The Best of the Realms, Book I

TERTIUS AND THE ARTIFACT

Jeff Grubb

As I sat on the balcony of the Nauseous Otyugh in Scornubel,suspended between the hangover of the previous evening and the one that was yetto come, I meditated on the phrase "should have stayed in bed." Soundadvice, probably postulated first by some spell-flinger after a particularlybad morning of fireballing and lightning bolting and whatnot.

Of course, it did me little good since I was in bedthe night before when everything went south. Except me, of course.

Let me explain. It was a little before three bells,and Tertius Wands, yours truly, was blissfully asleep in my quarters at theOtyugh, third floor stateroom with an odorous view of the stables. The Otyughis one of the new establishments that have popped up after the last Volo'sGuide. As a result of Volo's work in popularizing certain locations to travelers,those locations have ceased to be popular to natives, necessitating new inns,dives, and hangouts for adventurers to hang out in. Ampi had at one timesuggested that it would be advantageous to follow Volo around, opening new innsin his wake, as the ones he talks about are soon filled to the bursting withwarriors and wizards carrying his dratted little tomes.

But I digress. I was setting the scene, dressing thestage, laying the groundwork. Three bells. Bedroom. Otyugh. Then the ceilingexploded.

Well, it did not exactly explode, but the thunderousboom from above was akin to a roof collapsing. I sat bolt upright, and noticedthat the bed itself, a stout four-poster of ironwood, was shimmying and jumpinglike a nervous carrion crawler. Every loose article in the room, from thechamber pot to the steel mirror, joined in this vibrating dance of doom.

I did what any rational man would do-I hid beneath thecovers and promised whatever gods would listen that I would never touch Dragon'sBreath Beer and death cheese again.

"Tertius Wands!" thundered a frighteninglyfamiliar voice from the direction of the ceiling.

I popped an eye over the edge of the blanket and sawGranduncle Maskar's fiery head. I did not doubt that his head was stillattached to his body back in Waterdeep, and he was sending an astral whatsit ora phantasmal thingamabob to address me. At the moment, I was too frightened tocare.

Bravely, I faced the mightiest mage of Waterdeep.

"It wasn't my fault!" I shouted, pulling thebed sheets back over my head and hoping I could be heard clearly. "Ididn't know she was a priestess of Sune! No one told me about that festhall!I'm innocent!"

"Never mind that!" boomed my granduncle."I have something important for you to do!"

I peeked over the edge of my covers and managed akitten-weak, "Me?"

"You," snarled my uncle, his displeasureregistering fully on his face. "I had a magical artifact, a remnant of powerfulNetheril, which has been stolen from me."

"I didn't do it!" I quickly put in."Have you checked with Cousin Marcus? He's always picking up things thatdon't belong to-"

"Silence!" bellowed the fiery, god-sizedhead floating over my bedpost. "I know who took it-a thief named theRaven, who is heading your way. I want you to get it back. The device lookslike three glass spheres, one set floating within the next. Bring it back tome, and you can return to the City of Splendors!"

"Well, that's just it, then," I ventured."I was thinking about taking up a life on the open road, and. ."

"Find the Tripartite Orb of Hangrist," saidthe phantasmal granduncle, "and find it now!"

And with that, Maskar's head exploded in a cascade offireworks, which succeeded in leaving scorch marks along the wall andshattering the water pitcher. Granduncle Maskar was never one for quiet exits.In fact, in all the years I've known and avoided him, he's never used the dooronce.

In my nightshirt, I rose unsteadily from my bed andpicked up the shattered pitcher. Any thought that I could write this off tosome cheese-induced delirium or nightmare was in as many shards as thepottery. Granduncle Maskar wanted something, and wanted me to get it.

And one does not disappoint one's granduncle, particularlywhen that granduncle could turn one into a toad.

So I whistled up my genie, Ampratines. Well, whistledis a bad word. I more rubbed him up, running my finger over the ring andcalling him into being.

