The hour was late. The Dreaming Dragon was silent. Though the moon was but a thin, faint sliver, the pure light of the stars spilled in through the window of Mari's room like liquid silver. The Harper lay in her bed, wakeful, her eyes gazing out the small round window. She could see the spindly shapes of the city's towers looming dimly in the starlight like gray ghosts. Or like tombstones, she thought.

Tomorrow night was the dark of the moon. Tomorrow night everything would be decided, for good or ill.

That evening she and Cormik had finalized their plans in the secret chamber beneath the Prince and Pauper. She had expected a representative of the Purple Masks Guild to be in attendance as well but had been surprised when Guildmaster Bock himself arrived.

These last days of planning had been wearisome for Man. Tyveris had proved a great help to her with his tactical advice, but she could have used Caledan's support. However, Caledan had been silent and brooding ever since his return from the tower the day before. Something had happened to him there, something he wasn't telling the others. His eyes had a haunted look. A dozen times she had wanted to reach out to comfort him, but each time she had pulled back.

Once, for a heartbeat, she had almost thought she recognized the identical desire in his eyes. But the bitter words they had spoken at the tomb of Talek Talembar hung on the air between them, and neither had spoken.

Man tried to turn her thoughts away from Caledan. Her mission was everything now. I hope what I'm doing is right, Master Andros, she murmured inwardly.

She sighed and slipped from the bed. She was clad only in a thin nightdress and pulled her woolen cloak about her for warmth. There was going to be no sleep for her, not this night.

She opened the door of her room quietly and slipped softly down the hallway. She heard a floorboard creak above her head, probably Jolle or Ferret steadfastly keeping watch on the narrow lane that led to the Dreaming Dragon.

When she started down the stairwell to fix herself a cup of tea, she was surprised to see a flicker of firelight from below. Somebody must still be up, she realized. She stepped into the warm, firelit common room and found herself greeted by the chill gaze of the mage, Morhion.

He sat in a chair by the fire, the shadows playing across his proud features. He held a glass of pale wine in his hand, but it was full, as if he had not taken even a sip. Man hesitated for the space of a heartbeat, then moved to a chair opposite the mage. He inclined his head slightly, but said nothing.

For a time both of them sat in silence, watching the coals glowing on the hearth. Finally Mari gathered her courage and spoke. "There was no sleep for you tonight, either?"

"I have a momentous decision to make, Harper." The mage spoke softly. "Such decisions preclude sleep, I fear."

"Decision?" Mari asked. She almost thought she heard a tinge of regret in the mage's voice.

"Yes, a decision. Perhaps you can offer some guidance, Harper. Does one do what he feels is his duty, what he is bound to do? Or does one do what his secret heart whispers to him?" His eyes were intent upon her.

Mari looked away from the mage's piercing gaze. He seemed to have read her own inner struggle perfectly. She had fought long and hard to decide whether to accept her love for Caledan, even though she knew it would compromise her duties as a Harper. "I too have tried to make a decision, Morhion. But sometimes such decisions are made for you by someone else."

The mage nodded. He understood. She had pushed duty aside in favor of her heart, but the decision had been made too late.

"Caledan is not the kind who ever forgives betrayal," Morhion said. The mage did a surprising thing then. He reached out and touched her hand gently.

"Did you betray him, Morhion?"

"Yes."

They were silent for a long moment. "Tell me," she finally dared to say.

The mage stiffened. "This is something of which I have never spoken, not to anyone," he said gravely. "Never did I think there was one who might understand." His gaze flickered to her dark eyes. "Until now." Mari could not help but shiver.

The mage went on. "After Kera's murder, there was but one thought on Caledan's mind: vengeance. It was an obsession that gradually consumed him. He followed Ravendas as she fled to the Zhentarim fortress of Darkhold in the Far Hills. Somehow he managed to slip through the Darkhold defenses. This is no small feat, for these are many and perilous." A note of admiration edged Morhion's voice. "But far greater dangers awaited him within the fortress itself. He had gone to meet the spider in her lair. It was a confrontation he would never survive. Of that I had no doubt"

Morhion sighed, sipping some of the pale wine. "I followed him. Such was my decision. I allowed myself to be captured by the Zhentarim, and they took me to Ravendas for questioning. Then I revealed to her that Caledan was within the walls of Darkhold, intending to slay her."

"Did she reward you?"

"Yes," the mage said. He smiled bitterly. "She allowed me to keep my life. As the guards escorted me from the keep, I cast a spell of enchanted sleep upon them and got away. With the aid of my magic, I was able to find Caledan. He was hiding deep among the foundations. I told him what I had done. He was furious, yet he did not try to kill me-not then. Perhaps it was because, until that moment, we had been the closest of friends. Of course, that is no longer so."

"But you were trying to save him, weren't you?" Mari asked. "You knew that you couldn't convince him to leave Darkhold unless he realized it was hopeless to attack Ravendas in her lair."

"That is so. But the truth is, he wished to die, Harper."

Mari stared at the mage. Morhion paused momentarily, then went on. "He knew he would never be able to slay Ravendas and then escape Darkhold, yet that suited him. He wished to join Kera in death. I denied him that wish-I forced him to choose life. For that he has never forgiven me."

"How did you escape Darkhold?" Mari asked finally.

Morhion gave a slight start. For the first time Mari thought she understood the mage's expression. In his eyes was the look of fear.

'Tell me."

The mage's countenance turned impassive again. "Long before I journeyed to Darkhold, I had learned in an ancient tome of a black spirit that was said to haunt the caverns beneath the keep. Darkhold has a long history, Harper, stretching back through the centuries. It was built long before the Zhentarim ever set foot within its walls. Once it marked the southernmost border of a kingdom now long forgotten.

"In life, this spirit had been a knight of that kingdom, a man named Serafi. He had sought to usurp the throne, but his plot was discovered, and he was sentenced to death. Such was the dark power of his ambition that even in death he knew life, and so he was doomed for all eternity to drift through the caverns beneath Darkhold, craving that which he might never attain.

"I realized that, if anyone knew of a secret way leading out of Darkhold, it would be the undead spirit of Serafi. By means of a dark spell I summoned Serafi to me. He agreed to reveal to me a secret route through the caverns that led out of the keep. It was by means of this underground passage that Caledan and I escaped from Darkhold. But there was a price."

"A price?"

The mage lifted an arm. Slowly he drew back the sleeve of his gray robe. Mari gasped, clamping a hand over her mouth. The mage's forearm was crisscrossed with fine, pale scars. She looked up at him, her eyes wide.

"Such is the fate of the restless dead that they are envious of the living," the mage said. For a moment, there was a trembling in his voice, and again the fear in his eyes. "Once each month, when the moon is full, the spirit of Serafi comes to me and drinks of my fresh, hot blood. Such is the pact I made with the vaporous spirit in payment for the knowledge he imparted to me."