"Your majesty," Rickman inquired cautiously, "have you confronted the Tharchioness with your discovery of her conspiracy yet?"

"No," Selfaril answered quickly, snapping out of his preoccupied malaise. "I haven't finished planning how to turn it to my greatest advantage yet. Ideally I would like to use it to rid the city of all of those diplomatically immune wizards she has seen fit to bring here, exempting them from my control, while sending an occupational force to Eltabbar to exert our own battery of diplomatic influence. As you no doubt realize, this is more than just a wife wishing to kill her husband. This is war."

Rickman was surprised at the recent amount of anger and emotion the High Blade had made evident. What had started out as a political chess game with what was initially considered to be a worthy opponent had quickly escalated into a ruthless shadow war. Rickman was in a quandary as to what he should offer to do next.

"Should I have some of my men arrange for the removal-permanent or locational-of the Tharchioness?" he inquired.

"Not just yet," the High Blade answered. "We must play this situation very delicately."

"What if I were to send two of my men back to the Retreat to investigate the unfortunate slaughter of that order of contemplative mages. They could discover the Thayan wand that was left behind, and report it to their immediate superiors who would then pass this discovery up through the chain of command…"

"And with gossip being what it is in the lower ranks, passing out into the unwashed masses as well."

"Indeed, sire," Rickman agreed. "Maiden rumor will spread, fermenting public outrage against the Thayan murderers. I will have Wattrous and Jembahb dispatched immediately. Neither of them are known for their discretion."

"Indeed."

"In regards to rumor, sire," Rickman continued. "Wouldn't it be wise to remove any threat of it interfering with our plans?"

"To what do you refer?"

"The prisoner, sire," the Hawk captain explained cautiously. "Though his appearance is obscured, he can still talk. Perhaps he should be further isolated from the other prisoners in the dungeon."

Selfaril shook his head and chuckled.

"I really don't think that is necessary. A trip to the dungeon is a one-way journey for the hopeless, penniless, and terminally unfortunate. What are the odds of someone getting out, and even at that, what of it?"

Rickman became quite serious.

"Through my sources, I have learned that the prisoner in the cell next to your brother was released yesterday. An unemployed actor I believe."

"What of it? If he heard anything at all it was the ravings of a madman. I find very little reason to fear an unemployed actor who probably knows nothing, nor anyone, of importance."

"Just the same, your majesty, I would like to assign one of my spies to keep an eye on him, at least until your plan has come to fruition."

"Fine, fine," Selfaril responded. "Spy on him, kill him, whatever you desire. Just don't waste my time with it."

"Yes, your majesty," the captain of the Hawks answered dutifully. "And the Tharchioness? Does the same hold true for her?"

"No, Rickman," the High Blade responded with a lascivious grin as he recalled the night before. "I'm not quite finished playing with her just yet."

In the chambers of the First Princess of Thay in the Tower of the Wyvern:

"Your majesty," the fearful ambassador hesitantly interrupted the Tharchioness's late morning meal. She had awakened to find her husband already departed from their bed, and was not in a very good mood at all.

"What is it, worm?" she spat back with the venom of a recently disturbed cobra.

"You requested an update, your majesty… from our spies?"

The beautifully evil Tharchioness stood up, towering over the gelatinous bulge of her obsequious ambassador, spitting back: "And?"

'Well, your majesty," the ambassador replied, trying to maintain some composure while averting his eyes from hers, only to find them now locked on the satin V of her gown, and the ample breast that rested behind it. "Rumor has it that a group of riders were seen outside Southroad Keep on the early morning after the night of the abduction. Other sources indicate that there is a new prisoner in the keep's dungeon."

"Has anyone been dispatched to verify the identity of this prisoner?"

"Yes, y-y-y-your majesty," the ambassador stuttered, "but according to an easily bribed guard named Smagler, he is just a madman."

"And you trusted an easily bribed guard named Smagler to know the truth about an exceptionally sensitive matter like the imprisonment of the High Blade's own twin brother?" she barked, ready to arrange for the cowering diplomat to join his predecessor in the job.

"No your majesty," the ambassador quickly replied, a tone of pleading in his voice. "I then sent another of our spies to verify the identity of this madman, and see for himself. So he gained access to the dungeon, and snuck a peek into the new prisoner's cell."

"And….? You try my patience! What did he look like? Was he the High Blade's twin?"

"We do not know, your majesty," the ambassador said meekly.

"What do you mean we do not know? Was our spy captured?"

"No, your majesty. I just finished debriefing him."

"Well, what then?"

"It was the prisoner, your majesty."

"What about him? What did he look like?" she interrogated, losing her temper, and pummelling the pudgy ambassador with closed fists about his bald head and stooped shoulders. "I don't see what could have been so hard. The High Blade is the most recognizable of all this city's wretches!"

"He wore a mask, your majesty. A magically resistant, iron mask," the ambassador cried between sobs and moans of pain. "No matter how hard my spy tried, he just couldn't penetrate its ensorcellments."

The Tharchioness instantaneously regained her composure.

"He must be our prisoner, or else there can be no reason why my loving husband would be obscuring his identity."

"My spy also observed that the mask seemed to have a magical dampening effect within, as well as without."

The Tharchioness chuckled sinisterly.

"My husband has always been uneasy around magic. It is only to be expected that he would hobble the abilities of the mage-in-training."

With her fingertips, the First Princess gently massaged the tattoos that adorned the left side of her completely bald pate.

"The fact that his identity is concealed from the outside world is a point in our favor. It indicates that my dear husband is uneasy about his presence, and has no desire for his lovely citizens of Mulmaster to be made aware of it. We too must keep the existence of his brother secret." The Tharchioness turned and faced her ambassador who was regaining his composure after the physical interrogation that he had just been put through. "What of your spy?" she inquired calmly.

"I killed him," the ambassador replied, adding, "You stressed that absolute secrecy must be maintained, your majesty."

"Good," the Tharchioness agreed. "For the time being, secrecy must be maintained at all costs. Leave, worm. Your presence nauseates me."

"Yes, your majesty," the ambassador replied obsequiously, as he backed out of her ladyship's private chambers, dreading the day when his own usefulness would no longer outweigh the Tharchioness's desire for secrecy.

In the Dungeon of Southroad Keep:

Rassendyll looked at his strange visitor.

The dwarf seemed inordinately cheerful for a prisoner in a dungeon, or at least so thought the imprisoned young mage. Perhaps he was a spy.