"Agreed," the old mage assented. "What's our next move?"

In the Apartment of Mischa Tam in the Thayan Embassy in Mulmaster:

Mischa Tam was beginning to get nervous.

The cat's-paw who had been dispatched to attempt the assassination of Selfaril should have botched the job by now, she thought. Even if he had somehow managed to surprise the High Blade, surely he would not have been able to overpower him. And what about the Hawks? She had made darn sure that Rickman was aware of the plot as well and would be able to intervene and arrest the quivering maggot.

A heinous thought crossed her mind.

What if, somehow, the incompetent had succeeded?

The First Princess would surely have her head, that is, if any of the Thayans managed to make it out of Mulmaster alive.

Though the death of Selfaril was undoubtedly the eventual goal, timing was of the essence, and at the present, the time was not right.

Mischa removed a talisman from inside her robe, and stared into its multi-faceted surface.

"Do I dare to see through the eyes of the worm?" she whispered.

She had to know.

Mischa took out a piece of skin that had formerly belonged to the ambassador and placed it on the talisman. She paused for a moment, reliving the disgust she felt at the measures that she had to take to obtain this living souvenir of the maggot, shuddered, and placed it onto the orb.

The skin immediately melted into the talisman's surface.

Wasting no time she held the orb up to her eye, and looked into its opaque surface as if it were a magnifying crystal.

All she saw was darkness.

Mischa considered the possibilities. Perhaps he is already dead, or unconscious… but unfortunately that still doesn't solve the problem.

Concentrating with all her scrying powers, she once again looked into the orb, trying to backtrack through the images that had been recorded by the maggot before he had been enveloped by the darkness.

The shadows gradually cleared. First she saw a dishevelled and unkempt High Blade… a hearth… the High Blade better groomed, but obviously fatigued… a crystal wand striking home into the heart of the mortally wounded Selfaril!

Mischa dropped the orb in a panic.

The fool actually succeeded in killing my sister's husband!

A knock on her chamber door interrupted her panic.

"Who is it?" she said with mock calm.

"It is I, Mischa," announced the messenger, "Elijakuk."

Mischa opened the door to allow in the Tharchioness's chancellor.

"What is it?" she demanded, still trying to hide her own uneasiness.

"The First Princess sent me for your part of the project," he said gravely. "I believe she desires to use it tonight. She fears that our window of opportunity is rapidly diminishing."

Mischa stifled a laugh at the inadvertent irony of the chancellor's last statement, and thanked Szass Tam for the news.

My sister does not yet know of the fate of her husband! she thought in exultation. There may be a chance for me yet.

Maintaining her composure, the Tharchioness's half sister went to her vanity table, reached into a secret compartment, and extracted the disk that she had treated with the appropriate oils and herbs to accomplish her part of the spell. She wrapped it in a silk scarf and handed it to the chancellor.

"Her desire is my command," she said reverently. "My part is now complete."

"The First Princess will be pleased," Elijakuk acknowledged her with a bow that included a pause to appreciate the Tharchioness's sister's ample cleavage. "Szass Tam be with you."

Mischa cracked her best seductively serpentine smile.

"And with you," she said sweetly, "but tarry no longer. We mustn't keep the First Princess waiting. She knows best. If she believes that time is of the essence, then who are we to dispute it?"

"Indeed!" the chancellor agreed, a satyrlike smile on his lips. "Shall we go?"

"No," she countered with a touch of mock regret. "You will travel faster and more discreetly, on your own. I will wait here to carry out any further orders from the First Princess should she desire me to do so."

"I will return with further instructions," the chancellor said, giving Mischa's hand a quick kiss accented with a touch of the tip of his tongue, adding, "with great haste."

"I will await," she responded with mock eagerness, as she closed the door behind him and let out a sigh of relief.

Collecting her thoughts, her composure regained, the Thayan sorceress set about gathering her things, for she had no intention of being around when the detritus flew from the waterwheel.

"My sister will need a scapegoat and I have no intention of being available for that honor," she said aloud.

In a matter of moments she had packed all she needed, and within the hour she had already stolen herself from the city of Mulmaster like a thief in the night, hoping to make the court of Szass Tam in enough time to state her case before the Tharchioness had issued her death warrant.

The chancellor was quite disappointed later in the evening when he returned to her chamber having completed his appointed mission. When she failed to respond to his gentle taps on her door, he increased the force of each of the blows until he became afraid that he would wake up a neighboring minister before arousing the lovely Mischa. He quickly concluded that she must have already fallen into a sound sleep, and that a good night's rest would do him good as well, so that he would be amply refreshed when they resumed their tete-a-tete on the following day.

Unbeknownst to him, he had missed the lovely Mischa by mere moments, and would never have the pleasure of seeing her again.

In the High Blade's Chambers in the Tower of the Wyvern:

Honor took Mason aside and exchanged furtive whispers with him as the others looked on, assuming that he was trying to calm his old friend down.

Rickman, who had almost returned to consciousness was encouraged to remain out cold by Passepout, who utilized a firm blow to the captain's head with a ceramic bust that had been resting on a table near the mantlepiece. The portly thespian, unfortunately misjudged the trajectory of the bust's blow, and nearly broke his own toe when its deflected path caused it to impact his foot.

Volo and Rassendyll shared a stifled grin at their friend's minor misfortune, and then quickly moved to his side to console him and applaud his fast efforts in dealing with the deceitful Rickman. By the time the three had finished ascertaining that Passepout's foot was not even sprained, nor very badly bruised, McKern and Fullstaff had finished their exchange, and asked for all of their attentions.

"Our paths herewith must diverge," the blind swordmaster maintained. "With Selfaril dead, we must quickly move to put Rassendyll in his place as the new High Blade of Mulmaster. What better way to do so than by having him assume Selfaril's identity?"

"But…" Rassendyll began to protest, but quickly hushed when Honor's upraised hand signaled him to wait a minute.

"Mulmaster without a High Blade in place would be easy prey for all takers in the Moonsea region, let alone the imperialist hungers of Azoun in Cormyr, and the residential threat of the Thayans, who already have exerted undue influence in our fair court."

Rassendyll nodded in agreement, realizing that the older swordmaster was indeed correct in his assessment of the situation.

"Therefore, we must slip you into his identity as quickly as possible," Mason added. "Honor and I will be right at your side all the time."

"What about us?" Passepout interjected with a gesture indicating that he was referring to himself and Volo.