Let me make this quite clear: I lack the least bit ofmagical ability, which makes me an exception in the Wands family, overladenedby all manner of conjurers, sorcerers, prestidigitators, and other assortedspellcasters. However, I get by with a genie, attached to a ring I found yearsago in a Waterdhavian sewer. But that's a tale for another time.

Ampratines wafted into view like a phantasmal castlesuddenly appearing in the desert. The djinn by their nature are a clever race,and Ampi is the cleverest of the lot, with more brain cells per cubic inch than any othercreature in Faerûn.

Ampi was dressed as normal, in long blue robes thatset off his crimson skin. His black topknot of hair was immaculately greasedand mannered, protruding through an azure skullcap like the tail of achampionship horse. His solemn mouth was framed by an equally well-manneredbeard and mustache.

"What ho, Ampi?" said I. "Youheard?"

"Druids in the High Forest heard, I have nodoubt," said Ampi calmly, his voice as deep as the crypts of Undermountainand as smooth as a halfling's promise. "It seems your granduncle has needof you."

"Need for a pawn," I muttered, lookingaround for my pants. Ampi waved a hand, and the missing trousers manifested atthe end of his large, well-manicured hand. Genies are wonderful that way, and Ithink everyone should have at least one. Regardless, I was in no mood to listmy djinni's good points after being terrorized by my own flesh and blood."Why does he need me?"

"I can endeavor to find out," said Ampismoothly. "It may take me a brief while."

With this he wafted out of view. Butlers, menservants,and members of the guard would pay good coin to learn how to waft aseffortlessly as this genie could.

I tried to get back to sleep, but once you've beenthreatened in bed by a magical projection of the family patriarch, the blissof slumber is denied. Instead, I paced, worried, and sat up by the windowsill,watching the horses in their paddock and marveling at the simplicity of theirlives.

And with the arrival of morning, and the failure ofAmpi to return, I chowed down a modest breakfast of snakes in gravy (at leastthat's what I assumed it was). Then I retired to the portico of the NauseousOtyugh with orders for the wait staff to send another Dragon's Breath out everyhalf hour, and keep doing so until I was no longer able to send the emptiesback. I sought to stave off the oncoming hangover from the previous night bylaunching directly into the next one.

The Nauseous Otyugh, by the way, is a bit ramshackle,a former general store put out of business by Aurora and her catalog. Thesecond floor was set back from the first, creating a wide porch, suitable forthe major Scornubel sports of drinking oneself into oblivion and watchingothers do the same on the street below. I had gotten quite good at bothactivities for the past two tendays, and was quite prepared to begin my careeras a Waterdhavian expatriate, sopping up the sun and the alcohol and tellingpeople about how horrid it was to live in a city like Waterdeep, where everysecond noble is a mage, and most of those are relatives.

And, of course, now I mentally kicked myself for notleaving Scornubel. Ampi had strongly recommended we keep moving a tenday ago,but I demurred. I would not be like some of my cousins, ordered around byservants, controlled by their butlers, mastered by their own magicalhomunculi. If I was to be banished from Waterdeep, I had told Ampi at the time,there was no better place to begin my exile than the balcony of old Nauseous,watching the caravans go by. But Scornubel was only a few hundred miles down the Trade Way from Waterdeep, and apparently not far enough from GranduncleMaskar's plots.

My mental wandering was interrupted when I was madeaware of a youth to my right, instead of the patient barmaid that had beenbringing my drinks. Surely it could not have been noon already, I thought, andthe changing of shifts. Someone would have come out with a lunch menu, at thevery least.

I strained to focus a bloodshot eye and discoveredthat the newcomer, bearing ale on a silver plate, was a halfling. His wideivory grin was visible in the shadows of a badly woven straw hat. I blinkedtwice, and when he failed to disappear, ventured a conversational gambit.

"Yes?" I asked, that being the soul of wit Icould manage at the moment.

