicks were in place, and he hoped that they at least would ensure he would have one hidden weapon left to him even if he were captured. And they were upon him. He slew two with his sword before it became useless in the crush. The cult members didn't mind dying; they literally threw themselves on his blade in their determination to take him. He took out three more with his dagger before it became embedded in a black-clad body and was ripped from his grasp. And then he was helpless, crushed up against the wall and unable to move, strong hands holding him immobile. There was a pinprick as one of the men jabbed his neck with something, and then the world became a blur. He realized dimly that he was drugged, but found himself too distracted with trying to make out the people in motion around him that he didn't care. Another roar sounded on the street, and suddenly a second force joined the fray, crashing headlong into the rear flanks of the first. This second force was less organized, and comprised of ununiformed men and women in various states of dress, and armed with whatever they could bring to bear. The members of the Zazesspurian thieves' guild descended on the cult of Set with an unmatched fury. Today they would take back their streets and avenge their former guildmaster - or die trying. The cult members, surprised and confused, turned and met the charge, defending their prize. Athos found himself dragged to the side as two of the black-clad men tried to carry him away from the fray, attempting to deliver him to their master while the others covered their retreat. A crossbow bolt took down one of them almost immediately, and an instant later a wiry thief cut down the second, who was having so much trouble carrying the limp Athos without the aid of his dead companion that he never saw the other man coming. Athos landed hard on his back. At another time this would have been painful, but now he was too interested in the amazing blueness of the sky. He lay there, limp, his lips moving slightly as he tried to say the word 'blue' over and over again. A second thief didn't seem him laying there, a fact that cost the thief his life as he tripped over Athos' limp form and was easily dispatched by a nearby cult member. Athos saw this, but didn't mind. He was busy saying the word 'blue', though he couldn't remember quite why. He felt two small hands grip him by the arms. Dimly he was aware of being dragged on the cobbled street. This was fascinating to him, for while he was moving, the sky was not. He tried to puzzle out how this could be. Gradually the noise of the fighting faded, and Athos found himself looking up at a small face. "Shammmbldd," he slurred, then giggled at the sound. Shand put a hand over Athos' mouth. "Quiet. The city guard will arrive soon. You don't want them to find you anymore than you want one of the guild or cult members to find you, trust me." Athos only laughed harder. He stopped abruptly, and licked the palm of Shand's hand, admiring the taste and texture. "Yuck!" said Shand, jerking back his hand. Again Athos giggled. "You've been drugged!" Athos only laughed harder. "Shammmbldd," he said again, and closed his eyes for a moment.

* * * * *

When he opened them again, roughly five hours had passed. He sat up groggily, his blurred vision making the room spin around him. "Where am I?" he croaked. It was twilight outside, and the room he was in was dark, having only one small window set high in one of the walls where the ceiling met it. Other than the light from the window, there was only a weak lanter to illuminate the small room. "Athos!" said Dondon, crossing the small room towards him. "You're awake!" "Awake," repeated Athos slowly. His tongue felt like it was made out of cotton. "Yes, I am. What happened? There was a battle..." His voice trailed off as he tried to recapture the memory. "A battle between the cult of Set and the members of the thieves' guild of Zazesspur," put in Dondon helpfully. "The cult drugged you before the battle really began, and Shand was able to drag you to safety when the thieves attacked." "Thieves?" asked Athos slowly, shaking his head. His vision was still slightly blurred. "Do they know where I am?" Dondon shook his head. "No, of course not. Shand risked his life in going against their orders to retrieve you." Athos locked gazes with the halfling, memory starting to return. "Shand! Where is he?" "Gone. He took you here when everything was settled, and left. He was afraid he'd been seen by the guildmembers, so he didn't want to waste time in any one place." "Where?" asked Athos, looking around at the small room. "I don't know," answered Dondon, misunderstanding. "I told him it would be a good idea to leave the city." Athos shook his head. "I meant where am I?" "Oh. This is my basement." "What happened?" Dondon's brow wrinkled in confusion. "To my basement?" Athos shook his head again. "The battle. How did the battle end?" Dondon nodded. "Oh. The guild members wiped out the cult people to a man, although it cost them heavily. The whole affair was finished by the time the city guard arrived. All they found were bodies. They're still trying to puzzle it out." Athos nodded. "What time is it now?" "It's seven and one-half hours past noon."

* * * * *

Grimwalde was ecstatic. He hadn't known as much about the Viper as he had thought he had, after all. Apparently the man had an apprentice of which Grimwalde had known nothing. If it weren't for the Zazesspurian guild, he still wouldn't know about him. It was good his mentor had established a strong alliance with the guild. As long as they thought the older wizard was still around, they would help Grimwalde if he needed it. Of course, lately he had been having trouble keeping up appearances. Soon he was sure the guild would want to see Thenedain in person. Which would be impossible. Thenedain was long gone, dead and unmourned in some far lower plane hopefully. And that smarmy Valle, the apprentice Thenedain had taken with him, was hopefully dead too. Oh well. He'd just have to think of some way to stall them when the time came.

* * * * *

Pook shifted in his padded seat uncomfortably, his hand stroking his corpulent chin thoughtfully as he pondered what he had just learned. He had been concerned when he had learned of the nine men who had been seen by his man the night the cult had attacked Athos. They represented an element of which he was entirely ignorant. He had understood exactly what each of the other people involved in the incident were doing there, but the nine men had remained a mystery. A systematic inquiry search had led to the answer. An informant within the Zazessurian guild had been able to tell them who the nine men were, and more importantly what their purpose was. An assassination group, formed for the sole purpose of slaying the Viper. Pook had immediately sent out orders that they were to found and brought to him. Apparently, though, the group had vanished, and Pook was even more concerned. He briefly considered the possibility that his informants simply hadn't found the group he was looking for, but with a wave he dismissed the thought. The streets had eyes and ears, and they answered to Pook. If the men were within the city, they would have been found. No, they were not here. He had wanted to seek an alliance witht hem, or at least find out how much they knew of the Viper. They could have been useful to him, in much the same way as the cult of Set would be. Should he tell the cult of the Entreri squad's existance? He contemplated the idea for a moment, then decided against it. It would be better if the cult was kept ignorant of this Entreri group's existance. Now he needed to know more about where the small group had disappeared to. How could he use this information to better his position? He would have to wait and see.

* * * * *

Hamsetis smashed a chair into the wall, then turned and broke an oaken table in half with a strike from one of his bare fists. He roared in anger. If only he could have been there! If he had, the one they sought would not have escaped so easily. So close! But how could he have known that the common thieves and beggars of Zazesspur would attack him? What purpose did this serve? Who directed their efforts and why? He would find the one responsible and kill him. He turned to the black-clad servant before him. "Set is angry with our failure. We must avenge ourselves!" The man blanched, but betrayed no fear. He was loyal, as were all of Hamsetis men, and he knew that they had done the best they could. No doubt Hodkamset or Nekiset would have ordered them executed for their failure, but he knew the value of loyal men, and did not endorse the needless slaughter of good men. That was why they followed him, and would continue to follow him. He reigned in his anger. "You had better leave me alone right now," he said in a dangerous voice, and with a quick bow his manservant departed. He knew his master's rages well, and was prudent enough to avoid them when he could. Hamsetis flung another chair at the wall. It burst into kindling, one leg lodging itself in the wall itself. He raged on for a few minutes more before calming down enough to think fairly clearly. Hodkamset! The high priest would not be pleased with this news. How was he going to explain this to Hodkamset?

Chapter Eighteen Explanations

The two came together, blades flashing forward in lightning fast strikes and blocks almost to quick for the eye to catch. A moment later they sprang apart again, and began circling. Athos was looking for weaknesses he knew he would never find. Time and again the Viper would betray himself with a subtle movement, off guard for a split second or leaving himself open for an instant. Athos didn't react to these apparent weaknesses, knowing full well they were merely ploys. Athos himself was using a few. Suddenly he saw a twitch - it looked too subtle to be a trap - and he was springing forward, his blades aiming for the Viper's heart. Instantly the Viper swept his right-hand katana before him, deflecting Athos' blades, and simultaneously aimed a kick at Athos' head. Athos ducked under the Viper's sweeping foot and swung around leading with his dagger and protecting himself with his shortsword. The katanas arced down, but Athos swept under one and blocked the other with his sword. The dagger was within a finger's breadth of the Viper's heart before he felt his legs swept from beneath him. Refexively he flung his left arm down to break the fall, and the dagger spun from it. He felt a twist in his right wrist and the shortsword flew from his other hand as the Viper disarmed him. He rolled backwards, barely avoiding the Viper's descending blade, and came to his feet, defenseless. "Very good," said the Viper, pausing. "Very impressive work. You were almost able to exploit a weakness. Of course, 'almost' isn't quite good enough. Remember you have to be aware of exactly where your body is at every moment." Athos panted for a moment, then started to reach for his weapons. "There's no need to exhaust yourself," said the Viper as Athos retrieved his sword. "Take a short break." Athos complied, picking up his dagger a moment later and settling down in the corner, back to the wall. He watched as the Viper snapped through a precise and methodical practice routine with his weapons, apparently still fresh and untired although they had been at this for several hours. "You are aware of the cult of Set?" The Viper didn't look up from his routine. "I am." "You are aware that they are after you, then?" "They are after one of us, yes, but I wouldn't make the the assumption that it was me." Athos considered that. "How do you know of them?" The Viper laughed then, and turned from his routine to face Athos. "Do you think I am a mindbender? That I read people's minds?" Athos shugged. "I don't suppose I would have reason to doubt it, if that's what you told me." The Viper sheathed his weapons. "There was, perhaps, a time when I would have allowed or even encouraged you to believe that, but now it is time for you to understand one of the keys to becoming a successful assassin." Athos leaned forward, listening attentively. "Contacts," said the Viper, "are essential." "Contacts?" The Viper nodded. "Contacts. When someone wants somebody eliminated, how do you think they reach me with the request?" Athos shrugged. "I hadn't thought about it." "They come to one of my contacts and arrange for a meeting with me." Athos looked confused. "So, these contacts know how toreach you?" He waved an arm. "They know about this place? That seems like a potential weakness." The Viper shook his head. "No. They no nothing about me, or this place. I know them, and where they live, and I drop in every once in a while, always unannounced, to find out whether they have any assignments I am interested in. That way I don't have to worry about an army suddenly storming into my home, howling for blood." "What about an army laying in wait for you?" The Viper shrugged. "That would be easy enough to spot and avoid. In such a circumstance - and it has happened before - I wait the arm out. After they finally left, I would end that particular contact's life - painfully." Athos looked down. That made sense, and it fit in with the Viper's style. "How many contacts do you have?" "I have contacts in most of the major cities on this side of the continent, and a few on the other side as well. I even have two on another continent entirely, on the other side of the planet." Athos started. The planet? The Viper had contacts spread across the entire world? Incredible, but, from what Athos had seen, not necessarily impossible. "I see you are surprised," said the Viper. "Why? Assassination is one of the few things common to every civilization. Why should I not practice it everywhere?" Athos was still amazed. "And why do your contacts do this service for you? How much do you pay them?" "Nothing. They do it out of fear of me, not for money. I would kill them if they ever lied to me. Besides, they usually charge a finder's fee to the customer, usually fairly high." "I see." "When the time comes, you will have to find contacts for yourself."

* * * * *

Once again, The Merry Halfling loomed on his right. This time it seemed larger, more threatening somehow. Athos shook of the feeling and ascended the steps, halting at the open door. Zip looked up when he entered, then pointedly turned away. Athos scanned the room. Neither Jitinder nor Artemis were here. He stepped through the doorway, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He made his way to a table and sat, looking at the brightly flickering candle that was se there. In a moment, self-pity gave way to anger. Who were they to judge him? They hadn't lived their lives under the shadow of the Viper! They had no idea who he really was; what he had been through! "Athos." The voice broke his reverie, and he looked up. Jitinder stood at the table, Artemis behind him. As quickly as it had come, the anger was gone. They had come. "Sit down," he said, "please." A glance passed between Artemis and Jitinder, and exchange Athos didn't quite understand. A moment later they both sat, making certain to take the far end of the table. "I owe you both an explanation," Athos started. Jitinder scowled. "I don't really care about any explanation. The only reason I'm here is because Artemis insisted on seeing you, and I wanted to make sure she was protected." There was a threatening growl to his voice, and his eyes blazed with fury as he spoke. Jitinder's abrupt manner rekindled something akin to his earlier anger. You couldn't stop me if I wanted to kill her! he thought silently, and then was immediately ashamed. Artemis deserved better of him than thoughts like that. Jitinder did too. His voice was mild when he continued. "Whatever your reasons for being present, I would like to offer you an explanation." "Go on," said Artemis, her voice curiously gentle. He found it was difficult to put the story into words. He had never told it to anyone before. "My...my father," he started hesitantly, "came to Zazesspur when I was four. I don't really remember much about him, just images mostly. The Viper murdered him one night, leaving me alone and penniless in a city I was unfamiliar with." He shrugged. "I did alright. - I was skilled with my hands and took to thieving. When I was seven, I killed a man. Two of them. They were trying to get me to prostitute myself." He took a breath. It seemed to get easier to tell as he told it. "Anyway, the city guard was after me, and the only way out I could see was to join the thieves' guild, who claimed they could grant me protection. I joined, but before I could settle into the guild, the Viper came and took me - for reasons I have yet to understand. He took me to his domain - I don't know where it is but it is definitely on another plane - and he began to train me. I was raised there, under his tutelage. A few weeks ago he started allowing me access to the outside world again. He has a portal to Calimport, and one to Zazesspur. Those are all that I know of, but I'm certain he has many more. That's how I came to be here. I didn't know who the cult of Set was until after they attacked me twice. Apparently they believe I'm the Viper, although I am not." His voice trailed off as he finished. Jitinder sat back. "That's your excuse? That you are training to become another Viper?" "I will never be another Viper," said Athos. "I haven't figured out his reasons for doing what he's done yet, but I know I will never succeed him. And I do not stay with him out of free will." Artemis sat very still. She said nothing. "Well," said Jitinder bitingly, "I, for one, don't buy your fantastic story. We're supposed to pity you, I suppose, and tell you that we'll all be friends again?" "I don't want your pity,"said Athos, "or ask for forgiveness." He looked at Artemis. "I know I can never have that. I just... I just thought you should know." There was a moment of silence. "Well, then," said Jitinder. "Now we know. If that's it, we'll be leaving now. And I hope you'll be doing the same - forever." Athos lowered his gaze. What had he expected? Absolution? He had known he was too far damned for that. "Yes," he said, "I will. It would be dangerous for you if I stayed, with the cult hunting me." "It would be dangerous for you," said Jitinder with a dangerous tone. "Yes, it would be dangerous for you, all right." In silence, they departed. Artemis gazed back at him once, from the door, and it almost seemed as if she would cry.

* * * * *

Grimwalde looked up from his work. "Master," said one of the younger apprentices. "Do you feel it?" Grimwalde motioned for silence, listening intently. Once again he felt the tower shiver. There was only one explanation. The portal was opening. Yes, it had to be! Thenedain was returning. The only question was whether this unexpeted event would be fortunate or unfortunate for Grimwalde's plans. He hurred out the doorway of the laboratory, the apprentices on his heels, and started up the steps, breaking into a run. A moment later he was at the top of the stairs, in front of the door that led to the highest room in the tower. He fumbled with his keys, finally finding the correct one and unlocking the door. A moment later the lock clicked and the heavy oaken door swung wide. As it did so, the low rumbling sound which was emanating from its far side turned into a roar. He looked about the dusty room, seeking the portal. Locating it, he raced across the floor to it, hauling off the heavy cloth which hung over the device. It was already glowing with hellish colors. Red alternated with blue, yellow, and green, but in each case they seemed somehow sinister. The device was shaped like a full-length oval mirror, and when not in use, it could serve as one. Of course, it's true purpose was to create a gateway between the planes. The mirror's surface rippled like frothing water for several minutes, and faint shadows could be seen behind it, as if were some sort of dark window to another reality. Which, of course, it was. The device rumbled on for a few moments more, the edges of the mirror alternating colors more rapidly, the surface roiling more feasomely. Then, all of a sudden, the roaring dropped to a purr. The mirror's surface smoothed. A foot came through, sliding out of the mirror as if coming out of water. It found the ground, and a moment later the body followed. Grimwalde started. He did not know this man! "Who are you?" he barked, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. This device should not allow access to the prime-material to any of the demon races that populated the lower planes, but such an occurance was a possibility. "Thenedain-" the man began, after looking about himself. "You are not Thenedain! I know Thenedain, and he could not have changed so much! Besides he is missing part of his left ear, and yours is whole!" "Thenedain follows me," explained the man tiredly. "I am the only surviving apprentice that journeyed with him." "But they are all boys, the oldest not more than twelve," said Grimwalde, suspicious. "You are a grown man!" A moment later, Thenedain himself arrived, stepping through the portal. He leaned on his magical staff. A glance at him told all. When Thenedain had departed, not more than six months past, he had been a middle-aged man, not handsome, perhaps, but healthy and hale, in the prime of his years. The man before Grimwalde was old and grey. Where deep black hair had hung in lustrous abundance, there was now a wrinkled and yellow bald head. Where a finely trimm mustach had rested, there now was a foot-long beard of white hair. The younger Thenedain had stood straight and erect; this man stood hunched over, leaning painfully on his staff. "What happened?" asked Grimwalde, shocked. Thenedain looked at him, sneering. "We got snared, boy. We have aged much, but I see that you have aged little. How long have we been gone?" "Six months. I was about to send some apprentices after you to see what had happened-" Thenedain spat disgustedly. "Certainly you were, boy. And manes can fly." Grimwalde was uncertain how to reply. "May I ask who your newfound companion is?" "I can speak for myself,"said the younger man. "I was called Valle when I left." "Well, Valle, you'd better help Thenedain to his room." The man gave him a warning look. "That's LaValle to you. I am no longer an apprentice. Help him to his room yourself - if he wants to go. More likely he'll want to take a look at the tower and see how you've changed it in his absence." Grimwalde jerked back in surprise at the not-so-gentle rebuff. 'La' was a title some wizards added to their names when they had achieved suffient power. Thenedain hadn't adopted the prefix, though Grimwalde himself had considered it. In truth, Grimwalde had been hoping that Thenedain was dead. It had seemed likely, given the long absence of the older mage. Apparently, however, Thenedain had been caught in some bizarre magical time distortion which had aged him several years in the same time that it had take for only a few months to pass on the Prime Material, and no doubt he had grown more powerful in those extra years. Now that the older mage had returned Grimwalde was no longer the master of the tower. Instead, he would be demoted to the status of Thenedains assistant. Not only that, but the mage had returned with LaValle. Six months ago LaValle had been simply Valle, a lowly apprentice. Now he was a man grown, probably a powerful mage in his own right, and definitely a potentially dangerous rival. Again Grimwalde found himself wondering whether Thenedain's return would be fortunate, and decided that it probably wouldn't be. He sighed to himself. Today was simply not his day.

* * * * *

"Stay away from him! You'll end up dead if you don't, mark my words!" Jitinder towered over Artemis threateningly. "I can't protect you all the time!" Artemis stood up to him, undaunted. "I believe him!" she snapped stubbornly, her jaw set. Jitinder shook his head. "So do I! So what? Does that make him any less a killer?" "Who says he's a killer?" she shot at him. Jitinder crossed his arms. "If the Viper's training him, he's either killed someone already - murdered, I mean - or he's going to have to in the future. What do you think he's in training to become? Eventually, no matter how sincere he is now, his senses will deaden, and he will kill. I fought him myself; I know how lethal he is!" "What about you?" she asked. "You've seen a lot of death. You've killed people yourself. Am I not to trust you either?" "I only kill to protect the weak," blurted Jitinder angrily. "Criminals. Murderers. People who deserve to die. And I haven't become deadened to pain and suffering, either." "Really?" she asked venomously. "It doesn't seem to bother you much that he might be suffering!" "Look," said Jitinder, flustered momentarily, "I'm different, that's all! There's no comparing us, in any way!" She snorted and turned away. "I don't see the difference," she said defiantly, almost under her breath. Jitinder reached out and took her shoulders, turning her to face him. "The difference is that I'm no murderer," he said, his voice subdued. "I wasn't raised and trained by the Viper to kill people." Artemis folded her arms stubbornly. "You're afraid of what will happen when - no if - Athos loses his sense of sympathy for others, but cutting him off entirely from the only friendship he knows will only push him in that direction." Jitinder sighed, releasing her and turning away. "Look," he said after a moment. "Just don't play with fire, alright? Even if, by some miracle, he doesn't become as dead in his heart as the Viper, as a result of your 'help' the Viper will probably end up killing you. And those cult members are after him too, remember. It isn't safe." He stopped and turned back to her. "Stay away from him. It's for your own good. You don't have to like it, you just have to do it." Artemis had turned away. She said nothing. Jitinder sighed. "I... I know you love him. I don't pretend to understand why. If you truly love him, the best thing you can do for him is to stay away." Artemis bit her lip, a single tear running down her face.

Chapter Nineteen First Murder

"The thieves' guild of Zazesspur has an assignment for me." The words were spoken casually, as if the Viper were discussing nothing more interesting than the time of day. But Athos knew that someone would die by the Viper's hands - or, even worse, his own - because of this assignment. "I thought the guild was responsible for sending the Entreri troop after us," he said. "Simply because they wish me dead is no reason to refuse a perfectly good contract." "And the assignment?" The Viper looked at him as if he had asked whether rocks were hard. "An assassination, of course. What else?" "And the target?" The Viper shrugged. "I have a standing agreement with the guild - when one of its members is ejected from it, I am assigned to track and slay him." A sudden chill went through Athos. Shand! "What's the name?" he asked, carefully neutral. The Viper frowned. "What's the difference?" "No... nothing," said Athos, trying to keep his face blank. If the Viper learned of his connection to Shand... "No difference." The Viper gave him a hard look. "You seem overly concerned. Perhaps you should come with me." For a moment Athos was quiet, considering. "I will go," he said at last. The Viper nodded as if it were the expected answer. "When do we leave?" "Immediately."

* * * * *

The night was bright in Zazesspur, with a full moon and an array of twinkling stars shining down from overhead. For two lesser men, traveling unseen would have been problematic. For Athos and the Viper, the way was made easier by the brightness, which made the shadows darker and more deeply defined. They made excellent time. Soundlessly they slipped like ghosts through the darkened streets. To see them in motion was to watch a kind of dance. Every movement was poetry. To be them was a very different thing, as Athos well knew. He dreaded this journey, for murder lay at the end of it, whether Shand should be the victim or not. The Viper veered to the right, darting down a small alley, and Athos halted. A shiver rippled down his spine, for this was the one street that he had never yet revisited in all the years since he had last been here. The Singing Crossbow, the same inn where the Viper had murdered the only father Athos had ever known, stood only a few houses down. The Viper started towards it. "Wait!" hissed Athos. "That place!" The Viper smiled. "You remember it, then? Ironic, isn't it? Through the years, many marked men have fled to this place and awaited their deaths." "I can't go there!" "Then don't. This isn't your mission, remember? I allowed you to come as a courtesy." The Viper continued forward. Athos felt an urgency take hold of him, but his feet remained rooted. He struggled to breathe. Something about this place still frightened him deeply. What would he find there? The Viper darted across the street, keeping to the shadows, bent at the door, and picked the lock. A moment later he disappeared into the inn. Athos realized he was trembling. Nothing, he thought angrily, there will be nothing there you cannot face! He stepped forward, trying to shake off the trepidation that gripped him. He stepped through the now-open door and into the darkness, and automatically moved to the side, that his silhouette would not be outlined in the entrance for anyone within to see. His eyes adjusted a moment later. Here was the common room - not quite the same as it was in his memory, but close enough to send another thrill of horror shooting through him. There, looming before him, were the stairs. The same stairs he had been dragged down by the city guard before being thrown into the muddy street. He felt a sense of dread overtake him at the sight. His father's body had lain at the top. Fighting down panic, he forced a step forward, then another. Keeping his breathing steady, he mounted the stairs, soundlessly moving upwards. At the top he stopped and scanned the hall ahead. The Viper was gone; no doubt in one of the rooms doing his dark and bloody work. A piercing cry rag out suddenly, slicing through the still and silent night air like a razor. It was cut short almost instantly. Athos waited, heart pounding. The scream the night his father died had been like that. The second door to the right opened. The Viper stepped out. He looked at Athos. "A most satisfying kill. It has been long since I last took a boy that young who was alert enough to know what was happening to him. His face was... interesting." A sickening sensation washed over Athos at the words. Shand. Deep down he had known the boy would be the Viper's target, but he had hoped... Shand must have been the target. He stood rooted for a moment, uncertain whether he could face the body. Whether he could face the eyes. Shand's eyes, staring sightlessly, accusingly... He forced himself to step forward. Shand at least deserved to be seen. The Viper misunderstood his hesitancy. "There is beauty in death. Do not fight your instinct. You will begin to appreciate it." Athos felt his stomach protest at the thought. "Never!" he replied softly, stepping past the assassin and entering the room. For a moment he dared not believe his eyes. Then a dizzying wave of relief rushed over him, leaving him weak-kneed. A young boy's body lay on the floor, but Athos did not know him. Shand yet lives! Abruptly he forced down the surge of relief which coursed through him, disgusted with himself. How could he rejoice in the death of another? No, that way led to the madness of the Viper. A muffled sound came from further down the hall. Athos turned as an old woman emerged from the fourth door down, the flickering light from the candle she held spilling into the hall. Instinctively as breathing, Athos shifted into the shadows. His heart froze as he caught sight of her face. No! It can't be! "Who's there?" she asked, holding the candle higher and peering in their direction, trying to make out shapes in the deeper blackness the tiny candlelight was creating all around her. Athos jumped as the Viper spoke softly into his ear. "We have wasted enough time here," he said. "Kill her, and let us be on our way." Athos felt his soul shudder. "I... I can't. I know this woman!" Hyullis! "That sounded like a refusal," said the Viper dangerously. "I hope for your sake it wasn't." "Please," said Athos numbly, "please... no. Don't make me do this! She raised me." "Who's there?" the old woman asked again, taking a step forward. "I know who she is," said the Viper, "and I knew she would be here. It is why I took you with me. She is a witness, and must die. And you will slay her." "No! She can't even see us! Please, let her go!" "She dies," said the Viper flatly. "If you are foolish enough to refuse, than I will be the one to take her. And if I do it, I promise you it will not be quick. Remember what happened the last time you dared to refuse me." Athos faced him, speaking more loudly. "She was She doesn't deserve to die!" The Viper stared at him. "It isn't a question of deserving. It is a question of obedience. I have told you that she must die." The old woman was backing off slowly, starting to understand what the two were discussing. "Who are you?" she asked of Athos. "She doesn't even remember your name," said the Viper. "Are you willing to disobey me for someone who doesn't even know your name? Kill her." Athos raised his shortsword. Somehow his vision had gone blurry; hot tears trickled down his cheeks. Her eyes went wide at the sight of the blade, and she cowered. "Please, don't do this, whoever you are," she said, shrinking back. An eternity passed like that, with his blade raised and her pleas. "I can't," he said at last, his voice barely more than a whisper. Gently he lowered the blade. "I can't." The Viper stared at him. "Very well. I see the lesson has yet to be learned." In two steps he was past Athos. A quick strike to the base of the woman's neck and he had scooped her up, slinging her over his shoulder like a wet rag, where she lolled unconsciously. He turned to Athos again. "Now she gets to die slowly, courtesy of your cowardice. Make no mistake - you will learn obedience, boy." Athos realized he was shaking. "No," he said grimly. "No!" He lunged suddenly forward, his blade singing as he struck. The Viper sidestepped, but not quickly enough. Athos' blade had done its work, and Hyullis was beyond any fiendish torture the Viper could devise. "That," said the Viper with a dangerous tone as he let the corpse drop, "was definitely two. Remember that you have only three chances." He moved past Athos, slipping down the staircase. Athos was left staring at Hyullis' body. My handiwork. He felt suddenly cold; emotionless. The tears had stopped, replaced only by a curious detachment. The pain... the pain was not as terrible as he had imagined. Now it was only a dull throb that could be ignored. Almost he wished it were worse. Truly, I am damned. After a moment he turned and followed the Viper down the stairs, and out into the Zazesspur night. As they made their way back through the streets, the Viper found himself silently pleased with the outcome of the night's work. It seemed that Athos had learned a valuable lesson.

