Flinderspeld blinked behind the gemcutter's loupe. "What are you doing here, M-" He checked his tongue, and drew his shoulders a little straighter. He glanced at Q'arlynd's hands, which were bare. Q'arlynd had been careful to tuck into a pocket the master ring that connected him with his apprentices; he didn't want to remind Flinderspeld of his former servitude. Not yet. "What brings you to Silverymoon, Q'arlynd?"
"I'd hoped to purchase a chardalyn. Do you sell them?"
Disappointment flickered briefly across Flinderspeld's face. His attention slid to the crowd that was gathering, and his expression changed to one of understanding. "Of course." He stepped back and opened the larger door. "I stock them. Come in."
Flinderspeld closed the door, set down his stick, and folded his arms across his chest. "Now that Blinnet can't overhear us, tell me why you're really here."
Blinnet: that must be the name of the female who'd led Q'arlynd here. He waggled a finger at Flinderspeld. "You're entirely too smart, for a s-"
"For a what?" Flinderspeld interrupted, his nostrils flaring. "A slave? A svirfneblin?"
"For a shopkeeper," Q'arlynd said, affecting a hurt look.
"Oh."
"But then, I always knew you were an intelligent fellow." Q'arlynd nodded at the display of expensive gems. "Just look what you've built for yourself, in such a short time. This is quite the shop."
Flinderspeld glanced through the window at the knot of people gathered outside his shop. "What is it you want, Q'arlynd?"
"If I told you I came to see how you were faring, what would you say?"
"I wouldn't believe you. It's been four years."
There it was again: that flicker of disappointment.
Q'arlynd gestured at the frowning faces outside the window. "Visiting you might have caused you problems. I enquired after you instead, from time to time. That's how I knew where to find you. I thank you for welcoming me into your shop, even though it will be bad for business."
Flinderspeld shrugged. "I was curious to see what you wanted." His eye settled on the tiny silver sword Q'arlynd had hung around his neck. "You wear Eilistraee's symbol, I see."
Q'arlynd hid his smile. "That I do." He plunged into his carefully rehearsed request. "It's temple business that brings me to Silverymoon. Together with some other wizards, I'm trying to learn the location of a surface elf temple that predates Eilistraee's banishment from Arvandor-a quest Eilistraee's high priestess has given her blessing to. The divinations we've tried so far haven't worked; you may have heard of the difficulties the augmented Faerzress is causing among the drow."
Flinderspeld nodded.
"We-I-need your help."
Flinderspeld turned to the counter. "What do you want? A scrying gem?"
"We've tried that already, and it didn't help. Nor, it turns out, did the gorgondy wine we purchased. I hoped to locate a more potent vintage."
Flinderspeld frowned. "Why come to me? I cut gems; I don't vint wine."
Q'arlynd spread his hands. "You're the only svirfneblin I know. And, more to the point, the only one who knows me. Years ago, you mentioned the Fountains of Memory. I need to look into their waters and use them to find the temple."
Flinderspeld gave Q'arlynd a guarded look. "What makes you think I know where they are?"
"I don't. But you must know someone who does-whoever told you about them. If not him, then a gorgondy wine vintner, or his supplier. Your business here in Silverymoon brings you into contact with scores of svirfneblin. Surely one of them will know where the Fountains of Memory can be found."
"They won't take you there."
"That's right. You will."
Flinderspeld's arms folded. "Or what?" He shook his head. "Are you going to threaten me?"
Q'arlynd spoke softly. "No."
"What then? Remind me that you set me free? I was your slave for years before you did that."
"I thought about trying that," Q'arlynd said. "Then I decided that it wouldn't work. You bear me too big a grudge; I can see that now. And offering to pay you for the information would only insult you. I'm forced, therefore, to resort to something a little more drastic."
He reached inside a pocket and pulled out two black rings.
Flinderspeld tensed and glanced around his shop, as if searching for a weapon.
Q'arlynd held out one of the rings. Flinderspeld's eyes widened as he saw which one Q'arlynd was offering him.
"If you can describe the Fountains of Memory, I can teleport us there," Q'arlynd explained. "You can ensure I bring you along by using the master ring to control my actions. Once I've glimpsed the temple in the pools, and we've used them to reach it, you can erase my memories of the Fountains of Memory, with a spell that's contained within this." He gestured at his forehead, and rendered the lorestone visible.
Flinderspeld's eyes widened. "A selu'kiira! And a powerful one, judging by the color. How-?"
"It's a long story," Q'arlynd said. "But the awarenesses inside it can do as I've described-something you can verify for yourself once you're wearing that ring. You'll be able to touch not only my thoughts, but theirs, as well."
Flinderspeld stared at the proffered ring. "Why would you let me do this?"
"Because I trust you."
Flinderspeld fell silent for several moments. Q'arlynd waited, trying not to betray the tension he felt. Svirfneblin were naturally mistrustful. Flinderspeld might reject the proposal out of hand, ring or no.
Flinderspeld thrust out a hand. "Give me the ring. And your trueseeing crystal."
Q'arlynd lifted the chain from his neck and handed over both gemstone and ring. He watched with a bemused smile as Flinderspeld studied the ring carefully through the gemstone, assuring himself that it was, indeed, the master ring-and not the slave ring, concealed by an illusion. His time among the drow had taught him to never be too trusting. He handed the gemstone back to Q'arlynd, and put on the master ring. "Your turn."
Reluctantly, Q'arlynd slipped the slave ring onto his own finger. He closed his eyes and braced himself as Flinderspeld thrust into his mind and rifled through his private thoughts. His jaw clenched. Then Flinderspeld delved deeper. Q'arlynd heard the svirfneblin's voice in conversation with the awarenesses inside the kiira. He couldn't make out the words.
One of his arms jerked up; Flinderspeld had taken control of it. Q'arlynd found himself walking jerkily forward. He spun when he reached the far wall, nearly toppled, and felt his arms jerk out to steady himself. He walked forward again and squatted, then jumped. He tried to glance at Flinderspeld as the svirfneblin walked him back across the room again, but his body wouldn't cooperate. Flinderspeld chuckled, and spun Q'arlynd around a second time.
Q'arlynd started to worry. Had he misjudged Flinderspeld? If so, he'd just condemned himself to a life of slavery. To a svirfneblin.
The insult had slipped into his mind before he could prevent it; Flinderspeld would certainly have heard it. Q'arlynd mentally shouted to the svirfneblin that he hadn't meant it, that he didn't think of the deep gnomes as a lesser race. But he knew this was a lie.
Thanks to the slave ring, so did Flinderspeld.
Q'arlynd's hand came up. His finger pointed-at his own forehead. He felt Flinderspeld yank an evocation from his mind. Sweat trickled down Q'arlynd's temples as he fought to form a word, but Flinderspeld held him stiffly in place. Strain as he might, all that came out was, "Nnnn-"
"Keep silent!" Flinderspeld shouted-a passable imitation of a drow master's command, an order Q'arlynd had used many times. A bolt of magical energy streaked out of Q'arlynd's fingertip and bored into his forehead, hot and painful. Q'arlynd's eyes watered. He groaned.