The Nether Scroll

"Forget the forest! Last I heard we had Zhentarim trouble," Rozt'a fumed. "Forget the dog- face and his bug-lady. Forget everything except that he claims he saw Amarandaris looking angry after you left. Are we going to slip out of here tonight?" She confronted Tiep. "You've gotten way too friendly, way too fast with this Manya and her family. They know you're just passing through. There wasn't any good reason for her father to be telling you his life story, or was there?"

The youth screwed his lips into a scowl. "Maybe he didn't want me thinking that his life hadn't been exciting. Look, are we going to cut and run?"

"Tiep!" Rozt'a roared.

"Well, if we're not, and you're done taking my life apart, I'd like to go out—"

His voice faded before he got to the where and why parts of his desire. Dru caught questioning glances from Rozt'a and Galimer.

"We're not running," Dru decided. "If we run once, we'll be running forever. We'll find a way to ride out of here with our heads up."

"I'll try the merchants again tomorrow," Galimer offered. "Now that I know what we're up against, I might have better luck."

"So, can I go out?" Tiep interrupted Galimer. "And what about the blue-eyes? Can I trade for the boxes?"

Rozt'a planted herself in front of the door. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Is her word final?" Tiep appealed to Dru and Galimer.

Galimer said, "Yes. You're staying here."

Druhallen surprised himself by saying, "No. What's cut, stays cut. If you're not telling the truth, you're the one who has to live with yourself."

The youth grimaced the way youths had grimaced at their elders since the dawn of time. "I'm fine. What about the blue-eyes? Can I trade?"

That was Galimer's decision alone. The gold-haired wizard studied the rafters, doing calculations in his head. "Against your own share or in common?"

"Common," Tiep said eagerly. "They're good boxes, Galimer. You'd agree if you'd seen them. And not too big. I can nest 'em behind my saddle. It's a good trade."

"All right, you've got your blue-eyes, but not a genuine Cormyr stamp. Give them the usual Zhentarim counterfeits. Odds on, they wouldn't know a true Cormyr coin if it rose up and bit them on the nose. If they do, offer five true-silver falcons and not a thumb more."

"Not a thumb!" Tiep agreed.

Rozt'a looked like a storm about to break, but she stepped aside to let Tiep untie her latch knot. She held the door and her tongue until he was gone.

"What's the matter with the two of you? You know he's not after wooden boxes! I've half a mind to follow him."

Dru cleared his throat. "Go after him now, and Longfingers and I will decide how we're getting out of here while you're both gone."

Rozt'a slammed the door shut. "All right. What's your plan?"

5

1 Eleint, the Year of the Banner (1368 DR)

Parnast, Weathercote Wood

He can scream himself blue before I let him in, Rozt'a had sworn last night before Tiep left the rented room.

She'd been even more emphatic after midnight when he'd returned from a tryst with Manya.

No way, she'd growled as she'd usurped Dru's place at the threshold. No way beneath the sun or stars that I'm doing anything on a dog-faced goblin's say-so. I'll show him the flat of my sword first.

Tiep had been in absolute agreement. He'd gone to sleep confident that there was no chance whatsoever that he was going off on some early-morning hike into a forest that Manya swore was home to dire and magical creatures. So why was he trudging through dead leaves and treacherous roots behind Druhallen, Galimer, and the dog-faced goblin, with Rozt'a bringing up the rear?

Because Rozt'a had had a dream, that's why. The most reliable, least superstitious among his adults had had a dream in which she met a tall, pale-skinned woman with white-and- brown striped hair and the woman—Lady Mantis—had whispered: I'm waiting for you. Come quickly.

Rozt'a had awakened them all and shared her dream before it was cold in her memory. Then she announced, We're taking Sheemzher's offer. We're going into Weathercote Wood to meet with Lady Wyndyfarh.

Suddenly both the goblin and the wizard-lady had had real names again and Tiep hadn't needed lamplight to see the determined look on his foster-mother's face. Galimer was shrewd and Druhallen could be downright scary when he was casting a spell, but Rozt'a was the warrior among them, the brawler who backed up her words with her body. When she lowered her voice and her eyebrows, you knew you were in for a fight.

Rozt'a had pitched her voice so low that Tiep had known for certain that her eyes had disappeared.