The crowd cheered again, and no one noticed that the Tharchioness and her aides had quietly left the stand and were probably already on their way back to Mulmaster. Over the past few nights the First Princess had had more than enough time to pack, as the High Blade had chosen his private quarters to spend his nights in solitude.
Though Selfaril had commanded the respect of the mob on numerous occasions, no one could recall a time when he had earned as much acclamation as the High Blade did on this day. Worries of the encroachment of Thayan interests on Mulmaster’s sovereignty were put to rest at last.
The High Blade went on to conclude that the following day would also be a holiday in honor of his father, the former High Blade, for whom respect and praise was long overdue. The next day would begin their journey onward to the glory of all Mulmaster.
The High Blade took a seat, exhausted at the emotional speech he had just given. Fullstaff and McKern gave his shoulders a subtle squeeze of encouragement and affirmation. Rassendyll knew that he had a tough job ahead of him, but that was the least a High Blade owed his city.
“I never thought of Mulmaster as much of a party town,” Passepout said. “I guess first impressions can be misleading, especially when your first night is spent in jail.”
The master traveler chuckled and replied, “I have to remember to put that in my next book under ‘extremely useful axioms for travelers.’ ”
Passepout laughed, adding, “And of course I will be given proper attribution.”
“Of course,” Volo replied. “Maybe I can talk my publisher into another book. The Words, Wisdom, and Observations of Passepout, son of Idle and Catinflas.”
“The Famous Thespians,” the rotund actor corrected. “It has to be Idle and Catinflas, the Famous Thespians.”
“Of course, old friend,” Volo said, slapping Passepout on the back just as he was about to quaff yet another tankard of ale. “How else will anyone know which Passepout we are talking about?”
“Or which Idle and Catinflas,” the rotund actor added. Changing the subject just slightly, the thespian asked, “Do you really think Tyme Waterdeep, Limited would publish it?”
“I don’t see why not,” the master traveler said, holding back a fiendish grin so as not to betray his levity. “They seem to have done well with The Underdark Diet, and given the scope of the contents of the book we are now discussing, it’s not as if it will require a huge investment in paper or printing time, it being such a short book and all.”
“Agreed,” said Passepout in all seriousness, “and if it doesn’t cost them that much to do, they will be able to pay me more.”
“Of course,” Volo replied, adding a single sticking point, “once you’ve turned the book in.”
“You mean I have to write it first?”
“Of course.”
Passepout became visibly disheartened, refilled his tankard, and turned his attention back to the merriment at hand.
Speaking of books, Volo thought, I’d better make sure that my notes are properly in order. Instead of my guide to the Moonsea, a book-length expose on the goings-on in Mulmaster will no doubt top the charts and line my pockets with gelt in no time.
The master traveler’s dreams of wealth were interrupted by the arrival of Chesslyn with whom he had shared almost as many festivities as he had the risks, dangers, and adventures of the days previous.
“Volo,” she said sweetly, “may I have a word with you?”
“But of course,” the master traveler said guardedly. He had no desire to break the poor girl’s heart, but figured that the time had come to let her know that he wouldn’t be sticking around, and that, though he would always cherish the memories, he didn’t believe in making any commitments that would result in the diminishing of the options that might make themselves available to him.
The master traveler put his arm around the secret Harper, and the two wandered away from the crowd. Volo looked back, saw that Passepout was making conversation with yet another serving wench, and decided that his traveling companion would be safe for at least the next few minutes.
Arriving at a tree whose branches managed to droop in such a way as to provide an enclosed and secluded seating area for those agile enough to maneuver themselves within, the two settled in away from the mob for their tête-à-tête.
“Will this do?” the master traveler asked, brushing a lock of the swordswoman’s hair away from her face with the back of his hand.
“Looks good to me,” Chesslyn replied. “Secluded, private, just the thing. The locals call it the Necking Tree.”
The master traveler sighed. He really didn’t want to hurt the feelings of his latest conquest, but all unfinished business had to be resolved before he moved on. In his best helluva guy tone, he began to let her down easily.
“You know, Chesslyn,” he started, “we have shared some times that many would be jealous of, and I would like to think that we have grown close enough that we can tell each other anything, and that is why I must …”
“My thoughts exactly,” Chesslyn interrupted, “and that is the only reason why I feel that I should be the one to let you know what has been decided.”
“Now I know that …” The master traveler was startled. “Decided? Who decided what?” he asked, shaking his head to try to make sense of the situation.
“My superiors, back in Shadowdale,” she replied.
“That’s the who,” Volo said tentatively. “What’s the what?”
Oh no, she didn’t, the master traveler thought to himself in a panic he managed to keep secret from Chesslyn. I’ve always heard the rumor that Harpers had to ask their superiors for permission to marry, but.…
“Now, Chesslyn,” Volo said cautiously, “I hope you didn’t rush into anything. I always prefer to proceed with caution in all matters, looking before I leap, etc.”
