"You want to work with fireworks?" Mintassan queried, bemused.

"No," the boy corrected, shooting Mintassan a look suggesting the sage was as dumb as a rock. "I want to be a great thief, like the Faceless, or an important merchant, like one of the Dhostars, so I can afford to have fireworks every night. Then Fd get some serious respect."

Mintassan looked down at the youth with astonishment. It took him more than a moment to recover and ask, "You think their wealth is something to respect?" "Sure," Kel answered. "What could be better?"

The sage harrumphed and rose to his feet. "How "bout this?" he responded. Pointing to the iron chair he'd just vacated, he intoned, "Quesarius Amano Illusar Jho!"

A miniature sphere of orange-and-white flame formed at his fingertip, then streaked toward chair, emitting an ear-splitting shriek. A second and a third sphere formed and sped after the first. As the flaming orbs hurtled passed, Kel could see on their surfaces tiny faces with howling mouths.

The fiery spheres orbited around the iron chair, faster and faster, spinning a cocoon of white light. The cocoon began to stretch and deform as something within grew and pushed outward. An iron claw slashed through the cocoon, and an iron muzzle poked out. With the sound of shattering glass, the cocoon dissipated into myriad light motes, which sparkled and vanished to reveal a miniature iron dragon. The wyrm flapped its wings, arched its neck, and gave a low roar. Smoke, smelling like burning mildewy cushions" streamed from the creatures' nostrils. Then the beast settled back on its rear haunches, folded its wings, and became still.

Kel, his eyes as wide as saucers, reached out gingerly and touched the transmutated iron chair, now an immobile sculpture of ornate detail and great beauty.

Holding Kel in place with a hand on his shoulder, Mintassan lifted the boy's chin so that their eyes met. "Knowledge is better than wealth," the sage said. "It cannot be stolen. It cannot be bought. Once you possess it, it is yours for life. You can accumulate knowledge by observing, listening, and questioning. The truly wise can do so by reading and writing as well."

Kel squinted with a doubtful look, trying to analyze the truth of Mintassan's arguments. "If I learn to read, can I do that?" he asked, pointing at the iron dragon.

Mintassan snorted derisively. "Reading isn't a skill you acquire to learn parlor tricks. Reading lights the pathways to all knowledge. The ability to travel each pathway varies with the individual, but reading makes the journey easier."

The expression on Kel's face indicated he was struggling to understand the sage's metaphor. He glanced back at the iron dragon as if it could offer him illumination. Then he looked back at the sage. "So, how do I learn this stuff?" he asked.

"First, you get a good night's sleep," Mintassan said. "Lessons are learned better in the morning."

The boy clambered back into the attic and bolted for the stairs, as if speed would bring the next day closer.

"You really know how to motivate a child," Jamal said with a grin.

"Great thieves and rich merchants. What sort of heroes are those for young boys to have?" Mintassan asked with a shake of his head.

"The sort that fade into obscurity when better men make an effort to impress them," Jamal replied, giving the sage's shoulder a grateful squeeze. "Good night," she murmured as she slipped through the attic window.

Mintassan remained on the balcony for a while longer, alone with his thoughts.

"The fireworks have been over for half an hour now," Olive said. "She should be back soon." The halfling stood at the open window. Although the second story of Blais House did not offer a clear view of the harbor, she had been able to catch sight of the higher skyrockets and, of course, hear the entire display.

Dragonbait, his attention focused on the chessboard, made a noncommittal noise. He'd beaten Olive at two games already, and he had been winning a third when the halfling had abandoned the game to watch the fireworks. Not surprisingly, when the fireworks ended, the saurial had been unable to coax Olive back to the board, so now he was continuing the game solitaire-playing both sides.

The chess pieces gilded in white gold represented the Cormyrian forces, those in yellow gold, the Tuigan Horde. Dragonbait made a clicking noise with his tongue and dragged Vangerdahast diagonally across the length of the board to capture a Hordelands horseman. Then the saurial switched positions at the table and considered the halfling's crumbling defenses.

Olive peered out into the darkness, where she could just make out the Westlight. "I wonder what's going on out there," she said, not for the first time that evening. "On the boat, I mean. This Lord Victor seems genial enough, for a human, but he is still one of the merchant nobles. The most poisonous snakes are the most brightly colored, my mother used to say."

Dragonbait made the same disinterested huffing noise he'd made the last three times Olive had tried to draw him into a discussion of the party on The Gleason or Victor's character. He maneuvered the remaining Horde-lands horseman to threaten the Cormyrian sage Dimswart, but the move only delayed the inevitable. Olive had left her Tuigan forces in complete disarray.

This time Olive would not be deterred from her speculations. "Jamal sayaJL,ady Gleason, his mother-Victor's, that is-died young.' Considering Lord Luer's reputation for arrogance, one has to wonder how Lord Victor turned out to be so pleasant. Maybe he had a halfling nanny or something. She's out there alone. Alias, I mean. Not even a chaperon."

Dragonbait changed sides and stared at the situation from the Cormyrian side. From behind the King Azoun figure it looked like mate in three moves. He couldn't imagine what Olive was worrying about. Alias had once taken on a dragon single-handedly. How the swordswoman could have, trouble on a two-hour cruise eluded him. More likely, the saurial reasoned, Olive was trying to cover her nervousness about their planned excursion to Cassana's old house.

A long pause ensued as Dragonbait changed sides again and tried to discover a way out of his self-inflicted attack, but an escape was denied the Tuigans. Mate in two now. At least the Tuigans should have something more to show for it. He took the Dimswart piece with the horseman. "At least she has her sword with her," Olive said. Dragonbait toppled the Tuigan khan and growled.Olive turned at the saurial's guttural roar. In the thieves' hand cant the paladin signed, Shell be all right. Don't worry.

"Don't worry?" Olive retorted. "Alias is out there alone with that greengrocer. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't worry."

Alias is in good hands, the paladin signed. Lord Victor is an honest, valiant, and worthy young human.

"She's spent most of her life in the Lost Vale with your people." And now she should spend time with her own people. Tou can't just throw her into this society alone."

You didn't have any of these objections when Giogi Wyvernspur married her sister Cat.

"That's because I knew Giogi well enough to trust him. He was a really nice boy."

I've looked into Lord Victor, the paladin signed, the closest the hand cant could come to expressing his shen sight. His intentions are good. "Well, we all know what road good intentions pave."

Alias can take care of herself, the paladin signed hard and fast, and the halfling could detect the chickenlike scent of his impatience.

"Physically, yes," Olive agreed, "but emotionally? She's still just a child."

Her feelings have grown more quickly the last few years.

"Even worse," Olive retorted. "That would make her a teenager, impulsive and reckless." Why does this worry you so?