An elf matron stared at her master and his burden and promptly hurried to a sweeping sculpture on a plinth. As Elaith dropped the scorched noble to the floor, she did something to its rainbow teardrops that made it chime and shift its outlines, offering her seven vials. Snatching several, she hastened to Elaith's side.

The Serpent had already gone to one knee and started to pry open Beldar Roaringhorn's jaws.

"Stupid, stubborn human," he murmured, as his housekeeper carefully emptied a vial into the opening he'd forced.

She studied the result calmly, poured two more potions after the first, and announced, "He's not swallowing."

Elaith promptly punched the handy Roaringhorn gut. Air wheezed out of the noble, potion dribbling from the sides of his mouth, but there came a rattling intake of air, and Beldar sat up, coughing and sputtering.

"He's supposed to swallow them, not breathe them in," the housekeeper pointed out.

Her master shrugged, rising from his heels in one swift, fluid movement. "He's alive-more or less. Argue not with success."

Beldar Roaringhorn writhed and spasmed, helpless racking coughs roaring out of him. When his agonies finally faded, he found himself looking at a patiently extended hand. A long-fingered, graceful, somewhat familiar hand.

He stared at it for a moment and then accepted it. With casual strength Elaith Craulnober pulled Beldar to his feet.

"The… barber?"

"Dead as last summer's hopes," Elaith replied, watching Beldar's shoulders slump and bleakness creep into the noble's eyes. "Care to reconsider my offer?"

"I seem bereft of options," the young Lord Roaringhorn observed. "What d'you want of me?"

Elaith pointed at Beldar's right eye. "Take me to whoever did that. I'll do the rest."

Beldar nodded. "When?"

"Immediately. They have one of my… companions."

The human studied Elaith's face. "The half-dragon. You're truly concerned about your underling."

"They cut up a beholder like cooks gleaning morsels for exotic dishes; do you imagine a half-dragon can expect a long and pleasant life in their hands?"

Beldar frowned. "I'll take you, and fight beside you as best I can, but you must understand that I'm not in full control of my actions. I might be forced to betray you."

The elf shrugged. "As long as you don't expect a similar confession from me, we're agreed."

Beldar's lips twitched.

Elaith smiled back. "Is there anything else I should know about you?"

"Yes," the youngest Lord Roaringhorn said grimly. "I require your promise that you'll kill me if I become a threat to innocent folk."

Elven eyebrows rose. "For a moment," Elaith said dryly, "I feared you might ask me to do something unpleasant."

The ringing in Beldar's ears became deafening… and then faded. He swam up out of darkness and pain to find himself staring into the mismatched eyes of Golskyn's son.

"He's awake," Mrelder announced flatly.

Golskyn of the Gods bustled over, wild-eyed. Tentacles emerged from beneath his robes, curled about Beldar's waist and arms, and yanked the noble upright.

"Stand, as befitting Piergeiron's heir," the eld man thundered.

Beldar looked inquiringly at Mrelder, who seemed the saner of the two.

"You've been granted an improvement because Lord Unity desires to place a puppet of the Amalgamation on the First Lord's throne," Mrelder said flatly. "As you've guessed, you won't be able to speak of this to anyone. You've already seen what results from any attempt to have the magic traced or the eye removed."

"This one betrayal will be pardoned," Golskyn added, "but the next will not. You destiny will soon be upon you. The gods have shown me the best time and place: Midsummer night, at the Purple Silks revel." Tentacles reared menacingly. "Accept this destiny, here and now, or it will pass to another. Do you take my meaning?"

The noble managed a nod. The priest dismissed him with a wave of tentacles, and Beldar all but ran from the building.

This one betrayal, the mad priest had said. What had happened? Where was Elaith Craulnober? Had the Amalgamation managed to slay the justly feared Serpent?

Beldar frowned, dodging through the street crowds. The shop wasn't far ahead…

He vaguely remembered Elaith casting a spell on him that hadn't seemed to do anything but dull his thinking. Had it hidden his recollection of their agreement? Was The Serpent lurking, watching the monster-lovers right now?

There'd been no battle, as far as he could recall, no grand confrontation between Elaith and Golskyn-and no sign of the half-dragon… or his recycled limbs.

Beldar winced and shook his head. First Lord of Waterdeep? Never in all his grandest fancies had he envisioned such a future, yet this ghastly parody of his dreams wasn't even slightly tempting.

In a dark tunnel, Elaith wiped blood from his blade and rose, his inquiries complete. It had taken more time than he'd expected to cut the truth from the massive, six-armed man who'd fought Tincheron, but it was good news.

Tincheron hadn't fallen into the hands of the Amalgamation, but escaped into the sewers. Golskyn's cultists were searching for him, but so now were Elaith's agents; they should find the half-dragon first.

Which meant Beldar Roaringhorn's tormentors would outlive this day after all. Lord Unity's spells and servitors were astonishingly strong: It had taken most of Elaith's ready magic just to shield himself from the mad priest's wards and seeking-spells.

The Serpent grimaced as he sheathed his sword. No triumph, but a clean escape.

He shrugged. Now that Tincheron's safety was no longer an immediate concern, it would be wasteful to slay any potentially useful players just yet-especially when they had such interesting abilities and ambitions.

Elaith smiled. Coins and power were nice, but increasingly he preferred something else: entertainment.

And whatever befell, the Amalgamation couldn't fail to offer that.

There were only two customers in the Old Xoblob Shop. A pair of boys of about thirteen winters were sniggering over their anticipations of how a lass would shriek when fanged rat skulls sprouted from her Midsummer flowers. Beldar sent the lads a glare that sent them hastening out of the shop.

Dandalus gave Beldar a level look. "Scaring off paying customers?"

In reply, Beldar pointed at the stuffed and mounted beholder overhead. "How'd you kill Xoblob?"

Dandalus stroked his chin. "Well now, it's been years… haven't minstrels sung a song or two about it?"

"I need truth, not tavern-tales! Is there a way to destroy a single eye without slaying the creature?"

"Aye, but you know the saying: if you're going to sword a king, best kill him in one thrust. Beholders are much the same."

Beldar turned his head so as not to wound the shopkeeper and tore off his eyepatch.

Dandalus regarded him in silence for a long time ere replying, "Aye, there's a potion that might do what you're after. Be warned: It'll burn like black dragon venom, and there's no certainty the beholder will survive his blinding."

"Understood," Beldar said crisply. "How much?"

Dandalus reached under the counter and produced a small crimson vial. "No charge. You've been a good customer."

Beldar's smile was wry. Such an elegant farewell.