"Well then," she told her servants, "I'm suddenly very thirsty. Let's be on our way."

As she motioned to the eunuchs and followed them out, Naglatha felt her pulse quicken.

Today is the day, she thought to herself, more certain than ever.

Later That Afternoon

1 azi sipped at her ale. As was her habit, she had managed to secure a table toward the back of the tavern. The strategy afforded her two things: a certain amount of privacy and the ability to observe almost everyone else in the room. It was something she picked up from the man she could only think of as her mentor; there was no other word to describe him adequately. She had learned many lessons in her life and most had come atsa cost. However, Tazi valued all of them. For only having lived twenty-four years, she had already paid a high price for her life.

Located on the outskirts of Pyrados, the tavern catered mostly to outsiders like her. Tazi, who had secured a room upstairs after her return from the Sunrise Mountains, had spent little time in Thay proper and was now eager to return home. When she arrived in the country, she only lingered in the city long enough to obtain the appropriate permits for her foray into the mountains. Tazi hadn't wanted to pay, but she had received information from a reliable source that her trip would go that much smoother if she played by the rules. She had grudgingly handed over a fee that was practically thievery in itself for the authorization. But Tazi had passed through the garrison stationed in the foothills of the Sunrise Mountains with little trouble once she showed them her officially endorsed traveling permit.

"Coin always smoothes the way," her father had liked to say. Sometimes he had been right.

Since returning, Tazi had packed away her woolen mountaineering clothes for more familiar ones. Upon entering Pyrados, the mild temperatures made her other attire heavy, itchy and unnecessary. She now sported snug black pants with a matching vest, and boots laced up to her calves-all made from the finest leathers. Her hair hung loose, brushing her shoulders. She left her arms bare but wore short gloves and an armband that had her favorite lock pick secreted inside. From a wealthy family, Tazi only dressed like this in the seediest quarters around Selgaunt. Where she found herself now fit that bill adequately. Surreptitiously peering over the rim of her mug, Tazi scanned the room and its patrons.

Laeril's Arms, as the tavern was named, had a motley crew of customers. Though Tazi had studied only the bare necessities of Thay's customs and history, she definitely got the sense that Thayans didn't tolerate foreigners very much or for very long. The Tharchion of Pyrados, to Tazi's good fortune, didn't hold the same prejudices. Or if she did, Tazi surmised, gold helped her look past them, and that went for the store owners as well. Tazi had nearly screamed at the price she was quoted at a local shop to replace the coil of rope she had been forced to abandon on her most recent escapade. Coming from a city of trade, she was used to bartering, but that was not an option here. The shopkeepers knew they were the only game in town and happily fleeced everyone who needed to purchase supplies. She had paid the fee, hating to be without her usual equipment, but had muttered some choice oaths while she handed over the coin. The sallow-faced shop keeper simply smiled and took her gold. He had obviously heard worse.

To her left, two women were deep in discussion. By the light of the fat candle in the center of the table, Tazi saw that one was completely bald with an extensive range of tattoos along her skull and shoulders. The other, who had a thick crop of black hair, appeared to be much shorter than her companion, though it was hard to tell for certain while they were both seated. The one with the dark hair was dressed nearly as fine as the first, but Tazi could see that the bald woman regarded the other with a touch of disdain. Between them stood a young man and, judging by his slight build and stature, Tazi suspected that he had some el-ven blood in him. While most folk of Selgaunt despised elves, Tazi had always had a soft spot for them. Her father did too, as it turned out. A few months past, she had been shocked to discover she had a half sister who had elven blood in her veins. Life continued to throw surprises at her, but, as Tazi took another swig of her ale, most were less and less pleasant lately.

The bald woman finally tossed a small sack onto the table, toward the black-haired woman. Payment, Tazi deduced. It was only then that she noticed the elf had on a collar and a fine leash. The black-haired woman smiled to her customer and turned to the young man. She yanked so hard on his tether that she brought the elf crashing to his knees. Then she handed the leash over to the bald woman. Tazi watched, sickened, as the bald woman placed her foot upon his back and forced him to prostrate himself on the filthy tavern floor. The gaunt, bald woman regarded the other, and the two women exchanged a hearty laugh. Tazi pursed her lips and turned away. Her knuckles turned white as she clenched her mug fiercely.

Slavery, she thought with great disgust.

Closer to the bar, a group comprised mostly of humans had commandeered a large oak table. Piled on top were various supplies. Tazi could see some mountaineering equipment in addition to spelunking gear laid out. A young woman with thick, golden braids and an upturned nose was arguing heatedly with a young man about the correct way to use one of their lantern helmets. Tazi had to lower her face to keep from laughing out loud because the girl had it on backward. But Tazi could see the young man was too enamored with her to point out her mistake. And she could overhear another talking about just needing one or two more things before they left for the Sunrise Mountains.

You'd better add a pack animal to your shopping list, she thought to herself, because there is no way you four are going to be able to carry all that on your own. You'll learn, though. Tazi shook her head and wondered how anyone survived to adulthood, watching them. And she also wondered, sadly, when she had gotten so old.

The fourth member of their team was leaning against the bar, Tazi noted, talking to the same old woman Tazi had before her foray into the mountains. Obviously, the old woman spent her days here, selling the same bits of information over and over again. At least, mused Tazi, the information had been mostly useful, so perhaps the intrepid band had a small chance of success. She shifted her gaze away, however, when the man who had been pumping the old woman for directions looked her way.

A light haze drifted up as the few, regular patrons lit pipes and started in on their serious drinking. The smoke started to blur her view, and Tazi found herself thinking of the inn in Selgaunt where she kept a secret room. ThЈ owners of the Kit had treated her like a daughter, and Tazi realized she missed the place. Caught up in a flash of homesickness, she turned her gaze toward the far corner of the bar and almost gasped out loud. Standing in the shadows of the support timbers was a tall man dressed entirely in black. Taller than most humans, he appeared almost awkward in his movements, as though he was a touch uncomfortable with his long body. And in the fading daylight, Tazi could see he was completely bald. She unconsciously raised a hand to her open mouth.

How could he be here, she thought in wonder, of all places?

Starting to rise and grinning in spite of herself, Tazi saw that he was getting ready to leave. He paid the barkeep and turned toward the door. His actions afforded Tazi with a full view of his face. Like the woman who had purchased the slave, this man bore an elaborate design on his forehead. It was not the face Tazi expected and half-hoped to see. She sank back down into her chair, unaware that she had even started to stand. Not him, she thought. Not Cale…