She continued to study Tiep as though he might make a tasty meal. Druhallen sought to redirect her attention.
"And so long as Duke Windheir never found out?" He didn't know of a Duke Windheir and would have been surprised if any Faerun mortal did.
Wyndyfarh confirmed Dru's suspicion with an icy glance and Galimer issued a statement, not a question, to break the tension "You were lucky there were mind flayers from Llacerelly hunting the Beast Lord while you were trying to steal the Nether scroll."
Dru had never heard of Llacerelly either and foresaw lengthy conversations with his best friend once they were free of Weathercote and Lady Wyndyfarh.
Wyndyfarh used Galimer's remark as the threshold for her own questions most of which they couldn't answer. None of them had noticed the patterns on the mind flayers' robes or whether any of them had six tentacles rather than four. Tiep remembered that one of the mind flayers had longer tentacles than the others, but he hadn't noticed if they were tipped with claws of horn or steel. They did agree the Beast Lord was fighting for its undead life.
"Sheemzher's egg-the athanor which defiled my servants-was it intact when you left the mines?"
Tiep was defensive, "How would I know? Sheemz and me got the scroll. No one said 'break the egg.'"
Wyndyfarh brought her hands together in the familiar mantis gesture. "I will send servants again," she resolved, ignoring her guests. "They will tell me who and what survives at Dekanter."
"Begging your pardon," Dru interrupted, "but as best I could determine, the Beast Lord had gone beyond studying the scroll, it had stuck it atop its athanor and was using it as a conduit for its transformation spells. If the Beast Lord survived and can find another kindling source-lightning comes to mind-it won't miss the scroll. It was melding goblins and mantises that looked a lot like your servants into gith the day we arrived in Dekanter."
Black nails clicked rhythmically as Wyndyfarh wove her fingers together. "I chose only females to be my servants," she muttered. "The males are unsuited. The alhoon could not establish a mantis colony with just one sex."
"That's all they need for themselves. Maybe the Beast Lord learned that from the scroll, too."
The black nails clicked louder, faster. "One more question. Then I must retire."
"Ask it, we can only say 'no,' " Druhallen said, thinking that she schemed to send them back to Dekanter.
"You may ask one more question. You have one. You want to know about a glass disk you've carried around for all these years."
Dru looked across the table at Galimer who squirmed and studied his empty plate. What was cut, stayed cut. He unfolded his wooden box and slapped the disk on the table. "Does this look familiar?"
Wyndyfarh picked it up. She balanced it edge-wise on a fingertip and spun it. "Netherese," she said after a moment and returned it to the table. "I've never seen one. I was not here when the Empire ruled. It is a simple enchantment… simple for Netheril at its height. Carry it openly and you will not be noticed by those who do not expect to see you. Carry it in a box, as you have done all these years, and it does nothing. It keys to living touch. You must have slain the wizard who carried it before you, else you could not have seen it to find it."
"The scryers at Candlekeep saw none of that," Dru said, looking at the disk, not Wyndyfarh, and feeling oddly free of both disappointment and expectation.
"They have not read the Nether scrolls, have they?"
Suddenly, Dru had a thousand questions. He shook his head and willed them away. "No," he admitted.
"Take it," Wyndyfarh advised. "I have no need for such toys. I do not leave Weathercote. I do not make ambushes. And now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do-"
Work, but not an ambush, Dru thought with heavy irony. "-There are rooms where you may rest."
Wyndyfarh gestured toward the larger marble building. Dru had looked up and seen the moon-it was the wrong phase, the wrong size, the wrong color.
"I'll sleep outside, where I recognize the sky," he announced and headed for the waterfall. Weathercote Wood was strange enough for him.
Dru expected to be alone, but Tiep followed him; Galimer and Rozt'a followed Tiep.
"I hadn't noticed the moon," Galimer admitted as he and his wife looked around for a soft spot among the rocks and mosses.
The familiar sky was already bright in the east. Dru told himself to stay awake while his friends slept but it had been a long day and Sheemzher had been a heavy enough burden. He was getting too old to go without sleep. He closed his eyes before the sun rose and opened them again when it was nearly overhead.
Sheemzher sat at his feet. The goblin was healthy again and decked out in new blue-and-green clothes-his lady's favorite colors. He had a new hat with a broader brim than before. Its shadow almost hid the red-orange patch he wore over his right eye.
"Good sir awake?"
"No," Dru grumbled and stretched himself to a seated position.
"Good sir go home now?"
"Soon." He looked around at his sleeping companions.
"Good sir take Sheemzher?"
Dru wasn't surprised. "It's not my decision and, Sheemzher-the places we go, a goblin won't always be welcomed as a man."
"Sheemzher know. Sheemzher understand. Sheemzher good ears, good nose. Sheemzher quiet, no trouble. Sheemzher find trouble, Sheemzher tell good sir, yes?"
"You can travel with us to the next town-Parnast, I suppose." He sighed. "Whichever way we go, we need to stock up first. We'll talk, but don't get your hopes up."
"No hopes. Sheemzher leave hopes behind. Behind Dekanter. Behind good lady. Sheemzher alone now, good sir. All alone. Choose friends, yes?"
Rozt'a and Galimer were moving now, roused by the sound of conversation. Rozt'a was pleased to see Sheemzher up and about, but she was less enthusiastic when she learned the goblin would be traveling with them.
"To the next town… to Parnast. We need supplies. I can talk to Amarandaris, if he's still there."
"Amarandaris?" Galimer asked a wealth of questions with a single word. Rozt'a hadn't told them what Tiep had been up to. She opened her mouth to begin an explanation.
Dru held up his hand. "Later." Tiep was stirring. "I don't want him to know yet."
"Know what?" Galimer insisted. "What's going on?"
It would be awhile before they were a team again.
Wyndyfarh stayed behind her waterfall. Sheemzher was, again, her emissary-his last duty for her, he insisted. They had safe passage and gold, a handsome purse of it, to compensate their losses.
"Get horse. New horse. Name Hopper, yes?"
Tiep behaved himself on the way out of the Wood. Perhaps the youth had been cured of his bad habits.
Their horses were waiting for them at twilight-saddled, bridled and tied to a line. Eleven Zhentarim thugs waited with them, armed to the teeth with swords, knives, and bows. A twelfth Zhentarim wore the robes of a Banite priest.
"You're expected for a late supper," the priest said with the friendliness of a man who knows his generosity won't be refused.
"You expect me to believe that's the full length and breadth of your story?" Amarandaris asked after a sip of wine.
Druhallen was alone with the Zhentarim in his quarters above the Parnast charterhouse. They'd dined on two roast chickens that had gone cold before Dru arrived. Amarandaris had carved his clean to the bone while Dru's was largely intact. He'd done most of the talking, staying ahead of Amarandaris's questions for the most part.
Until now.
"I expect you to accept that the rest is of no use to the Zhentarim."
"Everything is useful to us, Druhallen. Our trade is information. Too bad you didn't find a way to keep the Nether scroll. A thing like that would float straight to the top. To have held it in my hands and glanced at the first few sentences as you did…"