* * * * *

"What is this?" Grimwalde shifted uncomfortably as LaValle leaned closer to what it was Thenedain was talking about. The older mage was holding Grimwalde's notes on the Viper. The book was open to a diagram of the alley where he had sprung his trap. Inwardly Grimwalde cursed. He hadn't wanted Thenedain to learn of his interest in the assassin. How could he have been careless enough to leave his notes lying on a workbench, where anyone could find them. "That's... a personal project of mine," he answered hesitantly. "Really?" said Thenedain sarcastically, sensing his discomfort and homing on it as a shark searching for blood. "Well then, if it's personal, then you must know what it's all about. Why don't you explain it to me?" Grimwalde shifted uncomfortably. "You wouldn't be interested." "I already am," said Thenedain. "If it is a puzzle, perhaps I can help you with it." "I don't think so," said Grimwalde. "Like I said, it's personal." Thenedain's smile hardened. "You will explain to me what this is. I don't tolerate impertinence from subordinates." Inwardly Grimwalde seethed. Subordinates? Who did this doddering old mage think he was? "It concerns a man I think may be insane in a most novel way, and how I intended to trap him for study." He spoke woodenly, unable to think of any other explanation the old mage would accept. Thenedain may have forced his hand this time, but next time the younger mage would be prepared. "Oh?" asked Thenedain. "And did you succeed?" "Not yet." "Not yet?" "Apparently," said Grimwalde, each word bitter in his mouth, "I underestimated him slightly." "Slightly?" "I was almost killed." Thendain gave a hard laugh. "I should say that being almost killed constitutes more underestimation than just 'slightly'. Who is he, and why do you think he is mad? And what makes him so dangerous?" Grimwalde was quiet a moment, deciding which of the questions to answer first, not certain he knew the answer to any of them. "The Viper," he said at last, answering all three at once. LaValle, who had been leafing through a tome, lifted his eyes at the name, suddenly interested. "So," said Thenedain with a low whistle, obviously impressed. "A very big fish to catch, eh?" Grimwalde bowed. "Don't act smug!" snapped the older mage, looking down at his notes. "You went about this affair in entirely the wrong way. Next time we will do it my way." Grimwalde felt hot rage building within him. "What do you mean?" Thenedain chuckled. "Careful, boy. You look like you're about to choke." He scanned the notes again. "I think your idea has merit - the man is likely to make fascinating study. But, as I've said, you haven't nearly the wits to catch the Viper. Only someone of intelligence would ever hope to have a chance." Bragging old fool! Grimwalde thought to himself, cursing the bad luck that had allowed his notebook to fall into the older mage's hands in the first place. "Now then," said Thenedain, setting the notes aside, "what do you know about him?" Grimwalde cursed again. Now he would have to tell all he knew about the assassin. He hadn't time to decide what he could safely keep back. "Come on, dolt!" said Thenedain. "Out with it! You must have done at least some research on your quarry. What have you found out?" Grimwalde swallowed his bitterness and smiled respectfully. No, he would not tell the older mage everything. Thenedain would never learn of the Viper's apprentice. That much at least he could safely keep to himself.

Chapter Twenty The Viper

The Viper had left abruptly earlier, leaving no word of where he was going or what he was doing. Athos was fairly sure he wouldn't have wanted to know anyway. The Viper did this sort of thing occasionally, so he wasn't too concerned. As usual, he was left to his own devices. Feeling no great urge to visit either of the two cities he had access to, he took to roaming the halls of the Viper's home. Ordinarily he would not have dared to do so, but a few days past the Viper had given him permission to move about this place freely, and with the assassin gone, Athos felt free to take full advantage. After an hour of wandering the passageways and seeing many interesting sights and rooms, Athos found something which made him look twice. A locked door. It was a small and ordinary door, but Athos knew something of great portent must lay within, for the Viper did not use locks, with the exception of the lock-pick training room. He was too confident - almost arrogant - in his abilities to keep anyone out. This, however... Athos went to work on the door. It was outfitted with a number of the finest locks he had ever yet attempted to pick, as well as several deadly traps, and another hour went by before he was able to safely open the door. It opened into darkness. Apparently this was another room in which the Viper did not employ magical light. He had not expected this. Athos listened intently, wondering for the first time if perhaps the locks were designed to keep something in rather than out. After a moment, when no sounds emanated from within, he dismissed the thought from his mind. This door would be relatively easy to open from the inside. He went to fetch a candle, leaving the door ajar, and returned moments later. Everything was the same as before. He advanced into the room cautiously, the small candle flame flickering wildly. An iron grip seized him by the shoulders, striking from behind with unearthly strength. He spun, unsheathing the dagger strapped to his leg and striking back into the darkness behind. The candle went spinning to the floor, where it rolled once and stopped, the flame still lit and playing weirdly. There was a splintering crack, and Athos felt pieces of something hard and chalky spray him, as the grip that held him relaxed its hold. Something clattered to the floor, and Athos backed warily out of the room, leaving the candle where it lay. He waited for whatever had attacked to come after him. An instant later, it stepped into view, although its movements were silent even to Athos' keen ears. It was a human human-sized skeleton missing its right arm below the elbow. An undead! So that was why he hadn't heard it! Most undead, especially the lesser forms, were supernaturally silent. The Viper had trained him extensively on the different forms of undead, and how to deal with them. But knowing that things like this existed and actually facing one in combat were two very different things. He took a step backward, watching the thing approach in horrified fascination. It was not an elegant creation; it lurched forward in an ungainly fashion. The bones were old and yellow - the ligaments which maintained their grip were wasted and torn. Almost Athos felt pity for the poor damned thing. Skeletons were the lowest order of undead, nearly mindless automatons that the dark arts had ensorceled and bound to a semblance of life. They were also the weakest of undead. Already Athos had taken off its right arm. But it felt no pain; only the dark compulsion to destroy. Grotesquely, it reached for Athos again, the shattered remnants of the right arm extended as well, as if unaware of its loss. And yet this once must have been a man... Athos shook off the revulsion that gripped him and sidestepped the clumsy attack, his blade once, twice, three times in quick succession. A minute later and the animated bones were reduced to a scattered pile on the floor. Skeletons were weak and slow, certainly no challenge to one who had been trained by the Viper. And not much of a guardian either, Athos reflected. Why would the Viper, who never even used locks, use this poor creature as a guardian? Perhaps it was placed her so that I might destroy it. Then certainly he would know if I had invaded his privacy. He shrugged inwardly. The skeleton was destroyed; there was no way he could put it back together again, and he wouldn't have done so in any case. He might as well find out what was in the room. The Viper had given him free reign to roam where he pleased, hadn't he? He advanced into the room, wary of a second attack. When nothing else came out of the darkness, he stooped to retrieve the candle, then held it up to look around. Something the color of brass caught the light, reflecting it. It was a lamp, of some exotic make, and Athos quickly lighted it. After a moment of playing with the wick, it flared to life, and he looked around himself. He was almost disappointed. There was only a sturdy oaken desk with a pen and ink upon it. Above the desk, in long rows that stretched around the room, were three shelves filled with books. He didn't know what he had expected, but it certainly wasn't this. He looked closer, and found that none of the books had titles on their backs. He reached up, pulling one of the ones from the lowest shelf and glancing at the cover, which was also blank. He flipped it open to a random page. Blank. Surprised, he shuffled through the pages. They were all blank. Baffled, he replaced it, then, on a hunch, selected one of the books from the top shelf. The books there looked older somehow, more worn. He turned it over, looking for the cover. Again it was blank. He opened it to the middle, and discovered writing - neat and even, the kind he imagined the Viper's hand would make.

'12 Harpenoth, Year of the Dream, The northern kings have grown too powerful, and now the god-kings of Unther have retained my services to assassinate one of them - Yormick I'

Year of the Dream? That was over two hundred years ago! Numbly Athos sat at the desk and continued to read.

* * * * *

"You are the one they call Dondon?" Dondon looked up at the human, squinting because the man stood with the sun at his back. Try as he might, he could not make out the man's face. "I am. Who might you be, then?" The man extended a black-gloved hand. On the middle finger rested a silver ring embossed with a symbol. "You will know me by reputation, I think." Dondon paled, silently said a brief prayer to Brandobaris, halfling god of thieves, and prepared to die. "The Viper." He couldn't be sure, but he thought the assassin smiled. A moment passed. Then: "What is it you want with me?" Dondon struggled to keep his voice from quavering. "I want you to carry a message. You can do that, can't you?" "Assuredly," said Dondon, nodding. "You may count upon my discretion... my silence, I mean." "I don't care anything for your discretion. I want this message spread to everyone you can reach." "Everyone I can reach?" Dondon echoed, a little bewildered. "Why?" "I do not care to explain my actions to you. It is enough that I require you to do it. I want to be sure what I have to tell you will spread like wildfire. You can do that?" The halfling gulped. Maybe he was going to get out this alive. "I... I think so, yes." "Good. If you don't, expect to see me again, under less... pleasant circumstances." So much for hope, thought the halfling. "What... what's the message?" "Simply this: In one week's time, someone - possibly me - will be undertaking a mission for an eccentric but very wealthy noble. This person, whoever he may be, will begin his journey in Calimport, and will end it in Waterdeep. "He will be carrying a medallion with him - a golden medallion which will bear the words 'To Run the Gauntlet' over an inscribing of a winged foot. This medallion, when presented to the barkeep at The Shining Cradle in Waterdeep, will be exchanged for two million gold pieces. The payment will be made to the bearer of the amulet - no matter who that may be. "Do you understand?" Dondon nodded. "Please repeat it." The halfling did so, haltingly. "And this amulet," he finished, "it's worth two million gold to anyone who has it at the end of the run? Anyone at all?" "Correct." The halfling chuckled. "That'll make every thief from here to Waterdeep itch to have a try at the bearer." "I certainly hope so. Get the word out, halfling." He turned away. "You have my word," Dondon called after him. "Don't give me your word," said the Viper. "Give me results." Dondon breathed a sigh of relief as the assassin left. A moment later he was giddy with excitement. Two million gold pieces! Perhaps he had a chance at the prize!

* * * * *

'It was then that I realized this one was fully my equal. Never before had I encountered the man I could not slay within a few heartbeats. I was forced to flee the encounter, to my eternal shame, at the approach of other dark elves.

Athos shook his head with wonder. Long past had he ceased disbelieving the amazing exploits of the man who had trained him. Now he simply accepted them. It seemed that nothing was too fantastic to be true, at least where the assassin was concerned. He looked up from his reading. "I see," said the Viper from the door, "that you've discovered my diary." Athos nodded, putting the book down. "You dealt with my guardian as well." The Viper spared a glance for the pile of bones. "That was expected, of course. I only placed it here so that I would know if you ever entered this room. Of course, since I caught you in the act, I suppose it was an unnecessary precaution. I couldn't know that when I set it here." Something in the Viper's eyes turned Athos' blood to ice, and he found himself wondering if perhaps this was his last mistake. "You gave me permission to roam freely," he reminded the assassin. The Viper nodded slowly. "I did. And that is the only reason I am not going to kill you. From now on, this place is barred to you." Athos stood. The Viper shifted, allowing passage through the door again. Athos swept past him, then paused, looking back. "May I ask a question?" The Viper was quiet for a moment, then gave a nod. "Have you ever been beaten in a fair fight?" "No." The answer was immediate. "No such thing as 'fair', anyway. I thought I'd taught you that much, at least." Athos nodded. A moment later he was gone.

* * * * *

He had been beaten once - only once - and he remembered it vividly. A particularily fast mark had taken an original turn in trying to escape him. He had fled into the Underdark, the caverns that lay deep beneath the surface of Toril. The Viper had followed him into the vast subterranean world. The mark hadn't lasted long; he stumbled into a drow patrol, and the dark elves tortured and slew him mercilessly. The underdark had presented many interesting sights for the assassin, but the drow were something else altogether. The dark elves were near-mythical creatures on the surface, the source of fearbabe-talk. The Viper knew of them, certainly, but in all his long life he had never seen one. Fascinated, he had followed the patrol back to one of the drow cities. The vast cavern of the drow city was a series of wonders, filled with magical sights and sounds, and an entirely alien culture. The assassin had stayed there for three months, observing them unnoticed. Here he was presented evil so tangible, even he respected it. The drow were organized into huge noble houses, each with a certain ranking withinthe city. Advancement in drow society was ruthless and amoral - it was a simple matter of assassination. If a dark elf wanted to move up, he murdered another drow who was socially above him. If a drow House wanted to improve its ranking, it undertook the destruction of another House above it. All this was permitted and even encouraged - so long as the murdering drow took care not to be caught. Punishment for those who were was swift and merciless. The law was unforgiving. The Viper had studied them for three months, living among them undetected. It hadn't been until he left that he ran into trouble. He was spotted by a drow patrol as he was leaving the city, and was hunted through the Underdark. Ordinarily he would have been able to shake off pursuit easily, but here he was out of his element, and the young captain of the patrol that was after him proved an incredibly adept tracker. Eventually he knew he would have to turn and face them, so he doubled back and began taking them out, one by one. Each of them were fighters of incredible prowess, but he always proved faster, and he slew three of them in the same manner before taking on the captain. The young captain, however, had proved a different story. The Viper had leaped down on him from above, hoping to take him unaware, but the drow reacted quickly, pulling himself out of the way...

* * * * *

Zaknafein pulled himself out of the roll and into a standing position, his adamantine swords at the ready. The Viper sprang forward, his katanas moving as if alive. There was a flurry of ringing blows, and the assassin was momentarily forced backwards. The two circled each other, each having taken the other's measure. More cautiously now, they exchanged a series of feints and lunges. Suddenly the Viper saw his chance, and he rolled forward, his katanas cutting through the air towards the drow's legs. Zaknafein leaped the katanas easily, and came down on the assassin with his swords. The Viper changed the motion of one of his weapons into a block, then used the other in a lightning fast disarm that sent one of the draw weapons spinning off to the side. I have him now! He came to his feet, attacking furiously, unwilling to allow the dark elf any time to recover from the loss of one of his weapons. A crack sounded, and the Viper was yanked off his feet. A whip had suddenly appeared in the dark elf's hand. He rolled back and somersaulted to his feet, barely evading the dark elf's blinding assault. Zaknafein smiled. The assassin backed off cautiously. How adept was the drow with the whip? The whip lashed out again, and the Viper snapped his blades up in a cutting manuver, intending to slash it in two. Instead, the katana in his left hand was jerked away. It landed several feet to the side. Apparently the drow was very good with the whip. With the loss of one of his weapons, the fight had shifted to the drow's advantage. The Viper heard, dimly, the approach of other drow. He made a decision. He feinted a charge at the dark elf, who fell back, and then reversed the direction of his motion. He fled.

* * * * *

How he had eventually escaped the drow patrol was unimportant. What was important was that the drow captain had beaten him. And someday the assassin would repay the favor. He rearranged the diaries on their shelves, swept the room of the shattered bones, and closed the door, locking it and the secrets it held again.

Chapter Twenty-One News Races Across the Continent

Tulmara scowled. "You have this on good information?" "The best, mistress. Dondon told me he'd heard it with his own ears, and he's the most reliable informant we have." Again Tulmara scowled. "So, the Viper is coming to town dressed as a target. We shall have to see if we can hit dead center." "Indeed, mistress."

* * * * *

Hamsetis grinned. "This is good news! The one we seek is arrogant indeed! I must contact Hodkamset immediately. If he again manages to get past them, he will stumble into my waiting arms, and this time he will not escape." He paused, then looked down at his battle-scarred hands and smiled. "This time, I will personally ensure his capture."

* * * * *

"You will deliver this amulet to the barkeep at The Shining Cradle in Waterdeep within three weeks of your departure from this place, which will be in two days. "You will begin in Calimport, and you will arrive in Waterdeep in the required amount of time. This is non-negotiable; please remember that your life hangs in the balance. "This will serve as the first of the final tests I promised you would undergo once your training under me was completed." Taking a medallion across the continent? This was a test? It was too easy, and Athos knew there was something more to it. "Why not simply send me through the portal to Zazesspur? That would put me days closer to my destination." "Why not use the portal directly to Waterdeep, while you're making it easier on yourself?" The Viper shook his head. "Because that is not the task I set you. Because this isn't about taking the easiest route. Because I require you to begin your journey at Calimport, that's why." "I see." "No, you don't. But not going to clarify the matter. You have two days to prepare, and I suggest you use them wisely. In particular, I suggest you study the maps of the various cities you will be passing." "I've already memorized them." The assassin cocked an eyebrow. "I didn't know you memorized maps." Athos gave him a cool look. "No, you didn't, did you? It's comforting to know there actually are some things you don't know - it shows that you're, in name at least, human." The Viper gave a thin-lipped smile. "Cute. I'll let it pass, this time." He turned away, but Athos spoke again. "You said that my training was complete." "Yes?" "A long time ago, you told me you would clarify some details about my past when my training was done. You haven't done that yet." The Viper was amused. "I did say that, didn't I? Are you certain you really want to know?" Athos nodded, steeling himself. This was what he wanted; what he had always wanted. It was something he had to know, no matter how terrible it was. "Yes." "Very well. You are the bastard son of Prince Alemander, son and heir to the last king of Tethyr. You are, with one exception, the last surviving member of that line." Athos was stunned. "And... and the exception? I have a brother?" The assassin shook his head. "An uncle, though he isn't much older than you. His name is Lhaeo, and he serves as scribe to Elminster, the archmagus." Athos' mind was spinning. "You're saying... you're saying I'm royalty?" "You are nothing, save what I have made of you. That is the past, the dead past, and you would do well to remember that." The assassin turned away. "How does this affect your game?" called Athos. "How does my past help you? It must be one of the reasons you kept me alive all this time." The Viper didn't halt. "Perhaps you'll puzzle it out, perhaps not. I've said all I intend to say." A moment later he was gone, and Athos was left alone, confused and wondering.

* * * * *

Pook was agitated. So agitated that he was actually pacing the length of his chamber, halting occasionally to gaze out the window. He had even neglected his fruits and sweetmeats, which lay scattered on the table before his divan. The news had spread like wildfire through the underworld - the Viper had made certain of that - and every thief and assassin, professional or amateur, was hoping to make his fortune by dealing a deathstroke to the bearer of the amulet. Something is very wrong! The assassin would never take such a risk! The man is well-known for the the lengths he goes to avoid risk! Pook shook his head. No, there was something else involved here, though he couldn't figure it out. And that definitely concerned him.

* * * * *

"My underworld contacts have yielded some very interesting information." Thenedain was in a state of controlled excitement, just on the edge of cackling with glee. "They have managed to unearth something of the utmost secrecy - and it concerns your assassin." Grimwalde put on an interested expression, schooling himself to patience. He knew that the streets were on fire with this news; he had known it days ago. "Really?" "Yes, really. It seems that the Viper will be arriving soon in our city, bearing an amulet which will make him extremely easy to identify." He gave Grimwalde a harsh look. "The importance of that shouldn't escape even your puerile intellect." Grimwalde gave him a blank look. "I'm not certain I understand. Do you have a plan?" Thenedain turned away in disgust, but LaValle didn't miss the irony in Grimwalde's voice. He knows something. He'll bear watching.

* * * * *

Hodkamset was pleased. "You have heard?" Nekiset eyed him warily. "What do you mean?" "Hamsetis has sent word. The man is competent, extremely competent. He has learned the the one we seek will come to us!" "What do you mean?" The high priest laughed. "The arrogant fool thinks to announce his coming, so confident is he!" He passed her the crumpled message he was holding. "This arrived today by special courier from Zazesspur. Hamsetis dispatched it with all speed. You will find what he has to say very interesting, I should think." The priestess took the proffered paper, scanning it quickly. Her eyes widened, and she read it again. "Well?" he asked, as the silence stretched. She shook her head. "I don't understand. What madness would have prompted this? There must be some other explanation-" Hodkamset whirled on her. "It is Set's divine will, woman! Do not think to question his methods, or you will find yourself on his alter!" The priestess cowered back, averting her eyes. "As you say, blessed one," she said meekly. "Please forgive a fool's doubt." Hodkamset gave a feral smile. "He comes into our grasp, and this time he will not elude us!"

* * * * *

"Athos!" Artemis craned her neck, trying to keep sight of him where he stood across the crowded street. "Athos!" she called again. A moment past, she had caught sight of him across the bazaar through the haze of the midday heat, and shiver had run down her spine. Her first instinct should have been to flee. This was a dangerous assassin - the protege of the Viper. A cold-blooded murderer with a history drenched in blood. And yet... she stood rooted, held by his eyes. They held a sadness beyond measure, a grief beyond bearing, and her heart ached at the hurt she saw there. But there was an iron determination behind them as well. Slowly he shook his head, turning away. At that moment she made her decision. He must be warned! "Athos!" she cried, pressing herself urgently through the thronged street. "Athos!" But he did not turn back. "Athos!" she cried again, forced back as a pair of turbaned men bearing oval-shaped baskets pushed their way past. And he was gone. Desperately she hunted about for him, but he had melted into the throng, invisible. It's what he was trained to do. For a moment she simply stood, frustrated. Then she knew what she must do.

* * * * *

Fool! thought Athos as he slipped through the crowd. Fool! To come here like this... what were you thinking? That life is not for you! She is not for you - and never was! You are damned - beyond redemption! Would you drag her into hell with you? Would you condemn her to share your fate? Fool! A bare-chested man, brawny and darkened from the sun, shouldered past him. Not paying attention to where he was going, Athos had nearly walked into him. "Watch it, street rat!" the man growled as he past, giving a dark look. Athos snarled. He delivered two quick strikes with the palm of his hand - the once to the man's throat and once to his solar plexus. The man's eyes widened in shock and he doubled over, coughing and gasping for air. Athos seized his shoulder and flung him backwards, sweeping his legs from beneath him. He landed hard on his back in the dusty street, the air forced from his lungs. Athos went down on one knee, his fist rearing back in a killing strike... And suddenly realized what he was doing. The crowd had moved back, stunned by the lightning-quick confrontation. The man at his feet stared up to him, mouth quivering and eyes wide. Slowly Athos forced his fist to relax, and brought it down. He stood. "Sorry," he said. "I... sorry." He turned and fled, forcing his way through the ring of onlookers. Fool! he thought angrily as he ran. Fool!

* * * * *

"No," said Jitinder, for the third time. "He's in danger," protested Artemis. Jitinder shook his head. "You don't know that." "You know I'm right! He's in danger, and we've got to help him!" "You don't know that!" Jitinder insisted, "and it doesn't matter anyway. You know what he is! Why should we help him?" Artemis was silent. "Who else will?" she said at last. "I will help him." Her voice was filled with quiet conviction. Jitinder shook his head in wonder. "Sometimes, I just don't understand you. Why do you insist on playing with fire? If Athos is in danger, that is his problem." "He must be warned, Jitinder." Jitinder threw his hands up. "You don't even know he's the one who'll bear the amulet! Even if he is, how can you know he isn't already aware of the danger? This is an affair between the Viper and Athos - only a fool would step in the middle." "He must be warned." "No!" "Why not?" Jitinder's mouth worked in astonishment. "Why... ? What do you mean, 'why'? Haven't you listened to a word I've said? It's too dangerous, that's why." "Athos isn't going to hurt anyone, and you know it! He avoided me because he's afraid I'll be hurt if I'm seen near him." "Oh, very noble," said Jitinder. "Especially since it's true. You should show the same good sense, and keep away from him." "Jitinder, I'm asking you... please." Jitinder was quiet. "Artemis, I'm telling you - you can't save him from what he is." "This isn't about that." "You damn well know it is!" "It's not," she maintained. He gave her a hard look. She sighed. "Maybe it is. Is that so wrong? Look, I'm asking for you help, not your permission. Will you help me, or do I go alone? I would be safer if you were there." He weakened under the compliment. "I don't... No! We don't owe him anything!" "I do." Jitinder looked at her. "I must be mad," he muttered at last. "Alright then, we'll warn him - and nothing more! We're not going to help him." Artemis smiled. "Thanks." "Wait a minute, what am I talking about? We're not going to do anything - you're staying right here where it's safe. I'll do the warning." Her face fell. "What? But I-" "No!" Jitinder held a finger in warning. "Not negotiable." Artemis considered. "Ok," she said at last. "It doesn't matter... I mean, I suppose it doesn't matter anyway." Jitinder gave her a wary look. "Then we're clear?" "Yes, we're clear. Now get going." Jitinder gave her a thoughtful gaze, as if surprised she had agreed so quickly. "Okay then," he said at last, turning to leave. Artemis watched him go. I'll just follow at a safe distance, she promised herself.

