Chev stopped in the alley outside the tavern. His instincts told him this was a trap but not a typical one. He could turn around and leave but he had a stinking hunch that would only result in a crossbow bolt in his back. Taking out one sword, he advanced into the midday shadows.

A crunch of snow up ahead alerted him and his other sword was out and prepared. "Who are you?" he said slowly.

"Well, we're not Harpers if thats what you mean," said a deep voice off to one side, hidden in the shadows. The sound came from above meaning that the speaker was either really tall or was standing on something.

"Then stand out in the open," Chev responded, snapping his two blades together.

A huge ten feet tall hippo-headed beast stepped forward and levelled a pistol at Chev.

The warrior had no experience with such creatures and even less knowledge of guns. Nevertheless he decided that whatever the weapon was, the giff held it as a mage might hold a powerful wand and thus was to be respected. He waited, swords held at ready.

"I am Hiortan."

"That's nice."

The giff frowned and his fat face filled with bulging wrinkles. "I'm the leader of the gun trade."

"So? Whats this about?"

The creature's face turned a shade of red. "Why aren't you afraid of me? I could kill you in an instant!"

"Maybe. Whats your point? What's this meeting about?"

The beast growled and his big fist tightened around the handle of the gun. "I want you to kill Doctor Pierce!"

"Why?"

"Because he's stopped my gun trade! Ever since the explosion down on the docks no one has been willing to talk to me and since the Valentino d'Or died I haven't been able to smuggle in any guns because everyone's so afraid they'll blow up or something."

"Why don't you kill him yourself?" Chev asked, knowing by now that he was too valuable to kill and the giff wouldn't do so unless Chev became a threat. The mention of the d'Or hinted that the beast and the d'Ors had been allies at one point, a good excuse to kill the giff were he not so feebly armed. He had to determine how powerful this gun thing was before trying anything.

"Because no one among us can beat him in combat and we can't get a gun within a hundred yards of the Academy without Marque Draque's magic system sounding an alarm."

"You'll excuse me if I don't know much about guns. How do they work?"

"Like a crossbow. You just aim and pull the trigger."

"That's it?" Chev asked skeptically. He didn't like ranged weapons. They seemed too much like a cowards weapon.

"Yep!"

"And what's it do when you pull the trigger?"

"It shoots a small lead ball."

"That sounds pretty pathetic."

"No its not! Its so fast you don't even see it coming! Just the bang and then you're dead! Goes right through you!"

For a second Chev was scared but then he remembered he didn't have anything to live for anyway. Just as quickly he was disgusted by the fact that anyone could pull the trigger and kill so easily. It was too easy and too much like child's play. The very thought of it revolted him in a way he couldn't quite understand. All of his life he had made his life by the sword, perfecting the art of killing and along comes this tool, not a weapon a tool, that could kill with the pull of the trigger.

Without thinking Chev advanced on the giff and sliced off the arm holding the weapon. Three quick jabs and a slice across the neck and the giff was a fountain of blood that crumpled to the ground. Gun shots sounded like cracks of thunder and Chev felt something nick him in the side. He looked down to where the bullet had grazed his chest and ran foward into the alley where two more giffs with pistols waited.

Blades thrust faster than fat fingers could load and Chev left the two giffs in a puddle of their blood. The rage inside lasted only a moment more as he sliced at the pistols with Sharkslayer and ruined them beyond repair. It took him a moment to realize how severe the wound in his side was before he sheathed his swords and ran from the alley, stemming the blood with his left hand.

"Three giffs," Martinez reported. "And not one of our people know who killed them. One of us think that the one is Hiortan but its too hard to tell because his head was so stained in blood. All three of their pistols were sliced in half as if they had been placed on a guillotine. I can't think of any sword except yours that could through metal so effectively."

Pierce looked down at Tarrasqueslayer and shook his head. "I can. We had a sword kept in the vault called Sharkslayer. It had almost twice the slicing power as mine which is why we kept it locked away. It was simply too dangerous to be allowed into the hands of an inexperienced fighter. In Chev's experienced hands though-"

"What is the sword on a scale of one to ten?" Martinez asked, pouring himself a drink from a bottle. Pierce had always noted that the warrior liked to rate things on a scale of one to ten, most likely because that was the way he rated sweetness of wines. An eight was very sweet and a two was a very dry wine.

"Tarrasqueslayer would be a six and Sharkslayer a perfect ten."

