She always prepared a bolt hole when she worked the streets. Along the right side of the alley ran the stable where she boarded her pony, Snake Eyes. There was a loose plank in the rear wall that pivoted on a single nail. At the end of the alley Olive dodged right, slid the plank up, and slipped into the stable. She let the plank slide back into place and stood trying to gasp for air as quietly as possible.
The thudding footfalls of her attacker approached her bolt hole, then ceased. Olive held her breath, hoping to determine in which direction he would head. The killer did not move away, however, but stood near the stable wall, muttering to himself. Pick a direction and move away, you murdering fiend, Olive willed silently.
Snake Eyes, her pony, sensed his mistress’s anxiety and moved toward her, nuzzling her ear. Irritated, Olive pushed the animal’s muzzle away. The pony whickered softly in annoyance. Keep quiet, Snake Eyes, Olive willed, there’s a very crazy man outside trying to kill me.
Olive scratched the pony’s back, and it grew calm. Olive calmed as well; her breathing became more regular. She tried to deny she’d seen the murderer’s face so clearly. He could not be who he looked like. She had to be mistaken.
The halfling’s heart skipped a beat as something knocked on the stable wall behind her. Her pursuer had not given up! He was searching for an opening. Olive stumbled backward in panic and knocked over Snake Eyes’s water pail. The man outside began mumbling again, and Olive realized with horror that he must be chanting a spell.
Olive pushed on the stall’s door, but it was bolted on the other side, and she hadn’t the time to use her skills to slip it open. Fortunately the walls to the stall did not go to the ceiling, and, with an effort born of desperation and a great deal of scrabbling, the halfling was able to climb to the top. She dropped down into the stable’s center aisle and dashed for the building’s main entrance. Snake Eyes whinnied in terror as his mistress pushed on the front door—only to discover that it, too, was bolted from without.
Olive whirled around, looking for another place to hide. A pale glow of yellow light and more muttering emanated from Snake Eyes’s stall. He’s inside! Olive thought, terror grabbing her insides and giving them a quarter-turn. He disintegrates, detects secret doors, and walks through walls. How can I hide from him?
The muttering stopped, and Snake Eyes’s stall door rattled. A series of sharp thumps followed, and the stall door’s hinges began to give way.
Stifling a sob, Olive dodged behind a large pile of grain sacks and crouched, cowering miserably in the dark.
There has got to be some way out of this, Olive thought feverishly. I’m too talented to die. Her eyes lit on an empty sack on the ground and she pulled it over her head, hoping to masquerade as a bag of feed. It was only a thirty-pound sack, though, and she was a fifty-pound halfling.
I’ll never stuff myself into this, she realized as she heard the sound of screws ripping out of wood. Uttering the word “stuff” and staring at the useless bag, a fresh idea sprang to the halfling’s mind.
Jade’s magic pouch! she thought. Akabar the mage had once told her a story of a southern prince who kept an elephant in his magic pouch. Jade said the pouch was a miniature one, Olive recalled. I’m hardly an elephant, she reasoned, so the thing ought to accommodate me.
Her sweaty fingers pulled the small sack from her vest. All I need to do is get my head and shoulders in, and the rest should tumble after, she thought. Her hands trembled as she tugged on the purse strings. In her haste, she dropped the bag, and it clunked to the dark floor. Her fingers groped through the straw and grain until they snagged one of the strings. She fumbled with the knot and yanked open the mouth of the sack, ignoring the sound of approaching footsteps rustling through the straw and the light illuminating the wall behind her.
A queasy feeling came over Olive as she opened the pouch. An ancient, dry voice whispered, “He who steals Giogioni Wyvernspur’s purse makes an ass of himself.”
Nine Hells, Olive cursed. I’ve opened the wrong sack. Giogioni’s must have fallen out when I dropped Jade’s. The fop had a magic mouth cast on his purse to warn him if someone else opened it. Usually, Olive knew, those sorts of spells shouted aloud to embarrass and reveal the thief. Why did this one only whisper? the halfling wondered. Lucky for me it did, but why? Stop thinking about stupid things, girl! she snapped to herself. Don’t you realize that you’re about to die?
A beam of light passed through a chink in the pile of grain sacks, reminding Olive of her peril. Dropping Giogi’s gold, she fumbled again in the darkness for Jade’s magic pouch. Her hands felt heavy and awkward, and she was dizzy from the excitement. When she finally touched the pouch it took all her concentration to grasp and lift it.
The footfalls halted right in front of her hiding spot. Automatically Olive slipped Jade’s pouch in her vest pocket and pressed her eye to the chink in the sacks, just as a shadow blocked the light streaming through. The halfling looked up, her eyes wide with terror.
Jade’s murderer looked down at her with anger. His right hand held a translucent ball of light, which limned his face. Despite the cruel, twisted smile, the sharp features were unmistakable. It is the Nameless Bard, Olive thought with anguish. He used to be a Harper. How could he become a murderer? We were allies and friends. How can he murder me?
“Beshaba’s brats,” he cursed.
Olive felt much the same way. The goddess of ill luck seemed to be following her tonight. She tried to stand, but her knees were too weak. She looked up, prepared to deliver what she suspected were her last words. She started to say, “You’ll never get away with this. Alias will find out, and she’ll—” but all that came from her mouth was a hoarse bray.
Nameless turned away from her as if she didn’t exist, and began searching the horse stalls.
He had me dead to rights, Olive thought. How could he miss me? She tried to scratch her head in puzzlement, but all she could manage was a twitch of her fuzzy muzzle, a swish of her bushy tail, and a pricking of her long, pointed ears. In panic, the halfling looked down at herself. Instead of her black vest, breeches, and furry feet, Olive discovered she was covered with short brown fur and had four delicate hooves.
Sweet Selûne, Olive thought, I’m an ass!
4
Night on the Town
The Immer Inn catered to an exclusive clientele. It was patronized by only those travelers and members of Immersea society who were able and willing to pay exorbitant prices for board, drink, and lodging. Giogi, who had on occasion slept off one too many drinks at the inn, could attest that the guest rooms were very nice. As a local resident, though, he was generally more familiar with the board and drink aspects of the inn.
The decor of the dining hall was the inn’s biggest attraction, though. The floor was covered with plush carpeting, the walls lined with elaborate tapestries, and the ceiling hung with crystal chandeliers. The room was warm and dry and furnished with tables covered with elegant linen and surrounded by the most comfortably cushioned chairs in Cormyr.
Giogi had patronized the Immer Inn since he’d come of age six years before, but, after being away nearly a year, he thought the dining room seemed as strange as his own home had felt. He thought that perhaps it was because the inn was nearly empty this evening, but his friends were there, and their company was strange, too.
They’d welcomed him back heartily enough, but they had cut short the tale of his travels with their pointed lack of interest, insisted his yellow crystal must be ordinary quartz, and teased him about his boots. In addition, he no longer understood half the things to which they alluded in their conversations and jokes. So, though he was not really keen on it, he’d accepted their offer to play a game of Elemental Empires. The game, at least, was familiar.