* * * * *

She followed for three blocks before he halted by a streetlamp and rested against it, arms folded. He seemed to be waiting for something. She watched from a distance for some time, then approached. "Hello, Jitinder," she said brightly. "Hello." "Waiting for something?" "You. I knew you'd follow me. I guess you've decided you're going to be in on the search whether I want you to or not." Artemis started to protest, but checked herself. "I suppose so." "In light of that, I suppose I should at least try to keep you out of harm's way. You come with me." Artemis cocked a half smile. He didn't move. "What are we waiting for now," she asked, after a pause. "News. There's bound to be some soon, since everyone's after him. We're never going to catch up to him any other way." "But he isn't due to begin his journey for another two days." Jitinder nodded. "I know. Which means that we can't pursue him yet. Perhaps we ought to eat dinner in the meantime." "But I just saw him today!" "Certainly you saw him today. However, today he wasn't wearing that amulet which is going to make him into a walking target - if indeed he will be the amulet bearer at all. He's not likely to show up again until he's got to go through town wearing it." "I see," said Artemis, even though she wasn't certain she did.

Chapter Twenty-Two "To Run the Gauntlet"

The cool northern-bound night wind rippled through Athos' hair as he stepped out of the portal, bringing to his nostrils the pungent aroma of the Calimport docks which lay on the Shining Sea. His alert eyes scanned the now-empty marketplace. Nothing seemed amiss, but something within him detected a tenseness in the air. Calimport did not sleep this night, it only gave the quiet appearance of doing so. Instinctively he kept to the shadows, and trotted off into the city.

* * * * *

LaValle moved through the lower passageways of the tower undetected, trying his best to ignore the pleas, cries and ravings of the lunatics. He seldom came here to study them. Insanity was not his passion, and the sight of the poor wretches who had once been men never failed to turn his stomach. No, he had not come here to study - at least not the insane. He was following Grimwalde, although it was proving a more difficult task than he had imagined. LaValle was no master thief, but he had learned enough in his childhood growing up on the streets to keep to the shadows. He was unconcerned about being heard - the wretches who were kept here masked any noises he made. And he was fairly certain Grimwalde's eyes weren't sharp enough to detect him. Yet Grimwalde, distrustful always, even of himself, was making routine stops in his journey, trying to determine if he was being followed. LaValle frowned and slid back into the shadows, as Grimwalde, far ahead, suddenly halted and peered back the way he had come. LaValle could see the other mage's thoughts playing across his face. His heart told him he was being followed, but his mind scoffed at the lack of visible proof. LaValle held his breath as Grimwalde's gaze raked over him again, this time stopping to lock onto him. Then, abruptly, the other mage turned away. LaValle sighed in relief and a moment later followed. Grimwalde's pride in his intellect had blinded him. Grimwalde came at last to an ornate and heavy iron door. He fumbled with a ring of keys for a moment, then produced the correct one and, with a snick, inserted it into the topmost lock, turning ponderously until it clicked. He then moved down to the second lock, and selecting a different key, did the same. Three more locks were undone in quick succession. He then stepped back, muttering a brief incantation which dispelled the magic which still held the portal closed. With a groan, the door swung wide. LaValle paused, then followed the other mage out into the Zazesspur night.

* * * * *

Athos kept to the back alleys, staying away from the major thoroughfares. Something was wrong; he felt it in the air, and had decided to keep clear of anyone, no matter how harmless they appeared. Soundlessly he glided through the darkened streets, darting from shadow to shadow. He traversed four blocks in this manner, then suddenly pulled up short, catching sight of someone ahead. It was a man, slouched against the wall of the alley, slumbering lightly. His clothing was in disarray and an emptied bottle of cheap elven wine lay on its side nearby. Athos considered. One drunk was certainly nothing to fear, and it would take time to double back. Stealthily he stole forward, slipping quietly past. The drunken man snorted in his sleep as he passed, then rolled to one side. A moment later his breathing had gone back to normal. Athos stared at him. Something didn't feel right... He waited a moment, then shook the feeling off, turned, and sped on his way. As soon as he was gone, the drunk picked himself up, gazing after him. A moment later he was off and running.

* * * * *

"What did they say?" Artemis asked. Jitinder sighed, taking his seat across from her. "Calm down. There's no news yet. Not even rumor." Artemis glanced around uncomfortably. "But tonight's the night," she said, trying to keep her voice low. "There's got to be some word from somewhere. Are you certain we should just be sitting here?" Jitinder held up a palm. "Calm down," he said. "Word will come, just be patient. As for this place, it will suit our needs." They sat at one of the smaller tables in The Smile of the Seventh Storm, a run-down tavern in the port district. Jitinder had brought them here earlier in the afternoon, insisting that the search for Athos would be made possible only by following word of his movements. "Look," he'd said, "three different guilds and gods only know how many rogue thieves and cutthroats will be watching for him. We can't cover every possible route anyway, so why not let their agents work for us? Word will travel to us." And so they had waited. Jitinder had given up on passing the time in conversation - Artemis was too distracted to make good company - so he had ordered dinner some time before. With relish, he had devoured two bowls of steaming lamb stew. Artemis' own plate was untouched. Artemis wasn't convinced that waiting here and doing nothing was the best plan for locating Athos, and she had said so several times as the evening had dragged on. "Are you certain this is the right thing to do?" she asked, for perhaps the fifth time. "Relax," said Jitinder. "Trust me, If Athos is spotted, news will run through here. There's nothing else we can do." Just then the worn plank door clattered open and a man rushed in. He was a tall fellow, with lank brown hair and a day-old beard. "Saw him! I spotted him!" he panted. Jitinder was already out of his seat, crossing the room. "Where?" he demanded, not bothering to ask who the man was talking about. The man looked at him. "That depends, stranger. I figure that's valuable information - not just to you but to a whole lot of people. And since I'm the first to bring word, I should be compensated." A small group of others had gathered. "How much?" asked a short blond man with a goatee. "Ten gold?" "Twenty," said an olive skinned woman with a patch over her left eye, "with the provision that you talk to me, and no-one else." "A fool's bargain," said a heavily-muscled man, "He'll sell to anyone who'll pay." "How much?" asked Jitinder, ignoring the others. A crafty look came into the man's eyes. "A hundred gold." Jitinder shook his head. "I don't have a hundred gold." There were similar mutters from the others. "It's too much," complained the blond man. "I'm sure if you all pool your resources you can make do," said the man with a false smile. "I'd come up with it quickly, if I were you. Remember, the more time passes, the farther he'll be from where I spotted him." "He's right," said Jitinder, fishing in his purse. "I have twelve... no fourteen gold pieces." He glared at the others. "Look, let's just get this done, shall we. I've got fourteen. That means we only need eighty six." "Here's twenty-seven," said the woman with the patch. She glared around at those surrounding her. "Well? Come on then, we all want the same thing." There were general grumbles but little by little the other men produced gold and silver. "That's... eighty-seven gold pieces and twenty-two silver," said Jitinder, when he had finished counting the total. "I said a hundred," said the man. "That's not a hundred." "Look you," said the muscular man angrily, "I don't mind telling you how close you are to getting a sword in your gut-" Jitinder cut him off. "It's not a hundred, no. But it's as close as it's going to come. If I were you I'd take it." The man considered for a moment, then snatched it up. "Right then. Spotted him over on Crescent Avenue, heading northeast. It's in the Market Quarter." "How long ago?" asked the woman with the patch. "Maybe ten minutes, maybe less," said the man. "I ran all the way here." "And you told no-one else this?" He gave her an irritated look. "Who else would I tell? I ran straight here." "Good. I'll take my money back, then." A blade flashed in the lamplight as she struck, and the man grunted once as she drove a dagger into his breast, then stumbled to his knees. Jitinder leaped back as she pulled the blade from his body. "Cover them, Zandros," she said. Apparently she was speaking to the short blond man, for he had produced a medium crossbow and was holding it trained on the rest of the small group. "Don't move, any of you." The woman was bent over the messenger's body. A moment later she stood, holding the purse of gold. "Hey!" said one of the men standing beside Jitinder. "Some of that's mine!" "Was yours," said the woman, backing towards the door. "You've only got one crossbow bolt there, chum," said the brawny man. "Just one. The rest of us could easily overpower you." "Right," said the blond man with a cocky smile. "So which one of you wants to sacrifice himself? Any takers?" No-one moved. "Come on Zandros," said the woman from the door. "We've got a fool to catch. This night is shaping up to be even more profitable than we'd hoped." The crossbowman backed out slowly, keeping his weapon trained on Jitinder and the others. "So long, fellows, and don't even think of going after us." He ducked through the door and vanished into the night. There was a general rush for the door, as those around Jitinder snatched up weapons. A moment later, Jitinder and Artemis were the only ones left in the inn. He sighed. "Well, at least we have a place to start now." She swallowed. "I heard." Her eyes were fixed on the body of the messenger, laying slumped in a slowly spreading pool of blood. He glanced at it. "He brings death. I told you that before." She gave him a defiant look. "This isn't his fault. We should go. Crescent Avenue isn't far." "We won't find him there. He'll already be long gone. We have to anticipate his movements." "Where then?" Jitinder considered. "Well, we know he's leaving the city. The nearest gates are the one in High District and the one in the Slum Quarter. On the other hand, he may opt to scale the city walls rather than risk being spotted by the guardsmen at the gates. I think that would be the more probable. In such case, the nearest sections of wall are all in the High District." Artemis shook her head. "I don't think he'll go that way. He doesn't know he's in danger." "That's the assumption you were willing to make, not me." She ignored him. "I think he'll head through the Slum Quarter, towards the wall in the older part of town." "Why?" "Because he doesn't know he's in danger. He'll assume it's the safest route." "Assuming he's unaware that he's wanted dead by almost everyone, why would he care about the safety of his route?" "Because the Viper trained him," she said. "Look, call it... a woman's intuition. That's the way he'll go, so... Never mind, we're losing time. Let's go."

* * * * *

Athos stopped short, listening. Footsteps, made by men who were treading steathily. Many men. They were coming from behind, mostly, although he picked out a few approaching from ahead. He exploded into motion again, veering to the right, onto an adjoining street. He trotted steadily but calmly. The street continued for a short distance, made an abrupt right turn, and dead ended. He was being hounded into a trap. He continued at the same steady pace, and when the street stopped, he used his momentum to leap upwards. He scrambled up the craggy stone wall with ease, but halted at the top. On the other side, just below where he perched, a group of three men waited, lurking behind a corner, one holding a rough woolen bag and the other two holding makeshift clubs. All three were peering anxiously around the corner, awaiting some victim. "Tell me again how ye'r going to trap 'im, Brandum," hissed one of the men after a moment of silence. "When he comes round the corner, I'm gonna bag the blighter, and you two're gonna beat the bloody stew out of him. It's foolproof, that's what, and we'll be rich come morning." Athos dropped to the street, landing silently behind them. He turned in the opposite direction and continued on his way. Whatever they were up to was none of his affair. At the next intersection he weaved right, doubling back on his trail to throw any pursuers off. He darted around a curve and slowed, his trained ears catching stealthy footfalls and confused whispers ahead. He came to a halt, scanning the darkness ahead. The whispers ceased. He backed slowly, certain now he'd been seen, or at least heard. There was a pile of refuse to his right; a stack of crates atop a wine cask. Abruptly he seized the cask, yanking it onto its side. The crates went tumbling down with a crash, spilling into the street and cluttering it. He dashed back in the direction he had come. Behind him there were a few shouts, and the sound of pursuit. He hadn't gone far before the street in front of him erupted with motion. The shadowy figures of cult members lay ahead, hedging him in. Behind came the sounds of another large group, pursuing. Perfect. He veered to the left, into a darkened and narrow side alley. It dead ended after twenty paces, but he had expected this. There was a small mound of refuse at the end of the alley. He used it as a springboard as he leaped upwards, catching hold of one of the window boxes above by his fingers and hauling himself upwards. Behind him, he heard a startled cry and the sound of metal ringing on metal. By the time he had reached the roof, a pitched battle had erupted behind him. Darkness would be the greatest enemy his pursuers would face.

* * * * *

Grimwalde hurried through the streets of the slum quarter. It was obvious to LaValle that he was looking for someone. Probably an underworld contact he had kept from Thenedain. At last Grimwalde halted at the mouth of a darkened doorway. It was difficult to tell from this distance, but LaValle thought he was speaking to someone within, hidden in the shadows. LaValle slid into an enclosed doorway across the street and several houses down, hoping the shadow here would mask his presence. He backed into something that moved. A hand, strong as steel, closed over his mouth, while another held him. "Be very quiet and very attentive, or you will find yourself dead," hissed a soft voice.

* * * * *

Jitinder slipped through the darkened streets like a wraith, leading the way. Artemis almost stumbled into him when he suddenly stopped. "What is it?" Jitinder cocked his head to one side. "Listen." At first, all she could hear was the beating of her breathless heart. Then she heard it: the clink of steel against steel, the shouts, the curses, the screams. Somewhere ahead, a battle raged. "Come," he said, starting forward cautiously. A gap-toothed man jumped out of the darkness, slamming a worn woolen sack over Jitinder's head. "Gotcher!" he exclaimed dully, yanking it down. Jitinder's naginata sliced cleanly through the bottom of the sack as it came down. The man stumbled as his momentum pulled the sack down past Jitinder's waist. Almost languidly, Jitinder struck with the haft of the naginata, bringing it down with a resounding crack on the back of the man's head. Unconscious, the man continued downwards, until his body met the hard cobbled street. Two other men leaped out of the darkness, each swinging a club. Jitinder took a step back, stepping out of the torn sack, allowing the men to complete their swings. The clubs continued in their downward arcs, missing him entirely, and the two men succeeded only in whacking their unconscious companion soundly. He struck twice, both times using the butt of his weapon, and a moment later, the two men lay beside the first attacker. "What in the world!" exclaimed Artemis. "Fools," said Jitinder. He looked at her. "Everyone - and I mean everyone, even amateurs like these - is after that amulet."

* * * * *

"What's going on out there?" asked Pook, nearly frantic. "I'm getting conflicting reports!" "The Viper!" Childric gasped, still panting. "He's killing us by the dozens! He's cut down entire patrols!" "What are you talking about? Make sense! He's only one man!" "He's only one man we can't see!" Childric raged in frustration. "If he were any less a coward, he'd show himself and fight like a true warrior!" "The abyss he would!" Pook shook his head. "No, he's not killing us - we are! Ourpatrols are running around attacking anything in sight, even each other. Now get out there and maintain some discipline!" "It is an evil night, lord Pook. The sky is black; we cannot see! Worse, that damn cult is on the streets as well. We've run into five different battles with them so far. Besides that, every pickpocket or scoundrel in the city is out tonight, trying their luck at getting him!" Pook scowled. "The cult? Damn them! By Tarterus, I thought they'd work with us in this! It's high time I used my influence with the city rulers and had them ejected - they have been a thorn in my side for long enough." "But what would be the point? The Viper will be gone after tonight." Pook whirled on him. "By all the demigods in Hades, man! There is more than the capture and execution of the Viper to consider! Can't you get that through your thick head?" Childric cringed back, looking properly cowed. "Sorry, lord Pook." "Alright then," said Pook, regaining some of his composure, "we have to get organized. Keeps the scouts in place - I want runners to keep me informed on exactly what's going on. We'll start sending the patrols in sweeps along the streets." He strode to the table and jabbed a pudgy finger at the map that was laid there. "Here, here and here. Here and here also. This way we don't run the risk of our men fighting each other. And pass the word, if the cult members cross our path, they are to be scythed down. No mercy, understood?" The other man nodded. "Good. The gates are being watched?" "Yes, my lord. No reports have come from any of those patrols yet." "Then go. Go! He isn't out of our grasp yet!"

* * * * *

"Well, that's that, then," said Jitinder, surveying the carnage. "If he did pass this way - and there is a possibility he didn't - then he's gone. And surely now he knows he's in danger." Artemis shook her head. "He doesn't know why, or that the danger will follow him from the city." He glared at her. "So what? He's gone, and it's out of my hands. I can't track him across the Calim desert!" "We don't need to track him," she maintained. "We already know what his ultimate destination is. We have to go after him!" Jitinder shook his head. "How? I'm no ranger, to trace a man across a continent!" "He'll head for Memnon next. If we travel by ship, we can beat him there."

Chapter Twenty-Three The Trial Continues

Athos woke late midday, to the gentle rocking of the boat. There was something vaguely comforting in the motion, and he lay still for a moment before sitting up. There was a fair-sized porthole to his right, gilded in bronze, and he gazed through it. The shore was a haze on the very edge of the horizon, and all around sparkled the blue-green waters of the sea. Was it the Shining Sea he was looking upon? No, they were probably into the Sea of Swords by now. He smiled to himself. This was the first time he had been aboard a ship of any kind, yet he felt none of the sickness and dizziness he had heard some men describe. In truth, the fresh salt air was strangely invigorating. He stirred from the captain's soft bunk, standing and going through a series of stretching exercises. Afterwards, he turned to the small dresser and leafed through the captain's clothing, finding several articles which caught his fancy, and he found fit him well. He dressed quickly, then went up on deck, leaving the true captain wriggling in his bonds. The sailors of the ship were hard at work. The first mate approached, a concerned expression on his face. He sees that something isn't quite right, thought Athos. "Rough night, captain?" Athos leaned painfully on his left leg, the way the true captain did, and shook his head. "Nothin' a day to sea won't cure," he rasped. The accent and diction were flawless. The first mate cracked a gap-toothed smile and moved away. "Heave to, dogs! Get that mizzen straightened, the captain's in a fine mood for flogging!" Athos nodded, and shuffled off in search of the galley. The bright golden amulet which hung at his neck sparkled in the sunlight.

* * * * *

Where was LaValle? It was the question that had plagued Grimwalde for days. The man had simply gone missing. He'd asked Thenedain of course, but recieved no answer. "Am I to keep track of his comings and goings?" the older mage had asked in irritation. "He's a man grown, not a boy to be watched every moment. Likely enough he's off doing what young men his age do." The suggestion was ludicrous - LaValle, the quiet one who never strayed from the library, deep in his cups and surrounded by women of the night! But where then was he, and what was he doing? Grimwalde would have given much to know the answers to those questions. Obviously the old mage was playing his own game. LaValle was his man, loyal to a fault. LaValle went nowhere and did nothing with out Thenedain's express permission, so the older mage must know what he was doing. Perhaps had departed on a mission on Thenedain's behalf. But then why keep it a secret? Unless... unless it was a move against Grimwalde. Curse him, the doddering, meddling old fool! If Grimwalde thought he could have, he would have killed him. But Thenedain was a cautious man, and moving against him now could prove rash. But Grimwalde had patience. Oh yes, I can be very patient...

* * * * *

"He's gone." Childric paled. "We can't be certain-" he protested. "Don't give me fairy tales. He's gone." Pook turned away. "He has escaped us, and we've lost our best chance at getting him." Childric wet his lips. "Perhaps we could pursue him. We... I could give chase. After all, we know where he's going. There is a chance-" "Don't be a fool, Childric. Do you really think I would entrust a job like that to a fool like you?" Pook sighed, pacing away. Now it was up to his people in Memnon. If the Viper got past them, or if he bypassed Memnon altogether, Pook would never get his chance. "Lord Pook," stammered Childric. "I... I just want to express my sorrow... I mean, I apologize and take full responsibility..." Suddenly he smiled. "There's no use crying over spilled milk, Childric." He whirled, a dagger appearing as if by magic in his hand. "Did I ever tell you about my ear collection, Childric? It's a special fascination of mine, taking the right ears of men who've failed me."

* * * * *

"So," mused guildmistress Tulmara, scanning the message, "the Viper has escaped Calimport." She tossed it aside, smiling cruelly. "I expected no less. He'll be arriving in Memnon next. After that, he'll enter Tethyr - my city. My territory. And he won't be leaving. The arrogance of the man!" She forced herself to calm. "He will learn - to his detriment - that sending Arkail's head to me was not a wise decision. Prepare the men." "Yes, guildmistress."

Chapter Twenty-Four Memnon

The docks of Memnon were alive in the bright sunlight, and Athos cheerfully picked his way through the milling crowds of dock-workers and fishermen. He almost felt like whistling. He was in a city he had never before seen, and strange new sights seemed to wait around every turn, beckoning for his attention. Best of all, there was no chance of his being recognized here. He was much closer to his goal. By evening he was certain he could charter passage on a ship which would take him all the way to Waterdeep. He made a conscious effort to keep away from the shadows and in the mainstream of traffic, where he could be seen by all. Perhaps it was foolish, but he felt bolder somehow. And there was no risk of being recognized here - there was no-one in this city who had ever seen or heard of him before. He left the port area behind and wound his way through the dusty streets. This city was much smaller than Calimport, but it was unique in its own way. Almost half the population here was made up of merchants and traders who were either preparing to cross the Calim desert to trade in Calimport, or were returning from such a journey. As a result, the residential areas of the city were small and clumped together. Inns and taverns did the most business here, and the town was full of them. He chuckled to himself as he made his way towards one, a tavern with a sign swinging in front which depicted a frollicking mermaid. There were no words on the sign, but that made sense since there were very few sailors who could read. In such a place, Athos knew he would be able to find someone who could book him a place on an outgoing ship. He also knew that travelers would have to have money to book passage, and he had none. Stealing the money he needed would be easy enough for one with his skills, but he was ignorant of this city's laws and customs, and preferred to find out more before exposing himself to any risk, however small. The information he sought would be found here as well. He entered the tavern. It was dim within, but his sharp eyes made out the many patrons scattered about the room, even the ones sitting in the deepest shadows. The room went silent, and everyong turned and looked. Athos halted in the doorway. What was going on here? Suddenly he was shoved roughly from behind, and he found himself stumbling in. A big brawny man, dressed in dockworker's clothes, was right behind him. "It's him!" the man said to the crowd, "the one that's worth fifteen million gold pieces!" Fifteen million gold pieces? Athos turned the momentum from the man's shove into forward motion, rolling lithely up onto the nearest table, coming to his feet scattering silverware. The crowd rose, the nearer ones hearing what the brawny man had said and surging forward to attack, the ones in back thinking there was to be some sort of fight. No sooner had he come to his feet than he was leaping to the next table. He landed lightly, not even disturbing the plates and mugs there, and continued on smoothly, carrying the motion of his first leap into his second. A man grabbed for his ankle as he landed. Athos kicked him in the face, sending him reeling backwards, and evaded a second man's grasp as well. He leaped again. He cleared the third table, and landed lightly atop the bar just as the barkeep - a weathered-looking dwaf - swung a loaded crossbow up so that it pointed directly at his face. Athos slapped it to the side, rolling off the top of the bar and landing behind it, and the bolt went wide of his head, thumping into the shoulder of an unlucky mercenary in the crowd who had been brandishing a shortsword. The unfortunate man gave off a yelp of pain as he was knocked backwards off his feet. Athos' dagger came out then, cutting a red line across the dwarf's throat and returning to its sheath in the blink of an eye. The dwarf's arms flailed a moment later as he toppled backwards, dying, and his final convulsive moment sent the crossbow sailing into the crowd. Athos looked around for some avenue of escape, knowing he had lost valuable time dealing with the dwarf and expecting the crowd to come crashing down on him at any instant. Instead, he was surprised to find them fighting among themselves. "He's mine!" cried one man, a lanky bald fighter with a patch over one eye and a longsword in his hands as he sprang forward. A much smaller man, perhaps a large halfling, cut the lanky fighter down from behind before he had taken three steps. Another pair of men were throttling each other, rolling on the floor. Athos didn't pause to consider his good luck; he used it. There was a small window to his left, some four yards away. It was the only avenue of escape he could see. However, it was blocked from him by several fighting bystanders. He looked down. Two large pitchers of dwarven spirits were on the counter. He seized one as a man came rushing for him, hurling into his face. It shattered, and the man was sent reeling back into the crowd. Athos' quick reaction had bought him some time; perhaps a few seconds. He had to make the most of it. The second pitcher he lifted with his left hand, reaching blindly behind him for the small lamp hanging beside the mirror behind the bar with his right. He had seen it hanging there earlier when he had entered the tavern, and he didn't want to take his eyes from the fight while he reached for it. His hand closed on it almost instantly. It was right where his mind's eye had said it should be. Deftly, and with one hand, he removed the upper part of the lantern from the lower, leaving the flame open to the air. He hurled the glass and metal that made up the top of the lantern into the face of another person rushing forward. He turned the second pitcher of dwarven spirits on its side as he flung it in the same direction, and a thin trickle of the fluid within the pitcher trailed fro it as it sailed through the air. He lifted the lamp, connecting the open flame with the trickle. He moved so quickly that the trickle had only dropped a few scant inches. A whooshing sound filled the room as flames leaped up the trickle and disappeared into the lid of the pitcher, which was still in midair. A moment later, it exploded, the fiery rough pieces of porcelain shooting in all directions. Flames sprang to light everywhere as the spirits from the first bottle also caught fire. The crowd danced back from the flames momentarily, howling - some in pain, others in lust for blood. Athos leaped through the small window, landing hard on the ground outside. His breath whuffed out of his lungs and pain lanced through his arm where the brittle glass from the window had cut him. He found himself in the dusty narrow alley which ran beside the tavern. A heartbeat later, flames whooshed out of the now-broken window as the entire bar and the liquors on it caught fire. Athos rolled to his feet and began to run. Behind him, he heard panicked screams and shouts as the fire raged, spreading from the tavern to the neighboring building.

* * * * *

"Artemis, look there!" said Jitinder, pointing. She peered in the direction he was pointing. "What is it?" she asked, frowning. "Memnon." She bit her lower lip, her eyebrows furrowing as she tried to make out what she saw. "It must be raining there - the clouds are dark above it." Jitinder shook his head gravely. "Those aren't storm clouds. That's smoke." She laughed. "Smoke? All of that? Practically the entire city would have to be on fire to create that much smoke." Jitinder nodded. "I think it is." Her smile faded, then died. It was smoke. After a moment, she sucked in her breath and looked up at Jitinder. "You think..." He nodded. "I think so. Athos is here."

