"Very well, Cormik," Mari said after Dario had gone. "We came because we need information about Ravendas and the Zhentarim."

Caledan rolled his eyes. There went their chances of getting anything out of Cormik for free. The Harper was going to have to learn how to be more clever when bargaining with someone like Cormik.

"All right, Cormik," Caledan grumbled, "how much is it going to cost us?"

"For you, Caledan, the standard fee." Cormik's gaze swept over Mari. "But for the enchanting Harper, there's no charge."

"Why, thank you," she said huskily, treating Caledan to a look that was insufferably smug.

They spent the next hour listening to Cormik describe the steady decay of the city since Ravendas had ensconced herself in the tower. "Things are dire enough as it is, and I'm afraid they're only getting worse by the day," Cormik said grimly. "The stalls in the free market are practically bare. Half the folk in the city are bordering on starvation. Almost everything that comes to Iriaebor by ship goes out again in caravans to the east. And there isn't a business that's not under her control. She keeps the Council of Lords in her pocket and has the Merchants' Circle dangling by their purse strings. The terms of her trade agreements are anything but profitable, but inexplicable things keep happening to the ships and caravans of merchants who don't sign on.

"There's only one rule in Iriaebor these days. Serve Cutter or perish." Cormik sighed. "None of it is good for business. And it gets even worse when your customers keep disappearing daily."

"Disappearing?" Caledan asked. He felt his hair prickling on the back of his neck.

Cormik nodded. "Every day dozens of cityfolk leave their homes in the morning and don't come back at night. Men and women, even children. Anyone out on the streets, especially at night, seems to be fair game. The Zhentarim are kidnapping them and spiriting them away to the dungeons below the tower. Why, I'm not entirely certain. There are rumors that Ravendas is pressing them into work gangs and forcing them to toil on a series of excavations deep in the heart of the Tor itself. However, if that's really the case, I have no idea what she thinks she'll find by digging beneath the tower."

"Gold?" Caledan ventured.

Cormik shrugged. "Maybe."

Mari stood up and began pacing on the thick carpets strewn across the floor. "This can't go on," she said, striking her palm with a fist. "Why have the people of Iriaebor put up with this for so long? There can't be more than a few hundred Zhents in the city, but there are tens of thousands of citizens. Why don't the people of Iriaebor rise up against Ravendas?"

Cormik shook his head ruefully. "I wish it were that simple, Harper. At first a few people-merchants, guild masters, and lords of the council-did stand up to Ravendas. It didn't take long before every one of them was swinging by the neck from a gibbet Ravendas makes an example out of anyone who opposes her.

"Of course, there are still a few bands of folk who are trying to work against Ravendas," Cormik went on, his tone purposeful. "I hear reports about them from time to time. They meet in secret here and there about the city, in basements and abandoned towers. But there are only a few of these groups, and they're small. They need weapons, hiding places, a way to transport messages and supplies, and more recruits. These things cost money. Lots of it"

Caledan stood up, a roguish expression on his face. "All right, Cormik. Use your scouts to start making contact with a few of these resistance bands. The Harper and I will get you the gold you need to arm and organize them."

"That sounds well and fine, Caldorien," Mari said in a scathing voice. "But how do you propose we get this gold? Shall we just go begging at Ravendas's money house?"

Caledan snapped his fingers. "That's not a bad idea, Harper."

"Careful, Caledan," Cormik said seriously. "You'd do well if you didn't underestimate Ravendas. Or the Harper here. Get the gold if you can, and I'll do my part. But try not to get yourself killed in the process."

Caledan was about to reply when a light knock came at the hidden entrance behind the bookcase. The shelves swung to one side, and Dario stepped through. Caledan gaped at the young man. He was dressed identically to Caledan, in black leather breeches and jerkin over a white shirt.

"Ah, I see you're ready," Cormik said, smiling.

"What's going on?" Caledan asked suspiciously.

"You're going on a little trip, Caledan. You see, in my eminent mercifulness, I decided not to run you through on the sole condition that you leave Iriaebor-and don't come back. That should keep up my appearances."

"But I'm not leaving Iriaebor," Caledan said angrily, clenching his big-knuckled hand into a fist.

Cormik groaned. "Must you be so dense, Caledan? That's where Dario comes in." He eyed the young man critically. "You're not a bad match for size, Dario. Of course, you're not nearly as ugly as Caledan is, but that would be almost impossible, wouldn't it?"

Mari laughed with amusement.

"I'll pull my hood up," Dario said with a wink at Caledan. "Assuming you'll allow me to borrow your cloak to complete the disguise, of course."

"Here, take it," Caledan growled petulantly, handing Dario his patched, midnight-blue cloak. The young man donned the cloak and pulled the hood over his head.

"Perfect," Cormik pronounced. "Are you ready to ride? Excellent. Have Jad and Kevrek throw you out-not too roughly. Just enough to let my patrons see how much I still despise Caledan the Harper. There's a gray mare similar to Caledan's tied out front. Make certain the guards see you riding out of town. I want all who might be interested to believe Caledan Caldorien is gone for good."

"As you wish, Master Cormik," Dario said, bowing with a flourish. He turned and disappeared through the hidden doorway.

"Do you trust him?" Caledan asked after Dario had gone.

"Better yet, I care for him," Cormik replied. "He's the son I never had, Caledan. But then, I don't suppose you'd care about such sentimental things."

Caledan grunted but said nothing.

"I want the Harpers out of my city!"

The Zhentarim Lord Ravendas was not in a pleasant mood. She prowled like a cat about the topmost chamber of the tower of the city lord. The chamber itself was a den of luxury. Snow white furs were strewn across the floor of dark, polished marble. Exotic tapestries woven with gold and silver draped the walls, and expensive incense scented the air. Ravendas spun to fix the lord steward with her ice-blue gaze.

"Do I make myself clear?" she hissed, her voice as chilling as her eyes. "I will not have their meddling undermine my control. I want the head of any Harper that dares to set foot within the walls of this city delivered to me on a silver tray."

"Including Caldorien's?" the lord steward, Snake, asked in his dry, sibilant voice. His tone was utterly deferential, but Ravendas's pale cheeks flushed with sudden rage.

"I should have you flogged for that impertinence, my lord steward," she snarled. She sat upon a velvet divan, smoothing the wrinkles from her crimson gown. "And perhaps I will do just that," she mused. "You know very well that I want Caldorien delivered to me undamaged."

Snake's expression remained impassive. "But pain is acceptable, my lord?" Snake inquired.

"Oh, yes," Ravendas crooned. Sudden fire sparked in her eyes. "Pain is quite acceptable when dealing with Caldorien." Her delicate hands clenched unconsciously. It had been seven years since she had last faced Caledan Caldorien, but the memory had if anything grown more vivid with the passing of time. Seven years ago she had raised an army to conquer a town called Hluthvar, but Caldorien and his Harper friends had defeated her, making a mockery of her power. That was an affront she would dearly love to repay.