The two dusty birds paid them no heed, for they were deep in conversation.
"We can't get back without a mage," one said in tones that threatened to become a wail.
"If we find one powerful enough," the larger buzzard added, "there remains the problem of compelling him to create a way between the planes-and yet keep ourselves safe against his treachery."
"To say nothing of the wrath of the elders of the blood if they hold us responsible for opening a way into Shadowhome any mortal can use… can you imagine armies of men in the halls of the castle?"
"I could tell them it's all your fault, Atari," said the larger buzzard, sounding amused.
"I don't find this a matter for jesting," the other raptor said coldly, "even from you."
"We'd best begin lurking about cities and towers and the like, looking for wizards and trying to find out just who is mighty, and what interests drive them," the larger buzzard said. "This may take a long time."
"Aren't they most likely to be found in cities?" Atari responded almost despairingly. "Yinthrim, I don't know how to look and act in a human city! We won't be able to learn anything if we're always running afoul of local laws and customs, and getting attacked!"
"How to begin, then? We-'ware!"
A large, dark bird was gliding down out of the high blue sky toward them, headed silently but purposefully for their tree. The buzzards watched it nervously, shifting on their perches. "An eagle?" Atari guessed. "Do they eat buzzards?"
"Nothing eats buzzards, if I recall old Othortyn's teachings, except other buzzards," Yinthrim said tightly, "but if he was wrong…"
The eagle circled the tree, regarding them both with dark and knowing eyes. "Is this all you've managed to do?" it asked coldly. "Take bird-shape and sit around on dead trees feeling sorry for yourselves?"
"Ahorga?" Atari gasped.
"Son of Yerga," the eagle responded calmly as it came to rest, wings flapping, between them.
"We were just discussing-"
"I know; it's how I knew you. Is this all you've done-flee into the wilderlands and then sit and talk?"
"Well, no-" Atari protested, but Yinthrim interrupted.
"That's a fair summation of our doings, yes," he said. "I'd rather tarry now and plan wisely than charge into one blundering battle after another and awaken the attention of the Red Wizards, these Zhentarim, and Elminster's friends."
The eagle nodded. "Fair enough. Have you come to any conclusions as to what to do-as opposed to what not to do?"
"One question," Atari said hurriedly. "How many more of us came through with the sword and… survived?"
"None I know of, but others of the blood seem to have found their own, separate ways into Faerun."
"Will any of them join with us," Atari asked eagerly, "in hunting down the three violators of the castle? Or the Great Foe?"
Ahorga turned a cold and glittering eye on the younger Shadowmaster. "Hot for revenge, are you? None of them-nor will I."
"What?"
Ahorga turned to see if the silent Yinthrim was as shocked as Atari, but the larger buzzard merely shrugged and said calmly, "Say on."
Ahorga nodded. "Rushing into battle here is a very good way to get slain. They'd no doubt rather see what Faerun has to offer before getting themselves destroyed… and so should you."
He looked back at Atari. "Go after the three rangers if you must-you're likely to find them and the Great Foe in and around Shadowdale, southeast of here-but you'd better gather some rings and wands and suchlike that wizards here use to store battle magic… you'll need such power to take even those three. You'd best get some experience in impersonating mortals of Faerun first… unless you like being burned, lashed, and transformed against your will by frightened wizards!"
"You make it sound as if every mage of this world can dispose of us with a wave of his hand," Atari said bitterly.
"If you sneer at them and rush into battle with them heedless of what might befall," Ahorga told him, taking flight with a sudden, powerful wingbeat that almost tumbled them from the tree, "that's exactly what may happen." He circled around them. "Go softly, and make surprise your best weapon."
"Will we see you again?" Yinthrim asked.
"If you stay alive, almost certainly," the senior Shadowmaster said. "Remember, an ambush is your best tactic, and against Elminster, it's your only tactic."
"We'll practice ambushes, then," Yinthrim promised grimly. "The Realms around here, I think, are suddenly going to become much more dangerous."
"Now that sounds like a son of Malaug speaking," Ahorga said approvingly. Without a farewell, he flew off southwest.
Atari watched him go, and then said in a small voice, "Are mortal mages really that dangerous?"
"No," Yinthrim assured him. "He was just telling us that overconfidence is."
"Words to live by? Hmmph," Atari said, and turned one wing into a tentacle long enough to make a rude gesture into the southwest. Yinthrim chuckled and flew from the branch.
"Where are you going?" Atari asked in sudden alarm.
"I'm going to practice ambushing something-anything," his fellow Malaugrym replied. "I'm hungry."
Verdant farms stretched away on both sides of the road, which ran like a sword blade down the length of Mistledale. Along the backs of those prosperous steadings stood the unbroken green wall of the encircling Elven Court woods. On this bright morning Mistledale was a beautiful place to ride, with a good mount moving strongly beneath the saddle-even if the rider rode in the midst of a solid ring of ebon-armored warriors, who took care to keep their armored forms between her and any possible attack.
For the third time, Jhessail Silvertree lost sight of everything but moving black-armored bulks and a forest of lances. She studied the small circle of blue sky visible above her-all she could see of the world around-sighed, and decided she'd had about enough. From the mutterings behind her, she could tell that her apprentice, Illistyl, whose tongue was apt to be sharper than that of almost anyone else, was clinging to her temper with grim talons. Jhessail smiled tightly, thanked Torm for his work in outfitting her with riding breeches-though her lack of armor was why the Riders were treating her this way-and swung her legs suddenly up underneath her.
She heard a startled, wordless exclamation from a Rider on her right as she spread her hands for balance and stood up on her saddle. She had time for a good look around before the Riders on either side of her were extending their lances around her like the bars of an upturned portcullis and crying out:
"Lady, get down!"
"Catch hold of my lance!"
"Careful, Lady!"
She folded her arms across her breast and waited for them to fall silent-and soon enough, uncertainly, they did. "Thank you for your kind concern, Gentlesirs," she said as the horses slowed to a rather jarring trot, "but both Illistyl and I find it rather hard to do any scouting or become familiar with the land around us-land you gallants already know well, but which we've seen only once or twice in passing-through a solid wall of plate armor."
"That's just it," the leader of the patrol rumbled, his deep voice sounding almost scandalized. "You wear no armor! What if a Zhent arrow came from the trees? How could we shield you better than we have been?"
"Kuthe," Jhessail said soothingly, "'tis not your diligence or skills I reproach, but my lack of any good way to see around or through all of you. I'm saving my one 'long eyes' spell for any spying we need do in the forest. I know the risks of riding to war; I've done it before, remember."
"But to expose yourself needlessly," Kuthe growled, "is foolish, Lady."