"No, I am afraid that I do not have the pleasure of Myrkyssa Jelan's acquaintance," Jack managed to gasp, "but I was hurrying to meet the sceptanar of Cimbar and the king of Cormyr, who even now plot a dastardly double-pronged attack on our fair city. Consider yourselves warned!" With that he lapsed into raucous laughter again.

Muttering under his breath, the big man stepped forward and seized Jack by the collar. "This is no joking matter. We have reason to believe that the Warlord's agents are at large in the city. She means to lay the city to waste. I mean to stop her. Don't laugh at me!"

"Honestly, I don't know what you're talking about," Jack said.

The dark-haired man hauled Jack to his feet and drew back one hand to strike Jack across the face, but the rogue twisted out of the warrior's grasp and backpedaled an arm's length. He set his hand on the poignard's hilt.

"Your attentions are unwelcome, sir," he said with a light laugh. "I thank you for the jest, but I must excuse myself." He paused and then added, "The Simbul expects me shortly, and I cannot keep such a lovely and important lady waiting, if you understand me."

The man halted. He deliberately pushed his cloak clear of his right shoulder, revealing a longer and heavier shirt of mail than the woman and a heavy broadsword at his belt.

"I think the question is, do you understand me?" the man said. "Don't trifle with us, street rat."

"You say you don't know anything about Myrkyssa Jelan. Interesting. I can produce a dozen witnesses who saw you meet with a woman named Elana at the Cracked Tankard a couple of nights ago," the woman said. "What did you talk about?"

"Even if that is correct, which I don't admit for a moment," Jack said, "there is no law against sharing an ale with an acquaintance in a tavern."

"Perhaps you should concern yourself with the question of who Elana is really working for, Jack Ravenwild. Spies need dupes, after all."

"I am nobody's dupe!"

"Don't be so sure of that." The man set his hand on his sword hilt. Jack followed the motion with his eyes, spotting a tattoo on the back of the fellow's sword hand-a hawk in flight, stooping with its talons extended. "Now, answer my friend's question."

Knights of the Hawk. Jack shook his head, still trying to clear the cobwebs. He'd managed to attract some very prestigious attention indeed. "I might. But first, tell me why the Knights of the Hawk are interested in Elana. And who you are, for that matter."

The man scowled. "You can call me Marcus. This is Ashwillow. Remember the names."

"Have no fear on that account," Jack said. He rubbed his head. "I won't forget you."

"We want to have some words with Elana," Ashwillow said. "We have reason to believe that she's involved in some undesirable activities, the kind of activities people get imprisoned for. Or possibly hanged." She stared hard at Jack by way of extending the threat.

"Have you seen her?" Marcus asked.

"Not since I spoke to her the other night," Jack answered.

"What exactly did you talk about?" Ashwillow asked.

"She had lecherous designs upon my person, but I informed her that my personal standards of conduct could not possibly accommodate her lustful wishes," Jack said. He dusted off his cape and rearranged his clothes. Then he deliberately pushed his way past the two city knights. "Our conversation included nothing that could possibly be of interest to two such brave and noble defenders of the city."

"We'll be keeping an eye on you," Marcus called after him as Jack walked out of the alley. "If you're withholding information, you'll be called to account for it later."

Jack bit down on his reply and left without another word. He'd be keeping an eye on them, too.

The coach clattered to a halt on the wet cobblestones, rocking gently back and forth as its motion stopped. Liveried footmen hurried forward to open the door, dressed splendidly in white waistcoats and green caps. Jack ignored the offered hand and jumped down, thrusting his chin into the air and tugging at his finest coat to smooth the fit. He motioned the footman aside and turned to help Illyth descend. The noblewoman smiled and took his hand, climbing out of the coach with care.

"Oh, Jack," she breathed. "Isn't it wonderful?" Jack glanced around. The coach stood in the driveway of a noble's palace, one of a dozen or more coaches and carriages lined up along the way. Paper-covered lanterns glowed softly over the manor grounds, and bright light streamed from every window. Music played elegantly in the distance, the strains floating through the air like an imagined kiss. The laughter of lords and ladies rose from all sides, a pleasant buzz that was inviting and intriguing. The evening was cool and damp, the air heavy and still after the rains of the last few days, but the lawn was green and dark, and the house lights gleamed on the wet stone walkway.

"It is fortunate that we have arrived upon the scene," Jack replied. "Your presence is the only delight this gathering lacks, my lady."

Illyth laughed aloud and blushed. "Oh, Jack! Flattery will get you nowhere." She pulled at his hand and tugged him forward. "Come on; let's go inside! I can't wait to get started."

The rogue indulged her with a patient smile and followed. Behind him, the coachman cleared his throat, but Jack never turned around, and he was pretty sure that Illyth hadn't noticed. He'd led the fellow to believe that a substantial gratuity might take the place of the coachman's standard rates, and since Jack was nearly destitute, he wasn't about to give away anything he didn't have to. The coachman wouldn't leave, but he might not be so quick to take Jack as his fare next time.

He trotted up the wide marble steps of the palace a step behind Illyth and swept into a grand foyer without deigning to notice the chamberlains who stood by the door. In the grand ballroom beyond, a hundred or more guests conversed and danced in a swirling mass of wealth and privilege, dressed in some of the most outrageous and exotic costumes Jack had ever seen. He studied the glittering assembly for a moment in wry amusement, feeling very much like a wolf among some very wealthy and carefree sheep. Then the crowd parted to permit the passage of a tight knot of unmasked lords and ladies, exiting even as Jack and Illyth stood in the doorway.

"It's the Lady Mayor!" Illyth gasped, so awestruck that Jack almost laughed.

"So I see," he replied, with a patronizing smile.

He quietly drew Illyth aside to make room for the lady's party, and bowed graciously as she approached. Lady Mayor Amber Lynn Thoden was a strikingly handsome woman, he noticed, surprisingly young and feminine for such a lofty position. She acknowledged the greetings of Game-players with a dazzling yet insincere smile and accepted their attention with unconscious confidence, a goddess receiving her just due. A burgundy gown showed her striking figure quite nicely while remaining in the bounds of good taste, and a silver circlet, the emblem of her office, encircled her dark tresses. Several high lords trailed in her wake, high city officials and dashing army commanders attending their lady.

"Lady Mayor," Jack murmured. "Your loveliness defies comparison this evening."

Lady Thoden raised an eyebrow and turned to study him more closely, her smile shining on Jack but somehow never reaching her eyes. A cool strength and confidence in her gaze struck Jack as disdainful, cold, almost calculating. At the same time she glowed like the sun among the crowd. She offered her hand, and Jack bowed low to kiss it with a sweeping gesture.

"Do I know you, sir?" she asked in a light voice.

"Lord Jaer Kell Wildhame of Chondath. My lady, a visitor in your fair city," Jack replied. He'd seen the Lady Mayor at a distance on two or three previous occasions, but he hadn't realized the beauty and strength she carried in person. Like Elana, but armed with weapons far sharper and more subtle than mere swords. "I shall on this instant declare Raven's Bluff my home until the day I die, for how could I ever leave the enchanted place that wrought a beauty such as yours?"