"Beggin' yer pardon, sire," said the smalldemihuman, sweeping off the hat to reveal a tangle of red hair, "but Iunderstand that yer the gentlem'n that was lodgin' on the top flooryesterday eve? The one that had all the thunder and shoutin' andwhatever?"

I deeply wished I had some form of native magical abilityat the moment, for a comprehend languages spell, or a distill dialect, orwhatever would be useful. I chose to stay with a time-proven response: "Yes?"

The halfling shifted uneasily on his furry pads.

"Well, sire, I was outside and heard a lot of it,and the big god-voice said ye was huntin' the Raven."

I nodded slowly, hoping I would appear sage but inreality praying my melon would not pop loose from my shoulders and roll aroundon the porch.

"And you are …?"

"Caspar Millibuck, at yer servants," thehalfling continued. "Well, I'm huntin' the Raven meself, and I figgeredthat one like ye, with such powerful god-voices, could help one like me, bein'small and short and all, and we could both nab the thief together."

"Uh-huh," said I, banishing most of myfoggier thoughts back to the corners of my mind. "And why do you want theRaven?"

I had not just fallen off the spell-wagon, and knewthat halflings always had at least three reasons for doing anything, two ofwhich would violate local laws.

The halfling examined his fur-covered pedicure andsaid, "Well, it's just that the Raven stoled from me family as well, andI'm s'posed to get me coin back. I can't go home till I get it."

Even in its ale-induced state, my heart went out tothe small individual, trapped in a similar situation to my own.

"And what did the Raven steal from you?"

"Gold, sire," said the halfling quickly,"all the gold in me orph'nage."

"Orphanage?" I shook my head. "Ithought you said it was stolen from your family?"

"Indeed, sire," the halfling bobbed his headup and down rapidly. "Ever'body in my family's an orphan. We're veryunlucky."

"Indeed," I muttered, and wondered what thehalfling was really after.

Of course, Ampratines was nowhere about and here itwas nearly noon. If I could wrap things up without my erstwhile ally, thatwould show both the genie and my granduncle I knew a thing or two myself.

"Very well," I said. "Take me to theRaven. We'll sort things out, man to man."

"Ach, ye can't do that," slurred thehalfling. "The Raven's no man, but a doppelganger, and can change shape atwhim. I think I know where to find him, but ye have to be ready to move, andmove quick, when I call. Will ye be helpin' me? For the other orphans, atleast?"

With tears in his eyes, he looked up at me, and ofcourse, I said yes. Noble thing to do and all. And besides, this little fellowknew how to find the Raven, and that would make my job all the easier.

I took the ale from the halfling, but did not finishit. I sent the next ale back undrunk as well, and asked instead for a tabletand a stylus, and some of the house stationary. I was in the midst of composinga letter to Granduncle Maskar, telling him everything was under control, when Ampireappeared. One moment there was nothing to my left shoulder, and the next,there he was-as noble a djinni as ever 'jinned.

"I take it you have something," I snapped,the effects of the long-delayed hangovers coming to the fore. "You'vetaken most of the morning."

Ampi gave a small quarter-bow from the waist.

"A hundred apologies, Lord Tertius," hesaid. "It took some doing to ascertain the nature of the device and whatexactly happened to it. I finally spoke with a sylph that your granduncle usesto clean out the chimneys. She apparently witnessed most of the news on thisunpleasantness."

"Well then, spit it out," I said,impatiently tapping my stylus against the tablet.

"The Tripartite Orb is an artifact ofNetheril," said the genie, putting his hands behind his back like aschoolboy reciting his lessons. "Netheril was a kingdom of wizards thatfell thousands of years ago, before the founding of Cormyr or Waterdeep. Theleast of these wizards, it is said, was more powerful than the mightiest mages ofthe Realms."

"A kingdom of Granduncle Maskars?" I barelysuppressed a shudder. "The mind boggles."

"Indeed, it does, milord," said Ampratines."The Tripartite Orb was apparently a most potent weapon in that kingdom,for it had the ability to kill all magic within its immediate surroundings. Nofireball would explode in its proximity, no summoning would be effective, noward would protect, and no magical weapon would gain its weal. You can see whythis would be effective in a kingdom of wizards."

