Once again, he closed his eyes, cast his spell and focused his consciousness. In his mind's eye, he pictured the other half of the globe. He spell diffused his perception, extended it a few hundred paces in all directions around him, through walls, seeking, seeking...

There. Praise Cyric! He sensed the globe!

His glee almost broke his concentration. He could not stop himself from smiling.

He narrowed the location. It was not far. Right, then maybe a block or two up—

"No!"

He lost contact with the globe. Countermagic sheared off his spell-enhanced perception as cleanly as a vorpal blade through flesh. Cale must have enspelled the other half of the globe. But Vraggen knew enough. He let his concentration slip.

Around him, the sound of the street returned and filled his ears: the clop of horse hooves, the clatter of carriages, the shouts of vendors. He opened his eyes.

"What is it?" Azriim asked.

The half-drow stood beside him, resplendent in a fine-fitting green cloak, polished boots, and tailored shirt. Immediately behind him stood hulking Dolgan and quiet Serrin. Dolgan wore his axes and ring mail. Serrin's leather armor peeked out from under his cloak, and his hand sat on the hilt of his falchion.

Vraggen tried to keep the frustration out of his voice when he said, "I had it for a moment. It's close."

"How close?" Azriim asked. His mismatched eyes looked grim.

"Close."

They stood to one side of Wide Way, one of the main thoroughfares in the Foreign District. The crowd of passersby flowed around and past them at a marked distance. Serrin and Dolgan eyed each as they passed, the way raptors might eye doves. Both men looked ready to gut anyone who looked at them askance. Of course, no one did. Dolgan was too big, and Serrin too sinister. Vraggen's men were eager, ready. He needed to give them their prey. They looked to him for orders.

"The other half of the globe is nearby. A block or two up and to the right. It's probably in Cale's possession. Keep your eyes open. If he's on the street, he shouldn't be hard to spot."

Both nodded and started heading up the street.

"Wait," Vraggen ordered.

They stopped and turned to look back at him. Both had an eager gleam in his eyes. Both wanted another chance at Cale. Vraggen knew their failure at Stormweather had tweaked their professional pride.

"Azriim and I will follow. If you spot him, and he can be killed without risk to the globe, you may do so. Otherwise, we negotiate."

Dolgan gave a hard grin at that and said, "Negotiate ... right."

Serrin only nodded, still gripping his falchion.

They turned and hurried up the street. Azriim and Vraggen trailed several paces behind, scanning the crowd. Cale, tall and bald, would be easy to spot if he wasn't in disguise.

"They want to kill him," Azriim observed with a grin.

"Of course they do," Vraggen agreed. "Hold a moment."

He took out a small glob of gum tree sap from a belt pouch and incanted a spell that rendered both he and Azriim invisible. Some nearby passersby exclaimed at the sudden vanishing of two men from the street but Vraggen didn't care.

"Stay close," he said to Azriim. "The spell only operates close to me."

"Nicely done," Azriim's disembodied voice said.

Vraggen gave a tight smile. He would soon have his globe.

Cale, Riven, and Jak exited the Lizard and hit the street. The three spaced themselves a few paces apart and moved quickly through the crowd. Jak led, and with his small frame darted deftly through the sea of colorfully dressed pedestrians, wagons, and carriages. Cale, however, could not avoid the occasional bump or jostle from the throng. He eyed everyone with suspicion, alert to the street around him, to the rooftops, the alleyways. A few paces behind and to his right, Riven did the same, thumbs hooked on his belt, near his saber hilts. While Cale took some comfort from the fact that the half-sphere again was warded, he was not foolish enough to think that made them safe from attack.

Jak had told them that his contact, an eccentric loremaster of Oghma, lived alone across town on the outskirts of the Temple District. With luck, they could get there within half an hour.

Staying on the main thoroughfares, they made rapid progress. As was typical for Selgaunt, morning traffic crowded the streets. Booth vendors, peddlers, noble carriages, farmers' wagons, adventurers, and merchants all moved along and tended to their business. Cale actually welcomed the passing horse patrols of black-armored Scepters.

Out of habit, Cale occasionally shot an unobtrusive glance behind to check for tails. At first, he saw nothing out of the ordinary, but after a time, he began to suspect that they were being followed. Block after block he saw one or the other of two men—one small, one large—on one or the other side of the street. They avoided eye contact, but that avoidance was a bit too affected. They were good, but Cale was better. He took a few quick steps nearer to Jak so that the halfling could hear him.

"Trouble, Jak."

The halfling didn't turn around but nodded once. Surreptitiously, he signaled in handcant, I know.

Cale let the crowd pull him back a few strides, slowly, so as not to alert their tails.

He drifted near to Riven, and asked, "You see them?"

"Saw them, you mean? They picked us up a few blocks back. Two men. Big one on our side of the street, smaller man on the other side. They switch every block or so." Riven casually loosed his sabers in their scabbards, one then the other, and asked, "How do you want to handle it?"

Cale thought about it. They had marked two men, but likely there were more they hadn't seen. Sooner or later, the tails would make a move. They could be setting up an ambush ahead. Cale made his decision. He would force them to act. If he was to fight, it would be on his terms.

"We fight," he said to Riven. He called up to Jak in the halfling's native tongue, "Find a spot to make a stand, little man."

Jak nodded, and began scanning the side streets for an unoccupied alley.

To Riven, Cale said, "I suspect there's more of them we don't see."

"Probably," Riven agreed.

Casually, Cale loosened his blade in its scabbard.

"At least one needs to live," he said. "We'll need him to find out where they're holding Ren."

Riven, his mouth an emotionless line, gave a single nod and said, "Only one needs to live. And I'll question him. Well enough?"

Cale knew what Riven meant by "question."

"We'll question him together," said Cale, "but otherwise, well enough."

"They could just be hired muscle," Riven said, "or street thugs."

"Could be," Cale agreed, "but I'm skeptical of coincidences. Too much skill for muscle too."

"Agreed," said Riven.

They picked up their stride a bit to move them closer to Jak. Trying not to be obvious, they communicated the rudiments of a plan.

Jak said to Cale out of the side of his mouth, "Up ahead. Narrow street on the right, just after the warehouse."

Cale saw it. Between two two-story warehouses ran a narrow dirt packed alley. They wouldn't have to cross the street to get to it. Good.

"I see it," Cale said.

"I've got it, too," said Riven. "Narrow. That's thinking, Fleet. That big whoreson's going to have trouble managing an axe in there."

Jak smiled crookedly, obviously surprised at Riven's praise.

He shook his head and said to Cale, "I go invisible the moment I turn the corner."

Cale nodded and said to Riven, "You come in last and draw them into the alley. Take the first man. I'll take the second. I've got a potion. I'll go invisible too. Jak, you make sure to put down anyone else who shows. Otherwise, help where it's needed."

Riven sneered, "I won't need any help, Cale."