Once Around the Realms (single books)

by Brian Thomsen

  "Good-bye, you old sourpuss!" Passepout called, confident that the dwarf couldn't hear him.

  Volo looked to the porthole just above the water-line a black drape seemed to have been drawn across it as if to block out the noonday sun. For a second the master traveler thought that he had seen a dark face, but a blink of his eyes to refocus only revealed the black curtain back in place.

  "Good-bye, Mister Do'Urden," Volo whispered. "I hope you find a new home to return to."

  Shurleen was the first to bring up the obvious question.

  "Okay, we're in Waterdeep," she said. "So now what?"

  "Yeah," Passepout concurred. "This fruit is just a snack, and not really likely to tide me over for more than a few minutes. Anyone know any good places to eat?"

  Volo adopted a look of mock offense. "Does anyone know any good places to eat, he asks," the master proclaimed. "Am I not Volothamp Geddarm, author of the best-selling travel guide of all times, Volo's Guide to Waterdeep, and is this not that selfsame Waterdeep, the City of Splendors, the metropolis of the north? Of course I know a few good places to eat!"

  "So show us, then," Curtis responded with a hearty laugh.

  "Fine," Volo agreed. "Follow me!"

  The master traveler charged toward the city gates, and his three companions followed, confident that they were in pursuit of only the best accommodations that the City of Splendors had to offer.

  Passepout huffed and puffed to keep up with the master traveler. His condition was obviously lighter and healthier than it was when they left Suzail, due to a combination of the ongoing daily exercise of traveling and the travelers' irregular supply of rations (which the still-plump thespian often referred to as slow starvation). But he was still in no condition to run the marathon around Mount Waterdeep, and he urged Volo to slow down.

  "Have… a… heart… Mister… Volo…" he huffed, and puffed.

  "Sorry," Volo replied, shortening his stride and slowing his pace just a bit. "I guess I just got a little carried away, a little overexuberant."

  "Thanks," the chubby thespian replied. "Don't you think we should be careful around here?"

  "Why?" the master traveler queried. "This is the City of Splendors. What do I have to fear here?"

  "Well," the thespian replied. "Doesn't Khelben come from here?"

  "Quite," Volo agreed.

  "And isn't he the reason you and I have had to go on this gods-forsaken trip to begin with?"

  "But our journey is almost at an end," the master traveler replied, "isn't it?"

  "Well, we still have to get to Suzail."

  "Child's play," Volo answered, dismissing the thespian's concerns. "I'm sure that old Khelben was just suffering from some fit of pique. He's probably not even home, off on another meeting of the War Wizards or something. Heck, he's probably even forgotten the trial he's been putting us through. I'm sure that we have nothing to worry about."

  "Sure?" inquired the skeptical thespian.

  "Positive," the master traveler insisted. "Besides, this is Waterdeep. I have no enemies here."

  "Not even the recipients of a few bad reviews?" the thespian countered, still concerned that the master traveler was taking too much for granted.

  "Pish tosh," Volo replied. "Everyone loves Volo. We're almost home free. Nothing can go wrong now!"

  The master traveler and the other members of his party failed to notice the chain of whispered messages that took place on the streets as they passed.

  Soon, someone very well-informed and well-connected would know that the master traveler had returned to Waterdeep, and would be ready and waiting for him.

  Volo managed to get accommodations for himself and his friends at the Shipmaster's Hall, a private inn and supper club not too far from the docks. It was usually reserved for captains, first mates, and ship owners and their escorts, though in Volo's case they of course made an exception.

  "We would be honored to serve you and your friends, Mister Volo," the maitre d' fawned, "provided you don't mind private accommodations."

  "Not at all," the master traveler replied.

  "Wonderful!" the maitre d' answered, obviously relieved, then adding, "and perhaps if you should revise that little guide hook of yours, you might he able to give us a little better play. Believe it or not, there are some gentlemen sailing the Sword Coast, who haven't heard of us."

  "Gentlemen on the Sword Coast?" Volo replied. "Why, I can't imagine such a thing."