"Right ho," said I. "You get one nearit, and they're weak as puppies."

"Effectively so," said the djinni. "So,as a result, most of its history in Netheril consists of mages hiding it ininaccessible places while other mages hired warriors to wrest it from thosehiding spots. So it went through most of Netherese history, until the kingdom'sfall. It remained hidden until a dozen years ago, when a group of adventurersfound it in Anauroch. Your granduncle realized the danger of such amagic-destroying artifact immediately, and acquired it and locked it in hislowest dungeon."

"Far away from any prying eyes or othermagics," I put in.

"Quite. The device appears as a set of threecrystal globes, one floating within the next, which are made of iridescentcrystal, such that they resemble soap bubbles, I am told. As with allartifacts, it is indestructible by most normal means, so your granduncle put itunder lock and key in a safe location. And from that safe location, it wasstolen two tendays ago by a thief called the Raven, who is apparently headingdown the Trade Way to Scornubel."

"Which explains why Granduncle Maskar wants me torecover the thingamabob," I said.

"In part," said the genie. "Alsobecause you are one of the few members of the family without natural magicalability, perhaps he thought you would be less at risk if confronted with a lackof magic entirely."

"Or less of a loss if I ended up dead," Imuttered. "Well, at least I have your aid."

Ampratines blanched, which for the genie was a strangething.

"I fear I can be of less aid than you wouldprefer. This antimagic sphere will also remove any summoned creatures from thearea, including myself. Indeed, its very antimagical nature prevents magicaldetection. Perhaps it would be to our advantage to notify the local authoritieson this matter."

My brow furrowed at the news.

"Local authorities." I shook my headdismissively and said, "If they got their hands on something like this,they'd lock it up under tight guard and magical key, and Granduncle Maskarwould be steamed at me until the next Avatar Crisis. No, we can do this on ourown."

"But, milord, the antimagical nature precludes.. "

"No buts." I held up a hand. "While youwere questioning a smoky hearth-wisp, I was diligently pursuing my ownavenues. Even now, my agents are scouring the city, hunting for this Ravencharacter."

"Your-"Ampratines looked stunned, well, asstunned as a creature made of elemental air could look-"agents..?" He struggled to turn the question into a statement, with some success.

"Indeed," said I, rising unsteadily to myfeet. "I will have this small matter solved, with no further involvementon your behalf."

"Milord, I…"

"Tut, tut." I touched my hand to myforehead. Both hangovers, long delayed, were now rushing to the fore. "Ifyou say you cannot help, I will not press the issue. Have faith in the Wandsfamily intuition."

The genie looked unconvinced, but said, "As youwish, milord."

I smiled at the djinni. There was no mistaking who wasin charge of this relationship.

"But if you could, whip up one of your mysticalomelets, tonic to any drinking binge. I think better when the entire Realmsisn't pulsing in time with my heartbeat."

Ampratines started a warning, then merely said,"Of course, milord."

He wafted from view.

I stood on the porch of the Nauseous Otyugh, steadyingmyself on the railing, and tried to look deep in thought. Actually, I wascounting the seconds until Ampi's return with the cure to my now-thunderingheadache.

"That's the Raven?" I asked the halfling."She's a woman!"

"Hush!" hissed the small red-haired humanoidfrom beneath the folds of his brown, tattered robe. "She's no more a womanthan I'm a red dragon. She be a doppelganger! And she'll notice if ye shoutand goggle at her like a fish!"

The woman who was not a woman was seated at a tableacross the crowded common room. She was dressed in traveling leathers and ablue cape, and she was facing us, which made surreptitious observationdifficult. She had a large valise sitting on the table next to her. She cast anerrant glance in our direction, and I retreated into the folds of my own browncloak and hood, turning slightly away from her, trying not to goggle like afish.