"Doesn't make much sense that a tarrasque is forty times bigger than a shark, but okay," Martinez muttered and downed his drink.

Pierce smiled and looked about the empty cafeteria. The huge wooden tables and benchs had been pushed off to one side for a jig party this evening. A prize of one magical object from Pierce's vault for the best bard would bring the best musicians in all of Waterdeep.

Over time the warrior had collected a vast assortment of magical items and he didn't have much use for the bulk of them. Most of them had been brought back from his trips to Chult where lucky treasure seekers had found the very best in magical artifacts. Pierce hadn't found much of great value other than gold a wide assortment of magical twinkets. Draque occasionally drained some of the twinkets of their magic in order to create some more powerful enchantments but other than that the stuff stayed in the vault where they were safe.

Twice a year, since the opening of the Academy last spring, Pierce had a party and gave away a twinket to the best bard. Last spring the winner had been a half-elf bard Pierce hadn't seen for almost twenty years. Diego had adventured with Draque and Witter so long ago it seemed like another life time. The bard was the bastard son, one of many, of Diego the Wistful, the man who had taught Pierce to read and write.

"You aren't going to compete tonight are you?" the Doctor said, turning back to the little table in the corner and Martinez with his bottle.

"Me? I haven't sang much in fifteen years. I don't have much reason to either. I have everything I need right?"

A sense of purpose would be nice Pierce thought, but chided himself that sometimes he didn't know what his purpose was. "Right," he said. "There's no everfull wine bottles in the vault as far as I know."

He wondered if Martinez was insulted by the comments he made sometimes and was always certain to delve into the Harper's alcohol-fogged mind. As usual, the bald warrior didn't give a damn. He had long ago given up caring about his pride because he knew it was the truth of the matter. He was a drunk and didn't care.

Pulling himself back out of the man's mind, Pierce focused his attention elsewhere. He always got depressed if he delved too far into Martinez's mind. Sometimes he wondered if it was possible to lose himself in someone's mind to the point that he forgot what was real and what was a person's memories.

The bald Harper downed the last of his drink and wiped his chin on his shirt as he stood. "Time to go get into more trouble. Any messages for Durnan?"

"Ask him if he's coming to the party tonight."

"Will do. See ye later"

Magic is the power of mystery. It boggles the mind and yet fits so perfectly. For a paradox to be understood, one must take the time to study its various components and develop a theory about how it works. It then takes time and experimentation before one can truly understand the workings of magic. Even the great mages like Elminster have problems working out how magic really works. No mortal really knows the reason why magic does what it does.

In ancient times it was believed that witches controlled evil spirits and ordered them about. In exchange for achieving these tasks, the witch would make sure that certain goals were met so that the spirits were happy. Today, we know that this is not true.

Magic is a non-sentient energy and as such can only be controlled by force. It takes a measure of will power combined with the mage's knowledge to complete a task. An apprentise eventually becomes a full mage and the simpler spells get easier as they attempt harder spells.

Magic sometimes requires fuel to make a spell work. You cannot create a fire without kindling and wood to burn, but also the initial spark. Thus a spell is like a recipe in a cookbook and every mage must learn the spell properly unless he wants his cake to be burnt.

Szymon set down the book and looked up at Draque who was busy scribbling notes beside the cauldron. The half-elf understood that he had an enormous opportunity before him to learn magic but that it was going to require reading the rest of Draque's book which was obviously an introduction to magic.

The problem the apprentise had right now was that he scarcely knew how to read and had come to a word he had never seen before. "Sir?"

Draque looked up. "What?"

"I've come to a word I don't understand."

"What's the word?"

"It might be magic-"

"Rubbish! You don't have the knowledge to use it anyway. You can say the word a dozen times but if you don't know what it means it won't do anything!"

"Czarodziej?"

"Ah, you've come to a word in elvish. It means magician."

"Sir, I'm a half-elf. I do know elvish and that's not an elvish word."

The drow nodded and lit a cigar as he stood up. He walked over to the boy. "That's because its a dark elf word."

"Drow?"

"Yes. Believe it or not, but yes, I speak drow. Better than I speak elvish I'm afraid. Comes from all my years in the Underdark."

"Have you met Drizzt?"

"I've seen him on the surface right here in Waterdeep. I can't say that I was particularly impressed either. He looked so naive."

"Have you met any other drow?"

"Yes, I've known many drow in my time. They're mostly evil too. You can only begin to imagine how vicious my people are."

The "my" took a moment to register and during that time Draque dropped the spell that hid his black face.