* * * * *

Athos stumbled through the back alleys, confused. Fifty million gold pieces? How had they recognized him? He halted for a moment in a shaded doorway, glancing back to see if he was pursued. Behind him the city sky was black in the midday sun, and thick clouds of smoke obscured vision any farther than thirty feet. He turned, and began scaling the rough, sunbaked adobe wall of the nearest house. At the top he paused and rested. The smell of burning timbers was acidic in his nostrils, but he was glad for the fire. It was a good distraction, and it produced smoke that made it difficult to see. How had they recognized him? He froze as a group of men ran through the alley below him, shouting. He leaned well back from the edge, listening. A minute later they were past and gone. He looked back at the burning portion of the city. The thick dark smoke blanketed it in artificial night. He gazed back at the rest of the city, exposed to the midday sun, noting the unnervingly quick transition from darkness to light. He was wanted dead by everyone in the city - that was what he had to assume - and he knew he could not go that way. Too many people would see him. Night and day. He turned back to the fires. That was the way he would go.

* * * * *

It was late afternoon when Jitinder and Artemis debarked. Save for the smoke, which was everywhere, and the occasional city guardsman running by, the streets were abandoned. As they moved farther into the city, they saw more destruction than the shattered husks of burned out buildings. There were corpses, newly dead, strewn about the streets haphazardly. Jitinder halted for a moment to look some of them over. "Some died from burns," he said, moving through the bodies, "and some died from smoke inhalation." He looked up from the corpses, locking gazes with Artemis. "Most died in battle." She turned away angrily, knowing what he was implying. "It isn't him." "You know it is." Gravely, he surveyed the bodies again. "Maybe he didn't kill them himself - but he's the reason they're dead." "You don't know that!" she protested. "I know it," he said, "and so do you." She folded her arms in front of her. "It isn't his fault." Jitinder said nothing but his eyes spoke volumes. For a long moment they stood like that, neither speaking. Finally Artemis gave a small sniff. "Are you going to help, or not?" Jitinder shrugged helplessly, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I already told you I would." He gestured at the bodies. "I'm only stating the obvious. You would do well to listen." "I've listened," she said, her voice icy. "Now let's go." "Fine," he said, his own voice frosty now. "Follow me, and try not to make too much noise." They melted into the smoky streets.

* * * * *

An occasional scream would sound in different parts of the city, and guardsmen would come streaming by occasionally, but for the most part Athos found himself alone. Where was all the smoke coming from? He had yet to catch sight of the fires he had started. Suddenly he halted. Had he heard whispers? There was silence for a moment, and then a group of guardsmen came running out of the smoke. Athos darted into the nearest doorway. Instantly he realized he'd made a mistake. Though the room he had entered appeared empty, he sensed that he was not alone. He froze for a moment, listening. The shadows around him exploded into motion. Instinctively he dropped. He heard the whisk of an arrow pass just over his head. If he hadn't dropped it would have taken him in the heart. As he dropped into a roll he started counting. There were twelve of them in all, most dressed in beggar's rags, some with crutches or arm slings. Athos wasn't fooled. They were far too professional to be beggars. He rolled straight into the lower legs of one of them, toppling the would-be attacker and putting his throat within easy range of Athos' knife. He came to his feet, leaving the unfortunate attacker's body in his wake, and backed away. The group hadn't been fooled by his quick move, however, and in a rush they were upon him. Athos found himself parrying madly with his shortsword and dagger. There were too many of them for him to do anything other than defend himself, and they were fighting in the wide-open space of the room, so that all the ambushers could attack him without hampering each other. Athos looked around wildly for a doorway or something which would force his attackers to come at him one by one. He found nothing, not even a window. They had chose the site of their ambush well. He realized they would try to encircle him. He backed quickly, keeping each of them from getting behind him, until he felt the wall behind him. At least they wouldn't be able to come at him from behind. Abruptly he noticed the quiet. None of the attackers had spoken a word, and aside from the metallic 'ching' of weapons clashing together, there was no noise. They were communicating with one another through hand signals. Why the need for silence? Suddenly Athos realized why his attackers were trying to keep silent. The guardsmen outside! "Help!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, wondering whether the guardsmen would still be in close enough vicinity to hear him. "Help! I'm in here!" The fighting continued for a moment unabated, and Athos felt himself tiring. No matter what the Viper had taught him, he couldn't hope to stand against eleven skilled opponents forever. Just when he was beginning to despair of the guardsmen ever arriving, the door was flung open and ten of them stormed into the room. "At them, boys," shouted the commander. "No mercy!" The eleven ambushers were caught between Athos on one side and the guardsmen on the other, and a short but bloody battle ensued. Ultimately the ambushers were doomed, but to their credit they did not break ranks. It was over in moments, and the guard captain peered through the smoke and carnage at Athos. "Thank you," said Athos. "That was very nearly the end of me." The captain's eyes narrowed, and he looked back to his men. "It's him!" he shouted. "The one we're after! Kill him!" Athos stumbled back in shock, instinctively parrying the first blow. Even the city guard were after him! His sword took the first man's life instantly, the second man a moment later. Impressed by his fighting ability, the guardsmen backed off slowly, one of them raising a crossbow. Athos leaped forward, attacking futilely, knowing that the crossbow would be able to fire before he could get to the guardsman holding it. Nevertheless, he managed to kill two more of them before the bolt sang out, whistling straight towards Athos' face. He lifted his shortsword as a reflexive action only, holding it before his face, and the bolt slammed into the steel blade, snapping it in two. Amazingly, the bolt careened off in another direction, leaving Athos untouched. The man with the crossbow quickly pushed it down on the ground, locking it into place, and began turning the windlass, frantically trying to reload. Athos hurled the hilt of his broken sword at the captain, buying time to back off from the four remaining men. He had only a dagger left to fight with now. Suddenly, Jitinder appeared behind the reloading crossbowman, attacking from behind. The vigilante's naginata cut down, whirring through the air just above the man's shoulder. Athos leaped to the attack, striking out in blindingly quick blows against the guardsmen, attempting to distract their attention. It seemed to work, because Jitinder was able to attack them from behind, taking down another guardsmen before the rest were even aware of his presence. The captain and the two remaining men turned, and Athos used the distraction to leap forward and slit the captain's throat. The two remaining men took only a few moments more to dispatch. Jitinder looked down at the bodies disgustedly. "Now you've turned me into a murderer, too," he said. "I wouldn't lose any sleep over them," said Athos. "They were obviously corrupt. They wanted me dead." Jitinder snorted. "And how does that make them corrupt? I want you dead, too." Athos gave him a hard look. "What are you doing here?" "I came here to warn you, against my better judgement." Suddenly Artemis appeared in the doorway. Jitinder saw the sudden shift in Athos' gaze, and he whirled. "I thought I told you to wait outside!" he scolded her angrily. She shrugged. "I had to know." "Had to know what?" "I had to talk to him." There was a long silence. "Have you told him yet?" she asked Jitinder. Jitinder looked back at Athos. "You're in danger." Athos shrugged. "I'm in danger?" he asked flippantly. "I had no idea." Jitinder scowled at his sarcasm. "I happen to know why everyone's after you." "Why?" "Because of the amulet you're wearing," broke in Artemis. "They're after the amulet." Athos looked down at it, gently running the chain through his fingers. "Really? Is it so valuable?" "More valuable than you think," said Artemis. Athos looked at Jitinder. Jitinder nodded. "It identifies you as the Viper - and if it is presented to a certain barkeep in Waterdeep, it will bring the bearer two million gold pieces." Athos scowled. "So, that's it," he said, almost to himself. "That's why. I was beginning to think it might be something like this." He looked up suddenly. "I assume the Viper was behind all of this?" Jitinder shrugged. "How should I know? We just came to warn you and go." Athos nodded to himself. "Of course he was. Brilliantly engineered. My first test - all I have to do is survive." He looked up again. "I heard a rumor that I was worth fifteen million golds instead of just two." Jitinder shrugged. "Must have been just a rumor. Or maybe the rumor mill has inflated the reward. Either way, I couldn't care less." He turned back to Artemis. "I've done my part. Now he knows. He can hide the bloody thing from now on, and pass safely." "Not quite," said Athos. "I can't hide it." Jitinder gave him an annoyed look. "What do you mean you can't hide it?" "I mean it has to be in clear sight on my person at all times." "Why?" asked Artemis. Athos sighed. "Because it is enchanted. If I hide it or disguise it in any way, I will die." Jitinder turned away, heading out. "Whatever. You can hide it or not hide it. It isn't my concern. I've done what I said I would do. From now on, whatever happens to you is your problem. It's time for us to go." He stopped in the doorway, waiting for Artemis to follow him. She crossed her arms stubbornly. "I'm not leaving. We have to help him." "The abyss we do!" snarled Jitinder. 'I don't want your help," said Athos mildly. "You would only be placing yourselves in danger." Jitinder turned again. "Don't worry. I don't intend to help you at all. In fact, allow me to wish you the worst of luck as I bid you goodbye." He looked at Artemis. "Are you staying?" "Yes," she replied. "No," said Athos, a little more forcefully. "Yes!" she said, whirling on him. "I won't let you kill yourself. "I'm not going to kill myself." "Perhaps," said Jitinder, departing, "if we're lucky, someone else will kill him." He walked out into the street, then looked back at Artemis. "If you want to get back to Calimport instead of trying to protect this killer, I'll be in the port section of the city. If not, then I won't lose any sleep wondering what happened to you." She folded her arms and stared defiantly at him, her jaw set. He shrugged and stalked off. "I'm staying with you," she said firmly, turning to Athos, hands on hips. He shook his head. "I appreciate the gesture, but I don't need your help. I don't need anybody." "I don't care what you think you need!" she stormed. "I'm going with you!" "Why?" asked Athos, suddenly angry, "Why should you? It's true what Jitinder said - I am a killer! Look around you! I did this! It's what I am! Do you really want a part of it?" The sound of stamping feet reached his ears, and he realized another patrol of guardsmen was approaching. "Come on," he said brusquely, taking her hand, "we've got to get away from here." They hurried through the house, leaving through a back door. Quickly they scampered down the alleyways, dodging right and left, and right again before stopping. "What-" Artemis began, but Athos cut her off with a gesture. He listened for sounds of pursuit. There were none. He looked around, trying to figure the best way back to the port section of the city. "I've got to get you back to the docks, to where it's safe." She shook her head. "There is no place in this world that is safe," she said slowly. He said nothing. She turned away, suddenly unable to face him and bitter that he would brush her off so easily. "Besides," she said venomously, "why should you? You're a killer, aren't you? Why don't you just leave me here?" Athos' eyes blazed. "Maybe I will." "Go ahead!" she sneered, a tear running down one cheek. "I'm nothing to you, am I?" He turned away, the anger melting into sadness. "You are everything to me," he said softly. "Then why won't you let me help you?" she asked, touching his shoulder. "I want to help you-" The anger came blazing back. "I don't want your pity!" he said, flinching away from her touch. There was silence between them for a moment. "I don't pity you," she said softly. "I never could." He looked at her. "Then why are you here?" She sighed. "You thick-headed..." she almost laughed. "Why do you think I followed you here all the way from Calimport?" Athos remained silent. She leaned forward and kissed him. At first his lips were cold, resisting. Then suddenly he was kissing her back, holding her closely. A moment later they separated. "I've... I've got to get you back to the port district," he said distractedly. "You won't let me come with you?" He shook his head. "It is too dangerous. I don't want you to die. You... you mean too much..." "I see," she said, her voice soft and sad. And she did.

* * * * *

They made their way through the streets carefully, keeping away from anyone they saw. It took them thirty minutes to reach their destination, and they crouched against an alley wall, surveying the dock area. "There it is," he said, pointing. "If you look through the taverns, I'm certain you'll find Jitinder nearby." She looked at him sadly. "Assuming you live through this, will we ever meet again?" He shook his head. "I don't know," he answered honestly. She kissed him, then, and walked away, never looking back. A blind begger watched the exchange with interest from his place in the shadows, unnoticed by either person. A moment after Athos left, the beggar was on his feet and running, tossing away the bandage that had been wound about his eyes.

Part IV Love

Love. A word for romantics and fools. A word based upon a false hope. A lie. I have no use for it, and I am almost ashamed of the fact that I once believed in it. I say almost, because I am beyond such petty trivialities now. Yes, there was a time when I felt differently about love than I now do. There was a time when I actually believed in it. Invariably, however, one person is less in love than the other, and one of them ends up used and hurt. The other just ends up hurt. Love is either 'true' - in which case it is short-lived, doomed from the start to fail, and painful to everyone involved - or it is merely a label, an excuse for lust. In a world of lies, this is the cruelest of them all, and I refuse to take any part in it. There is no love. There never will be.

- Artemis Enteri

Chapter Twenty-Five To Track a Kidnapper

"We may have found the advantage we needed," cackled Thenedain, peering into his crystal ball. Grimwalde looked up, wondering whether the old wizard was talking about an advantage over the Viper, or an advantage over him. What are you just sitting there for?" snapped Thenedain. "We've got the Viper in our grasp!"

* * * * *

Artemis stepped into yet another tavern, peering into the gloom and looking for any sign of Jitinder. This was the third one she had visited. It was dark and smoky in here, and she had to take a step in before her eyes adjusted. Rough hands seized her, pulling her forward. She struggled and screamed, but there were too many of them. Quickly she felt herself bound. She tried to move, but couldn't. She screamed, but it was cut short when a dirty rag was forced into her mouth. When she was securely bound, the men stood back, admiring their work. "This her, Sem?" asked one of the larger ones. A man clad in beggar's clothing stepped out of the pack, and peered down at her. "Yeah, that's her." "How will he know we've got her?" asked another man. The beggar smiled, showing a row of blackened and yellowed teeth. "He'll know. And he'll come after her - then we've got him and the amulet."

* * * * *

"We're casting off. You coming or not?" Jitinder looked up annoyedly at the captain of the ship he had chartered passage on. "Yes. Just a few more minutes. I'm waiting for someone." "You've been waiting all day, and you've been telling me that someone's coming for the last half hour. We're leaving now." "Alright then," he said, standing. "I'm coming. She can stay here if she likes." He fell into step behind the captain, and stepped slowly onto the worn wooden dock the boat was moored to. He stopped midway. "I can't do this," he said. "I'm sorry, but I can't go." The captain shrugged. "Makes no difference to me - you don't get your money back, though." Jitinder scowled, then turned and stalked back into the no-longer burning but still smoking city.

* * * * *

Athos picked his way silently through the darkening streets. The smoke was rapidly dissipating, but there was still enough confusion for him to pass unnoticed. Up ahead, he saw another figure darting through the smoke, and he stepped back into the shadows, preparing himself for a possible fight and looking for possible routes of flight. The smoke dissipated around the figure, and Jitinder came fully into view. "What do you want?" asked Athos, stepping from the shadows. "And where is Artemis?" Jitinder started at the sight of Athos. "She's not with you?" "I sent her to the port district. I thought she was safe with you." "She never reached me," said Jitinder. "I waited all day. She never came." Athos grew concerned. "Then she is in trouble." Jitinder nodded grimly. A moment later, the two took off, moving through the streets quickly, heedless of being seen.

* * * * *

LaValle woke, his vision still blurry from the drug he had been given, and the ropes binding his wrists and ankles biting into his skin. His mouth was dry; the gag seemed to absorb all the moisture from his tongue. He studied his surroundings. It was cold here, as if he were deep underground, although he couldn't be sure. He was in a small room with marble walls and no door that he could see. He was bound securely to the wooden bench which was the only object within the room. The lighting was sickly white, and was magical, coming from a permanent spell LaValle was familiar with. He twisted in the bonds that held him, and found them secure. He slumped, and waited for the one who had captured him to show himself. Time dragged by slowly, and eventually he fell asleep once again.

* * * * *

The doors to the tavern burst open and Jitinder strode in, his naginata held high. He was followed by Athos. The voices in the tavern hushed, then fell silent as everyone surveyed the newcomers. "Has anyone seen a girl come through here?" called out Jitinder. There was only silence. "Girls don't come here much, lad." said someone from the back. There was murmured agreement. Jitinder turnted to Athos. "What do you think?" "I think they're lying." Athos strode over to the nearest table, kicking it over. The people at the table jumped back out of their chairs, protesting. Athos smiled. "Anyone here see a nineteen year old girl, about my height, with auburn hair?" "Cursed if I won't kill you!" bellowed one of the men, pudgy-looking but rough around the edges. Athos only smiled. Jitinder turned to another table. "Allow me to cut your meat," he said, his naginata flashing down and cutting through the roasted fowl that was set there, the platter it was set on, and part of the table itself. He reversed direction a moment later and pulled the blade free. He swung the naginata around, and the blade stopped just short of one man's neck. "Now that I've done you a favor, friend, perhaps you can do me one. Where's the girl?" The portly man lunged at Athos, a knife in his hands. Athos laughed, catching the man's wrist and sending the knife spinning through the air. He pivoted, and with his left hand slammed the man's hand down flat on another table, and simultaneously caught hold of the knife in midair with his right hand. "I want to show you a trick to amuse these nice, honest people," he said, spreading the man's fingers and laying his right hand over the man's. "What-" blurted the man, then went silent as the dagger began it's dance between the fingers, tapping again and again. The dance continued for a moment, then Athos stopped. The man let out a sigh of relief as he realized he hadn't been hurt. "Wait a moment, I want to try something new," said Athos, removing his hand from the man's but keeping the his other hand pinned in the same position. "I want to see if I can do it to someone else - though I've failed every time I've tried." "No! Wait!" cried the man. The dagger flashed down, and the man howled in pain. "Oops! Ah well, worse has happened to a person - worse will happen to you if you don't start telling me where the girl is. Remember, you've got four more." The man whimpered. "We haven't got her! We had her, but we don't have her anymore!" "Really? And who does?" "I don't know!" "Wrong answer, friend," said Athos, the dagger flashing down again. Again the man screamed. "Now you've got three. Try again." "A wizard! A wizard.. and his assistant have her!" "And where can I find this wizard?" "He's gone! To Zazesspur, he said! That's all I know, I swear!" "Thank you, friend. You've been very helpful." Athos started to turn away, but the dagger came down again. "Oh, and here's your dagger." Athos turned to Jitinder, who was giving the man across the room a very close and painful shave with the edge of his naginata. "A mage has her," said Athos. "They're in Zazesspur." "Then we should be going." "Agreed." The two started for the door, but Athos turned at the last moment. "See this?" he said, lifting the amulet that hung around his neck for all to see. "Very pretty, isn't it? And very valuable. If any of you should want it, feel free to try to take it." There was a murmur through the crowd, but no-one challenged them. "I thought not," said Athos, turning and leaving. Out on the street, Jitinder turned to Athos. "That was pretty brutal, what you did to that man." "Did it bother you?" "Not really." "Then forget about it. His fingernails will grow back eventually anyway."

* * * * *

Captain Sprecher was an old sea dog. His ship was known well for it's well trained crew and it's depedability. Now he lounged on deck, enjoying his favorite pipe. He had just arrived in Memnon and wouldn't be leaving for another few days. He rarely left the Sea Cutter, even when in port. The ship was one of the loves of his life. Two young men stepped aboard his ship. "Who're you, and what are you doing on my ship?" he asked, almost annoyed. "We're your passengers, and you're about to take us to Zazesspur." He shaded his eyes, looking up at them. "Not quite. I don't take passengers, and I'm not sailing for another two days. Even then I'm not bound for Zazesspur." "Yes you are," said the one with the dark hair. "And you're leaving right now." Captain Sprecher was about to throw them off his ship when he caught sight of the amulet hanging around the dark-haired one's neck. He whistled. "You're the one everyone's after, aren't you?" Athos said nothing. The captain leaned back. "I know trouble when I see it. I'm not taking you anywhere, no matter what you pay me." "I'm not going to pay you anything. The only thing you're going to get out of this is your life. Now get yourself up, and get this ship underway."

* * * * *

"What?" yelled Pook, livid with outrage. "The Viper has a weakness? And my men had her and lost her?" Freldric bowed, nervous. He knew what had happened to his predecessor. "Now we really have lost him!" bellowed Pook. He paused, thinking, and Freldric waited. "We must find some way to work this to our advantage."

* * * * *

The magic shimmered in the air, and with a whoosh, the portal opened. Thenedain hobbled through. Grimwalde followed, carrying the limp form of the girl. The portal closed a moment later, but neither of the two paid any attention to it. "Put her down anywhere you like, Grimwalde," said the older mage. Grimwalde slung his charge down on the hard stone floor. Thenedain surveyed his surroundings. The room was covered with dust and cobwebs. Apparently Grimwalde had spent most of his time in Calimport during his absence, instead of here in Zazesspur. "So, it looks like you haven't been using your tower lately, Grimwalde. You've been in mine for quite a while, haven't you?" Grimwalde said nothing. "No matter. We have work ahead of us - serious and careful work." "How do we know the Viper will come after her?" "He will no doubt find out where we've gone from those fools we took her from. He'll find us, alright." Grimwalde shook his head. "I didn't ask that. I asked why he would come after us. He has never cared about anyone before, and I doubt this girl is an exception." "A matter of principle will draw him here, not love. The girl is obviously under his protection, and we have overstepped his bounds, his unwritten laws." "How do you know that?" "The girl is alive, and the Viper's had contact with her." "So? He may not have had any reason to kill her." Thenedain snorted. "You fool, you aren't trying to play his game. His intelligence is obviously beyond your own meager amount. Just trust me, he will come." Grimwalde scowled at the old man's back, but said nothing.

* * * * *

Tulmara smiled. "It seems the Viper has become bolder yet. Now he strides into a tavern full of people, uncaring of whether they see him or not. He is coming to Zazesspur by boat. "We will be waiting for him."

Chapter Twenty-Six Exchanges on the Sea Cutter

Dawn found Athos standing on the prow of the Sea Cutter, gazing out across the water. The coastline was a brown ribbon which ran to his right as far as the eye could see, forward and back. When the first gray light brightened the darkened sky with the first hint of day, he realized he had been standing here all night. He liked the feel of the boat as it swayed gently through the darkened sea. The weather was clear and the wind favoried them. If the conditions didn't change, they would likely reach Zazesspur by nightfall. Zazesspur. The thought of the city raised an uneasy feeling in him. Before Artemis' kidnapping, he had hoped to avoid Zazesspur. Like Calimport, Athos was known in that city. He would be recognized, and he had many enemies there. But now he had no choice. Jitinder yawned and stretched, coming up beside him. "Did you stay out here all night?" "Yes," Athos answered simply, as if it was self apparent. Jitinder's gaze turned towards the sea and swept back and forth. "Well, it seems a fair enough day, anyway. The wind is stiff and to our backs; we should make good time. Why did you? Stay up, I mean. I offered to stand watch if you were worried that the crew might turn treacherous." "I was thinking." Jitinder scratched his face, his hands noting the rough whiskers there. "I need a shave," he said with distaste. "What I wouldn't give for a good razor and mirror. What were you thinking about?" "What a coward I am." Jitinder looked at him, surprised. "Why are you a coward?" Athos shrugged. "That's what I've been pondering. Maybe I was just born that way." "No, I mean why do you think you're a coward? It's one label I would never have thought to give you." Athos stared out at the rolling sea. "Why would I think I was a coward? Great abyss, why wouldn't I? I've never done one thing in my whole life that wasn't motivated by fear - except when I was very young." Jitinder turned to fully face Athos and leaned against the rail. "I still don't understand." Athos' face twisted into a parody of a smile. "You were right. I'm a killer. Have you ever wondered why a killer kills? The reason varies from killer to killer. Some men killin self-defence. That isn't really so bad. Others killin fury. That's bad, but at least there's a human emotion there. Some men kill for pleasure. That's sick, but again, at least there's some sort of human emotion. "I used to think the worst kind of man was the one who killed merely because he was paid to kill. There's no emotion, no real reason - nothing. A man like that can kill his mother without blinking an eye, and the victim would never understand why. I think... I think that's the worst way to die, not knowing why." There was a momentary pause. "I used to think that was the worst kind of killer," he said at length, resuming. "Now, I know differently. I've killed for the Viper, and the worst of all. I know. I killed before that - once in self defence and once in anger. But when I killed for the Viper, I killed because I was afraid of what he would do if I didn't." "Sounds more like self preservation to me." Athos gave a slight head shake. "Not quite. A long time ago, I stopped caring about my own physical welfare, partly because I saw the monster I was becoming and partly because with the Viper you just never known when death will come. I'm not afraid to die." "If you aren't afraid to die, how can you be a coward?" "I'm a coward because I can't bring myself to let myself die. I cannot refuse any order the Viper gives. I never have and I never will. My body almost seems to act of its own volition." Jitinder gave him a dubious look. "Are you saying you cannot stop yourself from killing?" "In a way." There was a moment of silence. "Why, then, am I alive? Why is Artemis?" Athos shook his head. "You're missing the point. You are alive because the Viper hasn't ordered me to kill you. If he did, I wouldn't hesitate, much as I would hate myself for it." Jitinder stared at him, a hard flat stare. "If you're trying to say you've never had a choice-" "No," said Athos, almost vehemently. "No. I've always had the choice. Do you know what happened the first time I refused him? Refused to kill for him? He made me watch while he did it. It took the man three days to finally die." Athos shook his head, and his voice lowered. "His screams still echo through my dreams." He gazed out at the waves. "Since then, I... cannot resist him. And I am too much a coward to take my own life." Jitinder remained quiet. He didn't know how to respond to Athos' argument, so he said nothing. "The Viper likes death," said Athos softly. "He feeds off their fear. The fear of his victims. Did you know that?" "I thought you said he killed without emotion," Jitinder pointed out. "And yet he enjoys killing?" "No. He does not kill for any reason, even enjoyment. He is a machine. Yet he appreciates the 'beauty of death'." Athos glanced at him. "His words, not mine. He sees it as some sort of... art form. It interests him instead of stimulating..." Jitinder waited, but Athos' voice trailed off, and he did not turn from his place. What must it have been like, he wondered, to be raised by such a one as the Viper. Never knowing when death would take you... A sudden chill took him. Just as he was about to turn away Athos spoke again, so softly that the wind nearly carried his words away. "Do you know what's worse? I'm becoming insensitive to death. I'm becoming insensitive to other people's pain. That's what frightens me. I'm becoming like him."