Her companion at the table might have been a hillgiant, or perhaps an ogre, for he was as tall as Ampi, and nearly as massive.The companion was dressed in an all-encompassing cloak as well, one of crimson,which made him look like a large sunset at the opposite table.

We were at the Jaded Unicorn, a place that had theunfortunate fate of gaining notice in the aforementioned Volo's Guide. As aresult, the place was filled with newcomers, travelers, hardened mercenaries,and dewy-eyed would-be adventurers. As the Unicorn had a bad reputation(according to Volo), the traditional garb was heavy cloaks with the hoodspulled up. It looked like a convention of specters, wraiths, and grim reapers.

The exception was the Raven. She, I mean it, hadher hood down, showing off golden hair that pooled on her shoulders like spiltale. She looked as if she had elf blood in her. Her ears were slightly pointed,and her chin tapered to a soft, rounded end. I had to remind myselfthat all this was an illusion. She-it, I mean-was a shapechanger, and couldlook like King Azoun or my Granduncle Maskar if it so desired. A doppelgangerin its true form was a slender humanoid-sexless, hairless, and pale gray inshade. Altogether an unappetizing thought.

The Raven was in animated conversation with the giantsunset at her table. Her brow became furrowed at one point, and she tapped heroversized case with a slim hand. We were too far away to hear what was beingsaid, but it was obvious they were haggling about something.

And it did not require a master mage to figure outwhat they were arguing about. The case was about the size and shape that couldcarry a wizard's crystal ball. Or a Tripartite Orb of the ancients.

Whatever Sunset said seemed to calm her down, for herfeatures cleared. She listened, then nodded, then grabbed the satchel andstrode toward the door. Sunset remained at his seat. All eyes were on her, butwhen she arrived at the doorway, the doppelganger turned and, for the briefestmoment, locked eyes with me. I don't know if it was true or not, but I felt asif the world suddenly shifted on its axis and spun in a new fashion.

Then she, it, was gone. I turned back and noticed thatthe giant Sunset had disappeared as well, probably back to some hidden roomwith a cabal of Red Wizards of Thay.

"C'mon!" snapped the halfling. "Welllose 'er if we don' get movin'."

Relieved mildly that my ally was also using the femalepronoun for our target, I followed the smaller cloaked figure out of theUnicorn. Our departure did not create any response or commotion, but then, wekept our hoods up.

Night had fallen like a drunken dwarf, and the streetswere nearly empty. Those with something to lose were already squirreled away intheir beds (unless bothered by their magical granduncles). Selûne was full,however, and reflected like a beacon off our quarry's blond tresses.

We followed her to a small rooming house near theriver. A buck-toothed ogre denied us entry, but a few gold coins did buy theinformation that the young lady (who gave her name as Demarest) had justarrived, always carried the valise, and was staying on the second floor nearthe back of the inn.

So it was that, almost a full day after GranduncleMaskar first manifested himself, I wore a voluminous robe and edged along awindow ledge, a similarly dressed halfling in tow. The breeze off thesurrounding plains was brisk, and at several points, I was afraid the cloakswould catch the wind fully and send us spiraling, head over boot heels, overthe low buildings of Scornubel like errant paper kites.

For the first time that evening, I regretted givingAmpi the night off. He was most perturbed about my pursuing magic-killingartifacts, so I gave him leave. Even now, he was probably curled up in somemerchant's library, digesting some history of the Heartlands, or the CollectedRomances of the Obarskyr Line, while his master was about to takeinvoluntary flight.

Progress was, therefore, slow. Were we near the frontend of the building, we would have undoubtedly been spotted by the watch, intheir plate mail and copper helmets. As it was, we did our best to imitategargoyles when someone passed below us in the alley, and spent the rest of thetime inching toward the desired goal: a lit window. As we approached, theoccupant within doused the light. We halted for another long moment toascertain that the faux Demarest had not dimmed her lamp in order to seeclearly outside. Then we resumed our onerous march.

