"Cerulean, what do you know about the Wand of Wonder? Ranthor didn't tell me much. I suppose you know what he said."

He got the wand as a gift some time ago, Cerulean answered. I don't keep track of years, but he was much younger then. Still danced regularly-

"Danced? Ranthor?" Shal looked dubious, with one eyebrow raised in surprise.

He loved to dance. Never went anywhere in those days without a woman on each arm. But as I was saying, he got the wand as a gift. Used it three times, as I remember.

The first time, he was deep in the Deadwood Forest, hunting secil. It's a rare fungus he needed for a spell component. He was in quite a huff that day-swore I was stepping on every mushroom in sight-and he finally insisted I keep a good distance away from where he was working. Working-ha! Scrounging around on his hands and knees like some pauper, brushing dust into a bag. I, on the other hand, was exploring the area with dignity when I found the clump of secil. Did I step on it? No. I-

"The wand, Cerulean. What does this have to do with the Wand of Wonder?"

I was just getting to that, Mistress. Must you be so impatient? Anyhow, I didn't step on it. I quite understandably happened to miss seeing another clump of insignificant fungus. It was brown, and spores puffed up everywhere when I stepped on it. The air was thick with the stuff, and it didn't feel at all healthy. I could hardly breathe, and as far away as I was from Ranthor, he was still affected. He coughed and coughed, doubled over so bad he couldn't even catch his breath to cast one of his spells. Finally he just pulled out the wand and managed to mutter a word or two.

"And?"

And all of a sudden bubbles started floating up everywhere-sticky ones that splattered icy water when they burst. The spores didn't stand a chance. The ones that didn't stick to the bubbles were doused to the ground when they burst, and the magical cold killed the fungus.

Naturally, Ranthor got his secil in the end, and he was quite pleased with the wand.

"You said you remember three times. What about the other two?" Shal asked.

The second time was just as successful. He was trapped between an umber hulk and a dragon-horrible things, umber hulks; look like giant beetles that walk upright. Anyway, one of his hands was hurt-Ranthor's hands, I mean-so he couldn't cast a spell, and that was before he had the Staff of Power. When he used the Wand of Wonder, the dragon suddenly sprouted huge worms all over its body. Well, the umber hulk simply went wild, what with worms being its preferred diet. It tore right past Ranthor and me and started attacking the dragon with its big pincers. Needless to say, we beat a hasty retreat.

"So why did Ranthor worry so much about using the wand?"

As I said, there was a third time. I was galloping with godspeed, with a foul wizard, one of Ranthor's most powerful foes, chasing us on one of those flying carpets. Instead of just asking me to go faster, Ranthor whips out the wand, points it at the wizard and says, 'Turtle speed.' Before I could blink, I was the only thing going turtle speed, and the wizard was zooming by overhead. If there hadn't been a tree in her way, we'd have been dead.

"Huh?" Shal waited for an explanation.

I slowed down so fast she overshot us. She tried to turn, but the carpet was still going at full speed, and she slammed into a tree. Wonderful old tree. Burned to a crisp when her acid blood spilled all over it and ignited the thing. Of course, the wizard went up-poof!-right along with it.

"Then that was still a positive effect, wasn't it? So why should I worry about using the wand?"

As I said, Mistress, I was the one going turtle speed. Ranthor pitched over my head and flew almost as far as the other wizard. He swore that was when his rheumatism set in.

"Oh." Shal couldn't help but wonder if the wand wouldn't be less dangerous if Ranthor had a different familiar.

I resent that!

"Sorry." Shal hadn't meant for Cerulean to "hear" that. She tried to change the subject. "Are you ready to go?"

"You're asking the horse?" Ren had entered unnoticed and stood within a few feet of Shal. She almost fell into the feed trough at the sound of his voice.

"How did you get in here without my hearing you?" she demanded.

He reached for her hand and pulled her gently away from the feed trough and the dung gutter. "I didn't mean to startle you. I was just practicing my thieving skills. They've gotten a little rusty in the last year."

"It seems to me they work just fine," Shal said, a little defensively. "I guess I was concentrating on what I have to do today."

"It could be tougher than you think to get into Denlor's tower," Ren said. "I went there to scout it last night, and the place is a regular fortress of magical traps. Even most of the creatures that gather outside the walls at night seem to be kept at bay by some force."

"What do you mean, you went there last night?" Shal's green eyes blazed, and she pushed Ren's hand away. "You were supposed to get some rest so you'd be fresh for today."

"Could you have slept with that stinking poultice on? I laid there till the stars came out, and then I got up and scrubbed myself with salts and lye and anything I could think of until I finally got rid of that stench. I couldn't go anywhere undetected smelling like that. And I sure couldn't hope to get very close to you."

Shal blushed and turned to continue currying the horse. "Your girl friend… Tempest… must have been very special."

Ren cocked his head, surprised that Shal would bring up the subject of Tempest.

Shal answered his unspoken question. "I know you're only attracted to me because I remind you of her."

Ren swallowed hard and was about to say something when Tarl entered the stable. He quickly took a step away from Shal.

"You're moving easier than you were last night" Tarl said to Ren.

"Yeah. That poultice helped, but I think the workout I got washing it off probably did almost as much good."

"Now, that's a fine thank-you," Tarl said with a smile. He turned to say good morning to Shal, but she spoke first. "Look, I don't want to be rude, but I'd really like to get going." Shal related the events of her dream the previous night and her sense that Ranthor's soul was not at rest. "Are you sure you still want to come?" she asked when she was finished.

Ren's acknowledgement was simple. He led out a roan mare from three stalls down and began to prepare her tack.

Tarl just looked up at Shal and said, "Can I ride with you?"

The streets of Phlan were mostly straight, and Ren led the way. In the heart of town, where the Laughing Goblin Inn was located, the streets bustled with activity. At every corner, peddlers touted their wares. As was his custom, Ren took in everything, watching for anything out of the ordinary. The closer they came to the outer walls of the civilized portion of the city, the sparser the crowds grew and the more wary Ren became.

Tarl wasn't nearly so watchful, at least at the start. He gladly wrapped his arms around Shal's waist and leaned his head gently against hers as they cantered to the farthest end of Civilized Phlan. What made a woman smell so good? he wondered, able for the first time that day to focus on something besides Anton and his own failings. Tarl had spent every ounce of healing that remained in him yesterday on Anton, and he knew his brothers continued to do the same daily, but if Anton had made any progress, it was measured in mustard grains.

Denlor's tower and the high walls surrounding it were built of red brick, which stood out in bright contrast to the gray-black fortress at the edge of the city. From a distance, the tower appeared friendly and inviting, a testimony to the wizard's benevolent character. But as they came closer, they could see that whole sections had been hammered away or blackened from repeated fires.