* * * * *

Three snaps exploded in the air near LaValle's right ear, changing the air pressure. He came awake instantly. He found himself facing a man of average height and build, with nondescript features. "I am the Viper," the man said, "and you are LaValle. Keep quiet, and listen to me very carefully, because your life depends upon what I am about to say." LaValle gave a shaky nod, trying to keep from panicking. His heart felt as if it were trying to beat its way out of his chest. Powers above, is this the way I die? "You are about to be drugged. When you wake, you will find yourself in Waterdeep. I understand you've never been there before? No?" LaValle shook his head. "Don't panic. It's just another city. You will take a room at the inn named The Silver Crescent. You will stay there for two weeks - I will provide you the gold required - and you will not leave the boundaries of this inn for any reason. For any reason. If you do, you will die. Do you understand?" LaValle nodded. "After two weeks you may leave if you like, and go your way. If you obey my instructions and wait the two weeks you will live, and it is probable that our paths will never cross again. Defy me and die. Do you understand?" LaValle nodded again, and The Viper suddenly jabbed him with a needle. A tingling sensation shot through his body. LaValle took one quick breath of astonishment, then slumped forward, losing consciousness. The Viper went about his work with a grim sense of humor. He had not lied to the young mage; if LaValle managed to stay alive and within the confines of the inn he need fear no reprisal from the master assassin. But the Viper thought it highly unlikely that LaValle would be leaving that inn alive.

* * * * *

"Is everything ready?" Grimwalde grimaced. He was tiring of Thenedain's grating voice, weary of being treated like some incompetent underling. "Yes," he replied. "All the spells we can have ready before they arrive have been readied. The apprentices are standing by. The magical servants are ready." "Good." Thenedain made the word sound more like 'barely acceptable' than 'good', and he said it with a condescending sneer. "Double check them and report back to me." "I have double checked them," said Grimwalde, a trace of irritation showing through his voice. "Then triple check them!" barked the older man nastily. Grimwalde bit back a sharp retort and turned away. He had already failed to trap the Viper, and he vowed that this old fool would not outdo him. Somehow, even if Grimwalde had to intercede, the Viper would escape. Probably the Viper would slay Thenedain. Grimwalde smiled to himself. Yes. That was an even better scenario. The Viper would slay Thenedain and remove him from Grimwalde's worries. His patience for the cranky old fool was wearing thin. It would have long ago run out, but Grimwalde held himself in check. He didn't know where LaValle was; that was what stopped him from acting on his anger. LaValle was Thenedain's confidant; his second. The old man was insufferable, but he was no fool. The moment Grimwalde made his move LaValle would suddenly appear... But Grimwalde was no fool either, no indeed. He would wait the old man out. He would find LaValle. And when the time was right, he would strike, destroying them both, once and for all. When the time was right... But that was not yet. For now, he would swallow his pride and take the old man's orders, and console himself with the thought of his certain and terrible vengeance. Thenedain was playing a game with him - a game in which he did not yet know all the players. It was a game he was determined to win.

* * * * *

Arrogant young snot-nosed pup! The insolent man's impudence was beginning to grate on Thenedain's nerves. He was disrespectful and ill-mannered. And what was more, he thought he could challenge Thenedain! Well, though Thenedain, accidents do happen, and Grimwalde is as prone to them as anyone else. Perhaps... Perhaps an accident could be arranged during the capture of the Viper. The man was dangerous, after all. Thendain's patience had worn thin. It might have snapped altogether, but Thenedain didn't dare move against the younger mage until he learned where LaValle was. Grimwalde must have killed him. Yes, the archmage was certain of it. And yet, until he had proof, he would have to step cautiously. Thenedain smiled to himself at the thought. Grimwalde was playing a dangerous game, indeed. But Thenedain would win.

* * * * *

A black crow wheeled high in the sky above the ship, alighting high on the mainmast, above the crowsnest. A murmur went through the sailors and a moment later the captain appeared on deck. He glared up at the bird, shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand over his brow. "Suren it's a fey sign," he grumbled. "It's a bird," said Jitinder. "What of it?" The captain gave him a dark look. "It's a bad omen. Only proves out what I knew from the moment you stepped on board my ship. This voyage is ill-fated." Jitinder gave a scornful laugh. "It's only a bird." The captain glared at him for a moment then turned away, grumbling. "Telthian! Jeros!" he roared, and two of the sailors jumped at the sound of his voice. "Get up that mast and get that filthy thing off my ship!" "Aye captain," one of them said, as they made for the rigging. "I don't see what all the fuss is about," said Jitinder. "It's only a bird." The captain only grumbled under his breath. "He's right," said Athos quietly once the captain had moved away. "I can feel... something. Something malevolent. And it's coming this way."

* * * * *

It was half an hour later when the storm struck. One moment the sky was clear; the next it was filled with dark clouds and raging winds. Jitinder came running from below, almost losing his balance on the shifting deck. "What's going on?" he cried, yelling to be heard over the wind. "The storm came out of nowhere," Athos answered. "The men don't think it's natural. Neither do I." The captain was charging by. "Secure those lines!" he cried, pointing at a crewmate near the stern. "Now, blast your hide!" He turned to Athos. "You brought this on us!" he accused. "It is the storm that follows you! Were I wise, I should toss you over the side right now!" Athos didn't answer. Instead he put one hand on the hilt of his sword. "I think not." The captain took a sharp step backwards, glaring at Athos' sword hilt as if it might bite him. He stared at Athos for a moment, then whirled away, yelling at the crewmen again. "Bring in that foresail! The foresail, you lazy dogs!" The men hurried to their positions, bringing in the sails. Without warning, rain suddenly began coming down in sheets, obscuring vision. The seas grew heavily agitated, and the ship was tossed from wave to wave. Thunder boomed through the air, and lightning lanced through the clouds, giving the scene an unearthly aspect. Jitinder was almost washed from the deck when the waves began crashing over the sides. Grimly, he clutched the mainmast, his wet hair plastered over his eyes and obscuring his vision as he looked for Athos. Athos came stumbling out of the rain, running for the foremast. It seemed strange to see Athos stumble. He was always so fluidly graceful. Another wave came roaring across the deck and Athos was swept off his feet. He slid into the wooden railing on the side of the ship. With a sharp CRACK! it gave way and he was pitched out, over the side. There was an unsecured line from the mainstays flailing about, the tip of it dancing in the water, clearing the heaving waves for a moment then plunging down into the water again... Athos caught it with his left hand as he was falling. Jitinder saw him catch hold of it, then almost immediately another monstrous wave crashed into him, plowing him beneath the surface, burying him. Jitinder could not see it, but he imagined the huge wave slamming Athos against the side of the boat, forcing the air from his lungs, perhaps breaking bones. But a moment later, when the wave had cleared and the momentary appearance of a trough appeared, Athos was still there, clambering hand over hand up the line. Almost as quickly and unexpectedly as the first wave had struck another appeared, again sweeping over him, burying him under the dark, foaming water. This second wave crashed over the side, slamming into Jitinder, and he almost lost his grip on the mast. He saw the sailors around him lashing themselves down so as not to be thrown into the ocean. When he looked again, he saw Athos come scrambling over the side, through the broken railing and back on deck. There was a grim but determined look on his face. Fifty feet from the ship, the water exploded, and a huge form came crashing up. It looked vaguely humanoid, but was of gigantic proportions.

* * * * *

Athos could see it more clearly. It was male, with green skin, lightly brown hair and a long beard of the same color. As far as he could tell, it wore no clothing, although it stood exposed only from the hips up. It held a huge trident in one massive hand, and it brandished it menacingly. It spoke, and the grumbling booming of its voice dwarfed the thunder. "HEED ME, PUNY MORTALS, FOR DEATH IS THE PRICE OF DEFIANCE! YOU WILL ALL PERISH IF YOU FAIL TO APPEASE ME! THROW ALL YOUR VALUABLES INTO THE SEA, AND I WILL CONSIDER SPARING YOU!" "A storm giant!" cried the captain, half in despair and half in amazement. "What is one doing this far east?" "WILL YOU COMPLY, PUNY MORTALS, OR WILL YOU INCUR MY WRATH!" "Yes!" yelled the captain desperately. "We hear and obey, oh mighty one!" The raging of the storm lessened slightly. The captain gestured frantically at the men behind him and they began rushing below decks, seizing the little that was in the cargo hold and tossing it recklessly over the side. Personal valuables followed. Clothing, chests, coins, even some weapons. "NOT ENOUGH!" it rumbled. "TOO LITTLE!" "That's all we have!" the captain yelled back. "Please-" "YOU LIE, FOOLISH MORTAL!" it thundered. "NO SHIP WOULD LEAVE PORT WITH SUCH A PALTRY CARGO! FOR THIS, I WILL DESTROY YOUR SHIP AND SORT WHAT I WANT FROM THE WRECKAGE!" "Please!" cried the captain, "We do not lie, mighty one! Spare us! We were forced to leave port ahead of schedule, with almost no cargo!" Athos raised his hand crossbow and fired. The creature bellowed in sudden pain, slapping a hand over his eye. It staggered back a half step, then roared in anger and rushed at the ship, an enormous swell building at its hips as it surged forward. "What have you done?" screamed the captain. "Great Talos, what have you done? You fool! You've doomed us all!" The monstrous being took two steps forward then halted, a blank look passing across its face. It stiffened, and the trident slipped from its fingers. It raised its hand halfway to its throat, uttering a horrible coughing gasp, then suddenly fell backwards, creating a tremendous spray. Slowly it slipped beneath the foaming water, its eyes open and staring at nothing. The pitching and heaving of the angry sea smoothed and calmed, and in moments the sky became clear again. The sea was still choppy, but the waves no longer sloshed over the railings and onto the deck. Athos stared at the place where the creature had disappeared beneath the waves for a long moment. "I killed it," he said simply. "How?" Jitinder asked, incredulous. "Athkitlis." "What?" "A very potent poison." Athos looked at him and shrugged. "I told you I was a killer. It is the one thing I do well."

Chapter Twenty-Seven Zazesspur: Home Ground for Thenedain and Grimwalde

Delayed by both the encounter with the storm giant and the fact that afterwards the ship had been in extremely bad shape, the Sea Cutter limped into the Zazesspur harbor shortly before the sun began its laborious climb over the horizon, when the mists rose from the ocean in a twilight herald of the coming dawn. Athos peered through the gloom surrounding the approaching docks, looking for any sign of waiting ambushers. Word of their coming would have reached this city ahead of them; there was little doubt of that. Likely those who sought him would have a good description of him as well. Perhaps they even knew what ship he would be arriving on. Noiseless as a ghost, Jitinder appeared beside him, peering through the gloom. He did not speak. They kept their place in the bow as the ship glided alongside the docks, lines were thrown and made off, and the boat was tied up. There were deckhands and dockworkers present on the docks, moving like ghosts through the thick nighttime mist, but there was nothing about any of them which suggested to Athos' experienced eye that they were anything other than dockworkers and deckhands, going about their business. The captain was the first off. A nervous little man greeted him at the end of the gangway, claiming to be an assistant to the harbormaster and demanding identification and port fees. Though unusual, it was legal to dock after sundown here; the captain had told them of this before they had come in sight of the harbor and the twinkling lights of the nighttime desert city. The little man conversed with the captain for several minutes, scribbling on his notepad and nodding his head as the captain spoke, only occasionally breaking in with a brief, terse question. Not once did he look up from the small pad he was scribbling on. It was too far off for Athos to hear distinctly, but the little man had a whining, nasal voice. He kept his place at the end of the gangplank even after the fees had been paid (Athos had given enough gold to the captain ahead of time to cover docking fees and bribes). The captain gave a half-turn back towards the ship and gestured towards them, grunting sourly and spitting. He was signalling that the passengers and crew were allowed to debark, but his gaze was fastened on Athos and Jitinder alone. Still, Athos and Jitinder were not the only ones aboard who would be entering Zazesspur. Several of the crew had been looking forward to a few days shore leave, and three men were halfway down the gangplank before Athos gave a nod to Jitinder to follow and started down. As each crewmember stepped past, the little man with the nasal voice stopped them, taking down names and demanding a brief statement of intention. "Who are you, and what is your business in Zazesspur?" he asked, his voice droning routinely as Athos came to the end of the ramp. For the first time his eyes flickered up from his notepad, ever so briefly, then quickly darted down again. The look had been hesitant and quick, but to Jitinder it seemed there was recognition in the glance. That and an undertone of anticipation. And fear. Athos didn't answer for a moment, and the fellow looked up again. "You know who I am," he said evenly, giving the man a hard, level stare. "and you know what my business here is. If you try to stop me, I'll kill you first and then finish my business anyway." The man paled. "I am a licensed port authority of this city," he said, his voice trembling ever so slightly. "Are you threatening me?" "That depends on whether you try to stop me." There was a moment of silence. Pride and fear warred on the man's face. "You may pass," he said at last, stepping out of the way, "but watch yourself, stranger. We don't like your kind in our city." He spouted the last bit quickly, to Athos' back, as if trying to salvage some his pride. Jitinder stepped forward, an easy smile on his face. "I'm with him," he said, jerking a thumb towards Athos' back.

* * * * *

Watching them depart, the captain chewed on the stem of his pipe anxiously, surprised that he was still alive. "Good riddance to bad luck," he murmured under his breath as they strode down the docks, disappearing into the morning mists. "Aye, captain," one of the crewmen, a rough featured, unshaven man said, striding past. "The boat's clear of bad luck, with two days of shore leave to boot." "Where do you think you're going?" grumbled the captain, seizing the man's arm and yanking him around. "Get back up that gangway! 'Shore leave', my aged ancestors!" He gave the man a rough shove in the opposite direction, then blocked the end of the gangway, hands on hips. "And that goes for the lot of you! Anyone gets off my ship doesn't get on again, hear? There'll be no 'shore leave'. We weigh anchor now! With luck we'll clear the harbor and be back on our course for Memnon within the hour! Torm bless me, I hope to be leaving this city as far behind as I can!"

* * * * *

"Where do we start?" asked Jitinder coolly, all business. "I no nothing of Zazesspur; this is the first I've stepped foot in it." "We start with Dondon," answered Athos. "Dondon?" "An old friend of mine. We can trust him, and it's likely that he'll know more about these wizards we seek. Like where to find them."

* * * * *

They were past the docks and leaving the port district behind when the first attack came. Past dark as it was, the streets were eerily abandoned. Athos had grown up here, and even in the tavern and inn district it was not altogether uncommon for the streets to be somewhat empty; Zazesspur was, after all, a much smaller city than Calimport. But to be entirely abandoned... "Jitinder," he said, halting suddenly, holding up a palm. He was silent for a moment, scanning the surrounding buildings. "We are surrounded," he said at last, speaking as if he had never paused. Jitinder looked around him and saw nothing, but he nodded grimly, raising his naginata and waiting. Two crossbow bolts whistled out of the darkness, both aimed at Athos - one brushing by his ear, the other going wide of his torso. He dodged them easily. Only two crossbows, he noted analytically, his mind already sliding into combat mode. Attackers sprang from the shadows all around, emerging out of doors and windows; leaping from behind barrels and crates. One part of Athos' mind noted that there were about twenty, give or take. Jitinder stood his ground calmly, waiting to meet the charge, but Athos sprang forward, his hand crossbow flashing into his right palm. A tiny bolt sang out as he fired, slamming into the nearest thug's eye. The man collapsed without a sound, toppling backwards bonelessly. Not pausing, Athos slung the little weapon into the face of the next man, putting the full force of his arm behind the throw, and by the time it struck the man his sword and dagger were unsheathed. Athos and Jitinder began their dance of death to the sounds of Jitinder's humming weapon.

* * * * *

"Just try and remember there'll be a crossbow aimed at your heart at all times," hissed the man from the shadows. Dondon's heart was in his throat. He knew very well that Athos would come to him for information, and when he did the men from the thieves' guild would ambush him. He was also fairly certain he would not live through the ensuing battle, no matter whether Athos did or not.

* * * * *

The fight was short, bloody, and one-sided. It ended five minutes after it began, the surviving attackers fleeing into the night. Athos had fought his way to the crossbowmen, taking them both out of the fight before they had a chance to get off another shot; after that it was only a matter of time before the attackers were overwhelmed. Jitinder stood panting, leaning heavily on his naginata, surveying the carnage. "You know, in a way I'm as much of a killer as you are. I don't feel any pangs of conscience over slaying this bunch." "These men attacked and tried to kill us. What's more, they could be in league with the mages who hold Artemis." Jitinder shook his head. "I doubt it. These were common street thugs, not even members of the guild." "That's why I think it's probable they worked for the wizards. How can a wizard judge the merits of fighting men?" Jitinder shrugged and started forward. "True. We're wasting time debating this. Let's get to this 'Dondon'." Athos held up a finger, forestalling him. "Wait. This attack is only the first of many. There has to be a better way to make our way to Dondon than fighting through armies of hopeful thugs with the gleam of instant fortune in their eyes." "Yes? What do you suggest?"

* * * * *

Dondon waited uncomfortably at the intersection for Athos to arrive, expecting him to come down one of the four streets at any moment. Privately he wondered what he would do when that moment arrived. The cutthroats that surrounded him in the shadows had promised him not only his life but a small share of the money the amulet would bring - but only if he kept silent. If he warned Athos, then he could expect to be filled with crossbow bolts, and quite possibly Athos would die anyway. Dondon was no altruistic fool, no hero to lay down his life for a friend. But Athos was a friend. And the men who surrounded him most definitely were not. He half expected them to kill him after they had finished with Athos, whether he helped them or not. So it wasn't altruism that inspired thoughts of shouting warnings... He looked again at the empty streets around him. They were all abandoned. Everyone seemed to have taken ill this day, and every business had closed. Most of the people here were huddled in their homes behind barred doors and shuttered windows, waiting for the fighting to pass. Others, like the men around him now, waited anxiously from hiding places to ambush the amulet-wearer. The city was quiet - poised and ready - and there was a charge in the air. Suddenly a man appeared at the corner of Milapple, two blocks away from where Dondon sat with his back to the streetlamp. The halfling stiffened at the sight of the man's easy gait. Was it...? The man drew closer, passing from the shadows into the light, his features becoming visible, and with a sigh of relief Dondon realized it was not Athos. Where Athos' hair was long and black, this man's hair was much shorter and blond, with a small ponytail in the back and a shock hanging over his blue eyes in the front. He carried with him a strange pole-arm of a type Dondon had never seen before, though it looked oriental, vaguely like some of the exotic weapons from far-off Shou Lung. The man approached. "You are the one called Dondon?" Dondon nodded. "I bring a message from a man who calls himself Athos. He says he wants to meet with you as soon as possible. You can find him at an inn in the dock quarter called The Spinning Dirk. Contact the barkeep there, and he will direct you to Athos. Or not. My job was to deliver the message; you can do what you like with it." A murmur came from the shadows round about, and some twenty men emerged from hiding, converging on Jitinder. He turned, seeing them as they came from the shadows, calm but wary. "Who're you, then?" asked the leader, jabbing a finger at Jitinder. Jitinder shrugged. "Just a mercenary from the Dalelands." "What do you know about this Athos?" "Nothing. I was selected by the barkeep to deliver this message to the one named Dondon. I've never even seen this Athos. For all I know, the man doesn't really exist." "Be on your way then!" barked the man. "Is that wise?" another man asked as Jitinder turned to leave. "He could be lying. Even if he isn't, he could inadvertantly inform the amulet-bearer of our presence, or put others on his track." The leader scowled at the man who had spoken, but he nodded. "He's right. You'll be staying with us, and if you're lucky we'll let you live." Jitinder turned back. "I'm nobody's servant. I'll be leaving now, and if anyone lays a hand on me to stop me, he'll find it lying on the ground next to his head." The men tensed, readying for a battle. A crossbow bolt whistled out of the darkness, dropping the leader where he stood. Two men in the back ranks cried out in mortal agony as Athos took them from behind. At the same moment, Jitinder's weapon darted forward in three lightning strikes, killing and maiming those in the nearest ranks as they jostled each other, looking backwards in surprise, tryig to see where the crossbow bolt had come from. Leaderless and taken by surprise, most men would have fled. But these men, well trained by the guild, stood their ground, taking defensive positions. The main body of the group pushed in on Athos, trying to take him out quickly. This proved to be a fatal error. Though Athos was unable to take any action other than parrying madly to defend himself against a sudden whirlwind of attacks, Jitinder was left facing only a very few attackers. They had expected him to be the lesser threat, expected to be facing off against a nameless 'mercenary' from the Dalelands. Instead, they found themselved confronted a well-trained weaponsmaster. After he had downed the four men who faced him, he struck blindingly into the throng attacking Athos, killing the first one before any knew their peril. Several of the thieves turned to deal with this sudden new threat, realizing their danger, and now Athos was left with fewer opponents. Able now to do more than parry, he struck out in attack after attack. Dondon leaped up from his place, a small dagger in one hand, and hamstrung one of the men from behind, stabbing the prone body until it was lifeless and inert. Moments later the battle was over, the street left littered with bodies. Not a single guildmember was left alive. Athos wiped his weapons clean on the nearest corpse and turned to Dondon. "Two wizards came to the city yesterday," he said without preamble. "There was a girl with them. A captive. She was my age." Dondon nodded. "They weren't exactly quiet about it. In truth they were deliberately noisy about the affair, as if they expected you to follow. They're holding her in a tower in the inner city - you know the place, Athos." Athos jerked a grim nod. Jitinder was confused, and a little taken back. Deliberately noisy? Were they expected? "There are other guild patrols after me?" Athos asked. "Several," said the halfling. "All over the city. You expected this?" Athos nodded. "How did they know I would come to you?" "They learned that I knew you." "How?" Dondon was silent. Athos felt a lump come to his throat. There was only one way they could have known. "Shand." The halfling gave a sorrowful nod. "He's... he's dead, Athos. They tortured him. They offered to do the same to me if I didn't cooperate."

* * * * *

"There are two of them!" Thenedain hissed in excitement. Grimwalde looked at the old man in partial disgust. There was no need to whisper. The two they watched were outside the tower at ground level, while Thenedain and Grimwalde were in a little room at the top of the tower. The two mages stood before a small raised fountain, scrying them out through a magical spell which allowed them to see their prey in the small pool of magical water. "The one with the amulet is the one we're after." "Young fool," snapped Thenedain, glancing up. "You should never assume anything. Now get to your place!" Grimwalde bit back an angry retort, then motioned for one of the apprentices to follow him. He stalked out, slamming the door behind him. Thenedain jumped as the door was slammed, then scowled in the direction Grimwalde had gone.

* * * * *

"No doors," mused Jitinder. "How do we get in?" "Don't worry," replied Athos, "we'll get in - even if we have to climb it to the very top, which I doubt." He moved to the grayish-black wall, still smoke-stained from the fires that had raged throught the city so long ago. He ran his hands across it, slowly circling around it. Though it looked rough and broken, to Athos' surprise it proved to be surprisingly smooth. He half-circled the tower, then halted. "There's something here," he said, feeling across the surface. A moment later there was an audible click, and the wall sunk in slightly and slid to the right, revealing a palely luminescent passage inside. Jitinder started forward, but Athos held out an arm, forestalling him. "What's wrong?" "I'm fairly certain I didn't do that. I think we're walking into a trap." "Is there any way to avoid it?" Athos considered. "Not that I can see." "Then let's go." Athos shook his head. "Slow down. There's no reason we can't be cautious about this." Jitinder waited to let Athos enter first. He followed a heartbeat behind. They passed through a narrow stone passageway and emerged in a spacious chamber devoid of any furnishings save a simple ornamental throw rug. The room was circular, with a domelike roof far overhead, and the walls were bare stone. There were stairs leading upwards and, after checking the room carefully, Athos proceeded towards these, Jitinder on his heels. They went up the stairs carefully, Athos checking each step before he moved. At the top they discovered a small hall lined with closed doors on either side. It was straight and fairly and narrow, and at the far end stood an open doorway. In the room beyond Artemis was visible, bound and gagged and lying prone on the floor, her face turned away from them. Jitinder jerked forward instinctively, but Athos held out an arm to keep him back. They stole forward slowly, Athos testing each step of the way and looking for traps. He found three before they reached the end of the hallway - each lethal. He paused in the doorway, scanning the room beyond. It was a square room, perhaps twenty paces across, and appeared to be empty except for Artemis, who lay unconscious in the middle of the floor. He stooped, withdrawing a steel rod a foot long from where it was strapped at his waist. "Where did you get that?" asked Jitinder. "I like to be prepared," said Athos. He laid it endwise on the floor between the open wooden door and the stone wall so that if the door closed, the steel rod would prop it open. They entered then, and Athos led the way carefully to where Artemis lay. As he stooped over her, careful not to touch her yet and searching for more possible traps, the door slammed shut behind them with a crash. The force of the slamming was such that the rod was shoved into the stone wall as easily as if it were made of cheese. Athos motioned for Jitinder to attend to Artemis, and he moved quickly back to the door, lockpicks in hand. He slammed into a wall of force two inches in front of the doorway and rebounded from the invisible barrier. There was faint chanting coming from across the room, in the direction of the far wall, which appeared blank and featureless. He brought his crossbow up and fired, all in one motion. There was a sudden cry of agony, and suddenly the wall of force disintigrated in front of him disintigrated as if it had never been. He reached forward once to make sure it was gone, probing the air with his hands, then turned back to the door. A moment later it opened for him, the lock picked by his skillful fingers. He whirled back to Jitinder, who had cut away Artemis' bonds and removed her gag. She was sitting up, looking a little woozy. He motioned for them to follow him out. They made it five yards into the corridor when two great lumbering creatures rounded the curve three yards ahead of them. The beasts stood over eight feet in height, were purple, and possessed four eyes - two large and faceted, like an insect, and two small and black. Two great pincers hung in front of their faces, much like those of a beetle. Athos recognized them instantly from the Viper's training, though he had never encountered them in the flesh before. They were umber hulks, stupid beasts of incredible strength that were easy to control and difficult to slay. They roared as they lumbered forward. He noticed that a door to his left was now open, though he was certain that it had been closed when they had first passed this way. He glanced inside. Another flight of steps led upwards, and he pushed Jitinder and Artemis in, followed, and slammed the door on the enraged beasts. There was no lock on this door, but apparently the hulks were too stupid to use the doorhandle, because they simply pounded on the door, which shook and buckled visibly, dust flying off it and hanging in the air. Athos led the way up the stairs, and Jitinder kept a wary eye on the doorway behind them. It held until they had passed out of sight, though the roars and booming continued. Another door confronted them at the top of the stairs. It was locked, but this presented no problem to Athos, and a moment later they were through it. An older-looking wizard looked up from a pool of water, a look of shock and surprise painted on his face. He cringed away from them. "Don't hurt me!" the man wailed, "Don't hurt me! I can help you, yes? I can show you the way out... but don't hurt me!" "Which way?" asked Athos coldly, his voice as sharp as any blade. The wizard, still cringing back, a tear running down his wrinkled cheek, pointed to a wall, which shimmered and faded away to reveal a stairway leading down. "Just down those stairs. Please go!" His eyes widened in panic as Athos stepped forward, raising his sword. "Wait! I kept my bargain! Please, don't-!" The old mage grunted as Athos struck down, the pommel of his shortsword clipping him sharply just behind the ear. The old man went down like a ragdoll, unconscious. "You didn't kill him," said Jitinder. "Why?" Because Artemis is present, he thought. Because she makes you weak. Athos shook his head angrily, willing the thought away. That was the Viper talking, not him. "No time for that now," he said aloud, briskly crossing to the opening and the stairway beyond. "Come on." They followed him down it, and minutes later they were on the street outside the tower, moving away from it.