The window was latched, a wise precaution even on thesecond floor in Scornubel. The halfling Caspar produced a long, thin piece ofwire that, wedged into the slot between the window halves, sprang the latcheasily.

"In ye go, lad," hissed the halfling,smiling with his ivory-white choppers.

"Me?" I whispered back. "I thought youhalfling folk would be better at the 'sneaking into someone else's room' sortof thing, being closer to the ground and all."

The halfling gave a disgruntled snort. "Well, Icould, but then ye'd be out here on the ledge, twice as big as life, waitin' for thecopper-top watch to pick ye off. Of course, if that's yer choice…" He lethis voice trail off.

I could see his point. I also realized that if Iwanted the Tripartite Orb, I had better get my hands on it before he did.

I slid into the room as silently as I was able, thecloak's ability to muffle my steps offset by its own bulky weight. Themoonlight was full in the room, and reduced everything to blue highlights andebon shadows. Demarest, the doppelganger thief known better as the Raven, wasasleep on a wide bed, only her hair, now shining like silver in the moonlight,visible above the wide comforter.

The valise was on a low table across from the bed. Itwould likely hold the orb, the halfling's gold, or both. It would pay, Ithought, to open the satchel and check. If the halfling's gold was not inthere, I was sure that I could convince Uncle Maskar to make good theirfinancial loss.

The satchel's large metal clasp opened with a ratchetingclick, the bag falling open on the table. There was another click, which atfirst I thought was an echo.

Then a very steely feminine voice behind me said,"Step away from the bag, or I will drop you where you stand."

I am by nature very good at taking orders, as befits anon-mage in a family of wizards. I put the satchel down on the table and tooktwo steps backward, holding my hands up in clear view. I left the bag open,more from not being told to do otherwise than from any innate curiosity.Within, there was a glint of crystal, not gold.

"Now turn toward me," said the dulcet voice.

I turned slowly, and as I did, I could see Caspar'ssilhouette at the window. I tried not to flinch, but only hoped that he hadplanned for this possibility. The woman seated on the bed did not seem tonotice him.

The doppelganger was carrying a crossbow, one of thosedrow-made hand-held jobs that looked every bit as dangerous as it was. She heldit level on me and kicked the comforter off her. She was fully dressed beneaththe covers, which I realized with both relief and regret.

She regarded me coolly.

"A more foolish disguise than normal,Raven," she said. "Did you mug some fop of a noble for thatface?"

"P-Pardon?" I managed, my mind in a bit of awhirl. "I'm sorry, I'm not the Raven. I thought you were…."

I made the mistake of lowering my arms slightly. Ravenpointed the crossbow toward my chest, and I raised them immediately.

"Don't even flinch, doppelganger, or I'll drill anew hole through you."

"I'm sorry," I said, wondering if Ampi couldhear my silent plea in whatever library he had ensconced himself, "but I'mnot the doppelganger here. You are, and if you're confused about it, maybe weshould talk about it instead of drilling anyone or anything."

Demarest the not-Raven, not-doppelganger laughed. Itwas a crystalline laugh, but cold and cruel. She raised the hand crossbow topoint at my face, and I closed my eyes. I really did not want my last sight tobe a crossbow bolt barreling in on me.

There was a twang, but surprisingly no impactor even the slight breeze of a near-miss. Instead, there was a low, femininecursing. Taking a breath to assure myself I was among the living, I opened myeyes again.

Demarest was back on the bed, clutching with her lefthand at the small bolt that had pierced her right front shoulder. Her rightarm, though still attached, lay on the bed inert. Of the crossbow I could seenothing. Blood streamed down from the wound along her arm, darkening her blue robesand pooling in a magenta stain on the linens.

I turned to see Caspar amble down out of the window.He was already loading another shot into his own drow crossbow.

I was mildly peeved, and said so. "How long wereyou going to wait until you made yourself known?" I started, but thehalfling raised the crossbow to my face, in much the same way Demarest had doneearlier. This was apparently a theme for the evening.

