The evening was growing long and the candle on the table between Pierce and Nicole was getting short when their meal was interrupted by a knock on Pierce's private chambers. The Doctor smiled as he got up from their table and crossed the small room to the bronze door. He knew immediately that it was Martinez and that in itself marked that something was wrong. He opened the door and feigned surprise. "What are you doing here in the middle of the night?" he demanded.

Martinez waved at Nicole and entered. "Thanks for inviting me in," he replied sourly. "We're having a huge meeting at the Yawning Portal," he whispered.

"Right now? Why?"

"Since noon we've lost fourteen of our Underdark agents. They're dropping like flies."

Even on social occasions Pierce had never before seen such a gathering of Harpers all in one place. In a dusty old wine cellar to say the least. There was Mirt the Moneylender, Durnan, Khelben 'Blackstaff' Arunson and numerous others, but the key connection that the Doctor noted was that they all had something to do with drow in general. The evil elven race had apparently declared war on the Harpers.

This was, according to Pierce's memory the loudest of the occassions also.

"This is all Valeska Ko'Ragur's fault! If she hadn't shot their ambassador we wouldn't have this problem!" roared Asefen, a burly bear of a man, over the din. "We should have taken care of her years ago!"

"We're not assassins you moron!" Durnan shouted in response. "Besides, two hours ago someone found twelve drow dead right below the well and another three down at the docks! Maybe it is her fault, but kill for kill we're getting the upper hand!"

"Well then who in the Abyss is doing all the killing?" Asefen shouted and slammed his tankard down on the table and splashing ale over the worn table. "Someone is doing it!"

"Obviously," Pierce muttered under his breath. Concentrating on shutting out other people's thoughts in a situation like this was excruciatingly timestaking, but it had to be done or else he might mistake someone's thought for actual words and respond to it before they say it, which would prove to be a difficult thing to explain. Thus, Pierce tended to stay away from the conversation and sat beside Khelben, Waterdeep's resident archmage.

The mage knew of Pierce's extraordinary power but had long ago been sworn to secrecy. They had both agreed that certain things were better left in the closet and it was a mutual agreement for Pierce could just as easily say a thing or two about the archmage that wouldn't be that well received in public.

Khelben snorted and took a quick drink of Durnan's prized ale. "The fourth Harper found was just behind this wall in the alley," the mage whispered under Asefen's shouting. "He was carrying knowledge of the whereabouts of a secret cache of drow artillery in Undermountain. Dark elf heavy ballista is widely regarded for its ability to punch through even magical defenses. Even your vaunted bronze armour would be crushed in such an impact but what about castle walls? Selling those things to the Zhentilar could turn a huge profit for the drow and drastically slim the chances of some of our agents. We had hoped to intercept that transaction but now we don't even know where it is."

"Couldn't we use a Speak With Dead spell to determine who killed him?"

"Forbidden," Khelben grimaced at the thought. "Some time ago somebody decided that it would be much better if we respected the dead some more."

Pierce turned to face him. "You don't actually have to cast it. Simply start to cast it, and I will do the rest."

Khelben smiled at the thought and he enjoyed the philosophical errors that had just been overstepped. "Not a bad idea Pierce! We'll have to that later tonight however. Right now I want to get out of this place for a breath of fresh air!"

Looking around at the badly ventilated cellar filled with a score of sweating, drinking and arguing Harpers, Pierce was quick to follow the archmage up the stairs. He passed Martinez at the door, who had been assigned as a guard not because the bald man was a good fighter, but because Durnan didn't want him in the wine cellar sampling everything.

Pausing in the alley way, Pierce stopped at the blood stains and breathed in the autumn air. "If it wasn't for the times we live in, I'd probably be at the Academy helping my father brew lifesyrup right now." Which wasn't exactly true. With Nicole there, that would have been the last thing on his list.

"Ah yes!" Khelben cried a bit too loudly. "Made from maple syrup? I love that stuff! Can't get enough of it, it seems!"

"Grow a orchard of maples around that black tower of yours and Marque Draque will gladly give you the recipe, for a price of course."