Needless to say the half-elf fainted.

Pierce took one look at the unconscious boy and smiled at Draque. "You won't need the Forget spell, the boy is going to follow you around like a puppy I'm afraid. Congratulations! You're now an idol! You can thank the stories about Drizzt Do'Urden."

Draque puffed on his cigar and wasn't sure if he should be pleased. "It looks like I have an apprentise now."

"In more ways than one," Pierce pointed to the sword on Draque's belt. "He's a thug turned apprentise. With any luck and no large explosions you'll have a fine companion in a few years."

"And a brat I didn't want to raise."

"Perhaps, but consider this: He'll be a legacy of your knowledge when you die. Can you ask for much more?"

"Immortality? I could always use that."

The Doctor shook his head. "No, but I'm certain you'll have fun. If that's not one reason, how about this: You've already become regarded as the best mage when it comes to creating spells. Indeed, other mages hire you to create new spells for them. Now is your chance to prove that you can also teach that ability."

"Teach how to create spells? I doubt the boy has the aptitude for it!"

"You taught me how to cast minor cantrips didn't you?"

"Yes, but you can only use minor elemental ones, like lighting a torch or blowing out one. You can conjure a drink of water to splash someone in the face at most but thats it."

"I did scare that troll off by lighting my hand on fire."

"Faerie fire which isn't real. Trolls aren't always that stupid."

"What else was I supposed to do? Wrestle him with my bare hands?"

"It would have been an interesting fight to watch."

"Nevertheless, you're stuck with the kid."

Draque snorted smoke out his nose like a dragon. "Indeed."

Nicole stopped at the main doors and looked about the Academy. It was near dusk and the air was humid within the walls. The sun's power still warmed the grounds and yet outside in Waterdeep there was several inches of snow that hadn't melted during the day. Tomorrow there would be even more snow on the ground. She couldn't help but wonder how long this Rambertz could hold winter at bay.

She decided to take a quick walk around the grounds and try to find the druid. She doubted that Pierce would mind if she was late for their date. It wasn't uncommon for a noble to be deliberately late so as to make a more illustrious entrance.

As she walked, she swore the place felt more like late summer than early winter. iT was muggy and had that feeling in the air that excited the pulse and made you feel so much more alive. Perhaps that was a magically induced feeling, but she doubted it as she passed a row of orange rose bushes.

A solid hoof print before her in the ground made her smile. Following the tracks she found the huge stallion hidden behind a row of red maples chewing on a grape vine that hung down from the trees.

"Bartholomew," she scolded with a smile to which the horse snorted in response and continued to chew lazily. She leapt atop the horse and dug her heals into his flanks, using his mane to steer him back to the stables as he started out at a gallop.

"I'm surprised Pierce lets you get away with this. I don't understand why you could like flowers and leaves better than oats. Every horse knows its a treat to have oats, let alone all the time!"

"Well, not exactly."

Nicole reined in the horse and for a moment thought that Bartholomew was the one who had spoke. Looking up at the huge maple overhead, she saw a dark torso hidden between the limbs looking down at her.

"Bart knows that the best foods are out here in the sun. Especially with a little magically tweaking from myself and Marque Draque, these gardens are probably the best tasting ones in all of Waterdeep."

"You are Rambertz right?"

"How much do you know of me?"

"Not much other than you're a gardener of sorts."

"A druid. The sun has an enormous power to provide life once properly harnessed. The plants you see around you have all been tweaked magically so they do several things."

"Like?"

"Well, for starters they taste better. They're immune to disease, and they absorb and release heat in a fashion that prevents the frost from harming them during this time of year."

"And the reason you're up in the tree is so you can watch the sunset better?"

"Yes and no."

"No?"

"I have other reasons, but I'll leave those up to Pierce to tell you."

Nicole shrugged and dug her heals into Bartholomew's flanks. She was suddenly anxious to be near her date and away from this strange druid.

Pierce watched her go and came out from behind the limbs and sat down across from the drider. "She knows about my abilities but I don't know what she'd think if I told her you were a drider. I don't know if I should even tell her about Draque."

"The mage has his own problems so I hear from the birds in the trees," the drider grunted.

"A bad case of hero worship I'm afraid. The boy thinks of Draque as many others think of Drizzt. He's going to be a bit disappointed when he finds out that Draque works for money and doesn't hunt pirates."

"Draque has the drow curse of greed in him. From what I know of the vault, nine tenths of the gold in there is his and he doesn't know what to do with it all."

