"Because Galimer will agree with me? You're angry with yourself because you didn't see that he was in trouble. That's the reason you want him gone."
If Rozt'a had had her sword drawn then, Dru would have been skewered on the spot, but he knew a little about timing even if he didn't know why it worked.
After a painful silence Rozt'a said, "He's doing personal favors for Darkhold. The Dark Lord owns his soul."
Dru shook his head. "No more than he owned Ansoain." He hoped that was a true statement.
Rozt'a blinked and swore and listened to Dru describe the piece of parchment he'd seen in Amarandaris's quarters. "You might have told us."
"I didn't want to upset Galimer. Tiep didn't want to upset us. We're all human."
"It's different. Very different, and Tiep's in too deep. There's no pulling him out."
"There might be. The Network-Sememmon in particular-is toying with Tiep. They don't want or need him, it's the thrill-the possibility-of corruption that keeps their interest. I think I can offer them a better thrill."
"Dru…"
"I have an idea. It might work. I'll talk it over with you, and him, and Galimer after we're done with Weathercote Wood. Can you wait that long? We can still get out of this better than we were when we came in. It's that, or we leave Tiep here with the horses, and I don't like that for more reasons than I can count."
He didn't like leaving the horses behind, period, but there was no riding or leading them closer to the Wood. Men owed something better to the beasts that served them than a grassy trail-side in the middle of nowhere, even if the animals seemed perfectly content. Setting the horses free had one unanticipated benefit. Without Tiep's shoulders, they'd have had to leave even more of their gear behind. Rozt'a made swift, practical peace with the idea of walking behind him to Wyndyfarh's glade.
Wyndyfarh's amber lights shone clearly throughout the afternoon. Rozt'a kept watch for big trouble in the form of reavers and anything else the Wood might throw their way. Dru watched for the smaller problems. He saw them-pairs of bright colored insects-in every tree, but they kept their distance. At sunset, Dru kindled his light spell and they pressed on until a snare-string crescent moon hung above the trees. The distance between the amber markers shortened until the path was a continuous line of red and the ground beneath their feet was a carpet of silver-glowing moss.
They came to the bottom of a familiar hill.
"Do you want to do the talking, or shall I?" Dru asked, fully aware that Rozt'a usually declined a leader's role if it was offered.
"You do it," she conceded quickly. "This is magic. Just get Galimer, fair and square."
Tiep didn't offer a comment. He'd said very little since confessing his secrets to Rozt'a and nothing at all since they'd entered the forest. He kept his hands folded in front of him and followed Dru's footsteps as precisely as the differences in their stride allowed.
Dru wasn't surprised to see a tall, white-clad woman waiting for them beside the small marble temple. He was disappointed that Galimer wasn't standing beside her. He was in no mood for court-talk or pleasantries when he led his companions across the stream. And neither was Lady Wyndyfarh.
"You said you had the scroll. Where?"
"Where's my friend? Where's Galimer?"
"On the other side. Follow me."
Dru planted his feet. "I don't know where the other side is, but I know it's not here, not Weathercote, not Faerun." He took a breath and shouted, "Galimer! Gal, do you hear me?" then he turned back to Wyndyfarh. "If he can't walk out here or if he's not the man he was, then we're leaving… with the scroll."
They nailed each other, eye to eye, he and Wyndyfarh, and Druhallen held his own better than he would have a week ago.
"You've read the scroll?" Wyndyfarh surmised.
Druhallen nodded, though it wasn't the Nether scroll that gave him the strength to withstand Wyndyfarh's scorn. That came from Dekanter. Wyndyfarh was arrogant but she wasn't evil. He'd seen evil… inside his own mind. He didn't trust her, though. He'd trust Amarandaris or Sememmon himself before he'd truly trust the hawk-eyed Lady Mantis.
"That is not wise," she said, all silk and warning.
"Not wise is not getting my friend out here to join us. Every breath and heartbeat that he's not standing here where we can see him is the height of foolishness."
Wyndyfarh's appearance turned hawkish and, behind Druhallen, Tiep sucked an involuntary breath. Dru wondered what Rozt'a was seeing and chided himself for forgetting to strengthen their minds before they entered the glade. When silence became tension he thought he'd pushed too far, then Galimer walked out from behind the waterfall. He had a haunted, wary aura about him that lessened, but did not disappear entirely after an embrace from his wife.
"Dru… Tiep… You're here. You're all here," he said when he and Rozt'a had returned to conversation distance. "I didn't dare hope. The lady told me what you were after and who had it… I didn't dare hope."
Druhallen let those words seep through his consciousness. He had believed Wyndyfarh knew what she was sending them into. He'd also believed that she expected them to get the scroll and had held Galimer, rather than Tiep, hostage because she believed they'd be more inclined to retrieve him.
He'd been correct in general, wrong in specifics. Wyndyfarh knew, all right, but hadn't had much faith in their chances against the Beast Lord. He could understand her callousness toward strangers but was unexpectedly outraged that she'd sent Sheemzher on a doomed-fool's errand.
Dru shrugged out of the sling he'd worn since Dekanter and gathered Sheemzher in both arms. The goblin stirred, as he was wont to do when his position shifted. He mumbled in the goblin language and tugged at the bandage Rozt'a had fashioned over his ruined eye.
"We are all here," Dru said, emphasizing the all and watching for Wyndyfarh's reaction. She had a hawk's hard, fixed eyes, but the softer parts of her face seemed to register some surprise, some empathy. "Sheemzher was hurt getting the scroll. Then the Beast Lord damn near finished him. We've kept him alive, but our medicines haven't been able to heal him."
Wyndyfarh wove her black, talon-like fingernails above the goblin. "He wanted so much to be the hero for his people. He wanted to change them. I told him his people were goblins, and they would not listen. He was a goblin and would not listen, so I encouraged his dreams. It was the best way."
She took Sheemzher from Dru's arms. There was nothing weak or fragile about the slender Lady Mantis. Sheemzher did not weigh much, especially after several days of delirium and fever, but Wyndyfarh held him with no more effort than she might have given a bouquet.
" 'Encouraged his dreams'," Druhallen mocked Wyndyfarh's cold tone. "Maybe it was the best way for you, but it wasn't for him. What if we'd failed?"
"But you didn't, did you?" Supporting Sheemzher easily with one arm, Wyndyfarh extended her other arm. "You have the Nether scroll?"
Dru had lost his sword below Dekanter, but he'd kept the scabbard and used it to carry the scroll. He shook it into Wyndyfarh's hand. She closed her many-jointed fingers around it and it vanished.
"What have you done with it now?" Dru asked before he could stop himself.
"Put it in a safer place," she snapped; then that faintly softer look returned to her face. "I believe I will plant it in a tree, right here in my glade. Mystra approves of trees and the Nether scrolls, and keeping them in safe places. If she disagrees, I will find another place… or she will. I am oath-bound to her-does that reassure you, Druhallen of Sunderath?"
It should, and perhaps it did. Mystra wouldn't let the scroll fall into evil hands-into any hands-and that was good for Faerun. It was stubborn pride that kept him from admitting anything aloud.