"I already have a copy of his Lifetree spell. I was one of the first to buy his Nekrolog when it first came out but I simply don't have the time to grow such an orchard. The process is quite time consuming, albeit delicious."

Pierce's stomach growled as he thought of the ambrosia-like liquid that Marque Draque brewed with his father's help. The magical food strengthened the consumer on top of satisfying their belly. The cost of making the boiling room needed for boiling the excess water out of the maple sap in order to purify it had drained the Academy's funds tremendously because the boiler had to made of purest silver and the same went for all the buckets to collect the syrup. It had been worth it however with the high level of injuries at the school when considering the lifesyrup's ability to heal small wounds.

"Where is Draque anyway?"

The Doctor turned to the archmage and glanced around. "When Chev was released from his statue he left behind the two halves of his broken sword. Draque has since repaired it and tonight he's working on memorizing the right spells needed to dismantle it."

"Whats wrong with the blade the way it is?"

"Its evil. Evil in a way I can't even begin to explain. I could feel it probing my brain at one point." The warrior turned away and the mage got the hint that the Doctor didn't want to talk about the sword.

Their comraderie and small talk coming to an end, the night felt very cold right then and they both felt it. "By Mystra its cold out here," Khelben said with an involuntary shiver.

"No," Pierce said as he looked up into the sky and held out a hand to catch a snowflake. "Its just something in the air." He furrowed his brow and looked at the ground. "Khelben, can you make the snow come down a bit harder?"

"You're asking me to play with the weather? Sorry, I don't have the right spell memorized to do something as hard as that. Why?"

"If we could, we'd be able to see the foot prints in this alley, assuming its rarely used."

The archmage frowned in deep thought. "Stand closer to me. I've got something that will work." He paused and quickly cast a protective sphere of energy around the two of them.

"You're going to summon an air elemental?" Pierce guessed more than probed. "You better summon it to the east so its wind doesn't ruin the tracks." The Doctor didn't like the idea of elemental spirits at all, especially those of fire and rock. On his first adventures with Witter and Draque he had learned the value of respecting those awe inspiring creatures. His mentor Witter, more than anyone else had taught him that elementals were things to be taken quite seriously. Even dragons fear them with good reason.

The mage nodded and turned about to face the blank wall of the building behind the Yawning Portal. Taking out the required components, Khelben spoke the arcane words and then became silent.

It didn't happen soon, but that was normal. Even so, it took longer than normal as the breeze gatherered together in front of the pair, swirling together until it formed a visual, seething mass of blowing snow that resembled a miniature tornado. Two black dots stared back at the Harpers from within the tornado. Pierce knew immediately that this elemental was larger and more powerful than normal and that Khelben had not been expecting this change of events.

The archmage remained unimpressed by the appearance of the elemental noble and he displayed that as he spoke sternly and evenly. "Make it snow more so we may follow the tracks in the dirt left behind by our prey. Do not ruin the tracks however with your wind."

The task was not an easy one for even an air noble but the being complied. A moment later the snow angled down in lines about them. It took a minute to discern the difference in tracks between Pierce, Khelben, Mirt and the dead Harper, but the Doctor eyes riveted to the sets of toes and heals made by riding boots.

"Follow the trail," Khelben commanded. He watched the elemental go ahead of them. "I hope this isn't a wild goose chase Pierce."

The Doctor merely smiled. "Call it a hunch and a night out on the town if you will. I'd rather be out here getting lost than being in there, getting drunk."

The mage nodded consent and the pair followed the trail gamely.

Over five thousand silver buckets of maple sap waited patiently to be boiled and purified into a hundred buckets of lifesyrup. One of the key problems Draque had first run into with his quest to make money off maple syrup was the fact that it took so many damn buckets just to make a small portion. He and Hiram had worked for the last year on this project of theirs and both of them agreed that they had to be patient.

Over a year ago, during the summer of '69 Draque had cast the Lifetree spell on over fifty trees. When fall had come, those trees had grown in size and produced over five hundred buckets of sap. At that time the Academy's foundation had finished and the place had been a huge mess. They had built the boiling shack where the east wing is now and it had taken over a week to boil all the sap into ten buckets of syrup.

