"So you mean we could have returned to the Old Skull Inn last night," said Passepout growing more and more impatient.
"So the trick is to never set foot on the same general area once we've left there. This does not rule out other methods of transportation."
"But you can't control the gates…"
"I was referring to conventional methods of transportation."
"I don't understand."
"Until now I had only considered land-bound routes, but examining my other maps, other options seem to be open to us."
"Liker
"Sea. Air."
"But…" Passepout sputtered, even more afraid of the implications that were being made.
Storm set down a large tray of buns, jams, and meats, at the hearthside. "I see what you mean," she interjected. "So what you really want to do is get to the open sea as soon as possible so as to minimize your risk of doubling back."
"Well, actually I was figuring on heading to the Moonsea, and from there down the River Lis, and farther south to the Sea of Fallen Stars."
"Not a bad plan,' Storm replied, "but you have to watch out for the Zhents. If you venture too close to Zhentil Keep, your journey might stop there-for good."
"Zhents!" Passepout coughed, spitting out crumbs from his too-full cheeks.
"I am aware of the dangers, but such is the life of a traveler."
"But not of a thespian," the bond servant protested. "Why can't we…"
"There are things that can be done to minimize the risks," answered Storm before the question was even formed. "Through the Harper network I have contacts all over Faerun, even in the Moonsea region. In fact, I have a delivery that must be made to a certain Harper in that region. Here's an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone."
"I wish you hadn't said 'kill,' " Passepout replied, as the conversation lulled to allow for a fuller enjoyment of the meal at hand.
After the morning meal, Storm escorted the two travelers back to the barn in which Passepout had passed the night. She indicated two horses.
These are lightning steeds," she said. "They are the fastest mounts in all Faerun. Marks lent them to two fellow agents who had escaped from Zhentil Keep, and they need to be returned to him. He'll be able to help you book passage on some trade ship heading in the right direction."
"Perfect." Volo replied.
"Great," said Passepout unenthusiastically.
"That's all I need, another sanctimonious Harper bending my ear."
"You won't have to worry about that with Marks. He's mute."
Storm outfitted both travelers with a full stock of provisions for the journey, and also a magical sack that could be used to render the pouch of necromancer's gems invisible to all eyes save Passepout's and Volo's. She then turned to Volo.
"I wish you well on your journey," she said honestly, "and should you ever pass this way again, be sure to stop by. There will always be a warm place for you to rest near my hearth."
"I assure you," Volo said with certitude, "I will pass this way again. As I am the master traveler of the Realms, I guarantee it."
For the most part, the trip north was uneventful. The steeds set an almost inconceivable pace, slowed down only by the needs of their riders to rest occasionally and, more infrequently, eat.
The ever-present rumblings of Passepout's stomach seemed to provide a chorus of thunder to accompany the steady drumming of the lightning steeds' hoofbeats. As they headed farther north, as if on cue, the sky darkened to an overcast blanket of storm clouds, reflecting the troubles and oppression of these non-Daleland residents living in the shadow of the Citadel of the Raven and other Zhent strongholds.
The steeds required neither urging nor directions to find the quickest and easiest paths home. They steered well clear of hostile outposts while still providing their riders with as easy a journey as possible.
Much to the saddle-sore thespian's relief, they soon arrived at the home of the mute Harper Marks.
Nightfall had arrived, and Marks had apparently already turned in for the night.
Volo approached the entrance to his domicile, looking for a bell cord that could be rung to summon the master of the manor… but none existed. Instead, in its place, a bladder-horn was mounted by an open window nearest the door.
Volo squeezed the bulb.
The resultant blare trumpeted into the house with a cacophonous sound that hurt Passepout's ears.
The front door was quickly thrown open by a strange, wide-eyed man with blond curly hair, who rushed past the two travelers to embrace the necks of the two steeds who had returned home. His mouth moved at the rate of a mile a minute, apparently lavishing praise and affection on the noble beasts, though neither Volo nor Passepout could hear a word.
"Uh, Mister Marks…" Volo interrupted. "Storm Silverhand sent us, and said that you…"
In the blink of an eye, Marks turned his attention his two visitors, vigorously shaking hands and embracing them, lips still moving at the same silent yet frenetic pace.
Volo tried to continue his introduction. "… uh… Storm said that you might be able to help us get transport to the River Lis and southward."
Marks gestured to them with a jovial body motion that he would be glad to help them, but then held up a single finger to indicate that something else had to be done first. Turning his back on his guests, he took the reins of the horses and led them into their paddocks, one with the nameplate
Horsefeather, the other Coconut. He filled their troughs with a mix of barley and hay, with an oat mash sprinkled liberally on top.
Once his returned loved ones had been cared for, he once again assumed the role of the gracious host and ushered the two travelers into his house.
Thank you, Mister Marks," Passepout shouted, "but we are very hungry, and…"
Marks slapped him across the face, just hard enough to get his attention, and covered his ears with his hands while shaking his head "no."
"I'm pretty sure he's telling us," Volo observed, "that even though he is mute, his hearing is fine, and there is no reason to shout."
Marks touched his finger to the tip of his nose and nodded. He then patted Passepout on the head, rubbed his stomach, and indicated the way toward a table where a meal had been laid out, awaiting the guests.
Passepout dove in, pausing only to observe, "It's as if he were expecting us."
The mute heard this, reached into the pocket of his robe, and extracted a small note that he handed to Volo to read.
"It's from Storm," Volo declared, "and she's outlined our needs to him. How did she get this to you before we arrived?"
Marks extended his arms out to the sides, and waved them up and down a few times. He then pulled them in, close to his body but bent, and began walking around like a chicken.
"By bird?"
Marks nodded.
"By carrier pigeon?"
Once again Marks signed that Volo was right on the nose.
Volo carried the exchange to its most meaningful question. "Can you help us?"
Marks paused for a moment as if for dram effect, then smiled and vigorously nodded. He then motioned to the traveler, rubbing first his own stomach and then that of Volo, then pointing to the set table as if to say, "C'mon, let's eat!"
Volo graciously complied.
The next morning, after the steeds had once again been cared for, Marks took out a map that he had annotated.
"It's a shortcut to Hillsfar," Volo observed out loud for the benefit of his bond servant, who was still stuffing himself at the table.
"Mmmmphlgh," Passepout replied with cheeks still bulging.
Marks pantomimed a spy skulking as if in shadows.
"It's a secret road."
Marks nodded.
Passepout joined the two, who had finished their breakfast at least an hour ago.
"What about once we get to Hillsfar?" he asked.