28 Uktar, the Year of Lightning Storms (1374 DR) "I am going to kill that mage…" Twice in one day, Raegar had been made a stalking horse to test out certain magic-while not a wizard, Raegar understood that the sword reacted to something else nearby, and he guessed it was that wand. Worse yet, since Raegar hadn't been informed that this might happen, he'd chosen a disguise that would not allow him to easily explain away any magic. In fact, his chosen role even prevented him from slipping away and getting the sword off of him before something else happened. Spider's heavy steps belied his short stature but were a testament to his strength. Raegar turned to him, his face hardly betraying any worry he felt, as Spider approached with a large tankard. "This won't do. Ye've got to take a table for proper room to eat." Spider led him to the small round table with chairs for three and obviously recently vacated by one or two patrons. "Now, try this, young sir Terrol, and it'll warm ye to yer boots." The innkeeper slammed the mug down while a lissome green-eyed barmaid slid a steaming bowl of stew and a warm handloaf of dark bread toward him as well. Raegar drank the lukewarm porter and raised his eyebrows. The porter was slightly nutty with a pleasant bite in its aftertaste. "Excellent, goodsir Spider. What do you call this hearty brew?" Raegar kept his tone light and in keeping with his disguise-he had combed his beard and oiled his hair, and he wore his richer leathers and a well-made cloak in his guise as a well-to-do courier, the House Lanngolyn badge as his cloak clasp. The barmaid brushed up against him suggestively, and Raegar mentally noted that she was after his attentions more than his coin purse. "Ryssa, let the man alone a moment to eat, for Tyr's sake!" Spider chastised his young barmaid, who pouted then moved along with a pewter pitcher to refill wine glasses around the room. Spider wiped down the bar, and said, "That be me own brew-Sleeping Dragon Dark-from the local barley and oats. Won't get that in Waterdeep, no sir. Well, enjoy, and be sure to tell the Lords Lanngolyn of our hospitality, sir." Raegar nodded and tucked into his bowl of stew, careful not to meet the eyes of a few whose attentions fell on his rich cloak or the words of the innkeeper.

Inside, he argued with himself: Curse that wizard. He still hasn't explained about the blade or this morning's incident, and it feels like he's set up this encounter as another test. It'd almost be better if I just left, but that would draw attention if I go too abruptly.

It'd be justice though, to leave Damlath out on a limb unknowingly as he's done to me twice now. Raegar fumed inside but his face and body language were the measure of calm and contentment as he finished the stew and idly sipped at his drink. He began taking in the company around him. Most of those seated at the bar were local laborers, the mud of the fields still on their boots and clothes. One long table and its nearest round table were dominated by fighting men, their tabards and armor noting them as the local Guard contingent that the Lords of Waterdeep kept patrolling on the roads north to and from Amphail.

Still, if trouble came up, those eleven men could be a problem. Two tables away sat a small party of six-traders from the looks of it, all tired from days on the trade road and praying to make it to Waterdeep before season's end. Other locals took up only two other tables, but the farthest two long tables and the round tables closest to the fireplace were suspiciously empty. Raegar winked at Ryssa when she passed back by him, and she resisted only a token amount when he swept her into his lap. After a playful kiss to dismiss suspicion, Raegar whispered to her. "Why are the best seats in the house empty? Seems odd, especially with winter's chill starting to creep in." The raven-haired woman's eyes widened then lowered. She turned in his lap slowly, and playfully took a swig from his tankard. Raegar guessed she might have been a thief at one time as well, given how smoothly she blended her passing whispers with her actions. "Spider's expecting a group of travelers here some time tonight, coming back from Longsaddle on the Long Road-a count and his party, all from Tethyr, I'm told.

They stayed here about five tendays back on their way north, and a scout arrived at dusk to ask that rooms be readied for their arrival.