Those ten buckets had proved themselves to be worth pure gold as they had sold not only quickly, but had been an excellent bartering piece with the dwarven builders. The dwarves didn't care much for food that came from a tree, but they certainly had a sweet tooth.

The dwarves had been back to work early in the spring, wanting more of the lifesyrup they knew was being brewed. They had brought help in the form of whole clans and for the next four months the Academy was abuzz with a swarm of dwarves building up the Academy's dome like some gigantic bee hive.

They had left early this year for unknown reasons, but had assured Draque that they'd be back in the spring for more lifesyrup or die trying. To Draque this meant he would at last have a surplus of the precious stuff and be able to market it more effectively. When spring came about he'd have two batchs of syrup ready and this one was the biggest batch yet. The spring batch promised to be even better.

During the summer Draque bought land north of the city and cast the Lifetree spell on an entire forest of maple trees. He was determined to have ten times the amount of Lifesyrup as last year. He carried the buckets in from the loaded wagons with the help of several students eager to have the first taste of the new batch. In his head, he was doing figures, trying to figure out just how much gold he'd make off this year's batch.

Meanwhile Hiram monitored the boiling process, content to be out of the kitchen for once and breath in the fumes of boiling sap. The sweet taste permeated the air and made him giddy as if he had drank ambrosia of the gods. This was the cook's second favourite time of the year, the first being the spring since the smell was a little bit more alive.

The black rum coursed down Chev's throat as he used it to shake off the cold. Sitting in the corner behind the bar of what remained of the Last Hammock, he searched his memories of Waterdeep. Surely there was a less drafty place he could stay in that wouldn't attract attention easily.

The warrior didn't doubt his ability to attract attention as his arrogant pride and supreme confidence was unmarked by failure. With the possible exception of magic to where there was no true defense, and thus he didn't count being turned into stone a symbol of failure.

Perhaps the fact that he had maintained his sanity throughout the ordeal said something for his pride and he banished that thought with a quick drink of rum. Spitting out the putrid stuff, he threw the bottle over the bar to crash beyond unseen.

Forcing himself back to his original thought, Chev wished that he wasn't so darkly handsome for once. It was beyond a doubt that in his early days he had been eyed by both maiden and servant girl alike as the most handsome bodyguard in the d'Or's service. With a dark complexion and a face reminscent of both gentleman and rogue, he had inspired the best in everyone.

The sword had helped with that, and Chev knew intimately its powers that could both strengthen and weaken its bearer. The sword had bestoyed upon him an unmistakable charm that went beyond mortal ability, yet was only semi-magical for it had combined with his already incredible looks and overall charisma.

The problem was that since the loss of the magical sword, Chev had noticed a definite fallout in his ability to charm people to his wishes. The guard at the gate of the d'Or residence had hesitated, something that had not happened a hundred and fifty years earlier. It was something that simply should not have happened, and that uncertainty told the warrior to be wary of his actions when confronting people.

Outright avoidance was therefore the key to survival. Chev was no coward, he knew that, but at the same time he also knew that he was far from a fool. Right now however, he concluded that it was time to get out of this dung heap and find a place to shelter him for the night. Some place less drafty, he quickly mentally rephrased as he vaulted the bar and walked towards the doorway.

Some place without a man wearing antique bronze field plate standing in the doorway, he amended even faster. Without flinching the warrior charged forward into Pierce's waiting blades and knocked the twin sabers aside with his buckler. Lightning quick, he drove his knee upward to connect with Pierce's groin.

The Doctor fell backwards into the alley, knocking aside Khelben as he stoically ignored the pain that made his knees wobble.

Chev's blade glowed a sharp blue light as the warrior strode easily into the alley and sidekicked the archmage in the belly, interrupting Khelben's intended spell with an "Oof!"

Facing Chev now in better lighting, Pierce was amazed once more by Chev's incredibly fast working mind, which was so confusing to the seer, but he was even more amazed by the level of the warrior's physical perfection. Every muscle was toned and fluid, displaying both finesse and incredible strength.

Khelben backed away from the two warriors as they met once more with blades seeking openings that simply were not there. For the mage to stand back and watch, it told him that even he, a great and powerful wizard who could have obliterated both warriors easily, was priveleged to watch a fight such as this. No where else in the realms had anyone ever before witnessed such battle prowess in a pair of individuals.