"Asides from build a bigger, better vault when spring comes. He's already working on plans for having four sets of doors, all with different versions of his Insignia on them. He estimates it will take four hours to check for all the traps, disarm them all and finally open the doors."

"He told you this?"

"No, I caught his thoughts by chance."

"Ah, but what is chance? Is it fate?"

"Chance is fate?" Pierce questioned aloud.

"What else could it be? You didn't see it coming did you? It simply happened with no warning."

"Shouldn't that be the other way around? If it was fate, then I would have seen it coming right?"

"Yes, you should have. Does that mean that chance is the opposite of fate? That you can't predict good luck?"

"Are we talking about karma now?"

"Yes we are. Karma is the feeling that something is simply better. You don't know why, other than a hunch that it is somehow better. When you hold up two swords, you have a feeling that one is better than the other so you use the one that simply feels better."

"I see what will happen and feelings have nothing to do with it."

"Yes, but where do we find a distinction between a karmic feeling and foresight? Both do roughly the same thing don't they?"

"Foresight tells me whether I'll hit with the sword and karma tells me that I believe I'll hit with the sword."

"So foresight is certain and karma is based on belief. What happens if you believe in good luck?"

"Then you have a paradox."

"How so?"

"Its circular reasoning. If I say that I believe in good luck because I have a good feeling about it, then when I miss I realize that I was wrong and should have done the other thing."

"Hindsight is twenty twenty. How would we rate your foresight? Can you see the future with your left eye better than your right?"

"Its a mental image. If I close my eyes I still know what will happen even if I can't see it visually with my eyes. My mind will still see it in my head."

"So if a person thinks in his head that one sword is better than another, even though they both look exactly the same and feel physically the same, he'll pick the one that he thinks will work better. Is it fate that causes him to pick one over the other? Or is it chance?"

Pierce shook his head and wanted to scream. "You enjoy confusing my foresight don't you?"

"These philosophical talks help you though right? Over the years your foresight has gotten stronger and you can see things with a clearer mental image."

"Yes, it is stronger, but do you have to confuse me like that? I won't be able to sleep tonight because I'll be trying to figure it out in my head."

"Is that your foresight speaking or a karmic prediction?"

Valeska looked down at the revelry from her place in the rafters. The cafeteria was filled with people, young and old, rich and poor. Bards and musicians from every race waited in a long line to have their turn at entertaining the populace. She waited until a gawky looking half-elf stood up on the piled tables which was the stage before she made her interruption.

The clear smooth sound of her violin drifted down slowly at first and then drowned the people in her music. It was a sound more melodious than a Harp and smoother than anything else. It calmed the nerves and sang in the hearts of every man and woman who suddenly found themselves rooted to the ground and spellbound as they raised their eyes to the rafters and saw the drow standing there on the beams.

Valeska whispered a mental prayer to her god and continued to play. The music grew and the tempo increased dramatically as people realized who they were watching. The entire chamber was quiet, with the possible exception of one corner.

"Do something Draque!" Pierce hissed in the drow's ear.

"No," replied the drow and puffed on his cigar.

"Why not? We've been trying to catch her for years!"

"The Harpers have. I haven't. Valeska is a nuisance to you, but she is one of the people the Harpers should be protecting. Besides, I have an arrangement with the Ko'Ragur," Draque said matter-of-factly.

"An arrangement? But-"

"But you didn't know about it? Yes, Pierce, I've perfected my Mind Shield spell so you can only get parts I let you have. For years now Valeska and I have made deals with each other. I make her speciality spells and in return she does special errands for me. Then there is the matter of her goal to overthrow Lloth. She doesn't need Harpers getting in her way when she already has a hard goal like overthrowing a goddess in front of her."

"But-"

"Let me continue! You and I both know the Harpers can never defeat the drow in Undermountain. So what does the city do? They try and work out trade deals with the drow, hoping to appeal to their greedy side in order to ensure the safety of Waterdeep itself. What do the drow do? They send an ambassador which Valeska promptly kills. She, and I for that matter, don't care how many drow die in the process so long as our people are finally freed from Lloth lies. Its time our people weren't brainwashed from birth."

Pierce frowned and stared at Draque, knowing there was something else. "What else are you not telling me?"

Draque puffed on his cigar and glanced at Pierce sternly. "When Valeska goes back to the Underdark to take Lloth down, I'm going with her. I'm going to die eventually anyway so I might as well serve my people."

