Hlupallu was a diversion in more ways than one. Obmi had tarried there longer than he should have, principally because he was enjoying himself too much. But, the dwarf thought pridefully in retrospect, it must have been his own innate sense that caused him to linger, for the delay had been most profitable. A few days after he met his new agents, they informed him that Eclavdra was traveling toward Hlupallu, slowly, days behind. "You should hasten on, lord," one of them urged. "You can be a hundred miles or more in the lead if you hurry."

Instead of following this advice, Obmi had bided his time and used his clever wit. With a word here and a bribe there, he acquired and developed some contacts with bandits, and his scheme began to function. Of course Obmi was too smart to violate the conditions of the contest. He would not harm any of Graz'zt's minions… personally. In fact, he had been most careful not to purchase any harmful services either, for the twisted mind of Iggwilv might somehow cause the demons to construe that as a direct assault upon Eclavdra. No, the device he had come up with was even better…

Four days later, Obmi received word that Eclavdra and her entourage had entered Hlupallu, and that she would be making the rounds of various places of entertainment that night. He went to the Dar Peshdwar, encountered one of the bandit leaders with whom he was acquainted, and invited the man to share his table. Less than an hour later a regal-looking elven woman arrived in the company of two burly bodyguards.

That one – the strange elven female. Do you see her?" Obmi asked casually. The nomad seated next to the disguised dwarf nodded. "She travels with a fortune in precious gems, valuable magical items, and stores of coin!" the dwarf whispered.

The raider shook his head. This city is too well policed to risk causing trouble here," he said. Taking her and her guards is a major operation."

"If I give you the route she will take south from the city, plus details on her guards, and the name of a sorcerer who would be helpful in assuring your victory, would your warriors be interested?"

"I would be interested – but what share do you get of the loot?" the ugly bandit chieftain asked.

"None at all," said the half-elf that was Obmi, with a sly tug at his magical cowl. That one is a sworn foe of my own clan." This the nomad could understand, and he nodded as Obmi spoke. "All I require for the aid I give is that the female elf be slain. Do you agree to that?"

"She is as good as dead even now, effendi," the bandit said with a crooked smile. "Now tell me all!"

Pondering the matter, Obmi too had to smile. How useful it was to have a spy acting on his behalf in Eclavdra's party! At first he had doubted the truth of the intelligence given to him, but those early assertions had proven true, and Obmi excitedly accepted the fact that traveling with the drow high priestess was one figure bent on her destruction. Using the information gained by the unknown spy and transmitted to him, he had been able to place the whole party in the hands of the bandits – and his subterfuge would not be traced back to him, for soon the spy would be dead too. "Very well," said the dwarf. "Now, listen closely…"

Two nights later, the still-disguised Obmi was again seated in the wine house when he was approached by one of the members of his new group of servitors, a sorcerer known as Bolt.

"I bring news of a tragedy," said Bolt with a wry smile on his face. These were not the words Obmi had expected to hear. The sorcerer's sarcasm was lost on him for a moment, and he reflexively raised a hand to strike the man. So, the spell-worker wasted no more time in getting to the point. "Word has it that a contingent of easterners, a party containing a beautiful female elf, was ambushed and slaughtered by bandits last night, just a few miles outside of this fair city. A rare occurrence indeed, and one we should hope will not be repeated," he finished. Bolt, of course, was the sorcerer Obmi had referred to in his conversation with the bandit leader, so the spell-worker was not in fact a bringer of secondhand news but actually had been a participant in the assault.

The dwarf merely grunted in acknowledgment of the information. Angry at Bolt for beginning with a misleading remark, and embarrassed that he had not understood it for what it was, Obmi Was not about to condone such flippant behavior by congratulating the sorcerer or even displaying any pleasure at the news. Bolt, sensing the tension in the air, took his leave a couple of moments later – and it was only then, in the privacy of his own thoughts, that Obmi allowed his face to display an evil grin.

Obmi and his group left Hlupallu the next day, then spent the next twelve days on a somewhat leisurely journey southwest from Hlupallu to Ghastoor, generally following the edge of the grasslands where they bordered the Pennors and the Barring Mountains. The travelers were not molested or even appreciably delayed along the way, for three main reasons. First, the group was small and unimposing enough so that no troop of nomads or bandits would expect to get any real spoils from a raid. Second, as Bolt had alluded to in his recounting of the earlier events near Hlupallu, it was rare that a band of western tribesmen would assault a small group of foreigners; although all the nomad tribes shared disdain for easterners, their real quarrels were with and against each other. And third, on the three occasions when a smattering of scavenging tribesmen did threaten to approach Obmi and the half-dozen who accompanied him, all it took was a show of force from Bolt to kill or maim one or two of the raiders from a long distance and send the survivors away, cursing and scurrying back the way they had come. The nomads of the west were not ignorant of magic, but few of them had any experience with dweomers of the sort that Bolt could call up…

Out of the corner of his eye, Obmi noticed Bolt take a seat at his table, and he vaguely heard what the man said to him, but the main thrust of his thoughts was elsewhere. His reminiscing had come full circle, back to the conversation he had had earlier this day with the warlock messenger. "No," he muttered to himself. "There is no second Eclavdra, no clone. Someone seeks to give me false information to slow and confuse me. Perhaps a clone might be growing, but it will be weeks too late!"

"You spoke, lord?"

Obmi turned and glanced at Bolt. The dwarf was angry at being overheard; he had not meant to speak aloud. "No, I merely allowed my tongue to move in conjunction with my thoughts. If you heard anything, forget it!"

"There is nothing to forget, lord. I only heard the sound, not the sense, of what you uttered."

"That had better be so, or I will separate your ears from your head. So, why are you here?"

Bolt bowed his head only slightly, trying not to be intimidated. After all, he told himself, this despicable creature needs me far more than I need him. "Preparations are nearing completion," he said politely, repeating his earlier statement. "I have obtained our supplies, plus the documents and plans needed for the… vehicle… and now I have come to ask you when you will be ready to depart."

"Good," grunted Obmi. "Now find a secure train, a caravan of size and protection sufficient to deter attack from the swarming bandits who litter the way between here and Karnoosh. We will be heavily laden for this part of the journey, so there is no sense in trying to go alone. The leisurely pace of such a caravan will gull our enemies. They will never suppose we would travel thus."

"I have taken the liberty to investigate departures, lord, and a caravan such as you desire is assembling even now. It is scheduled to depart in two days," Bolt told the dwarf.

"How many will there be?"

Three squadrons of guards, ninety warriors all told. They will cover the front, flanks, and rear of a train of two hundred camels, half as many horses, some of those odd carts favored by the locals, and several hundred handlers, drivers, and bearers," the sorcerer said as he ticked off the composition of the caravan on his fingers. This is the main group journeying to the slave fair held annually in Karnoosh. My agents relate that small bodies of slavers with their merchandise will be allowed to travel with the caravan, and known merchants who have hired fighting men to bolster the strength of the mercenaries there to protect the main body will likewise be permitted to accompany the train. All told, a thousand or more will be going south."