Waterdeep was quiet today. Initially, the explosion almost a week back had shocked the city and there had been an almost instantaneous buzz of events. Then it had quieted down and grown somber. Yesterday the noise had risen more than normal when people finally started to talk more again, indeed catching up on lost conversations they should have already have.

Perhaps it was just in comparison to yesterday that it felt quieter, the Doctor wondered. Much like hot tea feels twice as hot when you've been outside in the cold for two long.

He ignored his burnt tongue and set the cup down. "Its a little hot. I'll wait for it to cool a bit before a drink anymore."

Hiram nodded and downed his cup. "Can you taste the spices?"

Pierce shook his head. "Its so hot I can barely taste it at all. You didn't put chilli powder in it did you?" He knew the answer, as he always did, but such formalities led to more information.

"A little basel and some more rare ones I bought from Shamuni Dioune, but otherwise I think they work well together." The older man stretched his arms and stood. "The trick is that I can't taste the basel although I know its in there."

Pierce smiled as his father as the old man walked away. That last statement was practically a metaphor for his formalities. He knew something was there, but couldn't taste it. Couldn't experience it until he had actually done it. He let out a sigh and waited, knowing the drink would soon be cooler and ready to be tasted.

The black cowl slid off her head and revealed long white hair and skin the colour of onyz. Like a marble statue, she was a symbol of physical perfection. Her muscles toned and strong like an athlete's and she had the serene face of an angel as she cocked the crossbow before her.

So far down the crowded street that they barely seemed to be dots was a group of bodyguards that bestoke power. They were trolls, huge lanky things with green mottled skin and long faces and even longer claws. They were dressed in large black chainmail cloaks covered with the symbol of the drow elf goddess Lloth: the spider.

Unlike normal trolls, these walked stiffly and in formation, but the act was not one of intelligence and training but one of magic. The eight bodyguards formed a circle around a single dark figure, a woman with skin black as the night. It was she who held the beasts under control.

Surrounding the bodyguards on all sides was a good fifty Waterdeep soldiers, all keeping their distance from the trolls despite their lack of aggression. They marched as a group towards Piergeiron's Palace, the home of Waterdeep's most famous Harper. Once there, the soldiers could relax within the walls and drink away the ominous fear they felt at having trolls within the city.

The assassin shifted her cowl and lined the sights up with the back of the neck of the coveted woman at the centre of the formation of trolls. "Welcome to Waterdeep Ambassador," she muttered and pulled the twigger.

A gurgle sounded from the Ambassador as the bolt thudded into her neck and blood poured from the wound like beer from a keg. Another bolt took her in the heart soon after and a third in the head. The mass of dripping blood slumped forward and fell on the pavement like a discarded doll.

The trolls looked about for the first time, saliva dripping from their lips. They immediately tore into the ranks of the soldiers around them, their long claws stabbing through the holes in the chainmail like a hot knife through butter.

Shocked from the sudden chaos around them, the soldiers rallied against the huge trolls, using nets to disable the huge beasts and then stab them with spears through the holes in the nets. Even then the trolls still slashed through the nets in an attempt to free themselves and killed soldiers in the process. The spear hits only increased their ferocity and savageness, using their bulk strength to rip soldiers apart like a dog with his master's shoe.

Mages hurried to the scene and immediately pummeled the beasts with magical missiles until all that was left was a mass of flesh that was vainly trying to rebuild itself. The problem with trolls is their abilities to regenerate and reform. The soldiers quickly dragged the wounded and dead away from the mass of trolls while the mages prepared a series of fireballs that left the trolls as a smoldering mass of burnt flesh.

"Nothing like the smell of burnt troll to whet one's appetite," muttered the assassin as she shouldered her crossbow and disappeared around a corner.

Almost by habit, Pierce walked the grounds of the Academy right after his meal. His mind sorted through the details of recent events and he made notes for the future. The d'Or boy, the Doctor had forgot what his first name was, would have been meeting him at this time for private lessons but instead was over fifty leagues to the south. He doubted he'd see the boy again.

As he came closer to the gate he saw a familiar figure waiting. He was dressed in loose fitting trousers and a wool poncho. Both were stained brown with dirt and the knees of the trowsers were worn out, showing hairy knees. The longflail dangled from one shoulder, brushing against the warrior's side.

"G'day Martinez. What news from the people?" Pierce greeted heartily. His heart wasn't in it but he didn't let that show to his friend. The problem when talking to Martinez was the man was never sober, and thus was hard to determine what he was thinking about. Currently the bald man seemed preoccupied on whether to grow a beard or not.

"Not much. Except that Valeska Ko'Ragur has become a nuisance again." The veteran warrior scratched his unshaven cheek. "She killed a drow ambassador from Menzoberranzan. The woman was here on official business concerning the smuggling of goods."

"Arquebuses or smokeweed?"

"That and more. Anyway, from what I've managed to get ahold of, this ambassador, Jovan Kerovache was her name, belongs to the Fourteenth House of Menzoberranzan. The tricky part of this house is that they have no declared alliances with any other noble house, and thus makes a perfect representative. An Embassadorial House is considered to have some form of diplomatic immunity and thus are isolated from the rest of the city's internal struggles."

"And thus, Valeska can kill her without hassel from other Noble Houses, yet the bulk of the city's merchants will still be annoyed," surmised Pierce. "And what are we supposed to do?"

"Jovan was killed twenty feet from Piergeiron's Palace with a crossbow bolt right in the neck." The bald man smiled briefly. "Followed by a bolt in the head and another in the right shoulder."

The Doctor snorted. "A crack shot as always. No wonder she was once one of the drow elves' best assassins."

