They would have to hope that the crowds would make them anonymous.

Riven cleared his throat and drummed his fingers on the rail.

"We could kill them all," said the assassin, "scuttle this tub, and take a dinghy in."

Cale and Jak both eyed him in shock, and the assassin's sneer gave way to a grin.

"I'm jesting, Fleet. Close your mouth before a gull drops a turd down your gullet."

It took a moment for that to register. When it did, Cale couldn't help but smile. Even Jak chuckled, after he'd recovered himself.

"Drasek Riven making a joke," the halfling said, shaking his head and looking at Cale wide-eyed. "That, I thought I'd never see."

"You'll see everything if you live long enough," Riven said.

"Let's make sure we do, then," Cale said, turning the mood back to serious. "Gear up. We debark the moment we dock. First me, then Jak, then you."

He didn't want them getting off the ship as a group. If Vraggen did have spies watching incoming ships, they would be looking for a trio.

He turned back to the sea and watched as a four-man guide boat separated from the mass of ships in the harbor and oared for Foamrider. It would direct her to a pier. Behind them, Mres started barking orders. Above them, the sailors in the rigging began to furl the mainsail. Foamrider would float into dock under only the foresail.

Cale watched as the city grew larger and larger in his sight. He knew that beyond it were the Gulthmere Forest, the Lightless Lake, and Vraggen.

All they could do was hope that Brandobaris and Mask favored them with some luck.

"This place is a pit," Azriim said.

Vraggen wasn't sure if the half-drow meant their room at the Bent Chalice Inn or the city of Starmantle in general. Either way, he had little patience for Azriim's complaints. Time was short.

"Silence," he ordered. Though healing the hurt given him by the halfling had been a trifling thing, his wounded pride left him irritable.

He whispered the words to a scrying spell as he poured a ewer of water into the shallow silver basin he'd brought with him from Selgaunt. The surface of the water began to shimmer with color. Vraggen willed the scrying basin to show him the Lightless Lake, and an image formed in the water.

"There," he said. "Observe, Azriim."

The half-drow stepped forward and stared into the basin. Dolgan too crowded in to see.

The basin showed a still lake, its waters the color of slate, set in the midst of a reed-filled lowland. Cypress trees loomed on all sides. That was where the Fane would appear.

Vraggen willed the image to move eastward until it fixed upon a simple settlement.

Sod huts with woven reed roofs surrounded a communal fire pit. Goggle-eyed, froglike humanoids about the size of a large man, hopped about the settlement. Their smooth, green skin glistened with slime. The warriors among them wore reptilian scale armor and bore wooden spears with fire-tempered tips. Their females wore nothing and probably lived their lives in service to the males.

"Bullywugs," Azriim observed with distaste.

Vraggen nodded. He had scried the bullywug tribe several times before. They lived in the lowland swamp surrounding the Lightless Lake and numbered about eighty or so. The tribal chief and his shaman aide commanded obedience through a combination of physical strength and religious awe. Central to that religion was the Lightless Lake, which the bullywugs believed to be a manifestation of the mouth of their frog god, Ramenos.

Vraggen smiled. The lake was holy, but not for the reasons the bullywugs believed.

Vraggen continued to scan the settlement until he located the chief—a towering bullywug, grossly fat, dressed in scale armor and adorned with a crown of polished turtleshell.

"They're near the lake," Azriim said. "They'll interfere with the ritual."

Vraggen nodded. He knew.

"You'll obliterate them, I assume?" asked the half-drow.

Beside Azriim, Dolgan grinned and licked his lips.

Vraggen turned to look upon both of his lieutenants with measured contempt.

"Violence is a tool to be used sparingly," the mage said. "These are simple creatures. It's unnecessary to destroy them. Instead, I will turn them into our allies."

Dolgan's crestfallen expression evidenced his disappointment. Azriim pursed his lips.

"Fine," said the half-drow. "As long as they don't touch my clothes."

For the next few hours, Vraggen studied the bullywug chieftain, waiting for him to be alone in his hut. When he was, Vraggen quickly prepared a series of spells. First, enchantments that allowed him to speak and understand the bullywugs' croaking tongue. Second, a spell that rendered him invisible.

When he was ready, he pulled his teleportation rod from his cloak.

"I will return apace," he said to Azriim and Dolgan.

Vraggen turned the dials of his teleportation rod, felt a brief wave of nausea, and found himself standing in the hut of the bullywug chieftain.

The stink was abominable. A mixture of organic decay and fish. From outside the hut, Vraggen could hear the steady chirp of insects and the irregular croaks of the bullywugs. Several guards stood just outside the doors, he knew. The chieftain sat in a woven-reed chair—a throne of sorts—with his arms crossed over his belly, snoring.

Vraggen wasted no time. He whispered the words to an enchantment that would make the chieftain believe him a trusted friend and ally. He became visible the moment he began to cast. The bullywug slept throughout.

When Vraggen finished the spell, he cast another minor spell that allowed him to see dweomers. The bullywug chieftain glowed in his sight. Good. The charm had taken effect. Vraggen laid a hand on the slimy skin of his "friend."

The chieftain's goggle eyes flew open. He reached for his spear, saw Vraggen, and croaked a greeting. His fat jiggled when he moved.

"Indeed it is me, my friend," Vraggen said in a low croak, so as not to alarm the guards standing outside, "Vraggen. And I bring news. Ramenos the Sleeping Maw wishes to show the tribe favor. But first, he must feed upon a sacrifice."

The chieftain's eyes clouded. His long tongue swiped across his lips nervously.

"Feed?" he chieftain asked. "How came you to this news?"

Vraggen looked suitably mysterious and answered, "Signs and portents, mighty chieftain."

The bullywug, implicitly trusting Vraggen's words due to the enchantment, seemed to accept that explanation.

"What does the Maw demand?"

Vraggen smiled and said, "He is to accept me and two other manlings into his jaws. Three days from now, when the Lightless Lake glows with his presence."

The bullywug grinned with relief and patted his fat stomach.

"He demands manling, of course!" the bullywug said. "It has been too long. After that, the maw will be sated for many seasons. The fish will be plentiful!" He thumped Vraggen on the shoulder, unable to contain his glee. "To be food for the maw is an honor indeed."

Vraggen accepted the compliment with a humble nod of his head. He wondered how such a stupid creature had risen to the top of the tribe.

"I will return with the other manlings in several days," Vraggen went on. "We shall stand before the maw until the sign is given. You must prepare the tribe. To earn the favor of Ramenos, you and your warriors must prevent any interference with the offering."

The chief nodded eagerly, his chins wobbling hither and yon.

"Eglos should know of this."

Vraggen assumed the chieftain was speaking of the tribal shaman.

"Indeed, my friend," the mage said. "Please bring Eglos here, to me, and I will deliver Ramenos's message to him directly."

Vraggen sank into the shadows while the chieftain shouted orders to the guards outside. They poked their heads in, received confirmation to retrieve Eglos, and hurried out. In a short while, Eglos appeared.