He knew he should be helping Pierce, but had to concentrate to maintain his control over the air elemental. To let such a monster loose in the dock ward would be unforgiveable and result in many angry sailors showing up at the archmage's door.

Reflecting upon this, the archmage turned his thoughts to some of the greats that walked the realms: Arilyn Moonblade, Drizzt Do'Urden, and Martinez. Of those three, two had received formal training in elven schools whereas Martinez had actually been a dropout from a mageschool (indeed the drunk had even caused the school to be short lived due to his practical jokes that had left his instructor a babbling fool in an asylum). Even so, if rumour was paid attention to, Martinez had disguised himself as an elf and joined an elven griffon cavalry, gaining the rank of captain before his honourable discharge when his balding head revealed his true race.

Yet here before Khelben, who considered himself a fair judge of sword skill, were two fighters that surpassed all the previous. It was obvious to the archmage that Pierce had the shorter of two straws in this match for he was well past him prime whereas Chev was in his prime.

Pierce knew Khelben's thoughts before the archmage even thought them and whole heartedly agreed. Regardless of some warriors believing that two swords were better than one, the Doctor knew that the correct phrase should be two swords are more difficult than one. He knew all the combat strategies, indeed taught them to others, and yet he knew beyond a doubt that Chev knew them just a little bit better.

Pierce would have been dead long ago however were it not for his ability to anticipate attacks and angle his armour to most effectively meet them. That fact, and that alone kept Chev's single blade from ending his fighting career about once every two swings compared to that annoying buckler that seemed to absorb everything the Doctor could send at it.

Once Pierce managed to slip a blade through Chev's defenses but it only slid harmlessly off the warrior's finely crafted studded leather. It became quickly obvious that he couldn't keep up his array of attacks without some form of physical advantage. Higher ground in the dock ward? Not likely.

After three minutes of jabs, slashes and parries too quick to follow, Khelben was growing impatient. Summoning up the spell energy, he dispersed the air elemental into the wind and started on releasing a sphere of electricity that would fry Chev into "little tiny pieces" as Marque Draque had said when he returned with the new spell as commissioned by the archmage.

Being an archmage meant having very little free time, and thus Marque Draque's business of researching new spells on commission had become highly profitable, and thus the Academy's best source of income. Needless to say that it was worth it, at least as far as Khelben was concerned. Marque Draque's skill with even the most difficult spells was envied by all in Waterdeep, but it was his skill in creating them that made him truly shine.

Pierce retreated away from Chev, knowing that if the spell engulfed the warrior that it was quite likely he would tackle the Doctor and take him along for a journey beyond the Gates of Death. In afterthought however, Pierce realized that by doing so it made it painfully obvious what Khelben was doing and Chev was far from stupid.

The warrior leapt backwards into wrecked tavern, escaping what he thought was the classic mage fireball as Waterdeep's archmage sent a tiny ball of blue-white light chasing after him. One could not outrun this ball of energy but Chev wasn't about to. With the strength an average man could only dream of having, the warrior wrestled a broken table up against the door and used it as a shield as the ball collided.

The bright crackling light blinded both mage and seer. This was followed by the crack of thunder that deafened everyone within a block and alerted the city guard throughout the city. The two Harpers fell away from the alley, blocking their eyes from the radiance and trying unsuccessfully to cover their ears at the same time.

"Draque didn't say the thing was this loud!" Khelben shouted angrily and swung his staff at the cobblestones, secretly wishing they were the drow mage's head. The cobble shattered under the blow, broken shards tearing the archmage's enchanted robes and simply bouncing off Pierce's armour.

"You're not supposed to fire it at point blank either! What did you think would happen if you stood beside a lightening strike?" Pierce shouted back in disgust. He clutched his armour where his heart was, fearing for a moment that he was having a heart attack.

"At least he's dead at last," Khelben said after a long pause. He started to straighten his robes and was caught unaware when Chev's fist came around the corner of the alley.

