Elaine Cunningham - The Best of the Realms, Book I

"How did you know?"

"I did not know, exactly, though I thought thefact that you received fortuitous aid quite interesting. A word with the waitstaff at the Otyugh ascertained that your help was the halfling, and it was notdifficult to find a redheaded halfling wearing a straw hat in Scornubel. Inoticed he was watching a particular inn, and let it be known at the inn that Iwas a wizard searching for a particular artifact. Demarest, hoping to unloadthe item before her partner caught up with her, contacted me for the meeting atthe bar, where you saw us. That was when she tried to sell me the fakeartifact."

My mind, battered and worn and threatened, skipped abeat, and I said, "Fake artifact?"

"Of course," said the genie. "As Iexplained to the watch, and took the liberty of putting these thoughts in yourname, if the device was truly the described artifact, then I would be unable toget close to it, being a summoned creature myself. The fact that I could sitat the same table with it was sufficient proof that it was a phony, strung upwith thin crystals and gases of various densities, such that one sphere wouldfloat within the next. At that meeting I purposefully failed to bring the coinshe wanted for it. From there it was easy to alert the watch of a possiblebreak-in at Demarest's room. We arrived in time to hear the battle."

I shook my head.

"Fake artifact? Then the doppelganger had thereal Tripartite Orb hidden elsewhere?"

"The Raven was probably unaware of the fake aswell, since he went to such efforts to recruit you as his pawn. And Demarest,if she had the true globes, would have let the Raven take the fake, convincinghim it was the real one. Neither had time to build a replica."

"Then who built the replica?" I said."Not Uncle Maskar."

"Your granduncle's concern was legitimate aswell, I suspect," said the djinni.

"Then if not the thieves, and not Maskar.." I took a long sip on my ale bottle. "Uncle Maskar never had thereal Tripartite Orb, did he?"

"I don't think so," said the genie."After all, how do you test an item for magic that supposedly refuses allmagic?"

I let a smile crawl onto my face, the first in thepast twelve hours.

"So old Granduncle Maskar was hornswoggled in thefirst place." I chuckled at the thought. "I would love to see thelook on his face when he gets my letter explaining that!"

Ampratines made a solemn, low cough. That kind ofcough he always makes when he disagrees completely, but cannot bring himself tosay something outright. I cast my companion the eye, and he looked up, into themiddle distance.

"If your granduncle never had the device,"he said solemnly, "that means he would have to now get the device. And whobetter to get the device than someone who has already gotten the fakeone?"

I let that sink into my ale-stained brain. "Sothe best thing is to not be here at all when he gets the word, eh?"

"Quite."

"Ah, well," I said with a sigh, draining thelast of the ale and setting the dead soldier next to the others, "so muchfor an expatriate life in Scornubel. I think we need to move farther south,farther away from Waterdeep."

"I thought you'd think so," said Ampratines,with a smooth flourish producing our bags, "so I already took the libertyof purchasing the coach tickets. We leave in an hour."

Jean Rabe

Szass Tam eased himself into a massive chair behindan ornate table covered with curled sheets of vellum and crystal vials filledwith dark liquid. A thick candle stood in the middle of the clutter, its flamedancing in the musty air and casting a soft light across his grotesquefeatures.

His pale, parchment-thin skin stretched taut acrosshis high cheekbones, and his wispy hair, the color of cobwebs, spread unevenlyatop his age-spotted scalp. His lower lip hung loose, as if there were nomuscles to control it, and the fleshy part of his nose was gone, revealing twincavities. The scarlet robes he wore fell in folds over his skeletal frame andspread like a pool of blood on the floor around his chair.

He absently swirled his index finger in a puddle ofwax gathering on the table, letting the warm, oily liquid collect on his skin.He rolled the cooling blob between his thumb and middle finger until it hardenedinto a ball, then he released the wax and watched it roll across the rosewoodfinish and come to rest near a decades-old scroll. The piercing points of whitelight that served as Szass Tam's eyes stared at the parchment. It contained thelast enchantment needed to turn his cherished apprentice into a creature likehimself-an undead sorcerer… a lich. Of course, his apprentice would have todie before the spell could be invoked. Killing her would be no great matter, hedecided. Bony fingers grasped the parchment and brought it close to his stillheart.

Szass Tam's mortal life had ended centuries ago on aThayan battlefield a hundred miles north of his comfortable keep. But themagic coursing through him prevented him from passing beyond the land of theliving. It bound him to the human realms in a rotting body that pulsed with anarcane power few would dare challenge. The lich considered himself the mostformidable Red Wizard in Thay. A zulkir, he controlled the realm's school ofnecromancy. His apprentice, Frodyne, was also a Red Wizard, one of an augustcouncil of sorcerers who ruled Thay through schemes, threats, and carefulmanipulation. Szass Tam smiled thinly. None were more treacherous than he.

He listened intently. The soft footfalls in the hallwere Frodyne's. He placed the scroll in a deep pocket and waited. One day soonhe would bless her with immortality.

"Master?" Easing open the door, Frodynestepped inside. She padded forward, the shiny fabric of her dark red robedragging across the polished marble floor behind her. "Am I disturbingyou?"

Szass Tam gestured to a seat opposite him. Instead,the young woman's course took her to stand beside him. She quickly knelt,placed her delicate hands on his leg, and looked up into his pinpoint eyes. Herclean-shaven head was decorated with red and blue tattoos, fashionable forThay, and her wide, midnight-black eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. Thecorner of her thin lips tugged upward into a sly grin.

Szass Tam had taken her as an apprentice several yearsbefore. An amazingly quick study, Frodyne never hid her hunger for spells andknowledge, and she dutifully hung on his every word. The lich thought herloyal, or as loyal as anyone in Thay could be. As she grew in power through theyears, he shared horrible designs with her-how to crush lesser wizards underthe heels of his skeletal army, how to raise men from the grave, how to stealthe souls of the living. He recently confided in her that he was undead, showedher his true, rotting visage, and when she did not shrink from it, he sharedwith her his plans for dominating Thay. Frodyne had made it clear she wanted tobe at his side-forever.

The lich stared at her unblemished, rosy face. Indeed,he thought, she is worthy of passing the centuries at my side. He reached abony hand to her face and caressed her smooth cheek.

"What brings you here so late?" His deepvoice echoed hauntingly in the room.

"I was at the market today, the slave pens,"she began. "I was looking over the stock when I discovered a man askingabout you and the goings-on in the keep."

The lich nodded for her to continue.

"He was an unusual little man who wore only onetattoo: an odd-looking triangle filled with gray swirls."

"A worshiper of Leira," the lich mused.

"A priest of the goddess of deception andillusions, in fact," Frodyne added. "In any event, I followed him.When he was alone I cast a simple spell that put him under my control. I had toknow why he was asking so many questions."

The lich's pinpoint eyes softened, and with hisskeletal finger, he traced one of the tattoos on Frodyne's head.