Teldin must have made an appropriately pathetic sight, for several of the passersby stopped long anough to toss a coin from the purses at his feet. In his dejection, Teldin barely noticed the small coins that grew before him.

Behind the huddled farmer the door creaked open. "Go away! Get out of my door, you worthless beggar!" A hail of swats came down on Teldin's head. Scrambling up from where he sat, the yeoman escaped the wrath of a plump woman standing in the doorway. "And take your filthy money, too!" she screamed, kicking the coins at his feet.

"And to think I protected your kind in the war!" Teldin viciously shouted at the shrewish woman. Her face, previously flushed with indignation, drained pale as she felt the rage that boiled out of the lanky beggar on her stoop. "Damn you all to the Abyss!" the farmer snarled, baring his teeth in an animalistic grimace. He took a shaking step toward and towered over the short woman. The terrified woman trembled before his assault, then slammed the door in Teldin's face before he might spring to the attack.

As he stood in the street, Teldin realized he was far from alone, for circle of gawkers had gathered behind him. Embarrassed by the outburst, he scooped up the scattered of money, then became embarrassed by that, too. He had not come to Palanthas to beg. Pride in honor said to throw the money away; common sense urged them to keep it. Common sense won, and Teldin hurriedly but the money into his purse, all the time muttering, "I'll never get to Mount Nevermind," as he counted the coins. The onlookers unconsciously drew back lest the beggar be a madman.

Such was Teldin's mood that he forsook what little caution he had exercised all day, little caring to note any suspicious characters. Thus, as he left the side street, he failed to notice Brun One-Eye and another of Vandoorm's mercenaries watching from among the small crowd gathered at the homemaker's door. With a nod, Brun and his companion began to follow Teldin at a sfae distance, stepping into a merchant's stall or a shadowed doorway each time Teldin even casually looked about.

It wasn't until Teldin had reached the smaller back streets where the foot traffic thinned out, that he sensed something odd. There, between the half-timbered houses that jutted over the street. Teldin became aware of strangers behind him. He turned in an attempt to catch whoever followed him, but the yeoman'sonly reward was a shadow disappearing down a side street and a thunk of a door quickly closing. A cat came out of the alley and quickly padded across the road. Still suspicious, Teldin continued on, turning the corner and out of sight.

Stepping out of the shadows of a doorway, Brun hissed softly for his companion. The man poked his head out of the alley and, seeing that it was all clear, hurriedly joined the eye-patched warrior. The two fell into a huddled discussion, Reaching the corner, Brun carefully peered around it, then urgently waved the other forward. Down the lane, Teldin was nowhere in sight.

With his back pressed against the rough stone of a courtyard wall, Teldin watched Brun and his companion still at the corner. The farmer, suspecting he ws being followed, had slipped through an open gate into a small courtyard beyond. The early evening sun gave long shadows to the high walls, and it was from this deep gloom that Teldin watched, peering carefully through the barely ajar gate. Teldin instantly recognized Brun; the man's wild hair and eye-patch were absolutely distinctive. The other man he vaguely knew as one of Vandoorm's men. Their faces showed puzzlement as the pair cursorily scanned the street, not noticing the slightly open gate. Brun gave a sharp command, then led the other man down the way. The farmer shifted and watched them go.

After waiting for a minute or more, Teldin finally ventured back into the street. He looked both directions as he decided which way to go. "Always better to swing the first punch," Teldin mused aloud, remembering the advice grandfather had given him when he was young. Grandfather had also said, 'Don't be fool, boy,' advice that made sense right now. "I can go back to the inn, or I can follow them," Teldin whispered to himself, weighing his choices. Common sense said to go back to Gomja – he had already made another close escape – but that choice did not satisfy him. Another part of him urged him to follow Brun. After all, Teldin thought, how much longer could he keep getting away? It would be a great advantage knowing where Vandoorm was; it would make the deceitful captain that much easier to avoid.

Teldin let his curiosity overrule his good judgement. He would follow Brun back to the spider's web, just to know what and where to avoid. That desided, the long-legged farmer sprinted down the lane brfore his newfound quarry escaped.

At first, Teldin thought the chase was getting him nowhere. Brun and his stooge seemed to wander almost aimlessly, casting about like hunters searching for a lost deer trail. It was all Teldin could do to keep from losing them and still stay hidden. The pair constantly doubled back or separated, forcing Teldin to move quickly to keep his plans from failing. After more than an hour of searching, as the narrow streets descended into darkness, the pair seemed to give it up. They moved purposefully, no longer taking the time to peer up every alley or circle around blocks. Emboldened by hiss success and the increased darkness, Teldin followed closer, Finally, well into dusk, he was close enough to hear small bits of the pair's wind-borne conversation.

"Vandoorm won't like…" spoke the smaller of the two.

"I don't care… Vandoorm can go…" came bits of Brun's snarling reply. "…whole thing isn't…" The two rounded a house and Teldin lost the conversation.

When he finally peeked around the corner, Teldin found that the pair had reached an old, run-down section of the harbor. They were headed along a deserted quay with a tumble-down collection of abandoned storehouses and drafty shanties to one side and crumbling piers to the other. Small fishing dories, some barely seaworthy, bobbed on the black, sewage-rich water and thumped against rotting pilings. Teldin ignored the thick smell of dead fish and waste, slipped behind a row of old lobster pots, and crept close enough to hear more.

"Why does Vandoorm… meet here anyway?" griped the nameless mercenary. The two were standing just on the other side of the wooden traps, their backs to Teldin's hiding place.

"Shut up, and don't… questions," snapped Brun. "It's where… our employers. My guess… they want to know…" The rest of Brun's words were drowned out by other voices. In the dim light from the nearby shanties, Teldin could barely see the short, swaggering figure of Vandoorm leading a small band of men, no more than ten of his original score. The farmer noted with no small satisfaction that more than a few hobbled painfully. Confident that he couldn't be seen, Teldin pressed himself forward against the damp traps, trying to hear as much as possible.

"Hail, Brun," called Vandoorm. "What luck?"

"We saw him, but he lost us," Brun answered glumly. "He was down here, by the waterfront." Vandoorm swore, naming Brun's ancestors in a blistering tirade.

The one-eyed mercenary bristled. His hand went to his sword and he took a step forward, only to be restrained by his companion. "I don't remember you holding him well, either." Brun sneered. The words brought Vandoorm's rant to a halt. The lame men behind the captain tensed, their eyes hard and narrow.

"Do not speak about thing you don't know," Vandoorm icily reminded Brun. "Good men die – you do not." The captain slowly circled Brun, never taking his eyes off his lieutenant. Brun, under Vandoorm's and the others' withering gazes, seemed to shrink.