Rassendyll crawled forward, momentarily blinding himself with the light of the High Blade's study. Withdrawing back slightly into the shade of the hearth, he allowed his eyes to adjust for a moment before once again penetrating the room.

When he opened his eyes he saw the feet of a robed individual standing by a great desk. Carefully and silently he took to his feet, ready to do battle if necessary.

The wormlike ambassador turned when he heard the noise from the direction of the hearth-only to confront the man he thought he had just killed bearing down on him with a sword.

The ambassador looked at the figure slumped in the chair, the crystal wand still embedded in its chest, and then back at the apparition approaching from the hearth.

They are one and the same! the Red Wizard realized. He has already come back from the dead to acquit his honor!

Frantically, the portly and soft Thayan civil servant retreated to the place on the wall against which he had previously hidden, but was unable to slip back behind the tapestry. He thought for a moment that perhaps he could extract the wand from the corpse's chest, but quickly realized that it would do no good against one who had already been killed; and besides that, the corpse's double was already upon him.

The wormlike ambassador embraced the darkness of fear and panic and fainted dead away, falling to the floor inches from the feet of the approaching twin of the High Blade.

Rassendyll glanced down at the pathetic heap of flesh that was his brother's assassin, and then looked to the corpse of his brother, the stain of blood slowing in its spread across his chest.

"I only wish that it had been my own hands that had the honor of taking your life," Rassendyll said out loud to his unhearing twin.

A voice from behind the nearly exhausted Rassendyll replied, "I am sure you do, and, I assure you, you aren't alone in that wish."

Rassendyll spun around, careful not to become entangled in the mass of flesh that was the Thayan ambassador's unconscious body, and immediately recognized the figure stepping out of his closet hiding place as the man who had accompanied the High Blade on the night upon which the events that would forever change his life had begun.

"We meet again," Rickman said acidly, "and might I say the beard becomes you much more than the mask your brother insisted upon."

Far below the High Blade's sanctuary, four figures pressed onward through the darkness, trying to catch up with the twins. Without the benefit of a torch, or even the fleeting traces of sound left by the one being pursued, the party was unable to keep up given the lead and pace that the younger men possessed. The four hastened guardedly through the black of subterranean night.

Honor led the group, who linked hands in order to stay close together. The blind swordmaster used his acute senses of hearing and touch, and his excellent memory of years earlier to retrace the route he took along these paths many years ago.

"Merch was always fond of these tunnels as a means of getting around Mulmaster without being seen. If I know his damned son Selfaril, and I believe I do, he will no doubt be heading to the High Blade's study," Honor asserted, his voice echoing through the underground chambers.

"Don't you think you should lower your voice?" Passepout said in a hushed tone.

"No," the blind swordmaster replied, "I am using it to help keep my course. Given the shape and width of the tunnel around us, I am fairly certain that we are going in the right direction as the echo of my voice is traveling further to our rear than it is in front of us."

Volo thought he understood the principle that the aged Fullstaff was using and decided to make a mental note that he should study and experiment with it before undertaking his Guide to the Underdark.

"Now if memory serves," Honor instructed, "there should be a ladder hanging against the wall to my left."

"Here it is," Passepout announced proudly.

"Good," Honor replied. "Now up we go."

"Up?" asked the stunned thespian.

"Indeed," the blind swordmaster confirmed. "Now scoot. The High Blade's study awaits at the top of this ladder, and Rassendyll may need our help."

Passepout paused for a moment to look up. The fact that he couldn't see the top of the ladder frightened him to death.

"Now!" Honor insisted. "We're burning daylight!"

Passepout shot up the first few steps of the ladder at a speed that surprised the rest of the group, causing Volo to chuckle at both Honor's jibe, and the panic that had urged the thespian into action.

"I'll go next," McKern replied, pausing only long enough for a body length to separate him from Passepout before joining the climb upward.

"Now you," Honor told Volo, "and don't look down. I'll see you upstairs."

Volo waited for the prescribed body length to separate himself from the old mage, and joined the climb, proceeding accordingly.

The progress upward continued slowly, with the older mage and the corpulent thespian stopping every few steps to take a breath. On one of these intervals Volo paused for a moment to look down at Fullstaff, who he was sure would be climbing right behind him.

The ladder below the master traveler was completely empty.

The wave of exhaustion Rassendyll felt from his ordeal thus far threatened to envelope him, as he fought to remain alert and conscious in the presence of this new threat. With false bravado, he brandished his father's sword.

Rickman laughed.

"That's funny," the captain of the Hawks retorted. "I always thought that mages were forbidden to handle such vulgar and impure weapons as a saber-oh, that's right… your brother already took care of that little detail. You are a mage no more."

Rassendyll took a step forward, careful to disentangle his feet from the body of the Thayan coward, his saber ready to strike.

The captain of the Hawks laughed again.

"Oh dearie me!" Rickman exclaimed sarcastically. "A simpleton new to the sword is coming at me. I must defend myself."

Faster than the weary Rassendyll's eyes could follow, Rickman leaped and pivoted at the same time, and proceeded to hurl himself against the wall of the study. In the blink of an eye the human projectile had landed on the edge of the hearth, grabbed a pair of crossed swords from the wall, and propelled himself back in the direction of the High Blade's twin.

Rassendyll ducked barely in time to avoid being skewered as part of the villainous Rickman's acrobatic act.

"Well done!" the knave hailed. "I don't want this to be too easy. After all it isn't every day that I get to kill the two assassins who plotted against and killed my liege."

Within a second, Rickman launched himself back at Rassendyll. The High Blade's twin raised his father's saber to deflect both blades, parrying the first while blocking the second with the hilt.

"Not bad for one so new to the artistry of the blade," Rickman jeered. "If you weren't so obviously tired you might actually make a worthy opponent."

Rassendyll shook his head quickly, trying to clear the cloud of exhaustion that pressed down upon his entire being.

"Come, come," Rickman offered sarcastically. "Why don't you attack this time? Maybe I should mention that your beloved Retreat is no more. All of your brethren were slaughtered. And shall I mention that I was the one who ordered their deaths?"