"Why do you come here?"

The words were dropped like rocks into a silent well. Their ripples spread outward through the tent across the ring of seated figures.

Avarilous waited a moment before replying then said calmly, "I am the merchant Avarilous of Calimport, and I am delivering goods from Loudwater to Whitehorn. This man is my companion, one Garmansder. Our route led across Anauroch, since we did not wish to detour far to the south, and-"

"Stop!"

The Bedine held up a hand.

"It is true that you are Avarilous, but we know too well the sort of goods you deliver. You are a dealer in information and stolen goods. You may have come from Loud-water, but your home is not in Calimport. Reports of your intrigues range from the passes of Icewind Dale to the jungles of Chult, from the Utter East to the Sword Coast." "Nonsense!" Garmansder snorted. "I've traveled with this man for months, and he's no more a spy than I am!"

Avarilous said nothing.

The tall man looked at him in amazement then in fury. "Bastard!"

He lunged at the merchant and was brought up short by a trio of hands that clamped him in place. He glared angrily at Avarilous and snapped, "Next time 111 know better than to take up with a fat man with a shifty eye."

The Bedine who had spoken turned to Garmansder and said, without change of tone, "You know little of your companion, it seems. He travels the lands, meddling in the affairs of people whom he does not know. He has performed commissions for the fallen Azoun of Cormyr, for the rulers of far Ulgarth, for the Red Wizards of Thay. He is a horse waiting for hire, on sale to the highest bidder. Some say Avarilous is not his real name, but none know precisely who he is."

Avarilous ignored the outburst of his companion and stroked his chin before conceding the point. "Very well. Let us suppose there is some truth to your statement. What has this to do with you?"

The Bedine shrugged. "It is of little concern to us," he said. "Your reputation is that of a man who dabbles in political intrigue for money. We have little or no interest in the affairs of the rest of the world, except when they affect the tribes."

Avarilous nodded thoughtfully. "I see. From the fact that we are here, I suppose you have something in mind. Something that affects your tribe, at least." He stretched, and Garmansder was suddenly reminded of a cat unsheathing her claws.

The Bedine leader made no response, but Avarilous nodded, as if he had received confirmation of his statement. "Perhaps you might tell me, first, with whom I have the pleasure of dealing."

The Bedine leader bent forward and said, "I am Sheik Omar Lhassa Bin-Daar, ruler of the Bin-Daar Bedine, counting two hundred and seventy-five camels, six hundred and twelve goats, one hundred and fifty-four sheep-"

Avarilous raised a hand. "Quite. That's sufficient. Proceed."

It was startling to note how the fat man had taken control of the discussion. To Garmansder's eyes, though, Bin-Daar showed little resentment. He leaned back against a cushion and drew on a hookah that lay near to hand before resuming his speech.

"As you doubtless are aware, the Zhentarim, they of the black robes, have long maintained a route through Anauroch. We Bedine have tolerated its existence out of consideration for the people it supplies, though we could have destroyed it long ago-"

"So you say," interrupted Avarilous. "In fact, allowing it to exist provides you with a steady supply of caravans for raiding."

Bin-Daar ignored the comment and continued, "At various oases along the route, bands of Zhentarim have created their own settlements, extracting tolls from travelers along the road. For the most part, we ignore them, though we have sometimes raided them, thus serving the interests of the righteous of Faerun."

Avarilous's cynical smile informed Garmansder in what spirit the fat man received this statement.

Bin-Daar coughed gently, as one approaching the heart of the matter. "Of late," he said, "we have seen much activity at one of these oases, one near our lands. The dark-robed ones are becoming increasingly bold, striking out against our tribesmen. Where before they were content to leave us in peace, now they seem determined to destroy us. It would almost seem as if there is something they have found of which they do not want us to learn."

Avarilous's body was relaxed, his pudgy body stretched out along the ground, resting on one elbow. His eyes were sleepy, half hooded, but the observant might have noticed a glitter within their depths.

"Rumors have come to us of a great excavation by the Zhentarim in this place." Bin-Daar snapped his fingers, and one of his councilors thrust a roll of goatskin into his outstretched hand. "They are digging… here."

His finger jabbed a spot on the crude map that adorned the goatskin. Avarilous looked at it.

"Humph. Near Hlondath. One of the Buried Realms."

Bin-Daar nodded. "Precisely."

Garmansder broke into the conversation. "What's Hlondath? And what does this have to do with kidnapping us?"

Avarilous spoke without looking at his companion. His voice was far away.

"Hlondath was a mighty state that existed centuries ago, after the fall of Netheril. It faded away, buried by the desert sands, but some say that there was buried with it some of the mighty magic of lost Netheril. Many have come searching for those items, but few have been found, and most of the explorers have vanished into the sands." He looked carefully at Bin-Daar. "I take it you think the Zhents have found something."

Bin-Daar shook his head. "I do not know if they have found anything, but I suspect they are looking for something. Something they do not wish others to find. Something that might make them a more powerful force in Anauroch."

"Why should they have any more success than in the past?"

"Because-" Bin-Daar dropped his voice-"because of the coming of the City of Shade. Its return may herald a new rise of Netherese magic, one the Zhentarim hope to take advantage of. If they found an artifact of ancient Netheril, they could use it to forge an alliance with the Shadovar. That would be disastrous for my people. They must be stopped."

"What does that have to do with us?" growled Garmansder, though he suspected he already knew the answer.

Bin-Daar's eyes never left the fat merchant's face.

"I have a proposition for you, Avarilous."

The merchant stretched his pudgy legs, which had grown cramped from kneeling. "I'm aware of that."

For the first time, Bin-Daar's face showed surprise. "You are aware? How-" He stopped and nodded slowly, as if satisfying himself on some point. "So," he continued, "we did not find you. You found us."

Avarilous shrugged. "I had heard you were looking for me. I simply put myself in a place where we were likely to meet."

"Why?"

"Your situation interests me. I've heard of this excavation, and I suspected you or one of the other Bedine tribes would try to stop it. An outright attack on the site would be disastrous for you, so you had to resort to other means. As I say, I heard you were looking for me."

"You might have told me," growled Garmansder. "If I'd known who and what you were, I'd have run from you as fast as I could. As it is, I want nothing to do with any of this."

Bin-Daar chuckled softly. "You will aid Avarilous in his mission," he told the mercenary. "Your reward will be far more than whatever he has promised you."

Greed flickered in the tall man's eyes, but he held his ground. "It's all very well to talk, but where there's Zhents, I don't want to be watching my back all the time, and I don't trust him."

Bin-Daar's mouth curved in a smile that did not reach his eyes. "I do not trust him either, but he is a powerful weapon. A warrior in battle does not ask where a sharp sword came from, only that it cut true."