Lavant opened his mouth again, no doubt to protest his innocence, but he was interrupted by the opening of the door.

"You are too astute, as always, Falagh," Junce Roundface said, sounding jovial as he entered from the hallway. "Emriana Matrell is here because I lured her here."

"You what?" Grozier blurted, apparently just as stunned as Falagh felt. "Why in Waukeen's name would you do that?" he added in a softer tone.

Falagh winced at his compatriot's noise, but he felt similar incredulity. "Yes, pray tell, why here?"

"Because," Junce said, still grinning, "it was the best place to capture her."

At that moment, everyone began talking at once. It was clear to Falagh that Junce had just executed some elaborate plan that he had not been privy to, and it disturbed him. He began to wonder how much else Junce-and Lavant, too, it appeared-were doing that they weren't admitting.

"Enough!" Lavant hissed, glaring at everyone. It was the first time Falagh could remember seeing the high priest lose his composure, even the slightest. "This chamber may be private, but it is not warded against sound. If you don't all lower your voices, the entire Generon will know of what we speak." With an elaborate sigh, he then turned to Junce. "So, it is done?" he asked.

"Indeed," the assassin replied, that grin spreading wider. "I have both of them in the mirror even as we speak."

"Mirror?" Grozier asked, again seeming to echo Falagh's puzzlement. "What mirror? Both of whom?"

"Let's just say that someone owed me a large favor and loaned me the use of a very special mirror," Junce explained. "It has a way of safely storing certain individuals who tend to get in the way of things otherwise. Certain Matrell women who make an unpleasant habit of skulking about at night."

"Brilliant!" Grozier exclaimed. "But why is the mirror here? Oh, it must belong to-" and he snapped his mouth shut at the realization of just how Eles Wianar was involved. Then he looked back and forth between Junce and Lavant, a frown appearing on his face.

Falagh felt uneasiness descend upon him. If Lord Wianar is involved, no matter how peripherally, things could become complicated, he thought. He may begin to inquire after our activities, and he might wish to become more involved in them.

Falagh was on the verge of voicing his concerns to the priest and the assassin, but Lobra chose that moment to cut into the conversation. "You say you have captured Emriana Matrell?" she asked coldly, staring at Junce.

"Indeed," the assassin repeated, looking smug. "I have them safely locked away right at this moment."

Falagh turned to suggest that Lobra return to the party and let him finish his business with his associates unhindered, but she continued on, ignoring her husband's stare. "I want her," the woman demanded. "I want to see her, to let her feel a little of the pain and misery she and her family have brought upon me and mine." She spoke the words with absolute conviction, the chill in her voice a sure sign to Falagh that she would brook no argument. She did not often adopt such a tone, but whenever she did, her husband understood all too well that she would not be denied.

Lobra turned to Falagh and added, "Make them give her to me, darling. You must."

Falagh looked at the three other men, wondering how difficult it was going to be to convince them. "You heard her," he said. "What arrangements need to be made?"

"I don't think it would be such a good idea to free the girl," Junce began, his smile wiped from his face. "Where she is now, she cannot be easily located with magical scrying. But should we free her, even to imprison her in a more conventional fashion, others might come looking for her."

"I have House wizards who can deal with that," Falagh said, waving his hand in dismissal. "That won't be an issue." Then an idea hit him. "Or," he said, watching his counterparts to gauge their reactions, "you could simply loan us this wondrous mirror for a while." Junce stole a glance at Lavant, who frowned. Falagh continued. "That way, you wouldn't have to worry about others using magic to locate her. And I'm sure that, after a few days, a tenday or so at most, Lobra would grow tired of taunting the girl, and you could have the whole thing back, prisoners included."

"Absolutely not," Junce declared, shaking his head. "The mirror is much too rare and valuable to be loaned out. It is out of the question."

Falagh smiled, for he had expected just such an answer. Now we can see just how close your relationship is with our Shining Lord, he mused, congratulating himself. He cleared his throat. "My wife is very insistent. If she doesn't get what she wants, I'm afraid no more Pharaboldi funds will be available for this venture. Mestel funds, either, for that matter," he added.

Junce grimaced and glared at Falagh for a long moment. Out of the corner of his eye, Falagh saw Lavant give the barest hint of a nod, and Junce sighed as though caving to Falagh's demand. "Very well," he said, his tone almost too contrite. "I will speak to our host and see if he is willing to agree to your terms. But I promise you, his acquiescence won't come cheaply."

"Oh, I fully expect Lord Wianar will want to get his hands deeply into our pie after this," Falagh said, knowing he sounded smug. "I just wanted you two to finally admit it." When Junce's glare deepened, Falagh laughed. "I am not a fool, and I have warned you not to underestimate me before. Perhaps now, Lord Wianar will be willing to show his intentions more openly."

"I have a question," Grozier asked, interrupting the staring contest. "You said you managed to capture Emriana. But what happened to her companion? A Waukeenar priest, I believe?"

Junce nodded. "Yes, some young whelp from the Darowdryn household, I believe. He really wasn't much more trouble than Emriana. My 'associates,' as you referred to them, are disposing of him now. Both he and the other mercenary, Miquillon, in fact. Fool man wouldn't stop begging me to release Xaphira into his hands. I grew tired of his pleading."

Lavant grunted. "Pilos Darowdryn? I'm not sure killing him is such a good idea," he grumbled. "I couldn't care less what happens to the mercenary, but if Pilos doesn't return to his family or the temple at the end of the evening, the entire Darowdryn clan may begin asking some very pointed questions. We just got House Matrell out of the way. We don't want more of the same trouble from Ariskrit and Steelfists."

Junce shrugged. "He'll be found floating in the bay tomorrow, I'm sure," he said. "Inquiries will be made, but I'm certain no one in the Darowdryn House will openly point out that their whelp was poking around in Wianar's dungeons, now will they?"

"Nonetheless, they will investigate," Lavant countered. "That's attention we just can't have right now. We need a better solution."

"Why don't we replace him?" Grozier suggested.

Falagh turned to look at the man. "How do you mean?" he asked.

For an answer, Grozier motioned to his sister. "Marga, darling, come over here for a moment and give these gentlemen a quick glimpse of your more interesting talents."

The woman nodded, gave them all a rather conniving smile, and began to change like clay molded by an artist.

Falagh wasn't sure he believed what he was seeing at first, for Marga Matrell became somewhat gray and blurry for a moment. In the next instant, she was someone else, a young man dressed in the garb of the Temple of Waukeen, with a white billowy shirt, matching trousers, and a doublet of rich crimson.

"I encountered Pilos earlier this evening, at the punch bowl, shortly after the Darowdryns first arrived," the image of the lad said in a youthful male voice quite unlike Marga's. "It won't be hard at all to convince his family that I am still alive," he added with a wicked grin.