"Reports," she commanded.
"Perhaps you would prefer to wait for the arrival of breakfast…" the wormlike ambassador began to suggest, but quickly changed gears in response to the Tharchioness's withering stare. "As you wish, your majesty. It would appear that the High Blade's men have been unsuccessful on three charged accounts and men have been executed as a result."
The Tharchioness licked her lips as if savoring some rare delicacy. "I can always count on my husband being just as demanding as I am," she replied to no one in particular.
"Yes, your majesty," the ambassador continued. "Their continued search for the body of the prisoner has turned up naught, and they have accepted that it will never be recovered."
"Thus we are back to square one."
"Yes, your majesty," the worm continued quickly, "though the High Blade has also ordered a search for a certain thespian named Passepout and a travel writer named Volothamp Geddarm. There have been vague suspicions that these two might be related to the prisoner in some way."
"Hmmmn," the Tharchioness muse. "Find out more. I want them located and apprehended before my husband gets his sweaty hands on them."
"Wh…" the ambassador began to question, then thought better of it. "Yes, your majesty."
"You may leave," the Tharchioness instructed.
The ambassador became flustered, and said, "But there is more to report."
"The others will see to it."
The ambassador understood now that he was the only one being sent away, and almost asked for permission to stay for breakfast, but thought better of it.
"Yes, your majesty," the worm acknowledged, backing out of the boudoir in an almost ludicrous series of bows and abasements.
When he had left, the Tharchioness broke into peals of derisive laughter that was soon augmented by that of her advisors. The sheer grossness of the overt cowardice of the ambassador had set the rest of the group at ease, and they were now prepared to get down to work.
"Now that we're alone, we can proceed," the Tharchioness announced.
"What about our new ambassador?" Minister Konoch inquired. "I fear that he is no more capable than his predecessors."
"Exactly," the Tharchioness replied, "and he will therefore be the perfect scapegoat, should my beloved husband become suspicious."
"Or if we fail," added Mischa Tam, with a grin that suggested the cat who had just swallowed the canary. "Szass Tam is even more an enemy of failure and incompetence than you are, First Princess."
"Indeed," the Tharchioness replied, now slightly ill-at-ease.
On the Road Back to Mulmaster from the Retreat:
Upon completing a thorough examination of the Retreat's grounds, Volo and Chesslyn had decided to pass the night together before heading back to Mulmaster in order to allow the Hawks Jembahb and Wattrous a wide berth on the road, thus assuring their own safety and anonymity. Both the master traveler and the Harper agent had ample experience doing things that would hedge their bets in order to maintain their secrets. In their respective lines of work their continued survival often depended on it.
With the first rays of dawn, the two packed their kits and prepared to set off for Mulmaster. As Chesslyn swung herself into her saddle she asked her new found riding partner, "Did you encounter anyone on the way here?"
"Just a felon named James who thought me an easy mark," the master traveler replied.
"Well, we can't be too careful," the Harper agent instructed. "We'd better not retrace your steps. Let's take the long way back. I know a place just outside the city where we can hole up for the night."
"Sounds good to me," the wily gazetteer agreed, relishing the continued company of the attractive woman.
"I'm due back at the temple by tomorrow midday," Chesslyn continued as they rode out of the Retreat's gate, "so it would probably be better if we left separately tomorrow."
"Why?" Volo asked, trying not to sound too disappointed.
"It wouldn't look right for a guard at the Gate of Good Fortune, in service of Tymora, to be seen traveling in close company with an outsider, particularly given the circumstances at hand."
The master traveler, realizing that she was right, nevertheless countered with an argument.
"But surely being seen with the legendary travel writer Volothamp Geddarm is not that out of character for one of Tymora's minions."
Chesslyn abruptly stopped her steed, and turned to face Volo, her look and bearing betraying her seriousness.
"I have survived as a Harper agent in Mulmaster for quite a while, and I have no desire to risk betraying my true identity. To do so would invite the placing of a price on my head. My presence in Mulmaster as a set of ears, and an occasional helping hand, is invaluable to many, and not just the Harpers, given the current political situation."
"But surely…" Volo started to argue, then abruptly changed gears. "How have you managed to escape detection? I mean, if things are that dicey, why haven't the Cloaks picked up on your presence before now?"
Chesslyn reached inside her blouse, and removed an amulet that was nestled inconspicuously between her breasts and held it out for him to see.
"Because of this," she explained, continuing in her tone of grave seriousness, "my amulet of non-detection. It's probably my most important possession. If Storm hadn't mentioned you to me the last time we met, I probably wouldn't have acknowledged you at all. I don't make friends easily, and am exceedingly careful about who knows I'm a Harper and who doesn't."
The master traveler fingered his beard for a moment. He realized that it was futile to argue, particularly since she was entirely right, and he was just being lasciviously selfish.
"An amulet of non-detection, eh?" he asked. She replaced it back into its safe hiding place, as the master traveler followed its journey with his eyes. "Always wanted to get my hands on one," the master traveler continued, adding, "the amulet, I mean. That accounts for why you were able to get the drop on me so easily back at the Retreat yesterday."
Chesslyn chuckled.
"And I thought it was because of my superior skills as a ranger," she countered with a smile.
He replied only with a grin, glad that there were no hard feelings.
They once again continued on their way, Volo urging his steed forward so that they could ride side by side for as long as the narrow road would allow it. After all, they didn't have to part until the next sunrise, and much mutual enjoyment of each other's company could take place until then.
Volo struck up a new topic for discussion.
"So," he asked, "what do you think those two buffoons were looking for yesterday?"
"Probably the crystal wand," she replied. "Rickman is Selfaril's right-hand man, and the head of the Hawks. He probably sent them to investigate the slaughter. Kind of funny, though. My confidential sources are the best in Mulmaster, and I didn't know that anything had happened there. I was there just on the merest of coincidences. I had promised one of the elders that I would deliver his winnings to him, once they exceeded a certain amount."
"Come again?"
"Only the elders of the Retreat were allowed to come to Mulmaster, and then only on a rotating basis as the need arose. One of the elders, Damon of Runyon, would stop by the temple on his visit and leave a series of bets with very specific instructions. When his winnings reached a certain point, it was my place to bring a portion of the kitty to him, and, for a tidy fee, to bring out new betting instructions. He was pretty lucky, at least up until now."