Anthology - Once Around the Realms

"And he was just a regular guy, with regular concerns. He even mentioned that he was a little concerned about a decrease in his popularity during his last tour of Tantras. The crowds were more interested in some dwarf flying through the air on a winged lizard than sitting around a tavern and listening to good music."

Grumby, Volo remembered. Oh, well, no reason to hold a grudge. I'm glad he got what he wanted.

Shurleen went to go back the way they came, but Volo redirected her down a different alley.

"No, this way," he instructed, thinking to himself, Lucky for us there are four entrances to the Shipmaster's Hall. I'd hate to bollix things up this late in the game.

They ducked in and out of alleys a few more times until the master traveler said, "Now just down the next alley, and voila, we're there."

He didn't even see the rogue with the sap who came up behind them, nor feel its blow when it struck. The last thing he remembered was Shurleen starting to scream, and everything going black.

IN THE CELLAR OF THE HANGING LANTERN TAVERN or Gee, Don't I Know You From Somewhere?

Volo woke up with a splitting headache that he recognized as the type of borderline concussion you sometimes get from being bludgeoned upon entering someplace where you really aren't welcome.

He could feel that he was tied up but not blindfolded or gagged. He decided to act unconscious for a while until he got bin bearings.

"Hey, boss!" a gruff voice called. "I think he's coming around!"

"Hasten the process," another voice answered. "Now!"

Ooooooofffffff!

Volo felt a kick to his ribs from an exceptionally pointy shoe and opened his eyes with a grimace.

"Boss, he's awake."

The speaker of the gruff and tough tones was a lovely young lady attired in an elegant festhall lounging frock. She was carefully made up to accentuate her beauty, a creature of loveliness, a beauty to behold…

"Boss!"

… with the voice of a longshoreman.

"I'm coming," a remotely familiar voice responded, approaching Volo from behind.

"Nice outfit," the vision of loveliness commented to the one she called boss. "Kind of kinky, though, if you know what I mean."

"Leave," the voice ordered. "I can deal with him myself."

The lovely young lady of easy virtue stood up and headed for a set of stairs that apparently led up from the cellarlike chamber the master traveler was being held in.

"Party pooper," she barbed at her boss, and with a flirtatious toss of her finely coiffed locks, headed upstairs. As Volo followed her journey, he noticed that Shurleen was bound and gagged over in the other corner of the cellar.

The owner of the voice known as Boss stepped over Volo, who was still resting on the floor like a discarded piece of cordwood, and slowly came into view.

"At last we meet again," the voice boomed. "I trust you enjoyed your travels."

Volo's head jerked up in surprise to try to get a better look. He blinked twice and tried to focus. Boss was tall, about six foot or more, well muscled, and the light from the torch that he held seemed to reflect off the distinctive streak of gray that bisected his jet black goatee.

"Khelben!" Volo shouted in recognition.

The mage grimaced as if his ears were hurt from the loud noise.

"Don't shout," he ordered, "you might disturb the guests that are being entertained upstairs."

Volo blinked and shook his head, trying to clear away the fuzziness that still permeated his cranium.

"And you brought the map with you, how thoughtful," the mage commented, removing it from the pack that had been serving as a pillow for the master traveler's head. "I also like the cookie you traded your fat friend in for, though I am sure he is still in the area, given that the magical bond from the jewels is still in effect. I'm sure we'll find him shortly after all, we just have to follow the trail of red gems. It is only a matter of time. Your traveling days, on the other hand, have just about come to an end."

With a bit of a struggle, the master traveler managed to attain an upright sitting position.

Out of breath from the exertion, pain still cracking through his head, Volo only managed to get out one word. "Why?"

Khelben laughed. "I know," the mage replied jovially, walking back and forth. "I'll keep giving you clues until you tell me to stop. Then you get to guess." Khelben crouched down to eye level with the master traveler. "First," the mage said, "the building upstairs is a festhall."

"Go on," Volo instructed.

"Second, because of you it had to be shut down."

A festhall I gave a bad review to, Volo thought. Maybe I should have taken Passepout's concerns more seriously,… but what does this have to do with Khelben?

"You're thinking," the mage commented. "I like that. Here's two clues that should give it away. The festhall upstairs used to be called the Hanging Lantern…"

Doppelgangers! Volo thought.

"… and I usually look like this," the mage replied, throwing off his black cloak with a flourish.

The familiar, muscular form of the famous mage began to melt and shift, taking on a grayish aura that soon became the predominant color. Gone was the thick black hair, trademark beard, and manly figure, now all replaced by an almost featureless humanoid with a thick, hairless hide of gray.

"… and my real name is Hlaavin," the figure who formerly answered to the moniker of Khelben Arunsun concluded.

Hlaavin! the master traveler thought. I know that name from somewhere.

"You can talk out loud, you know," the doppelganger said. "I can read your thoughts easily enough, but I would much rather hear them from your own lips."

The doppelganger known as Hlaavin once again began to pace back and forth, as he provided Volo with the background he desired.

"Now, you were thinking that you've heard my name before," Hlaavin said. "Probably so. You might have heard that I was the head of a certain consortium of shapechangers, rogues, and assassins known as the Unseen. The Lords of Waterdeep would quake in my wake if they knew the actual extent of my influence. The Hanging Lantern was all a part of it, a really nice setup, actually. High society patrons of influence and wealth would come to our classy festhall to meet the girl of their, dreams. If they couldn't be co-opted to our cause, or corrupted in some other way, we just had them replaced by a doppelganger who was waiting in the wings. Easy as pie. That was, until you and your stupid little book came along!"

Hlaavin kicked out his knobby, taloned foot, assaulting the upright seated Volo in the stomach.

The doppelganger continued, his composure restored. "Where was I? Oh, right. We reestablished the festhall under new management and began to rework our power base back into position ever so slowly. I was experimenting with the viability of having a false Khelben working Suzail when I recognized you in the Dragon's Jaws Inn, and immediately formulated a plan for discrediting you, getting even with you, and getting rid of you all at the same time while also having you carry out the preparations for another plan I had in the offing."

"The necromancer's gems," Volo interjected.

"Exactly," Hlaavin confirmed. "Not only did they succeed in dampening your magical abilities and imposing wonderful restrictions on your travel, they also aided my first expansion of the Unseen's influence all over the world. With the wonderful map that you do generously brought with you I will be able to teleport my minions all over the Realms. Nothing will stop me now!"

The doppelganger kicked Volo in the chest again, this time toppling him over onto his side.

"You, on the other hand," Hlaavin resumed, his composure once again restored, "will disappear. Rumor will pervade Faerun and abroad that Volo was a fraud, that he lost a challenge or perhaps shied away from one after he had already given his word. Maybe he didn't deserve to he known as the master traveler of the Realms. Perhaps Marcus Wands was the 'real' Volo, the one who really deserves the title. You know how people gossip and speculate."