Anthology - Once Around the Realms

Volo just shook his head.

"You can't believe everything you hear," he replied. "I'm sure he'll be glad to see us."

The sign read, Trespassers May Be Polymorphed.

"We're not trespassers… I mean… you've been here before," said the very concerned Passepout, who had no desire to pursue his acting career as a trained seal or some such other animal.

"Afraid not," Volo replied.

"But you have met Elminster before, haven't you?" the thespian persisted.

"Sort of."

"What do you mean, sort of?"

"He wrote introductions to some of my guides."

"Like Volo's Guide to All Things Magical?"

"Well, no," Volo hedged. "Now that you mention it, he was slightly miffed at me for that one."

"But that was a long time ago," the thespian demanded. "Right?"

"Sure was," Volo agreed, paused for a moment, and continued, "Now that you mention it, that was probably the last time we had business together. I hope he doesn't hold a grudge."

"Eo save us!" Passepout prayed.

At last they arrived at the most famous residence in the Dales, Elminster's tower.

The sign read: Enter At Your Own Risk – Have You Notified Your Next of Kin?

Passepout did a one-eighty and took off back the way they had come, saying, "Darn it! I knew I forgot something. And it has been a while since I dropped a line to my dear parents. After all, what will Idle and Catinflas do without me?"

Volo reached back, grabbed his bond servant by the collar, and turned him around,

"Do you want to risk separating, given Khelben's spell?" Volo calmly asked.

"I guess not," Passepout reluctantly agreed.

"And don't you want me to get my magics back, so that we can divest ourselves of these accursed gems, complete our world tour, and get back to the city comforts of the Dragon's Jaws Inn?"

"Most assuredly, Master Volo."

"Well then," Volo pressed, "ring the bell."

Gently the thespian pulled the bell cord. Its tintinnabulation carried throughout the dale. If anyone were home, they would have undoubtedly have heard it-as would anyone else within a mile radius.

No one came to the door.

"Again," Volo ordered.

Again the chimes sounded, but still no one came to the door.

That's odd," said the master traveler. "It's not unusual for Elminster to be away, but I would have expected Lhaeo to be around. Perhaps we should force the door, maybe look around some."

"But, Master, shouldn't we find a place to spend the night?" Passepout implored, trying to distract the traveler.

"We're not too far from the Old Skull Inn," Volo answered.

"Well, why don't we check in for the night and perhaps ask around for news about their whereabouts? It is getting late, after all, and you did promise me a night under a roof."

"So I did," Volo replied absently. "1 guess we can check back tomorrow."

"Sure," agreed Passepout, discreetly dropping a red gem on the doorstep. "Sure," he repeated.

To himself he thought, "I'll wait until after dinner to remind Master Volo about not retracing our steps. We'll state to find a solution at someplace more friendly with fewer warnings".

Jhaele Silvermane, proprietor of the Old Skull Inn, was a fine judge of human nature and a shrewd observer of new faces to Shadowdale who just happened to stop by her taproom. Given the Zhent troubles of the past few years, she was always on her guard and prone to "accidentally" overhearing conversations among new patrons. It was no surprise that she listened in on the two new arrivals, and even less of a surprise that she sent a messenger to Storm Silverhand when she recognized the mentions of Khelben and Elminster.

"But, Master Volo," Passepout implored, "we can't go back to Elminster's tower. You remember what Khelben said about retracing our steps."

"Why didn't you remind me of that when we were at the tower?" Volo blustered, having lost his temper with the rotund thespian for the first time.

"I forgot… and I was hungry… and think the raven-haired barmaid likes me… and 1 didn't think Elminster would appreciate us waiting inside, given all the warnings, and such."

The master traveler sighed, and conceded, "You're probably right. Normally I would have relied on my magics to alert me to any booby traps or such."

"What will we do now T

"I don't know," Volo replied. "Since my magic has gone away, I feel helpless. If only Elminster had been home. He would have been able to crack this magic-dampening cloud that seems to be following me around."

Passepout eyed the crowd at the taproom, trying to find the barmaid whom he was sure that he had impressed with his tales of the theater and of his exploits on the road as Volo's right-hand man. Though he obviously felt sympathy for his master's plight, he couldn't help but wish that more magic users could experience how an average guy has to get by. It would serve them all right.

The raven-haired bartender was nowhere to be seen, and had he not known better he might have thought that she was avoiding him.

"Excuse me," offered a recently arrived patron, "did your friend mention Elminster?"

The speaker was a tall, good-looking young lady with silvery, long hair held back from her face by a tiara of silver, and the brightest blue-gray eyes Passepout had ever seen.

"Yes he did, milady," Passepout replied, acknowledging that the speaker was a much better catch for the evening than the barmaid would be any day. "We have an appointment with him… but he's not home."

"What sort of an appointment?" she pressed.

"Very important business," he replied, "but nothing to worry your pretty little head about. It will have to wait. So, in the meantime, why don't we get to know each other a little better?"

"I don't think so."

Passepout continued undaunted. "I am Passepout the legendary thespian, and this is the honorable Volothamp Geddarm, best-selling author of guides to Waterdeep, the North, and All Things Magical."

"I recollect El telling me about that one," she interrupted.

Passepout pulled himself up short, remembering his master's comment about the old mage's reaction to the aforementioned book of magic.

"You know Elminster?" he asked sheepishly.

"Yes, I do," she replied, "and I don't remember him telling me that he was expecting anyone, and I know he wouldn't appreciate strangers calling at the tower-probably as much as I enjoy the company of braggarts in my local tavern."

"I meant no offense," the thespian replied, trying to backpedal as fast as possible.

"I'm Storm Silverhand," she boomed, "and what business do you have with Elminster?"

"Storm Silverhand!" Volo exclaimed, breaking out of his stupor of self-pity. "I am Volothamp Geddarm, master traveler of the Realms."

"So he claims," Storm replied, "but I've heard of more than one fellow falsely claiming the Volo moniker."

Volo rolled his eyes. Again he was confronted with doubt and confusion due to that imposter Marcus Wands. Reputation matters, he thought, damn it!

"I am the real Volo," he replied, keeping his tones as measured as possible, "the one and only. I have come to Shadowdale in hopes that Elminster would be able to help me with a problem, but now that I think about it, it was all just foolishness on my part. He's probably back in Suzail at the War Wizards' meeting."

"You know about the meeting?"

"Sure. Vangerdahast has convened the college for some reason or other."

Storm considered the two strangers for a moment. There was always the possibility that they were not who they claimed to be, particularly the fat one… but Elminster would not want her to turn away someone who was really in need, nor would the merchants of Shadowdale want to risk alienating a famous gazetteer like Volo from writing kindly of their area. Either way, they looked harmless enough and posed little threat to a hardened warrior such as herself.