"Ah," Pilos said, nodding. "Perolin doesn't want to make a civil issue out of her crimes, because the temple wants to distance itself from any link that might exist with the Generon. Ariskrit agrees, so long as Lobra is punished for her transgressions against the temple. She's going to be washing laundry in the bowels of the temple for a long while, I think."
"And Falagh?"
Pilos shook his head. "No one has seen or heard from him since the night of Sammardach. House Mestel isn't speaking of it, and Perolin believes they are dealing with it internally."
"I've heard how they 'deal' with that sort of problem," Vambran said. "We'll never hear about him again."
"We are returning to the forest," Edilus announced to no one in particular. "Finally," he added, sounding gruff.
"That's a good thing to hear," Horial replied. "I was beginning to worry you liked the city so much that you'd never leave, and your stench was starting to get to me."
Edilus glared at the mercenary for a moment, and Vambran tensed, wondering where that outburst had come from, but then he saw Horial's mouth twitch in the beginning of a smile, and next he noticed the humorous twinkle in the druid's eyes. As one, the two burst out laughing, clapping each other on the shoulders.
Vambran sighed and turned to Shinthala and Arbeenok. "It's too bad they hate each other so much," he quipped, "otherwise we might all be friends."
Shinthala chuckled, then gave Vambran a warm hug. "Be well," she said. "And come to the Nunwood soon."
"I will," he promised.
Arbeenok took Vambran's hand and grasped it tightly. "You are a good friend," he said. "We will see one another again soon."
Vambran cocked his head and asked, "Is that just hopeful thinking, or have you had a vision?" The alaghi smiled and stepped back. "Sooner than you think," he said.
When the druids departed, taking Pilos with them to begin establishing a relationship with the Waukeenar, Vambran was left alone with Adyan, Horial, and Grolo.
"So, have you made up your mind yet?" Adyan drawled.
Vambran sighed. "Everyone keeps asking me that."
Horial shrugged. "I won't follow another, Lieutenant," he said. "I can't imagine campaigning under anyone else."
Vambran eyed his three sergeants, all of whom were nodding in agreement. "All right," he said at last. "I'll stay in."
Horial whooped and Adyan just grinned, his scar pale in the sunlight. Grolo smacked Vambran on the back. "That's what I want to hear," the dwarf said. "Now, what do you boys say we go over to the Crying Claw and have ourselves a cool one?"
Vambran liked the sound of that.
Out in the Reach, aboard Spinner, a trade ship bound for Turmish, a paunchy wizard pushed his spectacles up on his nose and tried without success to keep the papers he was scrutinizing from fluttering in the sea breezes. After the third attempt to read a paragraph in a treatise on the magical uses of yuan-ti scales, he gave up in exasperation and stuffed the sheaf of parchment into a leather binder. He stood up from the coil of rope he had been using as a seat and glanced over the stern. The coastline of Chondath was receding in the distance.
About that time, another figure strolled onto the deck of the ship. Darvin Blackcrown spotted the wizard and smiled to himself. He made his way over to the bespectacled fellow peering across the bow at the wave-tossed horizon and said, "Hello, Bartimus."
The wizard jumped, startled, and whirled around to face the assassin. "Where did you come from?" he stammered, fear plain in his eyes.
Darvin chuckled. "From Arrabar, the same as you," he said. "Don't worry, I'm not here to cause you trouble. I'm just on my way to Hlondeth to conduct some business on behalf of… my employer." He wasn't sure Bartimus would want to know that Eles Wianar was sending him. "Where are you headed?"
"Away," Bartimus answered. "To someplace where I can conduct my research undisturbed. I don't ever want to see a House insignia again."
Darvin had to chuckle. "I don't blame you," he said. Then an idea hit him. "Perhaps you'd like to travel with me? Where I'm going, I could use your help. And if it works out, I can make it worth your while. Think about it-a fully stocked laboratory, all the research time you want, no one bothering you to scry on folks when you are busy. Sound good?"
"Maybe," Bartimus said. "What would you want in return?"
Darvin smiled. "Let's just get to Turmish and see how things go. If you are interested, we can talk details later."
The wizard nodded. "All right," he said.
"Good," Darvin said, smiling. Perhaps he could get back into his father's good graces more quickly than he had thought.
In a scrying chamber in the deepest recesses of the Generon, Eles Wianar stared at a stack of notes, piles of parchment with information on them that he had been carefully scribing for twelve years. In a burst of fury, he took hold of one of the piles and tossed it into a brazier, then sat and watched the corners curl up from the heat before the pile burst into flame.
Twelve years! What a waste, he thought.
There were so many people to blame. The Matrells, of course, had earned his enmity for all of their meddling. He would have to do something about that. He was certain of it. But that could wait. Let the fire burn down to embers, he thought. Then the time will be right.
But there were others, as well-incompetent fools to single out. He was not happy with Darvin. Sending him away, insisting that the boy visit Turmish, was a good thing for both of them. Kept apart, Darvin would learn the lesson of humility and redouble his efforts at accomplishing the goals Eles set before him. And Eles would be less tempted to disintegrate him in a fit of rage.
Grozier Talricci and Falagh Mestel weren't really at fault. If anything, they were only guilty of figuring out their roles in the whole affair a tad too soon. But that hadn't really affected the outcome. No, even with all of that, Rodolpho was the one most responsible for the breakdown in the plan. It couldn't have been helped, of course; Eles had hoped he could trust his cousin, but it was not something he could control. Not for twelve years, at any rate.
That just left Lavant. Fool priest, Eles thought. Got a little too power-hungry for his own good. And see what it cost him?
Eles turned toward a large mirror leaning against a wall of his scrying chamber, one mirror among several. He spoke a command word, watched as the surface of the mirror rippled and glowed, and smiled as a fat, pale face appeared. "Hello, Lavant," the Shining Lord said.
"By Waukeen's mercy, please let me out of here!" the naked, obese priest pleaded. "I am at your service, ready to do anything you need! You know my powers are formidable, and they are at your command. Just please, please release me!"
Eles smiled. "In good time, Lavant, in good time," he said. "I'm formulating some new ideas, a new possibility for bringing Reth back into the fold of Chondath, where it belongs. I think you might be able to help me with my plans."
"Yes, oh, absolutely, my lord," Lavant said, looking hopeful. "Whatever I can do."
"Excellent," Wianar replied. "I'm so happy to see your enthusiasm. I should be ready for your services in about twelve years."
As Lavant screamed, Eles Wianar uttered the command that closed the window on the priest's cell, sending him back to the darkness.