The Nether Scroll

"I'm grateful for your thanks," he said, striving to match the goblin's simple formality. The goblin-kin weren't known for their cleverness. "Your thanks are sufficient. I need no other reward for saving a child."

He wove his fingers past the offering, which he didn't want under any circumstance, and clasped the goblin's empty hand. Druhallen had never taken the magical measure of a goblin before. It was difficult to interpret the sensations that raced up his arm, but they didn't have the signatures he would have expected from a mage in disguise.

The goblin grasped Dru's hand in return and tilted his head up. "Not accept reward, good sir? Not good? Not right? Sheemzher sorry." Ugly as he was, Sheemzher could have taught Tiep a thing or two about pleading. Which was another odd thing as goblins weren't known for their empathy. "Sheemzher give all for child."

Dumbfounded, Dru asked, "I saved your child?"

As hard as it was to accept the hat, boots, and bright-green jacket, it was harder to imagine that Sheemzher was the father of the malodorous creature Dru had rescued from the chicken coop.

"No, good sir. Sheemzher not father. Mother, daughter not belong Sheemzher. Mother, daughter from Greypeaks. Mother, daughter hungry. Mother, daughter make mistake. Big mistake. Sheemzher helpless. Sheemzher pray. Good sir come. Good sir save child. Sheemzher give reward."

Dru shook his head. "Give this to your gods, Sheemzher. I acted for myself." He freed himself of the goblin's hand and the gift.

"Keep it, Dru. We could use a little reward about now," Galimer suggested.

"Yes, good sir. Keep reward. Open reward?"

Rozt'a sheathed her knives. "Oh, go ahead and get it over with. I don't know which is harder to believe: that you rescued a warty runt or that one's come to reward you for doing it. I haven't seen so much color since we left Llorkh."

"Lady Mantis favorite colors. Sheemzher wear favorite colors."

Rozt'a's hands went back to her knife hilts. "Lady Mantis? That's not the name you gave before. You said Windy-something before."

The goblin stiffened and clapped his hands together. "Lady Mantis same good lady Wyndyfarh. Good lady Wyndyfarh same Lady of the Wood. Sheemzher serve good lady. Sheemzher proud."

Dru ceased fumbling with the knotted silk. "Weathercote Wood?"

"Yes, good sir. Good lady Wyndyfarh lives Weathercote Wood. Weathercote Wood magic wood. Weathercote Wood many wonder wood. But good lady Wyndyfarh most wonder, good sir. Most, most wonder."

"Is your lady a wizard?"

"Good lady Wyndyfarh great lady, good sir. All Weathercote people great people. Great, good sir, not wizard. Good sir wizard, yes?"

Without dwelling on the goblin's distinctions between good, great, and the practitioners of magic, Dru reminded himself that if Sheemzher had seen him rescue the child, then he'd probably seen him cast the gloomy spell.

"Please, good sir, open reward?"

Before Dru finished with the knots, Tiep found his voice. "You've seen Lady Mantis?"

Tiep's voice broke as it hadn't in years. His normally dark complexion had gone sallow. Lady Mantis must have quite a reputation among the Parnasters.

"Sheemzher serve good lady Wyndyfarh. Good lady same Lady Mantis." The goblin answered Tiep's question but didn't honor him with a "good sir" nor even the "good man" he'd hung on Galimer.

"She's real? She's not just a story?" Tiep persisted.

"What real? All Weathercote people real. What people not real?"

"What's this about a story?" Rozt'a demanded. "Tiep, you look like you swallowed a ghost. What stories have you heard?"

"Stories," Tiep whispered without taking his eyes off Sheemzher. "Lady Mantis comes to the village at night, when someone's sick or dying. She heals them ... sometimes. But sometimes, she just comes and steals a Zhentarim or two." He retreated toward the wall. "One that needs stealing. They say she eats them. They never come back, that's for certain."

That had to be the least believable tale Tiep had ever told. Dru broke the cord knotting up the silk. Four coins clattered to the floor. Three were the angular bits of black metal that passed for currency in the charterhouse. The fourth was bright silver and larger than the others combined.

Twilight had gone to evening and they needed to light the lamp, but even without it, Dru saw knew he'd never seen this coin's like before. No coin minted near the Heartlands bore the sun's face on one side and a dragon on the other. He offered the coin to Galimer who lit the lamp before accepting it.

"Is this what I think it is?" Galimer asked with his thumbnail framing the script beneath the dragon's wing.

"Sure looks like it to me." He left the coin in Galimer's care and towered over the goblin. "Who minted that coin? How did you get it?"

Sheemzher wrung his hands. "Good lady Wyndyfarh send Sheemzher here. Good lady Wyndyfarh give Sheemzher silver. Sheemzher buy food, other things. Sheemzher bargain good, good sir. Sheemzher had too much silver; not now. Sheemzher reward good sir. Good lady not angry. Good lady have many, many coins, good sir. Many, many same silver coins."

Common wisdom said goblins weren't clever enough to deceive a human. Common wisdom also said that goblins scavenged what little clothing they wore and never bathed. Druhallen would wager every last one of the good lady's many silver coins that Sheemzher had nothing in common with common wisdom.

"Where does your lady get her coins?" he asked.

The goblin shrugged. "Sheemzher not know. Good lady know. Good sir ask good lady, yes? Good lady wise. Good lady know Wood. Good lady know coin. Good lady know all. Good sir ask good lady; good sir become wise."

Dru was thinking that Lady Mantis had her own mint somewhere when Rozt'a asked, "What did he give you? Is it an elven coin? Something from Myth Dra

"Better," he replied. "We've seen the script before on an old piece of glass, but this coin could have been minted yesterday." Druhallen looked again at Sheemzher. "Your lady's not using someone else's stamps to mint her coins, is she?"

The goblin shook his head solemnly. "What be stamps, good sir? What be mint, good sir? Sheemzher confused; people not clever. Good lady Wyndyfarh have coins. Good sir need coins? Good sir need special coins. Good lady help good sir. Good lady kind."

Druhallen threw back his head and laughed. "Amarandaris. He's cleverer than I thought." He looked down on the goblin. "Amarandaris sent you, didn't he?"

"No, good sir. Sheemzher come alone. Good lady Wyndyfarh say, 'Stay out of the way of the Zhentarim. There's no reason for them to know anything they don't expect.' "

When it came to quoting his good lady's speech, the goblin got the words right but used an unfamiliar, lilting accent. Sheemzher was a mystery and so was his good lady. Druhallen exchanged a glance with Galimer; they were both intrigued. They were both wizards; curiosity was their greatest vice.

"Why that coin, Sheemzher?" Dru pointed at the silver in Galimer's hand. "Why reward me with that particular coin? Do all her silver coins look like that one, with dragons and a sun's face. Do they all have that squiggly script around the wing? Do you know what it says, Sheemzher? What it means? Where it's from and how many years have passed since it was minted?"

"Not clever, good sir. People not clever. Sheemzher not clever. Good sir visit Wood, yes? Good sir ask good lady. Good lady wise. Good lady answer."

"Good lady," Dru repeated. "Good lady Wyndyfarh. Lady Mantis. Mantis. That's a bug, isn't it? A bug with big eyes and clasped hands. The Kozakurans put them in cages and keep them as pets. Is that what happened to you?"

"What be Kozakuran, good sir? What be pet?"