"I'm no disguised monster, only a lonely maid," she purred, staring invitingly and challengingly into his eyes, "and I'd very much like a kiss." She licked her lips and whispered, "I'll submit to whatever magic you want to use, to be sure I'm… safe."

The mage they called the Blackstaff raised an eyebrow. "And why go to all this trouble-possible humiliation and danger-just for one kiss from an old man?"

"I've heard what they say about wizards," she whispered, eyes bright.

Khelben looked swiftly around, as if to be sure that no one was watching, and then extended his arms. "Come, then, lass, and try whatever you're trying to do…"

Ambreene's eyes narrowed at his choice of words, but the opportunity was too good to pass up. Opening her mouth hungrily, she glided into his embrace-and then twisted in his arms, whipping the pendant out and around his neck like a striking snake. The Eye of the Dragon flashed as she snarled, "Take his memories! Take them all! And give them to me!"

The chain tightened cruelly around the mage's throat, but he only pulled her closer and growled, "You wanted a kiss, remember?"

His lips were warm, but Ambreene shook her head violently and tried to bite him. When her mouth was free, she spat in his face and hissed, "Plead! Plead for your magic, archmage!"

She jerked the chain tight across Khelben's windpipe. He did not turn the purple hue she expected, but only smiled faintly.

"Don't you know what this is?" she snarled, tugging on the chain again.

The wizard nodded. "The Eye of the Dragon," he said calmly. "It's been years, lass, since I've seen it. Well, well…"

"Years?" Ambreene could barely get the word out through lips that were suddenly twisting and slipping… Her face and body were sliding back into their true shape!

The craggy, bearded face so close to hers was melting and shifting too. When Ambreene saw what it became, the color fled from her face and her teeth began to chatter in terror.

She'd seen the Old Mage of Shadowdale only once, but the wizard they called Elminster was unmistakable. He grinned at her. "If ye'd live a little longer, lass," he said gently, "never try to bosom thy way up to the real Khel-ben. He's not that trusting, know ye… after all, he's had several centuries of comely wenches trying that sort of thing on him, and most of them were his apprentices."

"But… how…?"

"Khelben had to hurry back to Blackstaff Tower on some Harper business begun here tonight," the Old Mage explained. "Both he and Laeral felt your probing spells- really, lass, take a little more care with such things, eh?-so he called me in to do a little impersonation in case other Harpers came to report… or ye decided to do something spectacularly stupid."

"And was what I did so stupid?" Ambreene asked with menacing softness, her hands twisting the chain until it cut deep into his throat.

Elminster smiled unconcernedly, and chucked her under the chin as if she was a small girl. "Well, 'twas certainly spectacular…" he murmured. "7 wouldn't wear a gown like that."

He bent his head to her bodice and peered. "Ah, leaping dragons… Thayan work; very nice…"

Ambreene thrust herself against him, hooking her legs around his and pressing as much of herself to Elminster's body as she possibly could. She put her head over his shoulder and dug her chin down with bruising force, holding him with all the strength in her quivering body.

"Now," she said into his ear, "any harmful spell you work on me will hurt you as well. Khelben wronged my Grandmama and my family; my revenge was for him. But your magic will serve me just as well, giving me spells enough to destroy him another way… can you feel the memories leaving you?"

"No," Elminster said lightly. "I know how to make the Eye work as its creator intended it to. I'm giving ye only the memories I want ye to have… and keeping them, not letting them drain away."

Ambreene favored him with a disbelieving sneer. "And just how can you do that? Lady Teshla could not, and the Eye hasn't shown me any way to wield it thus! What makes you such an expert?"

Mirth glinted in Elminster's eyes as he said mildly, "Why, lass, I created the thing in the first place. In Myth Drannor, 'twas… in my spare time."

Ambreene shook her head derisively, but said nothing. He was so calm… what if it were true?

And then she gasped and stiffened as the world around her vanished in a flood of memories that were not her own. Images as vivid as if they were befalling here and now and she were living them… She was dimly aware that her nails were raking someone's back, that he was growling in protest, and that there was a sudden strong smell of pipesmoke, but…

She was standing on the deck of a storm-tossed ship, watching as a grandly robed man turned his back on his son-who laughed and hurled a bolt of lightning with both hands. The blast cut his father's body in two from top to bottom and sent the front of the ship boiling up into flames…

Then she was in a bedchamber where a sword pinned a man to a door, his lifeblood spreading on the floor. He gasped, "Why, Maruel? Why have you done this?"

"Because I want to," the breathtakingly beautiful woman on the bed said with a sneer that matched Ambreene's best. "And because at last I have the power to. I am the Shadowsil, and from now on I will take what I want… not beg for it!" She waved a casual hand, and by itself the long blade obediently slid out of the man, all black with his blood. He crumpled to the floor, gasping, "But I loved… you."

"And what is that to me, fool?" she laughed…

The scene whirled away, and Ambreene was somewhere else again…

A tower, where a woman wept, smoke curling away from her empty hands and ashes all around her. Nearby, a man who sat on empty air said, "And so your trick has turned to visit itself on thee. Well done, Alatha-oh, well done indeed!"

The woman's raw howl of grief whirled Ambreene away into a scene of a sorceress betraying her tutor, then another, of an ambitious magistress turning to evil and mistakenly slaying the man she loved…

"All of these happened, lass, and I was there to see them," Elminster told her gently. "Have ye such a hunger to join them?"

Ambreene wept and tried to pull away from him, shaking her head and straining to think of things she chose… but her thoughts were dragged ruthlessly back into the whirlwind of revenge and grief and evil…

"Gods! Oh, gods, stop! Have mercy!" she sobbed.

"Better mercy than ye intended to show Khelben, I hope," the Old Mage said grimly, and abruptly she was seeing a young lass clad only in long, luxurious hair, who knelt amid glowing, floating symbols, in a chamber whose dark walls winked with stars.

"Who…?"

"A lady in Myth Drannor, Grafting the first foresight spell," Elminster replied.

Abruptly, the spell poured into Ambreene's own mind, writing itself in runes and whirling concepts of fire. She gasped and moaned as her mind stretched dizzily. A bright light seemed to be rushing through her, and…

"Note that this magic allows thee only to see what lies ahead for others. If thy mind can encompass it and ye stay sane, 'twill become thy most useful tool-and thy greatest burden," Elminster said as she blinked and saw his face again in the moonlight, inches from her own.

Gentle hands put the Eye of the Dragon into her hands. "Now… about that kiss…"

Ambreene seemed to be weeping again as warm lips brushed hers tenderly, and that old, wise voice said, 'Thanks for the memories."

Then the old wizard turned away in the moonlight. She stared after him with eyes that streamed the tears of a thousand years. Elminster strode across the garden, and as he went, his battered boots left the dewy grass and trod on air. Up on emptiness he walked, as if the starry sky was his own private staircase. Up over the garden wall he went, and on, over the rooftops of the city.