The Doctor barely caught the hem of the archmage's cloak as he slumped to the ground, but at the same time he was wishing he hadn't for he now lacked a weapon. Frantically thinking, he cursed his own fear for leaving the two sabers in the alley. He started to reach for his mother's sword but found Chev's blade poised neatly below his chin. He looked up to meet the handsome warrior's eyes.

"I'm not going to take pleasure in killing you Doctor Pierce. You aren't really a Harper and we both know that. You would much prefer to live an easy life without the espionage, to retire once and for all. Correct?" Chev's voice was amazingly level. His thoughts were much the same: level and confident.

"Correct," Pierce croaked, not wanting his adam's apple to bump the tip of the blade. "How do you know this?"

"I have my own sources, as do you. A bard of no small fame relinguished to me a sizeable list of Harpers. When she came to your name she went into detail, expressing her own belief that you really didn't like the attention and hassle. That's why you turned down the offer of being made a Lord of Waterdeep."

"A job that pays nothing except headaches." Pierce narrowed his eyes. Chev's thought's were focused and everytime the Doctor tried to delve farther into their future the warrior spoke and brought him back to the present.

"And broken bones and blood if you're a Harper lackey."

"So why let me live?"

Chev smiled and sheathed that blade in his belt. "Perhaps because I respect you Pierce. You are the only man who has ever been able to withstand my skill and we both know that that's no easy feat." His head leaned to one side as if studying Pierce. "Especially for one your age."

The Doctor choked back his anger and wetted his lips before speaking. "I'm like a fine wine. I get better with age."

"You get weaker with age," Chev responded without thinking and then wondered if he should take that back. He straightened with pride. "I pray I never grow old Pierce. It would be much preferable to die young while I'm still in my prime."

"Because you have nothing else to live for," the Doctor blurted and also regretted it. He jumped back quickly and drew his mother's longsword in time to block Chev's own blade. They stood locked there, each wanting to continue that stroke and finish the other.

Chev's eyes had taken on a cold glint. "Perhaps," he said. Without another word he spun around and ran down the street.

Pierce wanted to follow and run the warrior through the back if murder was necessary but instead dropped to Khelben's side and cradled the archmage's head on his lap. Inspecting what his foresight told him was a broken jaw, he concluded that the mage wouldn't be using any verbal spells for a long time.

Darkness hid the Academy beneath its shroud and Pierce took to the gardens for a late night walk. This was one of the few places in Waterdeep where a person could walk without getting cold mud on their boots. While everyone else was freezing, the Academy was getting a warm rain that streaked down the Doctor's cheeks and hid the tears only he could see.

Only at times like this did he stop and contemplate his place in the world and what he learned didn't please him at all. "I'm an old man," he muttered to himself. "An old, weak man."

"You're still stronger than me human," rumbled a voice out of the mist. Long spider legs stepped into the light before Pierce and Rambertz stared down from his nine-foot height to meet the Doctor's gaze. "I may be a monster, but despite that you could still beat me in an arm wrestle."

Pierce nodded in consent although mentally he did not agree. "You will outlive me druid. I will be useless dirt before this century is done."

"Is that a prophesy?" Rambertz asked, head cocked to one side. He folded his legs much like a horse would and sat down on the well trimmed grass. "Or are you simply wallowing in self pity?"

Pierce didn't respond. Instead he looked away and tried to find an answer to his own thoughts.

"You are as much trapped in your form as I am in mine," the druid said at length. "When I was first transformed into the monster you know see, I feared I would never again see the surface and that the Morninglord would never shine his grace upon my horrid body." His handsome visage smiled. "Yet milord did something even greater. Where his servants are normally priests, he granted me the shapechanging abilities of a druid. Now instead of walking in the sun in this awkward form, I can walk, or fly, beneath his light. He blessed me twice that day. He removed my guilt about my form and accepted me despite my race."

"And me?" Pierce asked, looking skyward.

"You are blessed with a body and intellect most men would kill for. You may be about ten years past your prime but you still can hold your own. Did Chev not congratulate you? That's what I heard on the grapevine."

"He did. He said I was incredible for someone so old."

"A compliment. It is hard to find an opponent who takes the time to accurately evaluate you and find your strong points. I find it hard to believe that this Chev is totally evil."