"Step by the woman, fool," snapped thehalfling in a very unhalfling-like voice. The voice was sharp, like dried twigsbreaking, and apparently used to being listened to.

I took two steps toward the woman, still seated on thebed, her breathing ragged and gasping. Her eyes were turning glassy.

"Poison," said the halfling, keeping thecrossbow leveled on me as he moved sideways toward the table. "Not thefastest, but fast enough. Soon you will feel it too."

As he moved, the halfling began to melt like a waxcandle and elongate. I know that wax candles don't elongate, but that's whatCaspar was doing. The fatty folds of halfling flesh peeled away. The dark cloakturned pale, the head narrowed, and the eyes turned white and pupilless. By thetime the halfling reached the table, he was no more a halfling. He was thenative form of a doppelganger.

"Raven, I presume," I said, fighting to keepthe quivering out of my voice.

"Right for the first and last time," saidthe creature, keeping the crossbow on me while digging into the bag with hisfree hand.

He pulled forth a large crystalline globe. Within itfloated a second globe of crystal, and within that a third globe. The threeglobes twinkled in the moonlight of the room.

"You've been very helpful, Tertius Wands,"said the doppelganger, smiling with even rows of ivory-colored teeth. "Youdrew away my former partner's attention so I could get the drop on her. And nowyou'll serve me again. When they find both your bodies here, the guard willassume that the lady was surprised by a robber and both killed each other,leaving no witnesses to the Tripartite Orb's new owner."

I started to say something about how I could offer avery good price for the orb, but I was drowned out by a low growling. The womanon the bed was fast, faster than I would be in a similar situation-dead ofnight, bedroom, poisonous bolt in one shoulder. As the Raven and I talked, shehad pulled herself into a crouch and now sprang at the doppelganger.

The shapechanger hadn't thought his former partnercould shrug off the poison, and had the crossbow leveled at me. He jerked hishand toward the new target as he fired, and his shot was wide. The poisonousbolt buried itself in the woodwork as the woman slammed into him. The globeflew from his hand like a live thing, dancing and spinning in the moonlight.

I dived for it as if it was the last roll at theHigharvestide feast. My mind told me that after all the aeons, a simple dropwould not harm the device, but my heart held the image of Uncle Maskar. Myheart drove me to spread forward on the floor, snaring the orb before ittouched the carpet.

I caught it with inches to spare, and both I andartifact rolled sideways, away from the sounds of battle. As I rose to my feet,I heard shouts in the distance and felt doors slamming open elsewhere in theinn. Apparently the fight was attracting other attention.

The two thieves, human and doppelganger, brawled inthe midst of the room. The doppelganger had already taken Demarest's form inthe struggle, so that it looked as if two blond twins were rolling about on thecarpet, clawing at each other. I looked at them, at the triple orb in myhands, and back at them, and wondered if I could negotiate my way around themand out the door. I really did not want to go back out the window and along theledge.

That was when the door burst open to reveal at leastthree, and perhaps a dozen, copper-headed watchmen. Each bore a heavytwo-handed crossbow, the type that could punch its way through the wall of astable. Some carried torches and lanterns, and behind them was the giant Sunsetin his crimson robes.

The two battling Demarests detangled and slowly rose,regarding the newcomers. I took another step backward. The window startedlooking like a better option all the time.

Sunset reached up and pulled his cowl back, revealinga very familiar, calm face.

Ampratines. Of course. I felt my heart start beatingagain.

The guards were not as sure as I was, and kept movingtheir aim from one twin to the next, unsure which was the true danger. Boththieves stood up uneasily, trying to put a few feet of distance between them.

I piped up. "The wounded one is real. Theunwounded one is the doppelganger."

The unwounded twin, Caspar/Raven/Doppelganger, wheeledin place and hissed at me, its fangs growing elongated and huge wingssprouting from its back as it did so. It leaped at me, intent on grabbing me ashostage and the globe as a prize.