* * * * *

Grimwalde screamed as the crossbow bolt was pulled from his shoulder. His scream became a wild-eyed roar as the tip emerged, dragging bloody bits of flesh with it. His body quivered in shock and pain, and it was all he could do to keep from collapsing into unconsciousness. But he willed himself not to succumb to sweet oblivion. His hatred and his ourtrage demanded revenge! Twice! he thought, Not once but twice! And all because of that traitorous old fool! When I get my hands on him... The door slammed open, and an enraged Thenedain stalked in, holding a poultice to the bruise that was swelling on the side of his hands. "You!" he yelled at the startled apprentice, his face livid with fury. "Out!" The young man scrambled past him and out the door. "You tried to kill me, youngling!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs. "You let down the wall of force, and opened the door I wizard-locked earlier! It is because of you that the Viper has escaped us yet again! It is because of you we have failed!" "Me?" shrieked Grimwalde. "And what of you, dear master? It was you who was supposed to maintain the silence spell and keep it up!" He snatched the bloody bolt from where it lay on the table, brandishing it like a dagger. "This bolt would have taken my life had I reacted any slower! You are a betrayer!" Thenedain ignored him. His eyes hardened and his voice softened. "You slew LaValle didn't you? You murdered him." Grimwalde sputtered. "I? What are you talking about? You have LaValle waiting in the shadows to murder me!" "Don't play games with me!" "I tire of your games, old fool!"

* * * * *

They stopped in a darkened alley and leaned against the wall, resting from their flight. "Now what?" asked Artemis when she had caught her breath. "You leave for Calimport in the morning," said Athos. "Both of you." "No," said Jitinder. "News will have reached Calimport about Artemis, and the people who are after you will see her as a lure to catch you with, just as those wizards did." Athos was silent, thinking. "Why didn't you kill that wizard?" asked Artemis. "Because... because I don't like to kill people." "He will follow us." Athos gave her a defiant look. "Probably, but the choice was mine, and I chose not to kill him." There was a momentary silence. "I agree," Athos said at last. "You cannot return to Calimport, at least not until this is over. Where will you go? No, don't tell me. It's better if I don't know. That way if I'm captured, I can't tell those who captured me." "If you're captured," reasoned Jitinder, "they won't need us; won't care about where we might be. Besides, we're going with you." "What?" Jitinder shrugged. "I've changed my mind about you, Athos. I misjudged you. Besides, I want a chance at the Viper, and you'll lead me right to him." Athos shook his head. "The Viper would kill you, trust me." "Probably he would, but if you were helping me, we could win." "No. You don't understand. He'd kill us both. Easily. Promise me you won't try it." Jitinder stalled for several minutes, but agreed at last. "Alright... alright. But we are coming with you." Athos considered. "I suppose that would be the safest place to be - by now you're almost as wanted as I am, if for different reasons. Together, then."

* * * * *

They glided quickly and silently through the streets, making their way inexorably towards the docks. Eventually, the salty smell of the sea mixed with the odor of rotting fish that marked the wharves so well came into their nostrils. Just as the sun was peering over the horizon in the first hints of dawn, they came onto a road that led down to docks, which were now in clear sight. They were halfway to their destination when, without warning, the streets before them filled with black-clad men. Athos whirled, but there were even more of the black-clad men filling the street behind them. The men formed two walls, one on either side. A short, powerfully muscled man with dark skin strode forward, emerging from the crowd of black-clad men befire them, a large khopesh held easily in one muscled hand. Scars crisscrossed his face. "What do we do now?" asked Artemis, staring at him. Jitinder chewed his lip, glaring around him. "We fight, and probably die," he answered. Athos said nothing, but strode forward. "I'm the one you want," he said to the scarred man. "Let my two friends go." "Indeed you are," the man replied easily. He grinned, displaying a set of white and even teeth, with one gold one mixed among them. "However, we're still going to kill your friends. You are in no position to make demands." The man looked like he was going to say more, but Athos didn't give him the opportunity. He surged forward, his blade flashing as he struck out, and the muscled man was forced to back off two steps, parrying, parrying, counterattacking. The two engaged in a whirlwind of strikes and parries, the steel singing out as the blades clashed together. The scarred man barked a harsh-sounding order in a tongue that was foreign to Athos, and the black-clad men who had formed walls in front and behind suddenly gave a roar, charging forward, each group yelling as they closed the distance. Jitinder readied himself, trying to keep Artemis behind him as much as possible. Closer and closer they came. Twenty-five yards. Twenty-two. Twenty. They were within fifteen yards when suddenly a second force, this one smaller in number, appeared, rushing from the surrounding buildings, coming from the alleyways, shrieking as they came. This new force, which erupted from the shadows, broke the charge of the larger force, and suddenly the thieves of Zazesspur were in the middle of the fray, turning an organized attack into a chaotic melee of weapons and bodies... and blood. Jitinder did his best to protect Artemis from the flashing blades of the cult members and guild members, shouldering her behind him and blocking a flurry of blows from different directions. Athos and Hamsetis circled each other, a space opening around them. "It seems your force is not as overwhelming as you thought. Perhaps you should have accepted my offer." Hamsetis smiled. "Do you really think that ragged band of cutthroats can stop us?" He snorted derisively. "They are a temporary distraction at best. I brought my entire force with me this time. You will not escape us." They came together, trading blows again. Athos stepped back, parrying a lunge, and swept Hamsetis off his feet. Hamsetis landed and rolled out of the way of Athos' downward thrust. "Why do you want me so much?" asked Athos in midcombat. "You've been after me for some time, so it can't be the amulet." Hamsetis was on his feet again, advancing steadily, his khopesh coming down again and again, each time coming closer to hitting Athos before being parried. "Our god needs your body. But I'm after you for a much more personal reason. I've never been beaten." "Neither have I." "I will prove my superiority." "Not likely." The attack by the guildmembers had taken the cult members off, now, as Hamsetis had predicted, the tide began to turn. The thieves were systematically overwhelmed by the cult members, and it seemed as if in a few moments Jitinder's and Artemis' lives would be forfeit. Then yet another force entered the fray, this time from behind. Tulmara led them into battle personally, and troops of the city guard, bolstered by members of the guild, surged forward, catching the cult members in a vice that tightened slowly but inexorably. "Looks like you won't be taking the field today after all," said Athos, leaping back and feinting as he took notice of what was happening in the larger battle. Hamsetis' face tightened, and he lunged. Athos parried, and with a slap on the wrist sent the khopesh tumbling away. He kicked Hamsetis legs out from under him, and buried the point of his shortsword in the man's neck. "Looks like you won't be able to prove your superiority today," he remarked casually. "Send a message back to your masters. Tell them that if I am ever assaulted by your cult again, I will hunt down every member and slay them. Every member, starting with the high priest." With a swift motion, he used the hilt of his sword to knock the man senseless. He looked to where Jitinder and Artemis fought. "Let's get out of here while we can." Together the three of them fought their way through the fray. "Stop them!" screamed Tulmara, seeing them escaping, and starting forward. Her voice was swallowed in the roar of the battle, and no-one heard her. She ran forward and grabbed Artemis by the wrist. Artemis whirled and decked her. Tulmara went down hard, the air whuffing out of her lungs as she blacked out.

* * * * *

Captain Seleros, of the ship Osprey, was enjoying his breakfast when the three barged onto his ship. "Get them off this ship this moment!" he yelled to one of his guards. Before the man could react, Athos' foot lashed out, catching the guard in the chest, and the man went careening off the side of the ship, splashing as he hit the water. Seleros had started to rise from his chair in outrage. He was halted by the point of Athos' sword which was suddenly pressed against his throat. "Sit down," said Athos. "We're going to be your passengers until you reach Waterdeep." "Waterdeep? I'm not going to Waterdeep!" "Yes you are," said Athos calmly, nudging forward with the sword until the man was leanind back in his chair. "Uh... I... uh," said the man, swallowing hard and glancing down at the blade poised at his throat. "You'd better tell your men to get underway," said Athos. The captain caught sight of the amulet dangling at Athos' throat, then, and he realized who these people were. More importantly, he realized what they were worth. "Umm... the trip will cost-" "Nothing," finished Athos. "In return for the favor, we will spare your miserable life." "Umm... Indeed. Er, yes... yes I think that will be adequate," replied Seleros after a moment. "I'll get us underway immediately." Jitinder smiled. "That's certainly gracious of you."

* * * * *

"What will we do now?" asked Grimwalde, favoring his wounded shoulder. "We know their destination. We will arrive there ahead of them, and lay our plans," snapped Thenedain, as if he were explaining details even a child should be able to understand. He looked over at Grimwalde. "Don't snivel so, boy. Show a little backbone."

Chapter Twenty-Eight Destination in Sight

The sharp rasp of metal on whetstone sounded every few heartbeats, as Jitinder honed his naginata slowly to razor-sharp perfection. He sat on a chair directly in front of Seleros' former bed - they had appropriated his quarters for their use after coming aboard - with his back to the wall of their cabin, never taking his eyes from the doorway beyond which a short flight of stairs led up to the afterdeck. Athos dozed lightly a few feet away in a hammock he had slung after coming aboard, gently swaying to and fro, his weapons within easy reach. Artemis slumbered on the captain's bed. He jerked awake suddenly, and he gripped his hand crossbow. "Someone is coming." A moment later Seleros stole silently down the stairs, peering into the semi-gloom. "Yes, captain?" asked Jitinder. Seleros appeared startled. "Oh! Er... you are not asleep then? I thought you might be - I hadn't wanted to disturb you." "We're awake," said Athos, levelling the small crossbow on Seleros, "and you are disturbing us." Seleros grinned broadly. "I... er, came down to inform you that we are not far from Waterdeep. I thought you would want to know, yes?" "That's it?" muttered Jitinder, irritated. "How much longer before we're there?" asked Athos. "Not long," the captain assured them. "Not long. Um... have either of you two gentlemen visited Waterdeep before? The 'city of splendors', it is called, and with good reason." "We don't care how splendid it is," said Jitinder sourly. "No," said Athos, answering the captain, "and we're not going there to see the sights, so why don't you leave us alone now?" Seleros grinned broadly as he backed out. He was fairly certain he had his answer. "We will arrive in Waterdeep with the dawn," he assured them. A moment later he was gone. "I'll certainly be happy when we arrive," said Jitinder, his eyes on the now empty hatch. "I don't trust that man. He's the kind who's happy to fawn over your every need to your face while plotting to put a dagger in your spine." Artemis stirred from her slumber then, rolling over and yawning. "I can take the watch," said Athos. "You catch up on your rest." "I don't need any damned rest," said Jitinder. "Well take some anyway. There's no sense in exhausting yourself." Jitinder started to protest, then grunted. "I guess I could do with a little nap." "Don't worry," said Athos, "I'll wake you if anything comes up."

* * * * *

The door to ship's navigator/ship's mage Thimble's quarters (he served in both positions) abruptly swung wide, and a smiling Seleros swaggered in. "We have them now!" he said, his voice pitched low and full of gleefull menace, as if Thimble should know exactly what he was talking about. "Have you never heard of knocking before entering someone else's room?" asked Thimble, irritated by the sudden intrusion. Seleros's smile evaporated, to be replaced by a sneer. "Whose quarters are these? Do I need to remind you? They are mine, and I'll bloody well come and go as I please! This ship is mine, every plank of her!" "Indeed?" Thimble affected an amused look. "Whose ship is it? That is the question, and I hardly think the answer - at present - is that it belongs to you." Seleros turned livid. "This is my ship, and no-one will flout my authority!" "No-one?" the mage asked pointedly, cocking his head in the direction of the captain's quarters. "What about them?" "I'm dealing with the problem." The confident, craftly look returned to Seleros's face. "I think I may even have found a way to turn the situation to considerable profit." "Oh?" "Yes. How far are we from Baldur's Gate?" Thimble shrugged. "Another two hours perhaps, if we continue to hug the coastline as we have." Seleros nodded. "Excellent. Set a course that will take us full circle, out to sea and back again, so that we won't reach port there until tomorrow morning." Thimble frowned, realizing the logistics involved. "Difficult, but of course not impossible. But why do it? I thought we were bound for Waterdeep." Seleros shook his head, as if Thimble's question wasn't important enough to answer. "I also need you to use your crystal ball-" "I don't have a crystal ball," interjected the mage with a sniff. "I use and amulet of communication. It's easier, and the messages are far clearer." Seleros waved his hand disparagingly, as if it didn't matter what the mage used. "Whatever. Use your amulet, then, and contact the thieves' guild of Baldur's Gate." He smiled menacingly. "I still have a few friends there, from my earlier days. You'll tell them the hour that we will arrive there and who we're carrying, and try to negotiate a big cut of the prize for us when they kill our three passengers." Thimble frowned. "Speaking of the passengers, what are you planning to tell them?" He motioned towards the captain's cabin again. "Won't they be a little upset when we arrive in Baldur's Gate instead of Waterdeep?" Seleros grinned, rubbing his palms together gleefully. "We won't have to tell them anything. That's the beauty of my plan! None of them has ever laid eyes on Waterdeep before. They won't even know they haven't arrived there. With a little help from the guild and a good ambush, they'll die ignorant. And best of all, the guild can be the ones to deal with them. We won't have to lift a single weapon against them!" Thimble cocked an eyebrow. "How can you be so certain none of them has ever been to Waterdeep?" Seleros's smile faded slightly. "Because I asked them." "Just like that?" asked Thimble, skeptical. "Yes, just like that," answered Seleros, a little irritated. "I've given them no reason to lie to me. I have little doubt they are telling the truth. Look at them. They are younglings from the South, just seeing the rest of the world for the first time. None of them have ever dreamed of what Waterdeep is like." He frowned to himself. "At least I think none of them has. I'm not certain about the girl, but I'm pretty sure I'm right." Thimble shrugged. "It's your life to gamble with." "Yes," snapped Seleros, "It is. Now hurry up and get in contact with the guild. The more time they have to prepare, the easier it will all be."

* * * * *

"The coastline has disappeared," remarked Artemis languidly. "I wish our troubles would disappear with it." She and Athos were leaning against the railing of the ship, gazing out at the water. The sun was slowly slipping down into the horizon, and its dying red rays illuminated the sky in a ruby light. They stood in silence for a few minutes, just enjoying being in each other's company. "I... I'm very happy with you," Athos finally said, looking into her eyes. His words seemed clumsy, halting. She turned her gaze from the horzon to his eyes, a gentle smile on her lips. "I'm very happy with you, too." He sighed, turning his gaze back to the sea. "I don't know why. I'm not worth the attention." "I think you are." Athos felt himself flushing, said nothing. Artemis closed her eyes for a moment, letting the wind play across her face. The silence continued for several minutes. "What are you wearing that amulet for?" she asked suddenly. "Why don't you take it off, throw it into the sea? And leave your former life behind." Athos was quiet a moment. "I would like nothing better," he said at last, his voice hardly a whisper over the wind. "But my former life would never leave me. With luck, I might escape the Viper for a few years. With luck. But he would find me eventually, and when he did I would die. As would anyone near me." Artemis gave him a mournful look. "What happens when you deliver the amulet," she asked at last. "In Waterdeep." He shrugged. "I don't know," he answered honestly. It was one of the questions he had hoped she would not ask. "Delivering it is only one of the final tests." "Tests? What are the others?" He shook his head. "I don't know. This is only the first one. I don't even know how many others there will be." She touched his hand. "What happens to you after you complete them all? Will you be free of the Viper then?" Athos shook his head. "I don't know. I... I've never even thought of it before. Maybe, if I survive them all. I don't think I'll ever be free of the Viper, though. He's playing some sort of game I don't understand, and I'm one of his major pieces. He... he won't let me go, not that easily. I can't explain why, but I know it." Her jaw set stubbornly. "Why don't you just go to him, tell him you won't play his game?" Athos was flustered. "Because... because he would..." He shook his head. "I don't know what he would do, or how he would react, but I know it would cause pain and death to someone. Besides, everything I am, everything I was trained to be - he made me. What would I do with the rest of my life?" "You could settle down," she said softly, her hand still touching his. "Get married, maybe. Have children. I know it sound boring compared to the life you're leading now, but lots of people do it... There must be something to it." Flustered, she turned her face away. Athos turned to face her squarely. "Would you be bored with a life like that?" "I don't know. I suppose it would depend on who I was sharing it with." "With me, for example." She smiled. "I don't think that anything involving you could ever be less than exciting." "Would you, if you could?" She was silent for a long moment. She touched his cheek. "Yes." He nodded. "So would I. I can't think of any life I would like better, boring or not." She stared at him. "So what are you saying?" "I'm not saying anything," he said, turning away. She sighed. It had only been a passing thought. The Viper would never let Athos do anything like that. He turned back, suddenly taking both her hands in his. "I'm... asking you. To marry me." She was shocked. "You are?" He nodded resolutely. "I am." She smiled. "Then I will." They came together then in a passionate kiss, their arms wrapped around each other, and for moment none of it - the amulet, the price on his head, the Viper - existed. For one timeless moment there was only them, together. They held each other for a long time, even after the kiss, just enjoying the nearness. "What about the Viper?" Artemis asked at last, her face against his chest. It was the first thing that was spoken. Athos was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, she could feel the vibrations of his voice through his chest. It was warm and oddly comforting. "I can't live the way I've been living any longer. If he won't release me, then he'll have to kill me. I think it's worth the chance." She looked up at him. "So do I, though I hate the thought of harm coming to you... If he won't release you until after your final tests, then do them first. I can wait. I will wait. Forever, if need be." He smiled. "I don't know if I can." They came together again, the wind and the water and the swaying of the boat under their feet all ignored.

* * * * *

It was four hours after nightfall. Jitinder sat at his post, still sharpening his weapon. A slight shudder went through the hull as it bumped into something solid, and Athos came awake. He nodded to Jitinder, who went up on deck to see what was amiss. A moment later he reappeared. "We've arrived," he announced, almost tonelessly. "The bump was merely the boat being tied up to the dock." Athos nodded that he understood, then woke Artemis. Scant minutes later they were dressed and on deck. Captain Seleros stood not far off, conversing with a tall, skinny man. "We've arrived earlier than you anticipated," Athos said as he came on deck, interrupting them. Seleros turned to him, smiling and shrugging. "Ah... yes, well, the wind favored us." He smiled even more insincerely. "We're always happy when we can speed our passenger's voyage." Athos heard Jitinder snort from behind him. If Seleros noticed, he did not show it. "This is the harbormaster, Skorlson Hardom." The tall man bowed low, flashing a gap-toothed smile. "Very pleased to meet you." Athos looked past him, at the city lamplights beckoning in the darkness. "That's strange, because I couldn't care less about meeting you. Where can I find the tavern called The Shining Cradle?" The man's smile only widened. "It is not far, but the way is... complex. I can guide you there if you like." Athos quirked an eyebrow. "You don't want to remain at your post?" The other man shrugged. "My replacement takes over in only twenty minutes." Athos shook his head. "Thank you for the offer, but I don't think I'll take you up on it. Complex or not, if you give me the correct directions, I will have no trouble finding the inn." "Have it your way then," replied the man, his smile melting slightly. Artemis came up from below. "That's Waterdeep?" she asked, staring out at the darkness. "Yes lady," Seleros put in hurriedly. "'City of Splendors'," snorted Jitinder. "Then this is the end of the journey," she said with a sigh. "Perhaps it is," said Athos. He turned to Jitinder. "You two stay here. I don't want the Viper to know anything about your existence." Jitinder's scowl deepened. "I've been waiting my whole life for a chance to confront the Viper. I'm not going to miss it now." Athos shook his head. "I don't want to leave Artemis unprotected, and I don't want to let you commit suicide. Trust me, you don't want to let him make you into a shadow of yourself; a husk of a man who lives his life for only one purpose. I've seen that all before. It isn't worth. Just let it go." "I can't," said Jitinder softly. Athos sighed. "Will you stay?" "I'll stay," replied Jitinder sullenly, "but only to protect Artemis. All your other reasons don't count for anything to me, and if I ever have a chance to get back at the Viper they won't stop me from trying." "Fair enough." A few minutes later, Athos had the directions he needed from the gap-toothed man. An instant afterwards, Athos was down the gangplank, moving swiftly through the night and melting smoothly into the shadows.

* * * * *

He had gone barely thirty yards before he knew he was being followed. Two blocks later and he knew exactly how many there were following. Three blocks and a very smooth double-back after that, no-one was following him. He took to the roofs after that, keeping a wary eye on the streets below. The moon was dark this night and the sky was partly obscured by clouds, but Athos' keen eyes were still able to cut through the darkness, and as he looked across the city from his aerial perch, he could find no trace of Mount Waterdeep. The mountain should be easily visible from any section of the city. He also noted the stores and businesses, and the names of the streets. He shook his head. There was something wrong here. He knew that the Viper's maps might have been outdated, but nothing pertaining to Waterdeep fit. On a hunch, he swung down from the roof into the nearest house, entering through an open window on the fourth floor. He entered the bedroom silently and stole up on a snoring man. He placed his hands over over the man's mouth, and the fellow awoke. The man's eyes widened with fear, but he said nothing, and did not attempt to move. "Where can I find The Shining Cradle?" asked Athos, taking his hand away from the man's mouth. "Take anything you want," the man hissed, his voice trembling, "just don't hurt-" "Where can I find The Shining Cradle?" he asked again. "I don't have any cradle, I swear it!" "It's a tavern," said Athos. "Where can I find it?" The man shook his head, panicked. "I never heard of it, I swear! I don't go to taverns, never did, but I never heard of anything like that! I'm not a native, maybe on the far side of the city... but I swear, so far as I know, there's no tavern like that in all of Baldur's Gate!" "Baldur's Gate?" asked Athos, surprise and anger mixed in his voice. The man looked at him as if he were crazed. "This city," he said, explaining. "Baldur's Gate." Athos cursed under his breath. "What-" the man started to ask, but Athos was already gone.

* * * * *

"Our scouts have lost him," reported a thief to the guildmaster of Baldur's Gate, who cursed under his breath at the news. Baldur's Gate was the mercenary-company capital of the world, and there would be many powerful men after Athos if he was loose in the city. "Move on the two who were left behind on the ship," he instructed after a brief moment of consideration. "It's our only option. The amulet bearer may show up at the ambush, he may not. Either way, we'll have the two on the ship to lure him with."

* * * * *

The empty streets Athos had passed through earlier had filled with different groups of men, all making their way stealthily in the direction Athos had gone. He made his way silently, carefully, and though he had to twice double back, he passed unseen. He came up on the docks, and spotted a group of eight men boarding the ship. He heard the clash of steel on steel, and heard a scream and a splash. He raced down the dock. But by the time he reached the battle, it was already over. Jitinder stood over the huddling form of the captain, the bodies of the attackers - including the harbormaster, apparently - were strewn about the deck. Nearby stood Artemis and the ship's mage. Jitinder looked up as Athos came on board. "One moment everything was normal, the next they attacked." "I swear I knew nothing!" plead Seleros, wringing his hands and sweating profusely. "He's lying," said Athos. "We're not even in Waterdeep. This is Baldur's Gate." He turned to the ship's mage. "You are the navigator, are you not?" Thimble nodded. "And you knew exactly where we were?" Again he nodded. "And this one," Athos pointed at Seleros, "gave you orders to take us here?" Again Thimble nodded. "He's lying!" cried Seleros desperately. He threw on one of his ingratiating smiles. "Please, you must listen... He's just trying to save his own skin, can't you see that? He's the one who betrayed you - betrayed us all! Kill him, not me!" Jitinder kicked him in the face, sending him sprawling backwards. Athos turned to Thimble. "You are now not only navigator and ship's mage, but also the captain of this vessel. If you wish to retain your command, I suggest you cast off and make sail for Waterdeep. Immediately." Thimble nodded, then began calling orders to the crew, rousing them from their bunks. "We'll only have a skeleton crew unless we wait for the sailors that left the ship." "Then we'll make do with a skeleton crew," said Athos. "We leave now." A few moments later the docks of Baldur's Gate retreated behind them as the ship headed for open water. After several minutes, Athos turned back to Seleros, who cringed back, his hands pressed to his bloody nose. "You are no longer welcome on this ship," said Athos. "What?" "I'm giving you five seconds to remove yourself from it." "You can't be serious! I.. I can't even swim!" "Four seconds." "Please!" "Three seconds." Athos drew his shortsword and sent it through an attack motion. "Two." Seleros backed off three steps, then, with a cry, turned and leaped over the railing. A splash followed. Athos strode to the rail and looked down. Seleros was treading water and falling behind the ship quickly. He raised his fist and cursed Athos roundly. Athos said nothing, but watched him until he faded out of sight into the darkness. Satisfied, he turned away.

* * * * *

LaValle paced the length of his room at The Shining Cradle for perhaps the hundredth time. He looked down, and his gaze fell upon the tools that lay on the floor. The furniture had all been pulled away from the center of the room, leaving plenty of room for the spell. He had all the necessary equipment. The spell itself was reasonably simple and straightforward. A mage of half his experience could have done it easily. He paced again. The Viper had told him to remain here for two weeks, and LaValle was honestly afraid to disobey the man. He paced for another two hours, and finally reached a decision. Sitting down, he picked up a jar of black paint and began inscribing the design of the runes upon the floorboards. Minutes later he stood, uttered a brief enchantment, and a glimmering portal shimmered into existance above the runic symbols. He heaved a sigh, steeled himself, and stepped through. It vanished once he had passed through. And the room was empty.