Pierce nodded again. "He isn't evil at all. He simply wants vengeance." He paused and thought for a moment before turning back to the drider. "How do the drow define evil?"

Rambertz nearly laughed. "I don't know if we even have a word for it! All drow are evil, or at least most of us are. As for a definition? Untrustworthy might be its equivalent, which also applies to almost all drow."

"Okay," shrugged Pierce, sitting down crosslegged before the druid. "How would you define it?"

Rambertz frowned and pondered before replying. "Greed perhaps. That alone can explain everything." He jocked a finger towards the Academy walls in the direction of the merchant quarter. "We have a lot of evil all around us Pierce. Greed corrupts in the most profound way. There is no limit to what it can do."

"And why are people greedy? Even I must admit that I help myself to more than my fair share of sweets when it comes to my father's cooking."

"Now that we're getting into philosophy, perhaps its because people are generally insecure about themselves. If they see someone else with something they don't have, they start to think less of theirselves, and thus try to improve themselves."

"Like children fighting over who gets the biggest cookie," mused Pierce.

"Like drow fighting over who gets to be Lord or Lady of the Underdark," Rambertz added. He looked down at Pierce. "That's why you feel threatened by Chev and hate his guts, and yet he, knowing that he's better, doesn't care because he doesn't feel threatened. Because of that state of mind he can take the time to appraise you and compliment your skills."

Pierce nodded. "And back to when I die?"

Rambertz merely shrugged. "That comes down to who you worship. There is no God of Combat to my knowledge and if there is, she's disappeared. Perhaps died during the Time of Troubles." The Doctor noted how all drow tended to refer to gods as being female, something that had been bred into them from Lolth, the Spider-Queen.

Pierce pursed wet lips and stared up at the heavens. "A time when even the gods were made low and forced to walk amongst mortal men. I hope that never happens again."

"Not all gods," the druid said abruptly. "Not Lord Ao."

"Ao," Pierce said slowly. The overlord of all the gods had no followers. At least none that Pierce had ever heard of. "Why is it that no one worships him?"

Rambertz shrugged and droplets slid down his smooth obsidian body in a torrent. "He doesn't need to. He has the power to destroy any god, or all the gods at once, if he so felt like it. Why he doesn't is something we should debate in the future." The drider lurched and started to stand.

Pierce stood up quickly, almost slipping in the mud. "Why not now?"

"Because right now I should go and check on that boy you nearly killed. He should be quite asleep so I can check and make sure the stupid cleric did it right." The drider shook the rain off his huge frame and glanced down at Pierce. "They're amateurs these humans! Not a bit of healing skill amongst the lot of them!"

Szymon awoke with a start and stared around the pitchblack room. The only window was covered by canvas. "The eastwing," the half-elf said aloud. Letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, he switched to infravision. He looked about but saw nothing and heard nothing. He could have sworn something cold had touched his leg. "Probably a draft," he told himself and settled back down to sleep under the layers of warm quilts.

The eastwing was the last part of the Academy to be built and due to lack of funds had been postponed for at least a year until the school was making a profit. Pierce had explained that this was the best place to keep the boy because no one else went to the eastwing. This included the showoff rich brats that the school seemed to cater to.

That opinion of the place had changed with what little Szymon had seen of the place. Older fighters came here too, both rich and poor, to trade adventuring tales and test their mettle against the best of the best. Of which Pierce was, according to the latest rumours, second best.

The half-elf shifted and groaned. Why was this bed so damn uncomfortable? He wanted to get up and walk around but knew he would only end up falling flat on his face. He invisioned the cleric visited him in the morning and finding him on the floor helpless. That would be an embarrassing start for Szymon at the Academy.

Of course, Pierce had only hinted at admitting Szymon for free so the boy would live longer, but one could hope. The people who came out of the Academy had the typical haughtiness of the wealthy but they also had the skill to match their confidence. Perhaps it was the confidence the boy sought he admitted to himself, but it certainly felt good to imagine such things.

"Ten against one?" he murmurred into the night air. "Thats cowards odds! That makes all of you cowards!" he grinned despite the pain. Daydreams faded into real dreams and he was asleep only moments later.