“That’s what I figured,” Chesslyn said confidently, “that’s why I knew you wouldn’t mind if I sent a message to Storm back in Shadowdale about your involvement in the goings-on and all in case there were any concerns that you should be made aware of before even considering doing a book on Mulmaster.”
“What?”
“The what is your book,” she replied seriously. “My superiors, and indeed Elminster himself, feel that you should forget that any of the events at hand ever happened.”
Volo shook his head in confusion.
“I don’t understand,” the master traveler replied. “I thought …”
“… that it would probably be the basis of a great book,” Chesslyn interrupted again, “and it probably will, but for the sake of the balance of power in the Moonsea region, and perhaps all of Faerûn for that matter, it is a story best left untold. To everyone but those who were involved, and my superiors of course, nothing has happened.”
The master traveler’s head was still buzzing in confusion.
“But I thought,” he sputtered, “you wanted to talk about us, and …”
“… that I would intercede for you,” Chesslyn interjected, “and I did, but balance is more important than personal gain. Surely you agree, don’t you?”
“Well, yes, but …”
Chesslyn stopped for a moment as if a new thought had just occurred to her. Her expression softened. “That is what you were referring to,” she said softly, “about us?”
Volo leapt at the opportunity to save face.
“Of course,” he said in mock confidence, quickly averting his face so that she couldn’t look in his eyes. “Still, you have to admit that such a book would have great potential.”
“Enough potential to get you in even more trouble than you were over Volo’s Guide to All Things Magical,” she pointed out, “and I was instructed to point that out to you.”
“Point made,” Volo acknowledged, his voice showing the dejection he felt.
Chesslyn put her arm around the depressed author, and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Don’t be so glum,” she said. “You can still do the book that
you originally intended to, and you have to admit you enjoyed some good times while doing the research.”
Volo quickly regained his composure, and with a bit of false bravado, responded, “Agreed. Maybe not the best of times, but certainly not the worst of times.”
“Well, I had a good time,” the Harper admitted.
“And I did too,” the gazetteer assented, “and now it’s time to move on.”
“Agreed.”
The two shared a quick kiss in the privacy offered by the Necking Tree, and then returned to the hustle and bustle of the mob to rejoin Passepout.
As they walked back, Volo shared a few softly voiced thoughts with the Harper agent. “You know,” he pointed out, “there is no guarantee that Rassendyll will make a more peaceful High Blade. With all that talk of returning Mulmaster to its former glory, who knows what can happen?”
“Agreed,” Chesslyn answered.
“And Fullstaff and McKern are both nice guys and all, don’t get me wrong, but they aren’t exactly the type of guys who aren’t willing to have the end justify the means.”
“Why do you think I didn’t let them know of my Harper affiliation?” she pointed out. “Even though Honor was my nearest and dearest teacher and mentor, I only share that little secret tidbit with those nearest and closest to my heart.”
Volo brightened for a moment, and immediately hid his reaction, as there were some things the master traveler felt embarrassment about acknowledging.
As they approached the spot from whence they had come, Volo saw Passepout get slapped by a serving wench and saw a burly bouncer about to add his own two cents’ worth of contusions to the beleaguered thespian.
“Duty calls,” Volo replied, as he set off to help his friend.
“For both of us,” Chesslyn answered, squeezing the master traveler’s hand. “Farewell.”
“ ’Til we meet again, and may it be soon.”
“Agreed.”
With nary another kiss the two parted, and set off to right the matters at hand, Chesslyn back to the temple where she worked, and the master traveler to aid the about to be assaulted Passepout, his boon companion, and once again, friend in need. formation for a takeover of the Heartlands.
Should the surface world not prove exciting enough for you, make your way beneath Mount Waterdeep to traverse the miles upon miles of tunnels and caverns known as Undermountain—but beware its deadly traps and skulking monsters. If you survive these hazards, press on to the subterranean city of Menzoberranzan, home of the deadly drow and birthplace of the renegade Drizzt Do’Urden.
When you return to the light of the surface world, you may want to explore the crumbling ruins of Myth Drannor, a storehouse of lost magic and deadly monsters in the heart of the vast Elven Court forest.
From the dangerous sewers and back alleys of sprawling cities, to glaciers, deserts, jungles, and uncharted seas (above and below the surface!), there’s a whole world to explore in the lands of the FORGOTTEN REALMS.
About the Author
Brian M. Thomsen is TSR’s Director of Books and Periodicals. As an editor, he has been nominated for both the prestigious Hugo and Tucker awards, served as judge for the World Fantasy Awards, and edited and acquired numerous award-nominated novels, including Cyteen by C. J. Cherryh (Hugo winner for Best Novel). He is also the author of over twenty short stories for various anthologies. His first novel, Once Around the Realms, was published in 1995.
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