Elaine Cunningham - The Best of the Realms, Book I

"Milord, I…"

"Tut, tut." I touched my hand to myforehead. Both hangovers, long delayed, were now rushing to the fore. "Ifyou say you cannot help, I will not press the issue. Have faith in the Wandsfamily intuition."

The genie looked unconvinced, but said, "As youwish, milord."

I smiled at the djinni. There was no mistaking who wasin charge of this relationship.

"But if you could, whip up one of your mysticalomelets, tonic to any drinking binge. I think better when the entire Realmsisn't pulsing in time with my heartbeat."

Ampratines started a warning, then merely said,"Of course, milord."

He wafted from view.

I stood on the porch of the Nauseous Otyugh, steadyingmyself on the railing, and tried to look deep in thought. Actually, I wascounting the seconds until Ampi's return with the cure to my now-thunderingheadache.

"That's the Raven?" I asked the halfling."She's a woman!"

"Hush!" hissed the small red-haired humanoidfrom beneath the folds of his brown, tattered robe. "She's no more a womanthan I'm a red dragon. She be a doppelganger! And she'll notice if ye shoutand goggle at her like a fish!"

The woman who was not a woman was seated at a tableacross the crowded common room. She was dressed in traveling leathers and ablue cape, and she was facing us, which made surreptitious observationdifficult. She had a large valise sitting on the table next to her. She cast anerrant glance in our direction, and I retreated into the folds of my own browncloak and hood, turning slightly away from her, trying not to goggle like afish.

Her companion at the table might have been a hillgiant, or perhaps an ogre, for he was as tall as Ampi, and nearly as massive.The companion was dressed in an all-encompassing cloak as well, one of crimson,which made him look like a large sunset at the opposite table.

We were at the Jaded Unicorn, a place that had theunfortunate fate of gaining notice in the aforementioned Volo's Guide. As aresult, the place was filled with newcomers, travelers, hardened mercenaries,and dewy-eyed would-be adventurers. As the Unicorn had a bad reputation(according to Volo), the traditional garb was heavy cloaks with the hoodspulled up. It looked like a convention of specters, wraiths, and grim reapers.

The exception was the Raven. She, I mean it, hadher hood down, showing off golden hair that pooled on her shoulders like spiltale. She looked as if she had elf blood in her. Her ears were slightly pointed,and her chin tapered to a soft, rounded end. I had to remind myselfthat all this was an illusion. She-it, I mean-was a shapechanger, and couldlook like King Azoun or my Granduncle Maskar if it so desired. A doppelgangerin its true form was a slender humanoid-sexless, hairless, and pale gray inshade. Altogether an unappetizing thought.

The Raven was in animated conversation with the giantsunset at her table. Her brow became furrowed at one point, and she tapped heroversized case with a slim hand. We were too far away to hear what was beingsaid, but it was obvious they were haggling about something.

And it did not require a master mage to figure outwhat they were arguing about. The case was about the size and shape that couldcarry a wizard's crystal ball. Or a Tripartite Orb of the ancients.

Whatever Sunset said seemed to calm her down, for herfeatures cleared. She listened, then nodded, then grabbed the satchel andstrode toward the door. Sunset remained at his seat. All eyes were on her, butwhen she arrived at the doorway, the doppelganger turned and, for the briefestmoment, locked eyes with me. I don't know if it was true or not, but I felt asif the world suddenly shifted on its axis and spun in a new fashion.

Then she, it, was gone. I turned back and noticed thatthe giant Sunset had disappeared as well, probably back to some hidden roomwith a cabal of Red Wizards of Thay.

"C'mon!" snapped the halfling. "Welllose 'er if we don' get movin'."

Relieved mildly that my ally was also using the femalepronoun for our target, I followed the smaller cloaked figure out of theUnicorn. Our departure did not create any response or commotion, but then, wekept our hoods up.

Night had fallen like a drunken dwarf, and the streetswere nearly empty. Those with something to lose were already squirreled away intheir beds (unless bothered by their magical granduncles). Selûne was full,however, and reflected like a beacon off our quarry's blond tresses.

We followed her to a small rooming house near theriver. A buck-toothed ogre denied us entry, but a few gold coins did buy theinformation that the young lady (who gave her name as Demarest) had justarrived, always carried the valise, and was staying on the second floor nearthe back of the inn.

So it was that, almost a full day after GranduncleMaskar first manifested himself, I wore a voluminous robe and edged along awindow ledge, a similarly dressed halfling in tow. The breeze off thesurrounding plains was brisk, and at several points, I was afraid the cloakswould catch the wind fully and send us spiraling, head over boot heels, overthe low buildings of Scornubel like errant paper kites.

For the first time that evening, I regretted givingAmpi the night off. He was most perturbed about my pursuing magic-killingartifacts, so I gave him leave. Even now, he was probably curled up in somemerchant's library, digesting some history of the Heartlands, or the CollectedRomances of the Obarskyr Line, while his master was about to takeinvoluntary flight.

Progress was, therefore, slow. Were we near the frontend of the building, we would have undoubtedly been spotted by the watch, intheir plate mail and copper helmets. As it was, we did our best to imitategargoyles when someone passed below us in the alley, and spent the rest of thetime inching toward the desired goal: a lit window. As we approached, theoccupant within doused the light. We halted for another long moment toascertain that the faux Demarest had not dimmed her lamp in order to seeclearly outside. Then we resumed our onerous march.

The window was latched, a wise precaution even on thesecond floor in Scornubel. The halfling Caspar produced a long, thin piece ofwire that, wedged into the slot between the window halves, sprang the latcheasily.

"In ye go, lad," hissed the halfling,smiling with his ivory-white choppers.

"Me?" I whispered back. "I thought youhalfling folk would be better at the 'sneaking into someone else's room' sortof thing, being closer to the ground and all."

The halfling gave a disgruntled snort. "Well, Icould, but then ye'd be out here on the ledge, twice as big as life, waitin' for thecopper-top watch to pick ye off. Of course, if that's yer choice…" He lethis voice trail off.

I could see his point. I also realized that if Iwanted the Tripartite Orb, I had better get my hands on it before he did.

I slid into the room as silently as I was able, thecloak's ability to muffle my steps offset by its own bulky weight. Themoonlight was full in the room, and reduced everything to blue highlights andebon shadows. Demarest, the doppelganger thief known better as the Raven, wasasleep on a wide bed, only her hair, now shining like silver in the moonlight,visible above the wide comforter.

The valise was on a low table across from the bed. Itwould likely hold the orb, the halfling's gold, or both. It would pay, Ithought, to open the satchel and check. If the halfling's gold was not inthere, I was sure that I could convince Uncle Maskar to make good theirfinancial loss.

The satchel's large metal clasp opened with a ratchetingclick, the bag falling open on the table. There was another click, which atfirst I thought was an echo.

Then a very steely feminine voice behind me said,"Step away from the bag, or I will drop you where you stand."

I am by nature very good at taking orders, as befits anon-mage in a family of wizards. I put the satchel down on the table and tooktwo steps backward, holding my hands up in clear view. I left the bag open,more from not being told to do otherwise than from any innate curiosity.Within, there was a glint of crystal, not gold.