  Both men laughed. A deal had obviously been struck.

  Volo returned to his group and led them to the private area upstairs where enough food even for Passepout had been quickly laid out for them.

  "Enjoy, my friends," Volo invited. "The meal and the beds are on the house." The group began to dig in, only to hear the master traveler add one more thing. "Enjoy!" he repeated, but this time adding, "Tomorrow we are Suzail bound!"

  Shurleen put down her food and pouted.

  "But we just got here," she whined. "I heard that tomorrow night there was going to be a battle of the bards over at the bard college, and it has been rumored that both Danilo Thann and Olive Ruskettle are going to show up."

  Passepout bit his tongue. He of course would normally have jumped at the opportunity to reacquaint himself with the famed halfling bard, but thought better of it, realizing the need to bring their traveling obligations to an end.

  The battle of the bards always attracted a great crowd. Musicians, singers, and the like traveled from all over Faerun to attend. Only the best of the best (and those too well connected to safely turn away) were allowed to compete for the annual title of Best Bard. Volo had attended last year's competition and could well understand Shurleen's desire to attend.

  "Tell you what I'm gonna do," Volo propositioned. "After lunch, Curtis and Passepout can restock our supplies for the journey farther east, and I will take you to this little tavern I know where all of the best bards hang out-in broad daylight, no less."

  "Well…" she answered, wavering.

  "C'mon," Passepout urged. "You want to get home, don't you?"

  "Well, yeah," she replied.

  "I know I do," Curtis agreed.

  Yeah, to her home, Passepout thought. Well, just remember if you get the girl, then I get the reward.

  "Okay?" the master traveler asked.

  "Okay," she replied, adding, "Wow! Famous bards just hanging out."

  "That's right," the master traveler said, adding, "I promise."

  The party of hungry travelers ate for a good two hours straight.

  By the time they were finished, even Passepout relished the opportunity to walk off some of the meal, though Volo suspected that both he and Curtis would have preferred the company that he, Volo, was keeping rather than each other.

  Volo took out a street map of the city, and showed Passepout a route whereby they would never be too far separated from each other, nor would they jeopardize closing themselves off from their necessary exit route out of town.

  Both concurred that they would be glad when such measures were no longer necessary.

  With an agreement to be back by nightfall, the groups split up to go about their appointed assignments.

  "Eo, they were wonderful!" Shurleen exclaimed. "And imagine Danilo Thann kissing my hand!"

  "I'm glad you enjoyed it," Volo replied, switching his pack bag from one shoulder to the other, and happy to see that even a spoiled, pampered child such as Shurleen could enjoy some of the simpler things in life. He noticed that when she wasn't being strident, demanding or pompous, she was actually quite cute.

  "And he was just a regular guy, with regular concerns. He even mentioned that he was a little concerned about a decrease in his popularity during his last tour of Tantras. The crowds were more interested in some dwarf flying through the air on a winged lizard than sitting around a tavern and listening to good music."

  Grumby, Volo remembered. Oh, well, no reason to hold a grudge. I'm glad he got what he wanted.

  Shurleen w
ent to go back the way they came, but Volo redirected her down a different alley.

  "No, this way," he instructed, thinking to himself, Lucky for us there are four entrances to the Shipmaster's Hall. I'd hate to bollix things up this late in the game.

  They ducked in and out of alleys a few more times until the master traveler said, "Now just down the next alley, and voila, we're there."

  He didn't even see the rogue with the sap who came up behind them, nor feel its blow when it struck. The last thing he remembered was Shurleen starting to scream, and everything going black.

  Chapter 23

  In the cellar of the Hanging Lantern tavern or Gee, Don't I Know You From Somewhere?

  Volo woke up with a splitting headache that he recognized as the type of borderline concussion you sometimes get from being bludgeoned upon entering someplace where you really aren't welcome.

  He could feel that he was tied up but not blindfolded or gagged. He decided to act unconscious for a while until he got bin bearings.

