"It was only just finished less than ten weeks ago," the priest said. "It's surely one of the largest undertakings we've ever done. Chosstif was moved by a vision from Gond himself and made to carry out the construction of this mirror. It has very special properties."

"Like what?" Khlinat asked doubtfully.

The priest walked to the mirror and put his palm against it. "A mirror this size is usually hard to get from place to place. Yet, once you have one in your home, you must admit how much it brightens up the place. Purchasing a mirror this big is not much of a problem, but the transportation is. With Chosstif's collapsible mirror, transportation is no longer as difficult." He pushed gently.

Seams formed and tiny hinges revealed themselves. The mirror seemed to come apart, folding in on itself in foot-sized sections. The clink-clink-clink of the sections landing on each other produced a noticeable rhythm inside Pacys's head. In less than a moment the mirror had been reduced to a two-foot square that was only a little less than that in depth. It stayed hooked on the wall. A slim length of black cord hung down from the mirror. The young priest pulled on the cord and kept pulling until all the tiles once more appeared as a single, seamless unit nine feet square.

"Amazing," Pacys said. "I've never seen the like before." He stared into the mirrored depths.

"Yes. As you can guess, it's one of our more popular items. Well worth the price. Though you will have to wait for it, you understand."

"Actually," Pacys said, "I'm not here to purchase a mirror."

The priest appeared surprised and perhaps a little disappointed. "By the way you approached it, I was certain you'd heard of it or seen it and come to purchase one."

"No." Pacys reached out to the mirror. It was cool to the touch, almost liquid.

"You'll find none like it and none finer," the priest guaranteed.

"Mayhap." Pacys was puzzled. The mirror remained yet a mirror, though in his vision it had been something else entirely in addition to being a mirror. He took his hand back and studied the fingerprints he'd left there.

"Is something wrong?" the priest asked.

"I don't know," the old bard answered, more to himself than the other man. He studied the mirror from different angles, drawing irritated glances from the priest who looked like he'd rather be somewhere else.

"What is it?" Khlinat asked.

"I was shown this mirror in my vision earlier," Pacys explained, "yet now it appears I was mistaken."

"Don't let yer faith be shaken," the dwarf said. "If ye were given a vision of this thing, then there's a reason. Think about why it would be shown to ye. I think ye have the key. Ye just have to find it."

As he concentrated, Pacys also heard the rhythms around him. People's voices, the sounds of feet moving on stone, the clink and clank of items being picked up and put down, all blended. Unconsciously, he found the rhythm of the noises, and another piece of the song he pursued so diligently came into his mind. He pulled his yarting forward and strummed his fingers across the strings as he gave vent to his voice.

"There they stood, Taleweaver and dwarven warrior,

"Who'd pledged his life against the Taker.

"They faced mirror-bright mystery,

"Flashing,

"Clouded,

"And empty of answers.

"Yet the mirror shone its truth,

"Crowned under stars

"Forged

"From the bottom of the Inner Sea.

"Gond Wonderbringer's desire and power

"Guided the hand of the High Initiate,

"Imbuing his work with

"Additional magic

"That worthy didn't know about.

"The Taleweaver captured

"The cadence

"From the crowds that fitted the House of Wonders.

"And when he did,

"When his voice reached the perfect pitch,

"A way was made."

Holding the final note, Pacys stretched out his hand to the mirror. For an instant, he touched the glass again, but the surface quickly gave way to a wet fog that dissolved and became a forest.

The priest of Gond stepped back and made a sign of his god, a prayer already on his lips.

The music and the certainty of what he was doing filled Pacys. Slinging the yarting once more from its straps about his shoulders, he told Khlinat, "Follow me," and strode into the mirror.

He felt a brief resistance, then the mirror accepted him. Coldness swirled around him but quickly went away. He felt the dwarf moving behind him, heard the prayer he breathed. The music stayed alive in Pacys's head. A moment more and he stepped from the stone floor in the Hall of Wonders in Baldur's Gate into the forest. Turning, the old bard saw the nine-foot square of shimmering space that represented the mirror. It opened, like a window, back into the Hall of Wonders.

The priest was shouting, and other priests and potential buyers ran to join him, staring in awe.

Khlinat stepped from the window, shivering. "Ooch, but that was cold on these old bones." He gazed in wonder at the forest around them. "Do ye know where it is we might be, me friend?"

The opening vanished like morning mist before a harsh sun, taking away the vision of the Hall of Wonders and leaving only the forest.

"Where we're supposed to be, praise Oghma." Pacys took a deep breath and scented the brine hanging in the air. "Do you know that smell?"

Khlinat snuffed the air, then a broad grin split his craggy face. "The sea, by Marthammor Duin's wandering eye! And it's not far here. We've come a long way."

"Yes," Pacys agreed, "but there's more."

Khlinat snuffed again. "Are ye sure? All I smell is the sweet breath of the sea, but not that of the Sea of Swords or the Trackless Sea where I've spent all me sailing days."

Pacys moved through the tall trees and dense vegetation, coming upon a well-worn trail winding down through the hilly country. "Your nose is sharper than mine when it comes to that, but I learned a long time ago to pick up the scent of a cookfire. Let's go find whoever owns it."

"You can put me down now."

Dazed by the events happening so quickly and by the young woman fitting so comfortably in his arms, Jherek blushed furiously. A few of the sailors around them snickered. If their situation hadn't been so dire, Jherek knew he would have been made the fool of mercilessly.

"Shut up," Tynnel ordered.

While the crew quieted, Jherek carefully placed the ship's mage on her feet. "Lady," he apologized, "I didn't mean to be so familiar. I'd thought to release you while you were still a rat." His face was crimson, he knew, and the heat he felt wasn't all from the fever. "I mean, while you were still-not yourself."

Sabyna stepped away from him, taking refuge against the wall were she wouldn't be so easily seen from the deck. "You're all right?"

"Aye. Thank you for asking." Jherek noticed Captain Tynnel shift in irritation and felt the man was somehow angry with him.

"I thought they'd killed you," Sabyna said, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward her. Despite his protests, she parted his hair and looked at the wound. "It's infected and needs to be cleaned out." She wheeled on the men around them. "Why hasn't anyone been taking care of him?"

Jherek felt angry and embarrassed all at the same time. "Lady," he said respectfully, "I'm able to take care of myself."

"Right," Sabyna said sarcastically. "That's why you've got a head full of pus and you're burning up with fever."

Jherek sensed she was angry with him already and that knowledge kept him from making any kind of retort. He wasn't exactly clear why she was angry. Her fingers continued to poke around on the tender parts of his head, maybe with a little vengeance included. Still, he made no sound.