Part V Entreri

The Viper; mentor, teacher, mortal enemy. In my younger years I hated him blindly, for what he was, for what he was making me into. In later years I came to recognize that he had changed my life - possibly for the better, possibly for the worse, but certainly so that I might better survive the hell we call life. And I respected him for it. There was one lesson he taught me which will remained forever ingrained upon my mind. Life is pain, death is release. This is the only true moral. I no longer hold myself to the petty morals that mankind has invented for itself. Life is pain, death is release. There are no other rules, only half-obscured realities with which we hope to deceive ourselves. Life is an endless test. What is the test? Many hold with the precept that the test is remaining devoted to law and goodness and resisting the temptations of evil. Others hold with the opposite position. Both good and evil are very powerful forces within the universe, but they are meaningless in the end. The true test is one of survival and advancement. I am the perfect killer, and that is all that matters.

- Artemis Entreri

Chapter Twenty-Nine The Osprey

The Osprey cut throught he blue green water at a quick pace. Athos had earlier climbed up to the crowsnest, and as he stood there gazing across the water, he wondered what the future held for him. On the morrow, the Osprey would arrive in Waterdeep. When it docked, he would finish his journey, complete his first test. And, of course, he would confront the Viper. He shook his head. He still wasn't certain he could go through with it. It was all well and good to decide to confront the master assassin here on the Osprey, miles out to sea, but it was another thing altogether to stand in front of the man and find the courage to tell him no. He thought again of Artemis, of the life they might lead together. It was a chance at happiness, a chance at life for the part of him that for so long he had thought was dead. If there was even a shadow of a chance... No. He would not pass it up. He would not throw away the chance of true happines. And he would no longer live his life according the Viper's whims. He woud stand up to the assassin and face whatever consequences might come.

* * * * *

The Viper was as close as he had ever come to being angry. Which meant he was faintly amused. Athos would be arriving in Waterdeep sometime soon, perhaps within two days, and that fool wizard LaValle had dared to defy him. Had teleported away. The Viper had had hinged all his plans for Athos' next test around LaValle's presence. And now... Mildly annoyed, the Viper put the mage out of his mind for the moment. LaValle was gone. Not beyond retribution, of course; no-one defied the Viper and lived to tell of it. But in the short range, LaValle was gone, and that meant the Viper would have to alter his plans. He would have to come up with something new. LaValle had sealed his fate. The Viper would hunt him down and kill him slowly. But that was the future, and it was the present he was concerned with. He had to find a replacement.

* * * * *

The screams echoed through Jitinder's sleeping mind, tormenting him, and he groaned and twitched as he slept, his body covered in a sheen of sweat. The carnage stretched before him. His parent's bodies strewn like horrible dismembered ragdolls across the floor. The blood... To the eyes of a child, the horror and destruction were impossibly wide and high. And over it all loomed the Viper. He looked down at Jitinder. And laughed. It was a laugh that chilled the soul, with mockery, anger, amusement, scorn, and evil all buried somewhere within its awful tone. Jitinder flinched before it, cowered before it as if it were a physical weapon. He twisted about violently, eventually rolling out of his hammock - not an easy thing to do in itself - and thumped into the wooden deck, still groping blindly for his weapon. Gradually the images faded and he became aware of where he was. As he became more awake and aware of the conscious world, the images of his dream began to fade from his mind. All except one. The Viper's laugh still rang hollowly in his ears. "Going to kill you, Viper," he sputtered in a voice that was little more than a defiant hiss, his hands opening and closing reflexively as if they sought the Viper's throat. "Going to make you hurt. Going to make you fear. I'm coming for you, dark man!"

* * * * *

Athos returned to the maindeck later and stood by the port railing, gazing down at the foaming sea rushing by and into its depths. He was joined by Artemis after a few minutes and the two stood wordlessly together for some time. "Ship to port!" came a call from the crowsnest, and Athos was jerked from his reverie. He exchanged glances with Artemis, then walked with her to the opposite railing, squinting against the afternoon sun, looking for the other ship. There was a black speck out on the edge of the horizon. A heavy-set bald man with a sallow face and a thin mustache came thumping over to stand a few feet away from where they stood. He was the second mate, and as he peered out he called up a question. "What flag do they fly?" "Can't tell yet," the man in the crowsnest shouted back. For the next two hours, it paralleled the Osprey's course. Finally it drew a little nearer and the spotter in the crowsnest was able to make out the other ship's flag. "What does she fly?" called up the first mate. "A moment," said the crewman. "She flies no colors!" The first mate grunted. "What does that mean?" asked Athos. The man shook his head. "Maybe nothing. But pirates sometimes fly no colors, hoping to use it as a trick to get closer to their prey." Athos nodded grimly. "Then we'd better assume they're pirates. And they're probably after us." He looked back to the ship, still hardly more than a black spot in the distance. "I admit my ignorance of the sea," he said. "But it seems to me that we should prepare for a battle." The man nodded. "I'll get Thimble and the ship's priest on deck. He cupped his mouth with his hands and yelled up to the men in the rigging. "You men there!" he yelled. "Get your lazy bones moving! I want this ship rigged for battle! Prepare for boarding and combat actions, and get anything loose tied down or stowed below! Now!" He turned to Athos again. "It's difficult to tell what type of ship she is at this distance," he said, "but it looks like something large, a galleon perhaps. Which means she'll be well armed, and since she's already matching our course we know she's fast. But she is large..." "You have an idea?" The man shrugged. "Mayhap. Perhaps she has a larger draft than we. If so, our best option is to make for shallower water, where she cannot follow." Athos nodded. "Then make for the coastline." The man shook his head. "We are within the Dertholius Strait. These waters are well mapped, and along this section there are dozens of reefs to snare us should we approach too close to the headland. My advice is that we swing to starboard and bring the shoreline into sight but approach no further. Then, should the need arise to make a run for shallow waters, the option will be viable. We keep close enough for a quick run to safety, but far enough that we avoid treacherous water." Athos glanced up at the sails. "As I said, I know little of the sea. But it seems to me that with the wind as it is, coming from the northeast, we should make slow time heading for the shoreline. Would not we have to tack to move in that direction?" "Aye," said the man with a broad grin. "But so would they. We'd still beat them to shallow margin, so long as they aren't a ship of mages what can defy the wind." Athos considered. "It sounds a good plan." The man nodded, then began shouting new orders to the men in the rigging. Jitinder emerged from belowdecks a moment later, roused by the first mate's shouting and rubbing eyes red from lack of sleep. "What's happening?" Athos pointed. "A ship is paralleling our course," he said. "So?" "They fly no colors. It is a tactic used by pirates." Jitinder nodded grimly. "A battle, then." "Perhaps," said Athos. "Good. I'm just in the mood for a good fight." The crew hurried to their tasks and in minutes everything that could be done in preparation was done. But the other ship approached no closer. Athos waited, watching. At long last he motioned to the first mate. "What are they trying to do?" he asked. The man shrugged helplessly. "Mayhap they aren't pirates after all." "Right," grumbled Jitinder. "They've been paralleling us for nigh on an hour now." The man shrugged again. "I do not know, young masters. The Osprey is rigged for battle should she attack." Athos nodded. And the wait continued. The sun climbed the sky slowly over the next three hours, and the tension grew so palpable it could nearly be seen. Every eye was on the black spot just at the edge of the horizon, waiting. Waiting. ...waiting. But it approached no closer. "Ship to starboard!" the man in the crowsnest called down suddenly, and all eyes swung in that direction. "Ship to starboard!" A second ship, still too far off to be identifiable, had appeared as if by magic, its sails a tiny white dot against the far-off black strip of the mainland. The first mate cursed. "Bloody... we've played straight into their hands. The damn ship must have laid wait in some cove or inlet, then made a dash to catch us unawares." The new ship, too, made no move to close with them, only paralleling their course from a distance. "We're caught between them," said Athos grimly. "What flag does she fly?" the first mate shouted up. "No flag!" the lookout called down a moment later. "Reinforcements," muttered Thimble. "We should have expected this." "What do we do now?" Athos asked him. Thimble shrugged helplessly. "How should I know? I'm a ship's mage, remember? I navigate. I'm no tactician." He gestured toward the first mate. "Ask him. He'd know better how to answer you. I'm captain in name only, and that only by your decree." "Right," said Athos, turning to the other man. "What should we do now?" The first mate grunted. "That's up to you, sir." "Make a suggestion." He scratched his head. "Not much to do now. Can't make for shallower water. They've outmanuevered us there. We're already running under full sail, so we can't hope to outrun them." "So we sit here and do nothing?" asked Jitinder, growing edgy from the long wait. "Let them dictate when and where the battle will be fought?" Athos stared hard at the first mate. "Stop telling me what we can't do and tell me what we can. Can we attack one of them?" The man pursed his lips. "Aye, we could. Mayhap if we were fortunate we could close with one and destroy her before the other could reach the battle. That'd even the odds a little, and pirates hate even odds. Likely the second ship would turn tail and run if we made quick work of the first." "Assuming there isn't a third out there somewhere," grumbled Jitinder. Athos ignored the comment. "It sounds like a workable plan," he said. "Which ship appears the weaker?" The man shrugged. "They're both too far off to make out much. Offhand I'd guess that the ship to starboard would be the more lightly armed of the two, simply because she sails in shallower waters." "Right," said Athos. "Then we swing starboard and attack." "The wind doesn't favor us in that direction," reminded the first mate. "The other ship would have the real edge, and her companion would be given the time she needs to close with us. It will be impossible to make a quick enough turn to catch it before the other one is upon us." Athos sighed. "If we can't turn in that direction then it stands to reason that neither can the ship to port. Can we turn to port?" "Easily." "Then let's go hard port and give that ship a fight." The man nodded. "Should we ram them?" "Ram?" asked Athos. "Yes, of course, if we can." "I think we can manage that, sir. Ramming positions!" he yelled to the sailors. "Hard to port!" The stays and rigging creaked as the booms swung round, and the Osprey veered off to the left, cutting through the waves in a beeline to the ship out to sea. "You do realize," said Thimble a moment later, "that when we ram them we'll probably get caught in their rigging." Athos shrugged. "If we're caught together with them then I should be able to get to the men aboard. And if I can get to those men, I can kill them." He saw Artemis, and gave her a quick nod. "You'd better get below until this is settled." She shook her head. "I'm staying on deck with you." "Get below," he said, brooking no argument. "You'll be safer there." She was about to reply when there was a grinding crunching noise and a terrible vibration went through the hull of the Osprey. Men yelled in suprise and fear as the ship lurched from a fast clip to a dead standstill. It had closed to within three hundred yards of the enemy ship and had been skimming the waves at a good pace. Now it lurched about wildly, the deck pitching to a steep angle. Several crewmen were thrown off their feet and over the side by the unexpected halt. Artemis and Athos found themselves catapulted through the air. Athos' hands moved instantly, one catching the railing and the other catching hold of Artemis by her wrist. He secured a hold on both as they were flung over the side and into empty air. There was a painful wrench as he was forced to support not only his own weight but hers as well. His fingers held firm though, and a moment later he had hauled them both back onto the dangerously unsteady deck. "We're caught on a reef!" yelled someone - Athos thought it was the third mate's voice. "Bloody hell," swore Thimble, clinging to the mainmast. "I should have known they'd have something like this prepared. Now we're in real trouble." The wild swinging of the boom must have clipped him, for there was a bruise on the side of his head and a trickle of blood coming from his scalp. Athos had a grip on one of the belaying pins lashed to the rail. "Do I still have to go below?" asked Artemis sardonically, clinging to the rail beside him. He almost smiled in spite of himself. "Stay low," he instructed. "And keep near to me. Not too near; I'll be at the center of the fighting. But near enough that I can protect you." The absurdity of his logic didn't hit him until she grinned. The ship rocked once, the timbers splintering and shrieking in protest as she heeled, then came to rest with the deck pitched at a sixty degree angle, the starboard side unnaturally far up in the air and the port railing almost beneath the water line. Jitinder clung to the ringing at the lowest part of the deck, swinging out over the swelling waves and holding on for dear life. The tops of the waves were already over his boots; he scrambled up the line he was holding, but had some difficulty. If he gets snared in that mess and goes under, thought Athos, he's finished. A sailor stumbled up from belowdecks, walking mostly on the wall instead of the stairs. "She's been holed!" he called. "We're taking water below!" Athos looked out over the water. The ship to port turned slowly to starboard, making a large circle, as the one to starboard changed tack and sped towards the Osprey. It would be only minutes before the Osprey was rammed by it. "Thimble, I hope you have some powerful spells ready!" "I do," the mage said, "but so will the sorcerers on that ship, and there's likely to e a lot more of them than there are of us." "Hopefully they won't throw anything too high-powered at us for fear of damaging the amulet." Thimble shook his head. "I can think of quite a few powerful spells that would kill every man board without so much as scratching it." "Then cast some of them!" The first ship came closer, until the men aboard it could be seen, brandishing weapons and howling in bloodlust. Even the ship's name, Ripper, stenciled on its side in small letters, became easy to see. Jitinder climbed upwards in the rigging, somehow managing to keep his grip on his naginata - how he had ever held on to it during the sudden lurch was beyond Athos - and fighting free of the lines which had snagged him, trying to get out of the path of the oncoming ship's ram. A moment later, with a splintering crash that nearly shook Athos from his perch, the Ripper's ram went directly over the Osprey's port railing, smashing into the main deck, piercing it at an angle almost at its center. The Ripper hadn't quite come to a standstill when Jitinder, hurled outwards by the shock of the blow, landed on its main deck, almost on top of the men who had clustered there, banging their swords against their shields in anticipation of battle. The action probably saved his life, for almost immediately afterward two fireballs exploded outwards, aimed towards the masts, sails and rigging of the Osprey. More than one sailor never screamed even once as he was hurled into the ocean by the force of the explosion, burned to charred and unrecognizable meat before he ever hit the water. Most of the upper parts of the masts collapsed then, sliding along the deck with a grating sound, aflame, and sweeping several more men off the deck like some hellish broom. Their screams were drowned in the roaring of the fires. Athos steadied himself on his perch, raising his hand crossbow and sighting along it to the far end of the ship, where a flamboyantly-dressed man he guessed to be the enemy captain stood, clustered round about with aides. From this distance, in the uncertainty of battle and under these conditions, the shot was next to impossible to make. He took a breath and fired. The man's body jerked, the force of the bolt lifting him from his feet and sending him stumbling backwards over the Ripper's railing, his lifeless body plummeting into the sea. Meanwhile Thimble, who had miraculously escaped the brunt of the fireball attack and who was clinging to what was now the broken base of the mainmast, had been spellcasting, murmuring and gesturing from where he clung. He made a few more quick passes with his hands and an ice storm erupted in the thickest knot of men aboard the Ripper, freezing several of the pirates where they stood. A moment later the pirates responded with a hail of crossbow fire aimed in his direction. He gurgled as a bolt tore out his throat, looked at Athos once in desperation, and crumpled. Several of the nearby sailors who had survived the fireballs also went down. His hold on the mainmast slipped, but the rigging caught around his neck, and his body was left dangling obscenely, his eyes staring sightlessly. Athos was looking about desperately for some means of achieving the deck of the attacking ship. We're easy targets for them just sitting here, he thought. A burning rope caught his eye. It swung back and forth over the small area of sea between the two ships, attached to one of the Osprey's toppled masts. He took one look at it, measuring the wild swings, and jumped. His hands caught it as the met in midair, andhe used the momentum of his leap to carry him out over the deck of the other ship. The rope gave way suddenly, and Athos did a complete backflip in order ot work off the unexpected extra momentum the snagging rope had given him. He landed lithely on his feet next to Jitinder, who had his back to a bulkhead and was already battling the pirates ferociously. The pirates stared in blank astonishment at the newcomer. The last thing they had expected was to be boarded. Athos ignored the sudden pains from the burns on the palms of his hands and drew his weapons. Unlike the pirates, he did not hesitate. Then the killing really began.

* * * * *

The second ship swung lazily around, always on the horizon, and made its way towards the two grappling ships. It took the second ship the better part of two hours to complete the manuver, and when it did its captain fully expected the fighting to have ceased, the Ripper to have pulled away from the Osprey, and the amulet to have been captured. Approaching, he noted with interest and surprise that not just one, but both ships were now aflame, and still locked together. The decks were still on both ships. Nothing moved but the flickering of the fires. The captain of the ship Tidestorm was concerned. If the captain and crew of the Ripper were up to something, they would find that he and his men would not give up their share of the treasure easily, whether they had been part of the fighting or not. The Tidestorm approached slowly, pulling astern of the Ripper. The decks of both ships were littered with bodies. Now the captain felt a vague unease gnawing at the back of his consciousness. Something was wrong here. "What do we do, captain?" asked Khumsh, the second mate. The captain frowned. "Board her, of course. See if there's anyone still alive. And get that damn amulet." A few pirates leaped the narrowing gap, lines were thrown across, and the two ships were tied up to each other in moments. "Stand by with axes to part those lines," ordered the captain. "If she starts to sink, she'll not be bringing us down with her." "How many men shall we send aboard, sir?" asked Khumsh. "Twenty," said the captain. "No more. Something here is not right." He handpicked the small band himself and sent the group aboard. "Search both ships," instructed the captain. "The amulet must be found. And have a care!" The men climbed across the ropes which bound the ships together and began searching through the bodies. The captain waited impatiently for several minutes when one of the pirates emerged from belowdecks of the Ripper and moved to the rail. "The hulls have been breached, sir!" he called. "In both vessels, and they're taking on water. A lot of water! They'll be going down double quick!" The captain cursed. "Should I recall the men and part the lines?" asked Khumsh. "What? No, you idiot, not until I have that amulet! Find it - that's what we do! All of you get aboard those ships. And find me that amulet!" Quickly the bulk of the Ripper's crew scrambed onto the sinking vessels. Only a few of the captain's bodyguards and bullyboys stayed on the Tidestorm, taking up positions around the captain, who waited impatiently for news of the amulet's discovery.

* * * * *

Athos brushed a hand across his face, shaking off water droplets from the swim. He scrambled over the rail of the Tidestorm, followed scant moments later by Jitinder. The Ripper's captain was lounging in a chair on the main deck, watching with interest the search being conducted on the other ships. His few remaining guardsmen, rough pirates all, were busy focusing their attention in that direction as well. They saw a strange sight. Nine of the corpses nearest the stern of the Ripper, including a girl, suddenly came to their feet and rushed to scramble across the lines lashed to the Tidestorm. The guardsmen around the captain leaped forward to attack, and were cut down from behind by Athos and Jitinder almost instantly The captain jumped up, his sabre whisking from its sheath. "Help!" he yelled across the gap. "We've been boarded. To me! To me!" He had not time to yell anything else for Athos stepped forward and engaged him. The captain's concentration was held by the young man's intricate swordplay, and he only grunted and cursed. A few moments later, with a casual twist of his blade, Athos sent the captain's sword spinning off into the sea. The captain followed it a moment later. The bulk of the crew, still searching, had begun to take notice of what was happening when the captain had started screaming, and now several of them scampered forward, scrambling onto the mooring ropes in an attempt to get back aboard their ship. But Jitinder was there, severing the mooring lines and sending those pirates who had been climbing across the ropes plunging into the sea. The former pirates of the Tidestorm were left on two rapidly sinking ships. They screamed curses and leaped into the water, but the Tidestorm drifted with the wind, and quickly was beyond swimming distance. Athos surveyed the survivors of the Osprey. There were eight of them, not counting himself, Jitinder, and Artemis. The former first mate was one of them. Athos realized he didn't even know the man's name. "You're in charge," he said. "What's your name?" "Bjorn Windbrittle." Athos marveled at the strangeness of the man's name. "Is that a real name, or one you made up for yourself?" "One I invented. I always admired the northern barbarians, so I-" "Never mind. You're the most experienced, so you're in charge. Is it possible to sail this ship?" The man pursed his lips and nodded slowly. "She's seaworthy enough, but we've scarcely the manpower. Barely, if we use a quarter of the sails. The going will be slow." Athos shrugged. "Good enough. See that we reach Waterdeep. I have an urgent appointment there." "We can get you there, but we'll not be able to do it alone. You three will have to help." "We aren't allergic to work."

Chapter Thirty Waterdeep: Journey's End

The Tidestorm made its painfully slow way towards Waterdeep, and within two days the city came into sight. The weather had been changing the farther north they traveled, but it had been such a gradual change that they had not noticed. Now, as if they had crosed some invisible boundary, they began to feel the bitter chill of the north. The wind was stiff and the water was cold here, even in the summer. They approached the port walls, which were broken apart in one place so ships could pass into the harbor. The walls were manned, and at each side of the gate stood two small fortresses. Beyond the port walls, little could be seen of the city except for the mountain which loomed over the left side of the city. Mount Waterdeep, no doubt. The one on the right is the Outer Fort. The one on the left is Smuggler's Bane Tower," remarked the first mate, following Athos' gaze. "A tower? Why is it called a tower? It looks more like a fortress." "It is a fortress, but it's called Smuggler's Bane Tower," the man replied, shrugging. "Don't know why." Athos looked harder at the mountain. "There's a small stronghold at the peak." "Yeah, that's where they keep the gryphons. They call it Peaktop Eyrie." "The gryphons?" The man glanced at him. "You never heard of them? They've got trained gryphons that the Waterdeep guardsmen can ride into battle. Sort of an aerial attack force." They passed through the gates slowly, the men at the ramparts on either side cocking casual glances at them, but not saying anything. The first thing Athos noted was that the port was by far the largest he had ever seen. It fairly bustled with ships, both docking and departing. From within, he could see that there were two other gates such as the one the Tidestorm had entered, and a naval mini-port to his left, where sleek warships waited should Waterdeep ever be attacked by sea. It was then that Athos caught sight of the city. He gave a low whistle. It was big, much larger than he had thought, and it stretched over a low hill and around Mount Waterdeep farther than he could see. He had assumed hat Waterdeep was just another small northern city. He had heard, of course, that it was one of the biggest cities on the entire coast, maybe even the entire continent, but had discounted such stories as the bragging of northern barbarians and traders. Now he had to admit that it was the largest city he had ever seen, certainly larger than Zazesspur, and perhaps even larger than Calimport. A moments later the Tidestorm docked, and a large muscular man clad in the uniform of one of the city guardsmen came aboard. "Name of ship?" he barked, pulling a small notepad out, preparing to jot down the information he needed. "The Tidestorm," said Athos. "Name of captain?" There was a pause as Athos considered what to answer. "Athos," he said at last, a little hesitantly. The man looked up. "Full name?" "Athos." The man cocked an eyebrow but returned his gaze to his pad. "Length of stay?" "Two days." "Cargo?" "We have none." The man looked up again. "I'll have to check that." Athos shrugged. "Fine by me," he said, nodding assent, and a few moments later the man had completed his search belowdecks. "You have no cargo, but quite a bit of treasure," the man says. "I see bales of silk, jewelry, fine clothing, coins from half a dozen lands. This is a pirate ship, isn't it?" "It was," corrected Athos. "Until they attacked the ship I was traveling aboard. Now it's my ship." The man rubbed his chin. "I see. The docking fee is five golds." Athos paid it. The man smiled. "I'm afraid we also have a harbor tax. We're doing extensive repairs on the port walls, as you can see." Athos looked but saw nothing to indicate stonework of any kind. "Of course," he said. "Exactly how much is the harbor fee?" "Five hundred gold pieces." "What?" exclaimed the first mate. "That's robbery!" "You can pay it," said the man. "I've seen your holds. If you don't want to pay the tax you can leave. Waterdeep would be well rid of a pirate ship, 'former' or not." Athos shrugged. He had little use for money in any case, and he wasn't going to let a petty bribe stop him from his goal. "Go below," he instructed the mate, "and fetch the required sum." The guardsman's eyes narrowed as he scrutinized Athos' face. "You really mean to pay it?" "Of course." "Then you must have important business here. Keep in mind that the city watch will be keeping a sharp eye on your activities." Athos shrugged. "I don't plan on doing anything illegal during my stay here. In fact, you can help me. I need directions to The Shining Cradle. It's an inn, or a tavern. "Jitinder, you will remain aboard with Artemis, while I go to The Shining Cradle. I don't think that word has traveled this far north, so I should be able to slip in and out of the city with relatively little trouble." "If word hasn't traveled this far yet, than why should I stay with Artemis?" argued Jitinder. Athos sighed. Because I don't want you to killed, he thought silently. "I didn't mean that word hasn't reached the guilds here. I just meant that the average ne'er-do-well on the street probably knows nothing of the amulet or its value. The thieves guild here will almost definitely be aware of it, and probably will know of your presence as well." "There ain't no thieves' guild in Waterdeep," piped up the third mate helpfully. "What?" asked Jitinder, amazed. "Ain't had one here in years. That's not to say there's no crime element, mind, but there ain't no thieves' guild." Wonderful, thought Athos. "The crime element is what I'm worried about," he said aloud. "I don't see why," said Jitinder. "You just said you thought the average man on the street would know nothing of the amulet." Athos sighed in frustration. This was getting difficult. "Jitinder, all I'm saying is that we have no idea who knows about us here, and I don't want to take chances. When we arrived in Baldur's Gate, we assumed there would be trouble, even though we didn't know for certain that there would be. Because of that, we're alive. Why take chances in Waterdeep?" Jitinder shook his head, unconvinced, but said nothing more. Athos sighed. "All right then. If I don't return in two days assume I'm dead, and leave Waterdeep immediately. There will still be people after both of you, hoping to use you to get to me, but if you lay low for a month or so it should blow over. Jitinder, I know you can hide. Protect Artemis for me." "But how will we know for sure?" asked Artemis, concerned. "Whether your dead or alive?" "Because I would return if I could."

* * * * *

Athos left them standing on the deck of the Tidestorm, gazing after him as he melted into the morning crowds of merchants, sailors, fishermen, and dock workers that bustled around the docks. Athos left Dock Street, the street that ran almost completely around the perimeter of the harbor, and turned left onto Ship Street, passing two taverns and continuing around a curve the left, passing The Hanging Lantern, an escort service. He turned right onto Presper Street, and continued down its entire length, emerging onto Snail Street, one of the major thoroughfares of Waterdeep. As he made his way up Snail Street and left the Dock Ward behind him, he began to get a feel for this city. There was a magical feeling in the air, as if anything could happen here. Calimport had seemed decadent, but Waterdeep was energetic, fresh, alive. There was a power here, an almost tangible force that drove these people, and Athos exhulted in the feel of it. Occasionally someone would pass a disinterested gaze over the amulet that hung at his neck, but it was one of appraisal, not of recognition. No-one seemed to take special notice of him or the amulet, and he concluded that word of it had not yet reached this far north. Waterdeep Way crossed Snail Street in a broad intersection filled with throngs of people of all walks of life. Beyond, Snail Street opened onto the High Road, Waterdeep's largest and most frequented thoroughfare. From here he could see clearly Castle Waterdeep to the left, standing high on the slopes of Mount Waterdeep and towering over the various inns, businesses, and towers of the city. Farther ahead and to his left stood the shining white walls of Percival's Palace, nestled in a curve of Mount Waterdeep. He continued up High Road, leaving Mount Waterdeep behind him. After passing the huge market of Waterdeep he started looking for Sulmoor Street. A few minutes of walking later he turned right onto Sulmoor Street and continued down it. From here, he could make out the city walls, and one of the watch towers that stood along them. He continued down Sulmoor Street, turning left on Bronder's Way. There, not thirty yards from him on his left, stood The Shining Cradle. And standing before him were thirty guardsmen, armed and waiting. "You will come with us, please," said the captain.