Pierce looked back to the drow bard. From so far away it was hard to get inside her mind, especially with the confusion of the many minds all around him. As soon as he caught hold of her thoughts, he grabbed hold and held on tight with his mind. It was like trying to grab a swaying rope that was just out of reach and finally catching it.

Closing his eyes, the Doctor locked onto Valeska's thoughts. She was primarily concerned with the intricate details of her violin playing but underneath that was the subconscious ideas whirling about. She was afraid. Deathly afraid and it wasn't of heights because she knew she could levitate to safety. For a moment the warrior was struck by a sense of total vulnerability and had to remind himself who he was and where he was. She was out in the open. Shieldless and vulnerable to attack. After a hundred years of evading her people and humans on the surface she had become paranoid about being in open places. The clustered alleys of Waterdeep and caves below it in Undermountain were more suited to her and even there she was always fighting to keep alive. He saw images of cozy booths in taverns as havens and tables in the middle of taprooms as a place of vulnerability.

Pierce had never thought of taverns in such a way. He had always sat at the bar or at most at a table near the door so he could leave quickly if necessary but that was it. After twenty years of adventuring one could easily forget all the different taverns and inns he had stayed in but Valeska hadn't. Each one was different and a clear facet of her mind.

The crossbow, he realized quickly was another facet of her. It was a long range weapon with enormous force that could punch through the hardest of armours. She preferred it over any other weapon because it could keep her hidden and safe away from trouble. The twin hand crossbows at her belt were made for speed and enchanted to be incredibly quick and self loading. She could shoot them at least eight times before an opponent even got near her and by that time the mix of poison would have taken effect.

The drow bard used sleep poison like all drow, but she also tipped them with various other poisons that could cause death or simply slow their heart down until only a trained person could tell that the victim was still alive. She had kept some of the drow who pursued her alive and then-

Draque nudged Pierce and broke the warrior's concentration. The mage held him upright with one arm and nodded upwards.

The Doctor looked up at Valeska and saw that she was near the finale. When she finished it was a long note which she cut off suddenly like the music had simply given one last burst and died.

Silence.

Pierce put his hands together and clapped.

Draque followed suit and whistled shrilly.

The drow bard looked down upon the throng of people as their clapping grew and swelled into a thundering cheer. Tears ran down her cheeks as she bowed and slid her violin into the harness on her back. She turned to leave through a latch in the ceiling used by the janitors to clean the top of the three story high room.

"Come down!"

"Come down!" more people shouted.

Looking back, Valeska spotted Pierce and Marque Draque motioning her to come back. Acceptance? she wondered for a moment.

"Draque, cast a flying spell on me quick," Pierce muttered, taking off his swordbelt.

The mage nodded and took an eagle's feather from his belt and tapped it on the warrior's shoulder while murmuring his enchantment.

At will the warrior soared upwards into the rafters and stood floating before the bard. Holding out a hand, Pierce smiled hopefully. "You're safe with me. The Academy's walls shall be your shield tonight," he whispered.

The words touched the woman profoundly and she couldn't help but hold out her hand and accept his offer.

Wrapping one firm arm around her, the warrior dropped to the floor below slowly and floated down to the cheering people. It wasn't until now that Pierce realized how short and diminative she really was. Barely a couple inches over five feet and incredibly lightweight.

"You're making a huge mistake, you know that right?" Valeska whispered.

"If the Harpers and your kin don't like it they can't do anything about it except kill me. The Harpers won't resort to it, and your kin are more likely to want you dead more than ever and forget about me. The only drow warrior who could stand a chance against me is Drizzt Do'Urden and I think we can both agree where his allegiance would be."

The remains of the d'Or ship in the harbour was the quietest place Chev could find for a decent night's sleep. His desciption was widely known now and it was getting incredibly hard to find rest which he especially needed with his new wound. Before settling down to sleep he made certain that the wound was bound tightly so it wouldn't become infected easily.

His eyes were just about to drift into the realm of sleep when he heard a crash from above the deck. Looking up, the warrior saw moonlight coming through a hole in the ceiling where a booted foot had fallen through a rotten board and gotten stuck.

Throwing caution to the wind, the warrior stood and severed the foot from its owner and listened to the screaming curses from above. The sound was cut off by a sudden shout followed by a splash. Chev ducked under a beam and climbed up the ladder to the latch and pushed it open with his blue glowing longsword.