Now, did you need a room readied, sir?" By that time, she had risen from his lap and straightened her dress, her eyes always locked on his. Ryssa's clear desire made Raegar even more irritated with Damlath's plans. "Alas, no. I'm to be east of here by highmoon, no matter what. As much as I might wish it, I must away after my meal to Stagsmere." Raegar tried to rekindle hope for both of them. "Mayhaps my errand there will be short, so I might return, should there still be a room for me." Ryssa's eyes confirmed as much but she said, "Wait a breath-Stagsmere? Why'd you want to go there? That place has been abandoned for years. Only things out there now are rabbits and ghosts." "Not my place to question my duties, I'm afraid. I've already said too much, but for your discretions, fair Ryssa." Raegar placed three silvers into her fingers as he reached out and put his hands over hers on the tankard. The girl smiled as she slipped the coins into her pocket. Raegar stood up and made his plans clear to Damlath by sighing loudly and exclaiming, "Innkeeper! That was the finest meal to be had in the North outside of Sea Ward! I thank you and your good serving girl for it." He moved toward the bar, noticing that all eyes were on him, including Damlath's. As he made a show of counting out coin for the meal, he watched in the mirror as Damlath and his companion shook both hands together. Disguised by this motion, the blue-garbed mage slipped the sparkling wand into Damlath's sleeve while he in turn slid a scroll into the man's other sleeve. Once that transaction was complete, all three stood and made to leave as well.

Raegar paid Spider a bit more than required, if only to keep his memory sharp on his generous identity as Terrol, servant of House Lanngolyn. He then bowed to him and Ryssa, and headed for the door… only to find it blocked by a large party of dark-skinned armed guards.

The foremost guard-clean-shaven but with shoulder length black hair and richly appointed clothes only marred by the grime of the road-smiled at the innkeeper, who greeted him with, "Welcome, Captain.

Honored greetings to ye and their excellencies!" The captain said, more to the party behind them than to Spider, "Your Excellency, our tables are ready." The captain and some of his guards moved past Raegar and headed directly toward the fire, creating a perimeter of guards around their tables. Raegar watched them pass and noticed how Damlath's companions pulled their hoods a little closer and shied away from them. The guards all wore livery in enamel badges-a green field with a golden emblem of wheat stalks wrapped by a scroll and a blue ring. While Raegar wasn't a short man, half of the guards loomed taller over him than he did over Spider. Raegar had seen the badge before in Waterdeep when his surveillance of Blackstaff Tower began.

He knew them as the retinue of Lord Gamalon Idogyr, Count of Spellshire and Sage of the Royal Court of Tethyr. Raegar stepped back toward the stairs to allow them access and realized there was no room at the threshold for six guards, four servants, the entering noblepersons, and himself. Fitting his servant's guise, Raegar backed up the stairs to clear the way for the party's entrance. He also realized that the tingling on his back was growing ever stronger, a fact made all the more disturbing when he looked out the door of the inn. On the porch, a man and a woman stood facing each other, their excellencies Lord and Lady Idogyr. The lady smiled at her husband, and Raegar strained to hear her over the hubbub generated by their party's arrival. He caught only the tail end. "-don't be such a show-off, making your eye glow with blue sparks for a grand entrance." She turned away, and when the count faced the doorway, Raegar's blood froze while tingles ran across his back from the sword. Gamalon, his bald head wrinkled in confusion, had a green gem where his left eye should have been, and the blue sparks spitting from it were easily spotted against his dark skin and salt-and-peppered beard. Raegar remembered the morning's destruction and glanced briefly toward Damlath, who seemed just as surprised as Gamalon. When their eyes locked, Raegar nodded and looked directly at the window on Damlath's left hand. He also made a quick hand signal, long practiced by them, to tell him to toss the item in that direction. He didn't want everyone in the inn getting blasted by lightning, but Damlath stood, ignoring or misreading the signals. Raegar shot him a glare and thought, Guess it's every man for himself. Raegar backed the rest of the way up the stairs, fumbling with the buckle behind his back that held the blade and scabbard in place and muttering as he went,