A freckled, snub-nosed youth, his Zhentish uniform too loose and short on his gangly limbs, slunk by with many a glance back over his shoulder. Will inferred that the lad had slipped away from the castle without permission, to shirk work or scratch a carnal itch in private.
Will pulled the warsling from his belt, glad that oil and enchantment had kept the leather supple despite its immersion the night before. He rose and let fly.
The polished skiprock hit the Zhent in the back of the head. An expert marksman, Will would have been astonished if it hadn't. The only question was whether it had done more harm than intended, some skulls being more brittle than others. As the youth pitched forward, the halfling darted forth to check him.
It was all right. The warrior was still breathing, and any damage short of death, Pavel's prayers could reverse.
Pavel could also do something else that Will couldn't accomplish. He could haul the ungainly bulk of a fellow human away before some other Zhentilar discovered the youth lying unconscious in the street. The halfling ran to fetch his friend.
"We're running a risk," Pavel said. "What if somebody misses him?"
"The longer you dawdle," Will said, "the more likely that is. So get on with it."
Pavel had carried the youth into a shadowy derelict shop and set him on the dusty floor. Will then tied the prisoner's hands and feet with strips of cloth cut from his tunic. The soldier still lay motionless where they'd secured him, the hair on the back of his head matted with blood.
It struck Pavel that the wretch didn't look much like the popular notion of a vicious Zhentilar. Maybe he wasn't. Perhaps he was just a callow lad the Black Network had conscripted into its forces.
But even if he was, Pavel and Will still couldn't afford to be gentle with him. The Zhentarim garrison posed too great a danger, and their mission was too important.
Pavel murmured a prayer. His hand tingled with warmth and radiated a rosy light. He pressed his palm to the wound in the Zhent's scalp, and the gashed skin twitched as it knit itself back together. The captive gasped and jerked away from his touch.
Will pounced on the Zhent and pressed a dagger to his throat.
"Don't call out, and don't struggle!" the halfling snarled. The soldier froze.
"That's good," said Will. "Now, we're going to ask you some questions, and I recommend you answer truthfully. Do you see the sun amulet hanging around my partner's neck? He's a priest of the Morninglord, and he's going to weave a spell that will alert him if you lie to us. If you do, I'll cut you. Understand?"
"Yes," the youth wheezed.
Pavel murmured and swept the talisman through a mystic pass, pretending to weave an enchantment. He couldn't really utilize the magic Will had described, because, unable to anticipate that he and his comrade would soon be interrogating a prisoner, he hadn't requested that particular spell when praying for his daily allotment at dawn. But the Zhent didn't know that, and thus would fear to dissemble.
Pavel gave the youth a cold stare and asked, "Why is the Black Network occupying this empty place?"
"Please," said the youth, "if I betray them, they'll torture me to death."
Will shifted the knife. The Zhent gasped and flinched away as best he could with his limbs bound and the halfling holding onto him. A drop of blood slid down his neck.
"If you don't cooperate," said Will, "I'll do the same right now."
It was another bluff. Will and Pavel weren't torturers. But the Zhent had no way of knowing that, either.
"I swore oaths to Bane," the soldier pleaded. "If I break them, then, after I die, he'll rip my soul forever."
"No," said Pavel, "he won't. Renounce the Black Lord, run away from the Zhentarim, find a decent way of living, and he'll have no power over you. I give you my word as a servant of the Morninglord."
"So," said Will, "you can die today, or have a second chance. What's it going to be? Decide fast, I'm getting bored."
He flicked the knife, making a second superficial cut.
The Zhent cringed and said, "All right! Ask your questions."
"I already asked one," Pavel said. "Why are you here?"
"To protect the dragon."
Pavel and Will exchanged glances.
"What dragon?" the half ling asked.
"He's called Vercevoran," said the Zhent. "Somebody said he's an emerald dragon. He looks like he was carved out of a big, green jewel."
"Oh, blessed powers!" Pavel exclaimed.
"What?" asked Will. "Does that tell you something?"
"The forces that attacked us on the water," said the priest. "They didn't seem like true magic, or actual unclean spirits, either. But there's another sort of power, exceedingly rare, a pseudo-wizardry of the mind. Gem dragons are among the creatures possessing such abilities, talents well suited to keeping watch over the entire Moonsea and striking at those who journey without the Zhentarim's authorization." He turned back to the soldier. "Am I right?"
The youth goggled in amazement at his perspicacity and said, "Yes."
"I don't understand" said Will. "Why would an emerald dragon help the Zhents? Gem wyrms aren't totally evil, are they? And why aren't his keepers worried about him succumbing to the Rage and running amok?"
"He's a prisoner," said the Zhent, "magically forced to serve. The spellcasters back in the Citadel of the Raven called up something special to control him. I don't know what. It keeps to itself, and walks abroad shrouded in a cloak and hood."
"Then explain this," Will said. He stalked to the doorway to take a wary look at the street outside. "The dragon's important to your masters' plans. So why keep him in Hulburg? Why not in one of your strongholds, the citadel, Zhentil Keep, or Mulmaster?"
"I think I know," said Pavel. "This one creature, mighty as he is, can't perform the task the Zhentarim have set him all by himself. The dastards need a ring of watchers linked mind to mind positioned around the Moonsea. They need a psychic hereabouts to close the circle." He smiled at the youth. "Am I correct?"
"I think so," said the captive. "I mean, common soldiers like me aren't even supposed to know, but you hear things. Vercevoran and the other slaves are all linked in a pattern that makes their minds stronger than normal."
"This is… interesting," said Will.
"And important," said Pavel. "We knew we were in peril every time we traveled. Now we know why."
"And we know how to remove the threat. Break one strand loose and the whole psychic web collapses."
"Exactly."
Will played with his bloody dagger, tossing and catching it as he mulled the prospect over.
"We could try hiking back to Thentia for reinforcements," said the halfling, "but the wyrm would probably sense us making the trip and hammer us again. Whereas you and I have already slipped in close enough to strike."
"Right. I wouldn't like our chances fighting an entire Zhentarim garrison and this shrouded demon, too, but that's not the point. We simply have to creep in and divest them of Vercevoran."
"Any thought as to how?"
"I may be able to dispel the enchantments binding him."
Will arched an eyebrow and asked," 'May?'"
"It could be tricky, time-consuming, or dangerous."
"Then how about this? We kill the wyrm. If the Zhents have taken away his free will, he may not lift a claw to defend himself."
Pavel frowned and said, "That option doesn't sit well with me."
"Me, either, really, but think about it: Jewel drakes aren't utterly wicked by nature, but they're not exactly good, either. I've heard tales of them killing folk and raiding for treasure."
"We don't know that Vercevoran has ever done such things."
"But we do know there's a Rage building. What if the wyrm's already in frenzy, with only his bonds holding him in check? What if he goes berserk as soon as we free him, and tears into us?"