A grisly dwarven face looked down at Chev and wiped slobber off black beard with the back of his hand. "That was a mean move!" he snarled.

Chev cocked his head to one side so he could see the dwarf better. "What's it to you?"

"Me?" the dwarf laughed between scarred lips. "I never cared for that guy's leg anyway. I'magin he don't think that way though! Can't swim that well with only one foot!"

"Any reason why you're trying to sneak up on me?"

"Other than to have our feet cut off by a professional?" asked the dwarf. "I'magin it's cuz the boss wants to her hire your bald rear end."

"I don't want to know what other body parts you dwarves grow hair on," Chev replied. "Is your boss up there, or is he absent for this meeting?"

"I still have my legs if that's what you mean," said a stern deep voice.

"And will you treat my head the same should I stick it through the latch?"

"Your head is far more valuable where it is. That would be like cutting down a large diamond into dust and what good is diamond dust? What good are you without your head?" asked the stern voice.

"Rat food I'magin," grunted the dwarf.

Chev climbed the latch and held his sword at ready and his other hand on the sheathed Sharkslayer. The blue light off the blade and the yellow flickering torchlight added a green touch to everyone's features.

A tall broad man with rough features and black hair stepped forward. "Ever been to Undermountain?"

Undermountain. Perhaps the most dangerous place in the whole Realms next to being inside an active volcano. This labyrinth of caves below Waterdeep was filled with some of the most vicious and truly unique monsters. It was easy to get lost, killed and eaten down there and it was as simply as that. Those humanoids who survived down there were either really lucky, or had proven themselves to be worthy adventurers.

Chev had never been to Undermountain. He had only recently learned of the maze of tunnels below. Now that he was in them however, he could only wonder if he wise being here. Already two of the men had been killed by a group of rampaging umber hulks and another to a cleverly conceived drow trap which had left the man's body parts smeared across half a cavern.

They were after a cache of magical items stolen by drow. The dark elves had fortified themselves within a dead end tunnel. The drow had placed crossbowmen strategically around the entrance so that anyone who entered would be filled with bolts the moment they stepped into view and that was the limit of what Chev had been told. If he could get past the bolts, he would have first pick of exactly half of any of the things they found.

A group of men had stayed behind to guard the entrance and wait the drow out but the elves were still there. That much was evident by the bodies laying in the entrance riddled with quarrels and bolts.

"Can you do it?" demanded the group's large leader.

"Will you care if I use their bodies?" Chev nodded to the bodies and flashed his glowing blue sword at the top one.

"Go right ahead."

"Okay, does anyone have a grapple or something with which I can get them out of there with?"

"You can use my harpoon," offered the dwarf and shoved a particularly wicked-looking harpoon at Chev.

The warrior took it and noticed that it still had gore on it from its last use. Likely the umber hulks they had encountered earlier. Stabbing the weapon at the fallen men, he dragged them back from the entrance and stacked them up against the wall.

"Now what?" demanded the leader.

"Now you shut up and tell your men to do the same," Chev said and tossed the harpoon back to the dwarf. Hoisting a dead half-orc on his left arm like a shield, the warrior approached the entrance and shoved the man within.

There was a series of sharp thunks and Chev hauled the body back quickly and then shoved him in again and immediately got several more thunks. This time he followed the body in and charged between the narrow stalactites.

A drow appeared before him with two blades drawn and Chev promptly buried the elf under the dead body and rolled off to one side as more crossbow bolts missed him.

Two blades out, the warrior kept rolling until he was behind a large section of stone that had fallen off the ceiling long ago. A startled drow beside him dropped his crossbow and reached for his swords but dropped them when his head fell to the ground beside them.

Standing and backing himself against a wall, Chev watched the five drow warriors fanned out around him and stalled for time while he planned a strategy. Finally he swept the glowing blade around in front of him, using its light to blind the light sensitive drow and used that moment of shock to stab at them.

By the time the drow recovered, there was only one left standing and he backed away from Chev for fear of falling to the same trick. A harpoon tip appeared where the elf's adam's apple had been and the look of fear was made permanent as the dwarf behind him pulled him to the ground and kicked him off his harpoon.

Chev saluted the dwarf with his glowing sword and looked about for this so-called cache of magical items. A large sack beside him beckoned to the warrior and he opened it slowly with the tip of his sword.

Several large glowing gems fell out and rolled across the cavern floor.

"Those are mine!" declared the leader of the thugs.

Chev turned to him slowly, swords raised. "You said I get first pick."

