At Cadorna's words, Shal squeezed her mug of ale so hard that the pewter dented in her hands. Ale flowed over the top of the mug and onto the table. Almost in unison, Ren and Tarl reached over to calm her.

Cadorna pulled back, genuinely startled by her raw strength. When he was sure Ren and Tarl had calmed her down, he spoke to them as though she weren't there. "What ails the poor woman?"

Tarl answered. "A friend of hers was killed recently… by a poisoned dagger."

"And two people who were near him were killed by strangling," said Shal, regaining her composure.

"Really?" Cadorna widened his eyes and reached forward in his best effort at a consoling gesture. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. I was only relating rumors that I'd heard." He stopped speaking long enough to look Shal square in the eyes. "You don't think…?"

Shal didn't respond. Instead, she turned to Ren, as if expecting him to offer some reason why Ranthor could or couldn't have been killed by the creature Cadorna had described.

"A half-gnoll…" Ren shivered visibly. "I've never seen one. Half-orcs are disgusting enough, but I suppose anything's possible."

Ren rose to his feet and moved behind Tarl and Shal to face Cadorna with them. He placed a hand on one shoulder of each of his companions. "There seems to be good reason for each of you to do this. You can count me in if you're of a mind to go."

"My purpose in coming to Phlan hasn't changed," said Shal. "I'll go."

Tarl stood and held his hand out to Cadorna. "We'll all go together, and if there's treasure within those walls, we'll bring it back to you."

Cadorna extended his clammy palm to Tarl, and then in turn to Ren and Shal. That done, he left the inn with as much pomp as when he had entered. As he stepped onto the herald's back and into the waiting carriage, he reminded himself to make arrangements that would guarantee receipt of the complete treasure upon their return.

It was nearly noon by the time the three of them were ready to leave Civilized Phlan. Ren was mounted atop the roan mare and Shal and Tarl on Cerulean.

" 'Tis advisable to leave the city by boat if you're inclined to be returnin'!" shouted one of the four guards from the wall as they approached.

"We have business in the uncivilized parts of the city," shouted Ren in return. "We'd be obliged if you'd open the gates."

The guard and one of his companions trudged down the stairway. "A mission for the council mayhaps?" asked the guard, eyeing the two well-armed men and the large young woman.

"A mission for a council member," Ren answered. "We'll be returning toward evening by the same gate."

"Ha! An optimist!" The guard slapped his thigh and chuckled for a moment. "Well, Tymora be with you," he said, reaching for the latch mechanism that barred the gate. "You just holler when ya come back, and we'll open the gate for ya. I won't be holdin' my breath a-waitin', though, if you don't mind."

"Charming fellow," Tarl whispered to Shal. "Just the sort you want guarding the city."

"My hearin's pretty good, cleric," said the guard, wagging a finger at Tarl. "If you're wantin' inside later, you'll show me some respect."

"No offense intended, Captain."

"None taken, cleric. Say an extra prayer to your god and be on your way. Daylight's a-wastin'. One word o' advice, though, before you go. If you don't go lookin' for trouble in the old city, you're less apt to find it."

Immediately beyond the gates stood some of the worst slums in the Realms-lean-tos, propped haphazardly against the new city's tall stone walls, shacks waiting for the wind to disperse their pieces like dandelion seeds, long-abandoned buildings in an advanced state of decrepitude. The inhabitants were physical misfits and half-breeds, the only creatures despised enough by both humans and monsters to serve as go-betweens for the civilized and uncivilized parts of the city.

Even the horses lifted their heads high in a hopeless attempt to avoid the stench, high-stepping to keep their feet clear of the refuse that littered the alleyways. Cerulean barraged Shal with comments about the smells picked up by his superior olfactory senses. Shal hushed him by reminding him that horsemeat was undoubtedly a delicacy in these parts.

Unscathed except for the loss of a few copper pieces to insistent beggars, they soon passed into the square that surrounded Kuto's Well. There was no sign of movement as they entered the ramshackle gateway, and they proceeded quietly past the buildings that lined the large square.

Shal mentally ran through the spells she had memorized that morning. She could feel the hairs on her neck bristle with the sense that they were being watched, and she could tell from Tarl's tightening grip on her waist that he felt it, too. Ren drew out one of his short swords, and Tarl pulled his hammer from his belt. Behind them rose a loud squeal, and Cerulean instinctively spun around to face the sound. From the other direction came the unmistakable snorts and squeals of orcs. Cerulean spun again, positioning himself and his riders halfway between the two sounds, then backed toward the center of the square. Ren jerked the mare's reins and followed.

Six orcs, all at least six feet tall where their mangy, manlike shoulders met their piglike heads, emerged from two shabby buildings, wielding clubs and axes and closing in on the three riders.

"Get 'em!" Ren hissed, shifting his weight in the saddle and extending his sword.

"No! Talk to them!" said Tarl firmly. "They must know they're no match for the three of us. We'll be able to find out more by talking."

The orcs pressed forward, shouting in their own crude language of grunts and snorts.

Ren glanced at Tarl as though his head were on backward, but when the orcs came closer, he started to speak first in broken orcish and then in thieves' cant, which they appeared to understand. "Stop right there," Ren threatened, "or we'll bash your heads in!"

The creatures stopped but continued to snort and snuffle and brandish their weapons.

"We're passing through this way. We don't want trouble," Ren continued.

"We kill! No trouble!" grunted the orc closest to Ren.

Ren pointed his short sword at the big orc and said, "I kill you, even less trouble." Ren bared his teeth and clicked his tongue, readying the mare for a charge.

"We no kill! We no kill!" the orc snorted in panic. "Others kill. You worth much gold."

Ren rushed the orc and grabbed it by the neck from behind. Then he pulled his blade high and tight under its neck. "Come again?"

"You same party open up Sokol Keep. Lord of the Ruins want you dead. Offer much gold for your heads. We not take. Others take!"

Ren glanced at Shal and Tarl, who were staring uncomprehendingly at the strange exchange. Ren repeated an abridged version of the conversation to them, then pushed the orc away with the flat of his blade. "Leave us alone and we don't kill you. Touch us or send an alarm, and you die. All of you!" Ren bluffed a charge toward one group, and Shal and Tarl took the cue and charged a short distance toward the other. The orcs fled like kicked dogs into the surrounding buildings.

"They'll alert every orc in the old city the minute we leave," said Ren. "And with a price on our heads, you can bet they'll find enough friends to come back and try again. The only reason they didn't fight now is that they were scared to death. You can imagine how it must've sounded to them when they heard we had handled fifty or so orcs, goblins, and kobolds at Sokol Keep. Even a reward wasn't tempting enough for just six of them to risk a fight."

"I'm not waiting around to be fodder for a bunch of orcs," Shal said. "Let's get to the Cadorna place and find what we came for." She spurred Cerulean ahead across the widest portion of the square, past the well site, and across to the opposite gateway.