Damnation, this wasn't working, Pinch thought. It was a bad choice of example. He needed something stronger.

"Maeve!" he bellowed as best this wretched husk allowed him. It was getting passing uncomfortable on his knees, even without the feeling of pain. He'd never been on his knees to anyone before and he didn't know as it was likely in the future. It was undignified and crass and that bothered him, but he was able to swallow it so long as it kept him alive. Pinch, master thief, was a practical man in no hurry to die. If saving his life meant being on his knees, then so be it. Dead men had a hard time getting revenge, some would say, although Pinch wasn't so sure in this case. Manferic had made a fine job of it.

"Maeve, probe my mind, if that's what it'll take to convince you."

A third quick conference took place. There was considerable debate on this one. Finally, Therin, clearly acting as the new regulator in his absence, shouted, "No trickery-we've got bows and we've got a priest!"

"No trickery."

Pinch closed his eyes, calmed his mind, and waited. Just because exposing his mind was his only hope of proving himself, it didn't mean he wanted her to know all his secrets. Without really knowing how, he tried to bar certain areas of his mind from her prying.

When she came, it was a tickle like what he'd felt under Manferic's gaze, although her scan did not carry with it the painful itch of the lich's hateful will. Pinch did his best to stay calm under the scan. He tried to think about the drinking bouts, the jobs they'd pulled, even Therin's hanging where she'd played an important part. Most of all he put it into his mind to increase her share of the take. Certainly a bribe wouldn't hurt in a time like this.

Like the devil in all things though, those thoughts that he'd never entertained more than once in a year of fortnights now all decided to make their appearance, or so it seemed. Things he'd never said and regretted, cheats he'd pulled on his own gang, even the squeals he'd made to get rid of his foes all chose to surface now. Maeve was reading a mindful, there was no doubt, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

At last the tickling stopped. She withdrew her mind and let him rest. Not that his dead muscles felt strained. What rest did a lich need or ever take? If it slept, the fierce will that kept it alive might waver and fade. If that happened there would be far fewer liches in the world.

All he could do was wait nervously for Maeve's decision.

And she damn well took her time. He knew he was Pinch and he knew she'd read enough of him to know that, but she was lingering on her pronouncement. No doubt, he raged to himself, she was enjoying having him on the spit. If he ever got out of this, he'd have to make sure she gained no profit from the venture.

"It's Pinch all right," Maeve said with a touch of awe. "I ain't sure what happened, but I know his fashion. It's him."

"That… thing is him?" Therin drawled, clearly filled with disbelief.

"He knows garbage what only Pinch would know, like how we fetched your body after the hanging in Elturel. More than that, too, like jobs we've pulled where there ain't nobody who knows them and all. I tell you, it's Pinch."

Therin looked back at the kneeling lich-thing. "Pinch, that really you?"

" 'Swounds, it's me, you big hay-headed Gur! I should've left you as that fortune-teller's stooge for all the good you're doing me."

Sprite and Maeve both looked at Therin with keen interest. It had always been a question between them just where the old master had found the big Gur.

"Well met, then, I guess," Therin hailed, face reddened at his secret. "Come over-but slowly, old man."

Lissa looked at the lot with a highly jaundiced eye, more than suspicious of their easy familiarity with this creature called Pinch. They talked all too freely of jobs and hangings to be anything like honest folk. She'd always had suspicions, but every time they arose, she'd convinced herself or let others convince her otherwise. Now, she finally realized, she'd been blind to it all this time.

"You're all a lot of thieves!"

"What did you imagine we were-lousy prophets?" Therin snapped.

"You lied to me!"

"We lie to everyone, miss," Sprite explained with glee. "It's our stock and our trade. Don't feel bad for being taken. We'd be pretty poor rascals if we couldn't fool anyone."

"Sprite's right, dearie," Maeve added to the chorus. "Consider yourself honored into our company. Pinch called upon you in particular for aid, so he must think highly of you-and it's Pinch now we've got to see to."

"Aye," Sprite echoed. He looked at the moldering form that shuffled closer. "What happened, Master Pinch?" There was still a hesitancy in his voice, lest this be some hideous creature approaching.

"Manferic," the corpse croaked. "He traded bodies with me-though I don't think that was his full intention."

"What happened?" Maeve demanded, magical business making her sharply attentive.

As quickly and clearly as he could, Pinch explained the course of his meeting with Manferic. He had no idea what clues were needed to restore his body and so, against his true nature, he spared nothing in the telling. When it was done, Pinch croaked, "Ladies, tell me. How do-"

"I'm not sure I should even help you, thief," Lissa cut in, still rankling at her discovery.

"Leave me and you leave Manferic. Would your conscience feel better by placing a lich on the throne, priestess? What would the Morninglord think of that?" Pinch snapped. He didn't have time for this. That he knew instinctively.

Lissa went white, then reddened, horrified at the prospect yet outraged as his tone. "Very well, in this… but in this only!"

With that settled, the two spellcasters looked thoughtful as they debated. Like plotters on the stage, they whispered dramatically to each other as they considered various possibilities.

"Pinch," Sprite asked while they waited, "if it can be done, what the plan?"

"Plan?

The halfling gave a wan smile. "Sure, a plan-you've always got a plan."

If he could have sighed in this musty body, he would have sighed. "You know, Sprite, all through this game I've had plans and schemes and thought I was in control. Now my life turns out to be one of Manferic's grand plans. Pinch the master planner-hah! Well, Sprite, this time I've got no plan. All my other plans have turned into traps as Manferic twisted my plots around. This time we're just going to improvise and let's see him plan for that."

"Great plan," Therin remarked gloomily.

The two spellcasters ended their conference and Maeve spoke for them both.

"About your body, Pinch. We don't know-"

"But there might a chance. If we can get you close enough to you-er, Manferic-I might be able to dispel the magic that holds you."

"And then?"

Lissa bit her lip. "I'm not really sure. You should switch bodies."

"Or?"

"Or both of you vanish into the void, like Manferic said."

"That's it? Just get this," Pinch gestured to the rot that was himself, "into the middle of a coronation and-"

"What was that?" Sprite hissed as he waved his hands for attention.

"What?"

"Quiet. Listen," the halfling commanded. He stood on his hairy tiptoes, his head cocked so that his pointed ears where tipped to catch the least chitter in the halls. "That-did you hear it?"

The others strained, hearing nothing.

"Ikri…"

There was a voice, faint and distant.

"Ikrit…"

From somewhere in the depths of the tunnels, a woman was calling.

"Ikrit!"

Pinch looked at the blasted white mass that choked the passage ahead. The quaggoth had been going somewhere, but not to Manferic. There was only one other choice. "The woman…"

"What? What woman, Pinch?" Sprite demanded.