"Shove it! That's-"

"Not acceptable," Chev finished for the leader and removed Sharkslayer from the man's throat.

The rest of the thugs backed off except for the dwarf who only narrowed his eyes. In the blue light Chev saw the respect and fear in the dwarf's eyes and at the same a sense of comraderie.

"I never cared for that guy's neck anyway," spat the dwarf. "You get half and first picks."

Chev had been running low on coin from the start of his vengeance. He had stolen food and killed at random for anything he needed but had always kept his word in the end by letting informants live. Now he had a pouch of platinum to bargain with and speed up those information sessions.

Too much too late however. All the Harpers had went into hiding and those hadn't were dead. At the very least the warrior could finally get some new clothes and throw away the ragged tunic and pants he had been wearing for the last century.

When the warrior finally left a tailor's shop late that evening, it was in a warm brown leather cloak, matching pants and a red silk shirt. His boots he had kept, to which the tailor wasn't about to complain. Not with the customer paying with platinum.

Many people saw Chev leave the building out the front door too and business would undoubtably boom into a proverbial gold mine in the next couple days.

Under that warm cloak was a belt with a lasso dangling from it. The belt and the lasso was the only things he had taken and they were all he needed. The gems he had given to the dwarf Hivar.

After he had left, Chev didn't doubt that the thugs would criticize his choice to kill their leader over the gems and then not even keep the gems. It was a matter of principles as far as Chev was concerned. He had made a deal and if the person wasn't going to keep up their end of their bargain it was their own fault. The warrior had no pity for liars of that sort.

Valeska had awoke this morning in a guest room just down the hall from Doctor Pierce's and Marque Draque's. It was mind boggling that she was somehow a honoured guest. Then she heard the shouting from down the hall.

"You had no right! That drow should be killed! She is evil and a spy from Lloth!"

"I truly doubt that she's a spy! She's been on the surface longer than you have!" yelled back Doctor Pierce's stern voice. "And I have every right to allow her within my home. It is afterall, my home."

With only a cloak gathered around her shoulders, the drow bard crept down the hallway and peaked through the crack between the door and the door frame. She tightened her grip on her hand crossbow.

"Not for long if you keep up this up! Her presence alone in Waterdeep threatens every elf on the surface! The drow have been planning a huge surface raid for years! What happens when they finally emerge from Undermountain in the tens of thousands?"

"Valeska Ko'Ragur is more opposed to that idea than any other person I know. You gold elves have a habit of sticking your pointy noses and ears where they don't belong!"

"We have the right to defend ourselves! No second rate has-been is going to tell me what to do!"

"Has-been?" Pierce said deceptively quiet. "You're calling me a has-been?"

"Yes!" shouted the elf and wagged a finger at the Doctor from across the desk.

Lightening fast, Pierce lifted the arrogant elf into the air with one hand and shook him roughly. "Look, you drunken little castaway! I've adventured for more years than most elves dream of doing! Did you know I spent ten years exploring Chult? To say nothing of two years enslaved in a gladiator pit? I killed the tarrasque while I was still in my first year on the road and I'm telling you right now that Chev is four times better than I was back then! If you want to take on a fighter who could kill the tarrasque four times over without breaking a sweat, you can go right ahead!" The Doctor dropped the flush-faced elf and took a step back. "And when you do, I'll be there to take bets on which of your body parts he removes first. Most likely your head because I doubt he'd like looking at that thing you call a face. Just because Chev can beat me in a fair fight doesn't mean that I can't still kick your skinny elven rear halfway across Waterdeep!"

The gold elf noble drew himself up and his hand went to the sword at his belt. "Do you know what it means to treat someone of my station in such a fashion?"

"It means that if you don't get your face off my property your station will be beside whatever gods you worship and your head will be placed on a pike outside my walls as a warning for all those that follow that I will not tolerate some stuck up elf telling me what I can and cannot do on my own property! Now get out!"

Valeska dodged back and hid behind a marble column as the elf stormed out of Pierce's office and down the grand staircase. She waited a moment before stepping out.

The Doctor jumped back at her sudden appearance and his hand went to his heart. "Whoa! You nearly gave me a heart attack there!"

The bard smiled. "Sorry, I didn't mean to." She looked up at him. "So you were in a gladiator pit?"

"A long time ago. Thirteen years ago or so. They held me in there magically for two years and it wasn't until the Time of Troubles that I escaped."

"You must have some interesting stories right?"

"Indeed. I wouldn't want to go through them again though."

