"It will serve. Go."
Beldar bowed, turned, and strode hastily back out of the lair, eagerly seeking the stomach-churning reek of rotten garbage. The gauth drifted behind him, its largest eye half-closed but its others trained on him, as if anticipating betrayal at any moment.
The Roaringhorn allowed himself a grim smile. As the creature was expecting treachery, it would be ill-bred of him to disappoint it!
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Taeros stood on the Westgate ramparts, the siege of Waterdeep raging all around him.
Far below his boots, a host of sahuagin pounded at the gate, using great waterlogged timbers from sunken ships as rams. Wizards hurled down magical fire at them, and City Guard archers loosed wave after wave of flaming arrows. Scores of fish-men fell, until the wet sands were hidden by heaps of blackened, smoking scaled corpses.
Suddenly a gigantic squid rose from the dark, roiling sea, towering higher than Mount Waterdeep. An enormous tentacle lashed out, impossibly long, dashing a screaming line of Waterdeep's defenders off the battlements, leaving Taeros standing alone, armed with only a quill and a fistful of parchments. The tentacle curled back slowly, arching menacingly on high… and then descended at him, vast and dark and terrible…
He was blinking blindly into the bright morning sun, bolt upright in bed and gasping hard. It took some time before Taeros realized the thudding in his ears wasn't just the pounding of his heart. Someone was insistently striking the knockplate of his bedchamber door.
Mumbling curses, Taeros swung out of bed. The shirt and breeches he'd worn the night before were conveniently right on the floor where he'd left them. He yanked them on, strode barefoot to the door, and flung it open.
Onarlum stood with his staff of office raised to strike again, mute apology on his face. Behind his shoulder Taeros could see a young woman-tall, blonde, formidable, and all too familiar.
His irritation fled before the bright wrath burning in her blue eyes.
"Sarintha," Taeros murmured, staring with growing concern at Roldo Thongolir's bride. "Is anything amiss?"
"My husband is amiss," she snapped, pushing past him into the room. Over one shapely shoulder she sent Onarlum a white-hot glare of dismissal. The steward hastily bowed and scuttled gratefully away. "Or rather, missing."
"Missing?"
Sarintha's look of scorn might have melted glass. "Lord Hawkwinter, even in infancy, I was neither stupid nor naive."
Taeros blinked. "I–I've never suggested you were. If I knew where Roldo was, I'd surely-"
"Invent some story to cover his tracks," Sarintha said sharply, "but as it happens, I know alclass="underline" he went to a moneylender, and lacked even the decency to lie about it!"
Taeros blinked again. Roldo was careful with his coins, as nobles went. He owed Taeros a small gambling debt, true, but 'twas nothing pressing, certainly nothing to send him a-borrowing…
Sarintha gathered volume. "Do you know what he did with these borrowed coins?"
Taeros shook his head, feeling like a particularly stupid student being tonguelashed by a supercilious tutor.
"He went straight to the Gentle Moment-for 'healing'- and got into a drunken brawl. They carted him to the Castle dungeons like a common sailor!"
Taeros frowned. "That… doesn't sound like Roldo."
"Nevertheless, that's the tale his manservant dares to tell me! Take this!"
Sarintha thrust a coin-heavy purse into his hands. "Now go and pay his Watch-fines and his debt, whatever it may be. I would be grateful if you handled this with as much discretion as possible."
She glanced pointedly at the amber cloak lying in a glittering puddle on the floor.
It was little surprise that Sarintha mistrusted the Thongolir steward's tongue. She'd want no word of Roldo's indiscretions to reach his parents' ears, lest they conclude Sarintha couldn't manage her husband, much less family business.
"I'll see to it at once," Taeros promised. "You'll have Roldo back before highsun." Whether you want him or not, he thought.
Sarintha was already nodding curtly, and Taeros was left bowing at a swirling of skirts as she turned and strode from the room.
Taeros didn't know whether to glare at the open doorway or sigh. After a moment he shrugged instead, dressed quickly, and strode out, leaving his telltale cloak behind.
Hurrying to the carriage house, he bade the groom harness the unmarked coach, a workaday carriage with curtained windows of the sort used by many slimcoin travelers and merchants.
The hostler knew his work. Without prompting he passed over the stalls of sleek, highbred horses to choose a pair of cart nags, and brought out unadorned harness. The drover stripped off his Hawkwinter livery and turned the tabard inside out, so its plain dark lining showed. The same routine was well-rehearsed among most noble house servants in Waterdeep, for many masters frequently ordered errands best done quietly.
After a seemingly interminable ride through bustling morning streets-ye gods, didn't anyone in this city sleep? — the coach rumbled to a halt before the Castle entrance known as the Dungeon Doors. A panel in the heavy iron gate slid open, and a gray-bearded man looked out expectantly.
Taeros jerked the coach-curtain aside. "I've come for Roldo Thongolir. Brought in last night for drunken brawling."
The gateguard shook his head. "Here no longer; fine's paid."
"What? By whom?"
The guard's steel-gray gaze sharpened. "And who might be asking?"
Taeros thunked Sarintha's purse down on the coach's door-ledge. "A friend to Lord Thongolir, acting on behalf of his lady wife."
The graybeard eyed the purse-or rather, the Thongolir crest worked into its soft leather. "Guess there's no harm in telling you to take Lady Thongolir's coins to Mirt. The moneylender sent word last night pledging payment."
Gritting his teeth, Taeros gave the man a curt nod of thanks. Calling the new destination to his drover, he flung himself back in his seat, not bothering to close the curtain.
They were nearly at Mirt's Mansion when Taeros caught a glimpse of glittering rose hue and rapped hastily on the coach wall. Even before the drover had quite pulled the horses to a stop, Taeros was out and down into the street.
Striding through the street crowd, he clapped Roldo on the arm. His friend spun around, hand on sword.
"Save that for Sarintha," Taeros said sourly. "She sent me to settle your fines and debts."
Roldo grimaced. "My lady's well informed."
"Better than your friends." Taeros slapped the purse into Roldo's hand. "If you'd need of coin, why not come to me?"
"All's settled with the moneylender-and if you're willing, I'd like to settle the debt between us with something more handsome than coins. I've received a gift more suited to your name and tastes than mine: A charm wrought in white gold."
Cradled in his hand was bright, silvery fancy work: a pendant of a smooth, stylized hawk soaring across a beautifully carved, intricate snowflake, on a fine chain. Roldo put it into his friend's palm with great care.
"Very fine," Taeros murmured, peering at it with dawning pleasure. "I think I've won the better part of this bargain."
Roldo glanced around, and then took his friend's arm and pulled him into the angle formed by two mismatched shop walls.
"Perhaps, and perhaps not," he muttered. "This is a magical thing; it lets you trade shapes with another man… and it comes with two solemn oaths: to never tell anyone about its powers and to use them only for the good of Waterdeep."
Taeros stared at his friend. "Who-"
"The moneylender's lady gave it to me. Korvaun has one too. We did Lord Mirt some small service."