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“Oh, that,” Giogi replied. “It wasn’t much, really. Just a messenger job.”

Sudacar chuckled at the nobleman’s modesty. “You’ll have to tell us all about it inside. If you’re not too hoarse or too tired to tell it again.”

Giogi grinned. Someone wanted to hear his story. He stood up straighten “Love to oblige.”

The two men walked toward the Five Fine Fish, but just outside, Giogi hesitated. “I just remembered. I, uh, seem to have mislaid my purse.”

Sudacar looked at the nobleman darkly. “You, too, eh? A lot of that going around lately. Seems we have a new element in town. I’ve got to have Culspiir look into it. Don’t worry. Tonight you’re in my hands. We’ve got to raise that glass in honor of your father.”

Entering the Fish with Sudacar was very different from entering it alone. Sudacar knew everyone, and everyone in turn seemed to know and like Sudacar. The crowd parted for him. He had the best table in the house. He sat Giogi down at his right-hand side and introduced him around as Cole Wyvernspur’s son. Many of the older merchants and their even older adventurer bodyguards nodded in approval. Giogi saw some of the younger adventurers whisper a question to their elders, and when the veterans whispered back the answer, the younger adventurers turned friendly smiles on the nobleman.

As the tavernkeeper set fresh mugs of ale down in front of Giogi and Sudacar, the local lord asked, “Lem, Mistress Ruskettle come in yet?”

“Not yet,” Lem replied. “Odd thing. You know, usually you could set the town clock by her stomach.”

“I’m looking for that woman she goes around with, Jade More.”

“So’s Ruskettle. Been asking all week if anyone’s seen her.”

Sudacar knitted his brow. “Jade leave town?”

Lem shook his head uncertainly. “Her packs are still up in her room, not stuffed with rags, either. I checked. Full of nice clothes, and plenty of money. I’m holding it for her return.”

“Business must be good, whatever it is she’s in.”

“Aye,” Lem agreed with a smirk.

When Lem had left their side, Sudacar gave a toast, “To Cole Wyvernspur, a brave adventurer.”

Giogi drank to his father, but his curiosity was suddenly running in another direction. “This Mistress Ruskettle,” he said. “Is she Olive Ruskettle, the bard?”

“Yes. She’s been wintering here. You know about her?” Sudacar asked.

“She sang at Freffie’s—um—Lord Frefford’s wedding to Gaylyn. In a way, she’s responsible for my being sent on my mission for the king.”

“Oh?” Sudacar said encouragingly.

“She had this bodyguard with her, named Alias, you see. Very pretty but quite mad. Alias, that is.”

“Yes, Ruskettle’s told us all about her. Wait a minute!” Sudacar said, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Are you the noble whom Alias attacked after doing an impression of Azoun?”

Giogi nodded. “Guilty as charged,” he admitted, relieved to see that Sudacar did not seem to be offended that he’d done an impression of His Highness. “Anyway,” Giogi continued, “on my way home after the wedding, I was waylaid by this dragon who ate my horse—a monstrous, ancient red beast—the dragon, that is, not my horse. A good horse, too. Then this dragon sent me to His Majesty with the offer that she would leave the country if he could tell her where Alias was.”

Sudacar’s brow furrowed. He didn’t like the idea of making deals with evil red dragons. “What did His Majesty do?”

“His Majesty didn’t want to have anything to do with it, but Vangy told him that Alias could be an assassin and convinced him to settle with the dragon.”

“Sounds like Vangerdahast,” Sudacar muttered.

“Yes,” Giogi agreed, taking a sip from his mug. The young Wyvernspur had no love for the court wizard, who was an old chum of Aunt Dorath’s. In his few interviews with the wizard, Giogi felt more than a little intimidated by the man’s magic powers and overweening certainty that he was always right.

“Still,” Sudacar sighed, “the old mage keeps our king safe, and for that we should be grateful. The king’s health,” he added, raising his mug.

“Long live the king,” Giogi agreed, raising his drink.

They both took a pull on their ale and sat quietly as it ran down their throats.

“So why did you travel to Westgate?” Sudacar asked.

“Well, Vangy never really did know exactly where this Alias was. Seems she couldn’t be magically detected, but she was supposed to come from Westgate. So His Majesty sent me down there to inquire of what the authorities knew about her, and to see if she showed up there. She did. I spotted her outside the city. I spent the rest of the season in Westgate trying to find her again, or some information about her, without luck. I wintered there and came back as soon as a safe sea crossing could be made.”

“According to Ruskettle, Alias is up in Shadowdale now,” Sudacar said.

“Really? Maybe I ought to bop off a letter to His Majesty about that,” Giogi said.

“Let me handle it. According to Ruskettle, Alias was working for Elminster. Vangy ought to know that before he tries making any more trouble for the lady.”

Giogi grinned. He wondered if a wizard as powerful as Elminster could make Vangerdahast as nervous as Vangerdahast made him.

“So how’d you like Westgate? I noticed you got yourself a pair of clodders. Won’t get a better pair of boots anywhere in the Realms, not even in Waterdeep.”

“Got one of these, too,” Giogi said, pulling out the yellow crystal from the top of his boot.

Sudacar sat up more attentively. “Boy, where did you get that?” he asked.

“Found it lying in the mud just outside Westgate.”

“Found it lying—” Sudacar’s words halted. He looked flabbergasted. “Boy, that’s a finder’s stone. I know, because Elminster himself loaned me one once.”

“What’s a finder’s stone?”

“It’s a magic crystal. It helps the lost find their way.”

“But I’m not lost,” Giogi said.

Sudacar gave the nobleman a queer look. “Maybe you better hang onto it, just in case.”

“Oh, I intend to. I like it. It makes me—this is going to sound silly—”

“It makes you feel happy,” Sudacar said.

“Yes. How’d you—oh, right, you said you had one once.” Giogi tucked the crystal back into his boot.

“Tell me more about Westgate. Things are shaking down there, I hear.”

Giogi nodded. “A dead dragon fell on their city just before I arrived, followed by an earthquake the day after. Then there was a power struggle going on for the property and business of some sorceress and her allies. A woman named Cassana, the Followers of Moander, and the Fire Knives all were missing after the earthquake.”

“The Fire Knives. Now that is good news. I remember the year His Majesty broke their charter for the murder of that scullery maid. Ever since Azoun sent the thugs packing they’ve been a threat to him. May they stay missing,” he toasted and took another swig of ale.

Giogi did likewise. The warmth of the ale augmented the warm, comfortable feeling he had in Sudacar’s company.

Giogi and Sudacar drank and compared stories about Westgate until Lem stood over them and coughed politely. Giogi looked up and realized that the other tables and booths were empty, and Lem’s waiters were stacking the chairs and benches.

The two noblemen were the last customers in the tavern, and Giogi suspected Lem had stayed open well after hours just to oblige Sudacar. Sudacar left a small pile of gold lions on the table, stood, and led the way to the door. Giogi stumbled after him.

Many of the streetlamps had burned all their day’s oil and expired or been blown out by the wind, but the waxing moon gave the two men plenty of light to see their way. They crossed the market green together and halted beneath the statue of “Azoun’s Triumph.”