* * * * *

Jitinder paced the deck of the Tidestorm restlessly. "He'll be back," Artemis assured him. "Or he won't," replied Jitinder. "And either way I'll have missed my chance." He resumed his pacing, then turned and fixed on Artemis, lashing out at her as if it were her fault. "And why will I have missed my chance? Because I'm sitting here protecting someone who doesn't need any protection, that's why!" "Calm down Jitinder," said Artemis. "Show some self control. You can't live your life on hate alone." The first mate smoked a pipe impassively a few feet away, surveying the scene with interest. Jitinder whirled away, still angry. "You're so frightened I'll get hurt! Why? I'm not some weakling to be coddled. I can take care of myself!" "No-one's saying you're weak, Jitinder-" He snorted. "Don't patronize me." "Then don't patronize me," she rejoined angrily. "You want to run off and get yourself killed, fine. But don't ask me to say it's a good idea." He turned away from her and was silent for a long moment. He took one step towards the gangplank, then another, and another. "I'm leaving now," he said coldly. "Wait," said Artemis, suddenly contrite, "I didn't mean to be curt-" "I'm leaving now," repeated Jitinder, not looking back. He stepped off the gangplank and onto the dock. A few minutes later he had melted into the crowds. Artemis turned and paced twice across the deck, then turned and followed Jitinder's path, walking off the gangplank and down the dock.

* * * * *

"Where exactly are we going?" asked Athos He walked beside the guardcaptain, with two rows of city guardsmen in front and behind, surrounding him on all sides. "That is priviliged information, sir," the man responded impassively, "that I cannot divulge. Need to know basis only." "I need to know." "I'm afraid that is the last thing you need to know, sir."' They continued on in silence for some time, making their way through a maze of back streets and alleyways. Athos noted the twisting path they followed, and toyed with the idea that the guardsmen were trying to get him lost. If this was the case they failed, for Athos was mentally taking down notes so he would later be able to accurately retrace his steps. After a time he spoke again. "Am I under arrest?" "No, sir. We would have taken your weapons and restrained you if that was the case." "So I am free to go as I please?" "No, you are not free either, sir. Consider yourself a guest." "An unwilling guest is a prisoner." "Then consider yourself a prisoner, sir. You are not under arrest and you are not free to leave our company." "I see." They marched on for some time, then halted before a square tower of average height and dimension. Two other guardsmen waited beside the open portal, and they ushered Athos in, closing the door behind him. The light within was dim, as if the room had purposely been built to make it difficult for people entering to see what was within so they would be cowed. Athos' keen eyes noted everything, though. A large stocky man possessing bushy black hair with a stripe of pure white through it and a matching beard sat behind a rather large desk, eyeing Athos curiously. "Who are you and what do you want with me?" Athos asked him levelly. If the man was surprised that Athos' vision had adjusted to the gloom he did not show it. "I am Khelben Arunsun. Please sit down." Athos was still a moment. Then he moved to the proffered chair and sat. "I've heard of you, Blackstaff. You're a mage. A powerful one." A chuckle came from deep within Khelben's chest. "Blackstaff? Is my nickname so popular then? Would be interested in learning how I acquired it?" Athos shrugged. "It is, I would not, and you haven't answered my first question." Khelben's smile turned hard, and a steely look came into his eyes. "Short and to the point. I had heard that about you. But I suppose I should have expected it. You are Entreri trained." Athos said nothing, but his head cocked in curiosity. Entreri trained? What was that supposed to mean? Khelben misread Athos' look. "Yes, I know who you are and who your master is. I know what you are here for." "I confess that I do not," said Athos pointedly, glancing at the room around him. "I wasn't referring to your presence here. I meant the reason why you are in Waterdeep." "You know what I am here for?" The mage nodded. "All the Lords of the city are aware of you." The Lords of Waterdeep knew of him? But then they would. They were aware of many things. Athos found himself wondering if the rumors were true that Khelben was one of the mysterious 'lords', the rulers of the city. "Why do you delay me, then? Nothing I am here to do is illegal, and I wish to conclude my business as soon as possible." A hard light came into Khelben's eyes. "Are you so certain that bloodshed is acceptable under Waterdeep law?" Athos was honestly taken aback. "I didn't come here to shed anyone's blood, though I admit I will take the life of anyone who tries to take mine." Khelben ignored his statement. "When they first learned you were coming, the Lords wanted to execute you as soon as you arrived. They wanted you dead. Several of them still do. Percival, for one." Percival, the lord paladin, was the only Lord of Waterdeep whose identity was not wreathed in secrecy. He was first, last, and all the way through a paladin, utterly devoted to the tenets of law and goodness, and completely committed to eliminating all evil from the face of the world. Khelben continued. "It was I who argued against the idea, I who talked them out of it." "Why?" asked Athos dryly. "For one, I suspect that any attempt at eliminating you would mean losing a good many of our city guardsmen before they brought you down." "If they brought me down." Khelben stared at him. "They would have brought you down, boy. You're good but you aren't that good." Athos said nothing. "In the second place, I saw a chance - however slim - to use the situation to our direct advantage. You might - just might - be able to end the Entreri's reign of terror." Khelben's second mention of the mysterious name peaked Athos' interest. "Entreri?" he asked. "If you're talking about the Entreri troop, they've been disposed of. If you're talking about the original Entreri, he's been dead for centuries. Either way I don't see what it has to do with me." Khelben stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head in disbelief. "You really don't know. It's his name. His name. He didn't die centuries ago, though by every natural law he should have." Athos was silent. "The Viper," he said at last. "You're saying... you're saying that the Viper and this 'Entreri' are one and the same." "The Entreri. There is only one." Athos shook his head. "Impossible." "Possible." There was a moment of silence. "Even if I believed you," said Athos, "and I don't, what makes you think I can kill him when even you cannot?" "I would never be able to find him. You can." Athos gave a thin-lipped smile. "Go to The Shining Cradle. He'll be waiting to meet me there. You want him? Go get him. He's there, all the Viper you can handle." Khelben chuckled. "You think I haven't tried? You think others haven't? The man cannot be found unless he wishes to be found. If I went to this... tavern you speak of, I would not find him. He would be disguised, he would vanish, he would be gone like smoke through fingers. Only you can find him. Only you." "Little good that does you," said Athos. "I can't kill him. He would kill me. He taught me, after all, and I am enough of a student to know that the master's skills far surpass my own." Khelben nodded sagely. "Which is exactly why I had you escorted here." He stood and took two steps to the side, stepping to a dark wooden cabinet standing behind him. He opened it, his back to Athos, and rummaged around within for a moment. Athos kept his seat, but watched the mage's broad back. It crossed his mind that it made a very inviting target, that Khelben was a fool for trusting his back to a stranger. When Khelben turned back he was holding a sheathed shortsword in one hand and a black cloth in the other. He placed the shortsword on the table between them and slowly unwound the inky black cloth, revealing a dagger and a ring within. Athos thought that the cloth must be some sort of protective padding, but Khelben handled it as delicately and carefully as the items it had been wound around, and when he let it fall to its full length Athos saw that it was a cloak. "It is true," said the big mage, "that if you faced Entreri-" "The Viper," Athos corrected. Khelben nodded. "The Viper, then, if it you prefer it. Should you face him armed as you now are, the chances of your successfully defeating him are... not good. With that thought in mind, I took the liberty of perusing some of the items in the Waterdeep Magical Treasury." He handed Athos the shortsword. "This is an elven blade, enchanted with sorceries to make it seek enemy flesh and wound deeply." Athos lifted it, unsheathed it in one smooth motion, and felt the heft of it. It was superb in weight and form. "The dagger is also heavily enchanted," Khelben continued. "Not only is it a useful weapon in combat - note the light weight - but it bestows magical protection upon the bearer." Athos fingered the dagger. It was a poinard of excellent make. "And the cloak and ring?" "Both are enchanted, the cloak the more powerful of the two. The ring affords magical agility and some measure of protection against enemy weapons. The cloak... does many things. The only thing you need to know about it is that when you wear it, you are more difficult to hit. Coupled with the dagger and the ring, it should make you a very difficult target." Athos lifted the ring, examining it. It was golden and completely smooth both inside and out. "Why is it unmarked?" he asked. "It must attune to you before its magics engage. Only you can mark it, and when you do it will be attuned to you alone." Athos glanced up from his examination of the weapons with an amused expression on his face. "Very nice. Magical weapons and shielding... Very nice. But I'm afraid you haven't considered one thing. Why do you think I'm going to kill the Viper?" Khelben said nothing, just sat staring flatly at him. "You seem certain that I will," said Athos, shaking his head, "but I assure you, I have no intention of engaging in such a fool's errand, magical toys or not." "Only time will tell," said Khelben enigmatically. "I see. Then these weapons... they are mine to keep?" Khelben nodded. "Until you have slain the Viper. Then of course we'll want them back." "And I am free to go?" Again the mage nodded. Athos stood, gathered up the items laid out across the table, gave a quick bow, and left.

Chapter Thirty-One Final Confrontation

The Shining Cradle was crowded this day, though not so crowded as Jitinder might have expected. He entered, scanning the room for any sign of Athos and finding no trace of him. Scowling in frustration, he looked again. Athos was not here. He looked to the barkeep. A short, balding dwarf was behind the bar, serving a few customers. By all accounts the Viper was human, in form if not in heart, so this could not be him. His eyes drifted over the room again, searching for any other man who might fit the description of the master assassin. Near the bar stood a lone man with a longsword strapped to his back. He was tall and fairly wiry, and his movements were confident, sure. Farther away a tall rugged man sat casting sulen glances at all who happened to look his way. Jitinder couldn't immediately tell what weapons the man was armed with, but he also matched the general physical description of the assassin. Nearer the bar but to the left sat a man toying with a dagger. He twirled it between his fingers expertly and sat as if waiting for an appointment. There were others, but these three drew his immediate attention. Just then Artemis burst through the tavern's doors, colliding with Jitinder's back. He whirled. "What are you doing here?" he hissed. "Fool girl, don't you know you could get hurt?" Her jaw set stubbornly. "Why is everyone suddenly treating me like some sort of porcelain doll? You never used to. I can take care of myself." "Sure," he said, "in ordinary situations. This is not one of them. The Viper will be here, if he isn't already. Anywhere near him is too dangerous for you. If I had known you were going to follow me I would never have left the ship." "But you did leave," she said, "though Tyr alone knows why." "To get a shot at the Viper. You know that." "So it's alright for you to run off and get killed trying to get revenge, but it isn't acceptable for me to try to find out what happened to Athos. All you care about is your vengeance! You really don't care at all what happens to him, do you?" "I sure do," said Jitinder. "I want him dead." "Not the Viper. Athos." He shook his head. "What? Well of course I... what's that got to do with it? You've got to get back to the Tidestorm, where it's safe." "No I don't. I'm sitting down right here and waiting for Athos. There isn't any danger here unless you're stupid enough to take on the Viper, and though you're fool enough to try I doubt you'll get the chance. The Viper doesn't want me dead. Doesn't care about either of us." "You're a stubborn fool!" She sat down at one of the tables. "A woman in love!" he muttered under his breath in frustration, but a moment later he joined her. "You've got to keep low. Run at the first sign of danger." She scowled.

* * * * *

The Viper was pleased. It seemed that fate had favored him. Now he had an adequate replacement for that fool wizard, LaValle, who had dared to defy him. Two of them, actually, though he suspected the girl would serve his purposes better than the young man. Everything was going according to his plan. Now all that was missing was Athos.

* * * * *

Athos made his way quickly through the streets, retracing the route the guardsmen had taken. He entered the Dock Ward again and opted for returning to Dock Street and retracing his original route to The Shining Cradle in favor of taking the less-direct path the guardsmen had followed. In a few minutes he stood once again before the tavern. This time there was no-one to stop him. It was a small and comfortable looking place, the kind of spot locals frequented, and Athos wondered for a moment whether this was the correct location. He dismissed the thought from his mind. The Viper always made deadly situations look appealing. He entered, and was surprised to find the place fairly crowded. He spotted the Viper almost immediately, even through the disguise, and started forward. The sound of a familiar voice to the right caught his attention, and he shifted slightly, glancing in that direction peripherally. A chill went through him. Both Artemis and Jitinder were here, sitting at one of the tables near the far wall. They were conversing in low tones, and neither had spotted him yet. He was so shocked that he barely restrained his impulse to look at them. He forced his eyes back to the assassin. There was a chance, however slim, that the Viper did not yet know who they were. He would not betray their presence. He tried to walk briskly and nonchalantly, hoping to pass them unnoticed, but to his chagrin, Jitinder stood suddenly and approached, meeting him in the center of the room. "Which one is the Viper?" he asked as he came near, studying the three men he had earlier picked out as possible matches. "The barkeep," replied Athos tersely, knowing now that the Viper would realize something was wrong. "Get back to your seat." "The barkeep," blurted Jitinder, surprised. "But he..." His voice trailed off as he began to note details about the dwarf he had earlier failed to notice. The barkeep was very tall for a dwarf, almost human-sized. He had thought earlier that there must be some sort of raised platform behind the bar, but now... It was the way he had been standing which gave the impession of smallness. And something about he beard was wrong somehow... "Why is Artemis here," said Athos. "You know the danger-" "She followed me. Stubborn idiot. You know how some people are - you tell them and tell them not to come, but they do anyway." "Yes," said Athos wryly. "Like you." His eyes darted to the side. "There!" he hissed, and Jitinder turned. Athos clipped him on the back of the head and Jitinder dropped like a stone. "Get him out of here," he said to Artemis. "Now." Artemis, pale-faced, rushed forward and took hold of Jitinder's limp form and pulled him back to the table. Athos cursed himself and turned away. The Viper smiled as he approached. "What'll it be then, ye'r worship?" Athos scowled and held up the amulet. "Oh!" said the dwarf. "Follow me, then." He led Athos back to a room behind the main tavern area. "Very impressive," said the assassin, letting his disguise fall away. "You've completed your first test." He took the amulet. "Just out of curiosity," asked Athos, "what if someone else had come with it? Would you have paid the gold bounty?" The Viper laughed. "Of course. And then I would have killed him. Anyone who can take out a protege of mine is far too dangerous to be allowed to live." A few moments passed in silence. "Was there anything else you wanted to know, since you're feeling curious and I'm feeling generous?" asked the Viper. Athos took a deep breath and steeled himself for the question he knew he had to ask. "How many more tests will there be?" The Viper's eyes narrowed. "Two." Athos' heart jumped into his throat. He had not expected this. He paused, bracing himself, and dared to ask another question. "Will I be free of you once the tests are complete?" "Irrevocably," said the Viper, a strange look in his eyes. "Should you survive all three tests, you will never see me again." Athos nodded slowly. It was more than he had hoped for. "And how much longer will it be before I am finished with them?" "That depends on you," said the Viper. "Not long. Perhaps before the day ends." Athos nodded. "What is the second test?" "The girl in the tavern room," said the Viper. "The one who came into port with you. Kill her. That's all." Athos was frozen in complete and utter shock. He felt as if he had been kicked in the solar plexus by a warhorse. Every hope he had ever had drained from him. "It need not be done discreetly," continued the Viper, as if he hadn't noticed the blood drain from Athos' face. "Broad daylight is perfectly acceptable. You may kill her in any way you wish. Time is no obstacle. I will give you... two weeks, if you wish. Though were I you, I would do it as soon as possible. This is a lesson you must learn." "You bastard," said Athos in a hollow voice when he finally found his breath. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" The assassin gave him a blank look. "Are you going to do it or not?" Athos sneered. "You know that I am. You know that I cannot refuse you. I am trained to obey." His voice took on a bitter rage. "To refuse you is to die. But why?" The last word was nearly a shout. "Because you are still in training," said the assassin. "Because you are not yet the weapon I am crafting you to be. You fell prey to the illusion of love. I will have this weakness tempered out of you. The blade I forge will be pure. You will divorce yourself from all emotion. All emotion. You will obey." Athos stared at his master for long minutes. At last he turned, walking back into the main tavern-room. The Viper watched him go, a faint smile on his lips. Athos walked with almost wooden steps towards the table where Artemis sat. He was curiously emotionless. His entire body was numb in the realization of what he would do. "I've been told to kill you," he explained calmly, looking down and raising the dagger that Khelben had given him. Here eyes widened for a moment. "Do you trust me?" he asked. She nodded. "I trust you." "Then listen to me carefully. When the dagger comes down, you have to run - as fast and as far as you can. Don't ever look back for me; I won't be there. Today I die. I'll try to hold him as long as I can. Ready?" "Athos-" she said, her eyes tearing up. She choked on the word. He realized his hand was trembling. He forced himself to calm. No! There was no time for goodbyes! "Ready?" he asked again, keeping his voice level. She nodded. Despite his efforts, something wet glistened in his eyes. "I love you," he said simply. A tear trickled out of the corner of her eye and slid down her cheek. "I love you," she said. "Always." Jitinder had been awake for several moments by then, listening quietly, and Athos looked at him. "Here's your chance, Jitinder. Here's your chance to take the Viper." He gave a bitter smile. "I've waited my life long," he said. "Don't make me wait any longer." Athos nodded to him, then looked to Artemis. Their eyes locked together for one timeless moment. And then the dagger flashed down, cutting the air near Artemis' throat before swerving to the side. "Now!" yeled Athos. "Run!" Jitinder leaped up, naginata in hand as Artemis dashed for the door. Athos whirled to face the Viper. And the Viper went into motion. The dwarf disguise fell completely away as his two katanas leapt out of nowhere to appear in his hands, and he lunged frward, crossing the room in a hearbeat. Jitinder and Athos struck forward as one. Almost contemptuously the Viper parried both Jitinder's naginata and Athos' newly acquired magical weapons. He lashed out with a kick that sent Jitinder tumbling backwards, and aimed a flurry of light blows at Athos' head. He had brushed by them both in another instant and was out the door, running in the direction Artemis had gone. "NO!" cried Athos, sprinting out on the Viper's heels, Jitinder right behind him. As he sprang out the door he caught a glimpse of the Viper speeding around the corner of the building. He followed. The Viper was fast and the gap between them widened as he flung a crate back at Athos, striking him in the knee and sending him to the ground. Jitinder leaped over Athos' sprawling form and continued the chase around the next corner. Athos was on his feet instantly, but battle had already joined. By the time he had rounded the next corner, it was over.

* * * * *

Artemis stumbled and fell, and the Viper kicked her once, in the back of the head, knocking her senseless. He whirled to face Jitinder. Jitinder lunged and feinted twice, his naginata humming. The Viper parried and double thrust. Jitinder knocked the first thrust aside easily, but the second thrust was a feint, and the Viper whirled it back, then sent it whispering through Jitinder's heart. For a moment they stood frozen, the blade of the Viper's katana plunged through Jitinder's body. Then the Viper pulled back, and Jitinder collapsed to his knees, looking down at the blood gushing forth from the terrible wound in disbelief. His blood. He looked back up at the Viper, who was watching him intently, and feebly touched the wound with his fingers. "No-one is that fast," he tried to say, but his mouth filled with blood and he slumped back against the wall, his eyes already glazing in death. The Viper raised his katanas and turned to Artemis.

* * * * *

Athos rounded the corner in time to see the Viper hunched over Artemis. His katanas were wet with her blood. "No!" he screamed. "NO!" The Viper stood and looked at him. "It was nothing personal. If it is any consolation at all, she didn't give me a last look to paint, though your friend did." Athos glanced to the right to see Jitinder's body slumped against the wall. Everything that was human drained from Athos at that moment. He felt his control snap. "I'm going to kill you, Entreri," he said, very quietly. The Viper cocked an eyebrow. "Skipping to the final test, are you? And exactly how did you learn my name?" Athos said nothing. He merely stepped forward, combat stance but weapons by his sides. The Viper tsked. "Your weapons aren't in ready position. I could kill you where you stand." "Try it." The Viper smiled, then lunged with blinding speed, one katana aimed at Athos' throat. Athos side-stepped, his weapons whistling into motion. Impossibly he parried the Viper's attack, and the assassin's eyes widened. "Very good, boy," he said. "I'm impressed. But it will take more than a miracle to save you now." The magical weapons Khelben had gifted him with sang as they sped forward in Athos' next blinding attack. The Viper deflected them easily and began to circle, expecting Athos to back off as he often did in training sessions. Instead Athos pressed forward, his weapons arcing back and forth, and the Viper was hard pressed to stand his ground as he blocked a flurry of blows. Still the blows fell, and the Viper backed slightly. "You're tiring," he said, knowing that Athos could not sustain this pace. Athos said nothing as he pressed in even harder. Finally the Viper managed to go into the offensive just as he was backed almost to Jitinder's body. He swept Athos' blades to the side, and saw an opening. Just as he lunged forward he felt a searing pain explode in the back of his left leg. Glancing down, he saw that Jitinder's naginata had swept out, slicing through his hamstring. Jitinder's eyes were open and staring sightlessly at the sky, but his face was set in a grim smile. Some things went beyond death, apparently. The assassin's left leg collapsed beneath him, and he went down on one knee, one katana flicking behind him briefly as he made certain that Jitinder was dead. Athos came down then, and the Viper once again had to block a series of blows. This time because of his wounded leg he had no mobility, so it was twice as difficult. He feinted and Athos lunged, and opening presenting itself to the assassin. He struck out for it and Athos revealed a counterfeint as he batted the blow aside, then lunged into the opening the Viper had left in his own defenses. This time it was the Viper who revealed a counterfeint as the opening Athos aimed for closed impossibly quickly and his weapons were swept to the side, almost torn from his grasp. The Viper used the opening, the split-instant that Athos was off balance, striking in a killing blow. But Athos had never been off-balance, revealing his feint as he blocked the strike and moved in to finish the assassin off. The Viper smiled grimly, revealing that he had never seriously lunged in the first place as he recovered himself instantly and parried Athos' blows aside, nearly knocking the dagger from his hands. The young man was sent reeling and his defenses fell for just a moment. The assassin went straight for the heart. This battle was over now. He had expected, almost hoped, for more of a fight from his pupil, but he was Entreri and he had never been beaten at anything. He almost wanted to prolong the battle, as if savoring a great meal, but he was Entreri, and he killed as quickly and efficiently as he could. Athos neatly recovered his balance - which he had never truly lost in the first place - and stepped around the lunge. He planted his dagger in the Viper's left eye as his shortsword pierced the assassin's heart. The Viper was stunned as he realized he was dead. He looked down with his good eye at the shortsword embedded in his chest, the movement of his head wrenching the hilt of the dagger from Athos' hand. "I am the Viper," he said. "I cannot die!" Then he laughed, a cruel and bitter laugh that brought up blood. "The game is over. I wish I could see my face," he said, and died.

* * * * *

They found him huddled over Artemis' body, his shoulders heaving with sobs. When they lifted him, they saw that his face was devoid of tears, his expression blank. His eyes unblinking. He would not respond to anything they did. "We should put him to death," said Percival after consideration. "It would be a mercy." "Not so, my lord," replied Thenedain, bowing low. "This man is clearly insane. He must be studied, lord. I would be willing to offer a large sum-" "I want no part of bribery," snapped Percival. "You will admit, my Lord," said Grimwalde, interrupting, "that this man is insane. He is by his very nature innocent of any offences against the city. Putting him to death might seem a mercy, but it would be a waste. It is possible that we might be able to use him for study, so that others like him might be cured. Think of the good that might be accomplished." Percival fingered his chin thoughtfully. "For the good of others, I will not put him to death. I will consult the other Lords of the city on the matter. "If we do decide he should be given over to you for study, I will insist that he be kept within Waterdeep - under lock and key." "But-" Thenedain protested, but Grimwalde cut him off. "We would be delighted at the chance to move our base of operations to your fair city."

* * * * *

"Athos?" asked Grimwalde, trying to get him to move. "Athos, get up." He looked up at the mage blankly. "Athos is dead," he said. "That was another person, another lifetime. I am the Entreri. The... Artemis Entreri." Grimwalde turned to his assistants. "Strap him down. He may become violent."

Epilogue

The dark ritual was about to begin. Hundreds of cultmembers filled the dark cavern with their moaning as the great pillar of fire in the stagnant pool rose to greater and greater heights, finally burning upwards into the solid rock that made up the chamber's ceiling. Hodkamset and Nekiset did obscene things before the pool. Hamsetis watched from the back end of the chamber, absorbed in the spectacle. There was a power here, a malign and evil power. It was tangible in every corner of the vast chamber. The ritual went on for hours more before the body was carried in by ten priests. It was set on an alter, and then the ten priests slowly - and in excrutiating pain - sacrificed themselves for the greater glory of Set. Hodkamset and Nekiset came forward then, and began casting spells on the body, using a mix of the strongest wizard and clerical magic to strengthen it so that it might be able to hold the sheer power of the essense of a god. It was hours more when they finished, but the chanting of the cult did not waver. If anything it grew stronger. The flames, which had turned black some time ago, now rose to their highest point, burning a hole through the cavern floor to the surface above. And the Viper's remaining eye opened. He screamed then as the dark god Set entered him, and rolled off the alter to lie twitching on the floor. All bowed before him.

* * * * *

Pook sat contentedly on his divan, plucking fruit from its bowl and stuffing his face. The Viper was dead, and now the final obstacle to his rise to power in Calimport was removed. Now he simply needed a way to consolidate his power, and he knew it woud not be long before he found it.

* * * * *

Deep beneath the Snowflake Mountains, within a lethal dungeon complex never penetrated or even constructed by any man, lay a pedestal. Atop the pedestal sat a gem, as large as dwarf's fist and colored red. It sparkled with magical might and, if there had been anyone there to witness it, it would have caught their immediate attention, for the gem was magically imbued with the ability to sway minds. All it needed was someone to hold it. And that someone would be arriving very soon, it sensed.

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