Two things happened simultaneously. I threw the globeupward, toward the door and Ampi. And there were three or a dozen sharp twangsand the doppelganger collapsed on the floor.

The artifact floated like a soap-bubble across theroom, and into the hands of Ampi.

Ampi looked at me, gave a short quarter bow, thendropped the globe.

It hit the ground with a resounding smash, and bits ofcolored glass spattered in all directions.

It was followed by me, I am afraid, hitting the groundin a dead faint.

Back on the balcony of the Nauseous Otyugh, I hadrecovered sufficiently to watch the sun rise over the ramshackle buildings ofScornubel.

"You could have warned me," I said, poutingover an ale.

The djinni produced one more cold compress and placedit over my fevered brow.

"You did not wish any warning," said Ampi."I pursued matters as I thought I was best able. I have informed the localgendarmes that you realized the doppelganger was a halfling at the start, andplayed along to discover the location of the missing artifact. Therefore youare held blameless in this matter. The doppelganger is dead, and the thiefDemarest, his former partner, has been cleansed of the poison and is ready toaccept the town's justice."

"How did you know?"

"I did not know, exactly, though I thought thefact that you received fortuitous aid quite interesting. A word with the waitstaff at the Otyugh ascertained that your help was the halfling, and it was notdifficult to find a redheaded halfling wearing a straw hat in Scornubel. Inoticed he was watching a particular inn, and let it be known at the inn that Iwas a wizard searching for a particular artifact. Demarest, hoping to unloadthe item before her partner caught up with her, contacted me for the meeting atthe bar, where you saw us. That was when she tried to sell me the fakeartifact."

My mind, battered and worn and threatened, skipped abeat, and I said, "Fake artifact?"

"Of course," said the genie. "As Iexplained to the watch, and took the liberty of putting these thoughts in yourname, if the device was truly the described artifact, then I would be unable toget close to it, being a summoned creature myself. The fact that I could sitat the same table with it was sufficient proof that it was a phony, strung upwith thin crystals and gases of various densities, such that one sphere wouldfloat within the next. At that meeting I purposefully failed to bring the coinshe wanted for it. From there it was easy to alert the watch of a possiblebreak-in at Demarest's room. We arrived in time to hear the battle."

I shook my head.

"Fake artifact? Then the doppelganger had thereal Tripartite Orb hidden elsewhere?"

"The Raven was probably unaware of the fake aswell, since he went to such efforts to recruit you as his pawn. And Demarest,if she had the true globes, would have let the Raven take the fake, convincinghim it was the real one. Neither had time to build a replica."

"Then who built the replica?" I said."Not Uncle Maskar."

"Your granduncle's concern was legitimate aswell, I suspect," said the djinni.

"Then if not the thieves, and not Maskar.." I took a long sip on my ale bottle. "Uncle Maskar never had thereal Tripartite Orb, did he?"

"I don't think so," said the genie."After all, how do you test an item for magic that supposedly refuses allmagic?"

I let a smile crawl onto my face, the first in thepast twelve hours.

"So old Granduncle Maskar was hornswoggled in thefirst place." I chuckled at the thought. "I would love to see thelook on his face when he gets my letter explaining that!"

Ampratines made a solemn, low cough. That kind ofcough he always makes when he disagrees completely, but cannot bring himself tosay something outright. I cast my companion the eye, and he looked up, into themiddle distance.

"If your granduncle never had the device,"he said solemnly, "that means he would have to now get the device. And whobetter to get the device than someone who has already gotten the fakeone?"

I let that sink into my ale-stained brain. "Sothe best thing is to not be here at all when he gets the word, eh?"

"Quite."

"Ah, well," I said with a sigh, draining thelast of the ale and setting the dead soldier next to the others, "so muchfor an expatriate life in Scornubel. I think we need to move farther south,farther away from Waterdeep."

"I thought you'd think so," said Ampratines,with a smooth flourish producing our bags, "so I already took the libertyof purchasing the coach tickets. We leave in an hour."