"If you recall some history, my father was also a slave gladiator. The Ko'Ragur family used it as a place to make alliances with other noble houses and at the same time make a profit by wagering on the gladiators. They bet human gladiators up against the best drow warriors other houses could come up with and down played the humans so they could increase the stakes."

"They told the matron mothers that the humans were blind in the dark and weaklings?" Pierce asked, already knowing the truth.

"Yes, but they were far from it. They're other senses had been magically intensified and surviving alone in the Underdark had built up their strength. The Matka Matrona got rid of many an enemy house's best warriors that way. If she lost, oh well, it was just a dead human to feed to the giant lizards."

"And your father, or tatus in the drow tongue, was?"

"The victor of one particular fight. She made a deal with him that he would lead a slave revolt and attack another noble house that the Matka Matrona wanted destroyed. In exchange she offered him his freedom and so much more."

"She kept her word? That would be a first for any Matron Mother."

"She did. Kolezenstworygor means rigorous comrade and we were a little more honourable than average."

"The salt of the earth in drow terms?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Explains why our house fell. Too honourable for the tastes of other drow."

"I know about your goal against Lloth," Pierce said slowly, leaning over the balcony and looking at the marble floor below. "You've got your work cut out for you if you think poetry is going to persuade a whole race to abandon their patron goddess."

"The drow appreciate beauty. Its simply a matter of showing them how ugly Lloth really is and offering an alternative. That's the hard part."

Hiram sat down at a table in the corner of the cafeteria across from Marque Draque and watched the clean up crew working on the mess that was the cafeteria itself. Turning to the mage, the ex-boxer summoned up the courage to speak. He had never been one for words. "How's the sword coming?"

"Gravebringer? I haven't been working on it much lately. I should probably get back to it sometime soon. At the moment the sword is basically disabled. Crippled." The mage shoved his cigar into the table and flicked the ashes onto the floor for the janitors to clean up. "The maples should be done dripping within the next week and we can finish the last batch of lifesyrup. That is, of course, provided that Rambertz doesn't keep the sun out for too long. If we drain too much sap out of the trees, they'll be slower when spring comes and the harvest won't be the same."

"You always think in terms of money don't you?"

Draque paused and lit another cigar. "These things aren't cheap you know? I have to send away all the way to Menzoberranzan and have them smuggled up through Undermountain past the Harpers in crates. That kind of stuff doesn't come cheap. Once they're here, I have to keep them in special cigar boxes just so the sun won't ruin them."

"Surely they don't cost that much!"

"They're required for my favourite spell and I go through about twenty to thirty a day. At the bargain price of one gold piece per cigar, that's about seven hundred and fifty gold per month. That's more than what a city guard makes in a year."

"Okay! Okay! You've made your point! The vault would run dry if you didn't pull your weight by making the bulk of the money here!"

Draque pursed his lips together and sucked on the cigar. Breathing out, he pointed the smelly thing at Hiram. "While we're on the topic, lets stop and consider how much the Academy costs annually. We've got janitors, guards, cooks, teachers, stableboys, stablemaster, and the dwarves who are still working on the east wing but have quit for the winter to visit their folks and won't be back til spring. We have to provide food, and lots of it cause they're hungry little beggars, for the students who have their dormitories in the north wing. Our heating is based on the wood in the basement which Pierce chops up in his spare time and whenever he's exceptionally angry." He paused and stomped his foot on the marble floor. "Marble doesn't come cheap either if I do recall and this building is made mostly of marble and the occasional set of bronze doors. We had to fix a number of them recently too thanks to our good friend, Mister Chev. If I had my way, I'd sell the adamantite column thats holding up the dome and reinforce the ceiling with some magic. The problem with that is that magic can be dispelled quite easily by even minor mages. We wouldn't want several hundred tonnes of marble suddenly falling because some green apprentise tried to dispel a cantrip and ended up dispelling the whole thing. Until I perfect my Protection from Dispel enchantment, we're stuck with that ugly blue thing in the middle-"

"Actually, I always liked the colour-"

"I'm not finished! Have you seen our budget? Have you counted the zeros? This place is expensive in the extreme! You think my cigars are expensive? Wait til you see the bill when the dwarves finally finish the east wing in the spring! Those greedy bastards could suck gold out of the sand if they tried hard enough!"

Hiram looked about and saw that people were staring. Standing, the cook clapped Draque on the shoulder. "Thank Ao I'm only a chef."