"Anyway," Martinez said, his favorite word next to brandy. "We're to track down Valeska and bring her in for sentencing." His unenthusiastic voice showed how thrilled he was about tracking the elusive drow bard.

"Has it ever occurred to Durnan that Valeska has been at large for over the last century and has not once been brought in for justice? He expects us, even experienced Harpers, to be able to snag her?"

Martinez looked at his scuffed boots in response. "Durnan said we should take it as a test of our professional abilities. As far as I'm concerned this is another case that's more suited for someone other than us. We have more important things to worry about than try to find a bard that doesn't want to be found, let alone caught."

"How about we go down to the Yawning Portal and have a word with Durnan."

"At swordpoint?" the warrior joked.

"No, but he'll certainly know I disapprove of chasing around a drow who can teleport. Surely there's something more feasible that can be accomplished."

"Like?"

"I don't know. Attacking Zhentil Keep and killing every last one of them?"

"None," was Durnan's reply. "There's nothing else I can give you. It's been awfully quiet lately and Valeska's assassination is the only thing of interest." Asides from Chev beating Pierce in a duel, he snickered inwardly.

Pierce frowned. He and Durnan rarely got along it seemed. The owner of the Yawning Portal, an inn of no small fame, was actually one of the secret Lords of Waterdeep. For a somewhat short yet broad-shouldered veteran warrior, you wouldn't have guessed it though.

The city's democratic council was made up the Lords of Waterdeep, noble-hearted Harpers with a strong sense of protecting the city. They were elected secretly by the council and kept a secret to protect from assassination from the city's many enemies. The problem with Durnan is that the council had voted to make Pierce a Lord of Waterdeep. Not once, but three times they had offered him the position in which every time Durnan voted against the warrior.

And Pierce refused everytime, claiming his first duties was to his pupils, followed by the Harpers and last to the city itself. Perhaps it was his humble-pride that told him to refuse the honor or maybe it was his foresight warning him he wouldn't have the time to spend contemplating politics.

Durnan looked around the inn's common room, eyeing the slow atmosphere this afternoon with distaste. They sat in a booth in the corner which had been protected magically from all known forms of scrying and eavesdropping.

Even so, Pierce spotted the eyes of a young woman at the far end of the bar following their lips. She was too far away to reach her mind. Keeping his eyes on Durnan, he paid little attention as the man rambled on about the latest Harper expeditions, but meanwhile Pierce's mind was hard at work.

Foreseeing the future was not precise, indeed it took a lot of concentration and was filled with many random possibilities. Pierce saw them all and had to choose the most likely or favourable course of action. Thus he could foresee turning to face and study the woman closer, his foresight telling him what he would see, and then not do it. Marque Draque had argued that this goes against laws of nature and time, and at the same time was intrigued by the fact. The study of magic itself was something that went against laws of nature Pierce had rebuked, but Draque insisted that this ability went beyond the norm even for foresight.

Thus, the seer also saw much more. The young woman looked to be in her late twenties, still beautiful and yet with a cold calculating intelligence that shone in her eyes. Her bandanna covered her black hair and framed her pale face. She was somewhat short and light of limb, a combination that provided an uncanny grace despite an obvious strength as she lifted a huge tankard and sipped.

Any other woman her size would have had a trembling arm when lifting it, but no, she lifted it with ease and drank until it was empty. While she drank, Pierce interrupted Durnan. "Who is that woman?"

The Harper looked at her and back at Pierce. "A bard who frequents here, occasionally going below into the Underdark. Her name is Elfrida the Eager."

"Talk about a name," the warrior snorted. He smiled inwardly at the jest of the inn's name "Yawning Portal", which actually made reference to a well dug in the back of the inn which, for a price, was a quick route to reach the Underdark. The reason he smiled now was not because of the Underdark reference, but the fact that the tavern felt quite sleepy at the moment. He feigned a yawn.

"Not something I'd call my daughter," Durnan agreed and took a drink of white wine. He eyed Pierce, recalling rumours of the warriors prowess with women in his youth.

The Doctor tried to ignore Durnan's thoughts but they plagued him without mercy. Fourteen years ago he would have been up at the bar seducing every woman with long legs. He had been a handsome young buck back then, full of charm and stamina. Now it was all stamina and the charm had dwindled away into small wrinkles and grey hairs.

"Whats up with Lady Nicole?" Durnan asked abruptly.

Pierce's concentration fled and he turned to face the Harper. Nicole was a noble lady who he had frequent exchanges with whenever he mingled with the wealthy. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I haven't seen you two together for quite some time now. Last time you two were together was the derby right?" Durnan seemed to think that Pierce and Nicole would make a perfect couple. Pierce was renowned for his ability with a horse and Nicole was equally good. They also had similar tastes in clothes and antiques and the facts, as far as Durnan was concerned, was that they were made for each other.

"Yes, but I don't go out of my way to see her. I scarcely know her."

"So? With things died down so much lately maybe its time you got to know her?"

Any fool should have seen this coming.

Valeska watched Doctor Pierce leave from her stool at the bar. She sipped from her tankard slowly and wondered if the veteran Harper would ever catch up with her. Probably not. He didn't seem to particularly care about her plight and she didn't particularly care about his. Turning back to the bar, she went back to writing on a scrap of paper.

The problem with writing her poetry in common and also in drow was that the translations never rhymed. Some words simply couldn't be translated either. The words in the drow tongue didn't exist or the words in common didn't. It was a very frustrating process, but the drow bard was up to the challenge.

She sipped from her tankard and glanced about the Yawning Portal. Where else but smack dab in front of the Harpers' noses could she hide so effectively? To them she was simply another adventurer trying to make a living on the road. With a name like Elfrida the Eager, people tended to ignore her.