  "Hey, boss!" a gruff voice called. "I think he's coming around!"

  "Hasten the process," another voice answered. "Now!"

  Ooooooofffffff!

  Volo felt a kick to his ribs from an exceptionally pointy shoe and opened his eyes with a grimace.

  "Boss, he's awake."

  The speaker of the gruff and tough tones was a lovely young lady attired in an elegant festhall lounging frock. She was carefully made up to accentuate her beauty, a creature of loveliness, a beauty to behold…

  "Boss!"

  … with the voice of a longshoreman.

  "I'm coming," a remotely familiar voice responded, approaching Volo from behind.

  "Nice outfit," the vision of loveliness commented to the one she called boss. "Kind of kinky, though, if you know what I mean."

  "Leave," the voice ordered. "I can deal with him myself."

  The lovely young lady of easy virtue stood up and headed for a set of stairs that apparently led up from the cellarlike chamber the master traveler was being held in.

  "Party pooper," she barbed at her boss, and with a flirtatious toss of her finely coiffed locks, headed upstairs. As Volo followed her journey, he noticed that Shurleen was bound and gagged over in the other corner of the cellar.

  The owner of the voice known as Boss stepped over Volo, who was still resting on the floor like a discarded piece of cordwood, and slowly came into view.

  "At last we meet again," the voice boomed. "I trust you enjoyed your travels."

  Volo's head jerked up in surprise to try to get a better look. He blinked twice and tried to focus. Boss was tall, about six foot or more, well muscled, and the light from the torch that he held seemed to reflect off the distinctive streak of gray that bisected his jet black goatee.

  "Khelben!" Volo shouted in recognition.

  The mage grimaced as if his ears were hurt from the loud noise.

  "Don't shout," he ordered, "you might disturb the guests that are being entertained upstairs."

  Volo blinked and shook his head, trying to clear away the fuzziness that still permeated his cranium.

  "And you brought the map with you, how thoughtful," the mage commented, removing it from the pack that had been serving as a pillow for the master traveler's head. "I also like the cookie you traded your fat friend in for, though I am sure he is still in the area, given that the magical bond from the jewels is still in effect. I'm sure we'll find him shortly after all, we just have to follow the trail of red gems. It is only a matter of time. Your traveling days, on the other hand, have just about come to an end."

  With a bit of a struggle, the master traveler managed to attain an upright sitting position.

  Out of breath from the exertion, pain still cracking through his head, Volo only managed to get out one word. "Why?"

  Khelben laughed. "I know," the mage replied jovially, walking back and forth. "I'll keep giving you clues until you tell me to stop. Then you get to guess." Khelben crouched down to eye level with the master traveler. "First," the mage said, "the building upstairs is a festhall."

  "Go on," Volo instructed.

  "Second, because of you it had to be shut down."

  A festhall I gave a bad review to, Volo thought. Maybe I should have taken Passepout's concerns more seriously,… but what does this have to do with Khelben?

  "You're thinking," the mage commented. "I like that. Here's two clues that should give it away. The festhall upstairs used to be called the Hanging Lantern…"

  Doppelgangers! Volo thought.

  "… and I usually look like this," the mage replied, throwing off his black cloak with a flourish.

  The familiar, muscular form of the famous mage began to melt and shift, taking on a grayish aura that soon became the predominant color. Gone was the thick black hair, trademark beard, and manly figure, now all replaced by an almost featureless humanoid with a thick, hairless hide of gray.

  "… and my real name is Hlaavin," the figure who formerly answered to the moniker of Khelben Arunsun concluded.

  Hlaavin! the master traveler thought. I know that name from somewhere.

  "You can talk out loud, you know," the doppelganger said. "I can read your thoughts easily enough, but I would much rather hear them from your own lips."

  The doppelganger known as Hlaavin once again began to pace back and forth, as he provided Volo with the background he desired.

