Toede staggered to his feet uneasily. Groag lost no time in capitalizing on Toede's throw, and could be found beating on the human's head and shoulder with his serving platter shield-weapon. The human twitched a few times, held his hands up to ward off the attack, then dropped fully into unconsciousness.

Toede looked around. The regulars and sailors had vanished into the night, along with the old man and the domino players. The scar-faced innkeep reappeared once the noise subsided, his face trapped between the horror of what had happened and fear about what might happen next.

"Get me a healer," hissed Toede to the man. The innkeep motioned toward his collarbone, and Toede guessed there was a coin-shaped medallion beneath his shirt.

"That was an agent of Gildentongue, minion to the Water Prophet," said the innkeep.

Toede had had enough. He snarled, "Gildentongue is the second minion. I am the first, and I have returned to bring my vengeance upon those who use Holy Hopsloth as a puppet. Bring me a healer. Potion. Poultice. Something to stem the bleeding and close the wound. Whatever you have, but bring it now."

Toede said a few other things at this point, but they are unprintable, and most were said to the innkeeper's back as the scar-faced human scurried out of the room. Toede staggered over to Groag, who was leaning against the wall, serving platter still gripped in his paws, breathing heavily, his tiny piglike eyes bulging from their sockets in exertion.

"Has anyone," said Groag, gulping for air, "has anyone said you were a dangerous person to hang around with?" "None that lived," muttered Toede. "Good to see you haven't lost your 'savage' nature after all. He alive?"

"Uh-huh," gasped Groag. "You think I have the strength to kill a human with a dinner platter? Go ahead, you try. I'll be glad to watch."

Toede rolled the human over on his back. Thick, curly black hair and beard around an otherwise nondescript face. Another stranger. Was that because Gildentongue had brought in his own band of agents, or just that Toede never paid attention to the humans in the good old days? Toede grimaced half in embarrassment and half in pain. He unbuttoned the assassin's shirt and found a large coin-shaped locket, this one as big as a hill gianf s thumbnail.

It was the first one he'd seen at close range, and he pulled it from the human's neck. The chain was good quality gold, as was the clasp. The disk was some bronze or brass alloy, apparently stamped for production in mass quantities. One side was flat, the other showing the beaming features of Holy Hopsloth. From the beatific glow of the amphidragon's face, the creature had just eaten a team of oxen. He looked fatter than ever. Toede doubted that Gildentongue even took the beast out for rides.

Toede grunted, pocketing the symbol. Groag wiped the sweat from his brow and said, "He was a fanatic for Hop-sloth and Gildentongue."

"Fanatic?"

"Didn't you hear him during the fight?" asked Groag.

"I was busy bleeding." Toede realized that his fingers were growing stickier by the moment.

Groag nodded at the unconscious man. "He was shouting about how he was the messenger of the Water Prophet and all, and that he had been commanded to strike down the imposter of the minion (that would be you), and so on and so forth."

"A soak-off," grumbled Toede. "Pardon?" said Groag.

Toede scowled. "Gildentongue must have got reports of me, or someone claiming to be me, in the city. Probably from one of the guards this afternoon. So he sent an assassin-not his best, likely, or else he would be seen as paranoid. Just a soak-off. A throwaway warrior."

Groag saw Toede's face curl into a tight ball, and was suddenly unwilling to ask his lord to share his thoughts. The innkeep returned with a pair of small vials and a short strip of cured leather.

As the scar-faced innkeeper worked the bolt loose from Toede's arm, the highmaster sat down and bit hard on the leather. Flashes of pain, like sudden, silent lightning, flickered inside his tightly shut eyes. Toede half hoped for the blackness to return and claim him, but was spared that luxury.

Then a glass vial was pressed against his lips, and a sickeningly sweet syrup oozed down his throat. The colors faded, and the blackness retreated. A second vial-load of curative potion dripped into his esophagus. The pungent aroma gagged Toede, making him think involuntarily of death by pancake syrup.

He opened his eyes and touched his wounded arm. The cloth was still sticky with his blood, but the pain had subsided. Rubbing it, he could still feel the small crater where the bolt had entered his body.

The innkeep rose. "You should go now," he said solemnly.

"We'll need some supplies," said Toede.

"You should go now," repeated the innkeep.

"You have served the minion well," intoned Toede, knowing that this seemed to command attention. "But let us consider the deviousness of my enemy, the false minion of Hopsloth, the anti-minion. His own servants will be here soon, brought by your fleeing patrons. Upon discovering you aided us, they will torture and perhaps kill you, and most definitely burn your inn to the ground. You have shown kindness to us, and I cannot allow you to come to harm. Therefore, I tell you to quickly gather a few items for us. Then we will lock you in your own cellar, if you wish, and leave, so that the agents of the false minion will find you a victim as well."

Toede did not say that, were he in charge of Flotsam once again, he would burn the entire inn to the ground just as a safety precaution, regardless of the innkeep's guilt or innocence. No sense in making the poor human worry.

As it was, the human readily nodded, and Toede rattled off a list of supplies he would need. The human said he had them available and would go fetch them.

This readiness surprised Toede, who thought that some of his requests were for items that might take some time to collect, or might cause the innkeep to leave the building, allowing Toede and Groag to rifle his remaining stocks. It occurred to Toede that the innkeep might have his own reasons for sticking to the premises and keeping his building from burning to the ground. He filed that away for future reference.

Groag had recovered his breath and was kneeling over the body of their human assailant, who was still breathing shallowly, but steadily now. "He'll be coming around soon. You want me to kill him?"

"No," said Toede. "I have a better idea."

He retrieved the heavy dagger of the dead barbarian and thumbed the point. Razor sharp, as he had hoped.

Toede then kneeled over the prostrate form of the human and opened his shirt the rest of the way, baring both chest and belly. He used the knife to inscribe two lines in the flesh of the man's chest, not cutting deep enough to severe muscle or puncture organs, but sufficient enough to break and open the skin. The first line ran from nipple to nipple, while the second ran from the

center of where this line crossed the sternum to the belly button (an "outtie," he noted).

He stepped back to admire his handiwork and heard the heavy tread of the supply-laden innkeeper. The innkeep whistled low at the hobgoblin's artistry.

The assailant had a crimson T carved into his chest.

"He said he was a messenger, eh?" Toede said to Groag. "Let this be the message he carries back to his master."

To the innkeep he said, "You can make sure he doesn't bleed to death with one of your potions. That way he will be indebted to you for rescue instead of suspecting you of aiding us.

The innkeep nodded and said in a strained voice, "You should."

"I know," said Toede. "Now, what's the quickest way to the docks?"