  "Now, you were thinking that you've heard my name before," Hlaavin said. "Probably so. You might have heard that I was the head of a certain consortium of shapechangers, rogues, and assassins known as the Unseen. The Lords of Waterdeep would quake in my wake if they knew the actual extent of my influence. The Hanging Lantern was all a part of it, a really nice setup, actually. High society patrons of influence and wealth would come to our classy festhall to meet the girl of their, dreams. If they couldn't be co-opted to our cause, or corrupted in some other way, we just had them replaced by a doppelganger who was waiting in the wings. Easy as pie. That was, until you and your stupid little book came along!"

  Hlaavin kicked out his knobby, taloned foot, assaulting the upright seated Volo in the stomach.

  The doppelganger continued, his composure restored. "Where was I? Oh, right. We reestablished the festhall under new management and began to rework our power base back into position ever so slowly. I was experimenting with the viability of having a false Khelben working Suzail when I recognized you in the Dragon's Jaws Inn, and immediately formulated a plan for discrediting you, getting even with you, and getting rid of you all at the same time while also having you carry out the preparations for another plan I had in the offing."

  "The necromancer's gems," Volo interjected.

  "Exactly," Hlaavin confirmed. "Not only did they succeed in dampening your magical abilities and imposing wonderful restrictions on your travel, they also aided my first expansion of the Unseen's influence all over the world. With the wonderful map that you do generously brought with you I will be able to teleport my minions all over the Realms. Nothing will stop me now!"

  The doppelganger kicked Volo in the chest again, this time toppling him over onto his side.

  "You, on the other hand," Hlaavin resumed, his composure once again restored, "will disappear. Rumor will pervade Faerun and abroad that Volo was a fraud, that he lost a challenge or perhaps shied away from one after he had already given his word. Maybe he didn't deserve to he known as the master traveler of the Realms. Perhaps Marcus Wands was the 'real' Volo, the one who really deserves the title. You know how people gossip and speculate."

  "Not wishing to sound trite," Volo said with a grimace, "but you'll never get away with this."

  "I think I will," the doppelganger replied, reassuming the Khelben form right before Volo's eyes. "Tomorrow you and your friend will be taken to a waiting boat at Skullport, taken out to sea, and dumped. You'll drown, your bodies swept out to sea, and all that sort of stuff. Your fat friend will meet a similar fate. If we don't catch him first
, the gems will exert their influence. He will find himself drawn to the sea with the new day, and then his life will be snuffed out at the exact same moment as you breathe your last breath. Bound in life, bound in death."

  Hlaavin grabbed his cloak and, with a flourish, threw it over his shoulder. "But tonight," Hlaavin said, "I feel like doing the town, and as what better person than old Blackstaff himself?"

  "Aren't you afraid of running into the real thing?" Volo queried. "This is his home stomping ground, after all."

  "As the fates would have it," the doppelganger replied, "he's out of town. Do you know what the beauty of it is? He is in Suzail for a meeting with Vangerdahast. Isn't that wonderful? But don't worry. I'll be back in plenty of time to give you and your little friend a proper sendoff."

  As he went up the cellar stairs, he called back down. "And don't even think of trying anything. I'm sending a guard down to baby-sit. Ta-ta."

  In less time than it took for Volo to re-upright himself to a sitting position, he was rejoined by the 'young lady' who had been there when he first came around.

  "Sorry to take you away from your fun," Volo commented.

  "No problem," the tart/doppelganger replied. "I was about due for a break, anyway."

  Within a few moments, Shurleen regained consciousness and made eye contact with Volo. He tried to reassure her nonverbally but feared that he was doing a poor job of it since he himself thought that they were very probably doomed.

  The music and frivolity of upstairs was interrupted by a pair of raucous voices.

  "This is that festhall I told you about! Ain't it great!"

  "Wow! Look at all the good-looking girls!"

  Passepout and Curtis! Volo thought, then quickly tried to clear his mind in case their guard was listening in on his thoughts.

  She/it wasn't.

  "I guess the fleet's in," she/it commented. "I hate it when they get rowdy."

  A great commotion quickly commenced above, the sound of running feet and doors slamming.