The Nether Scroll

"Give it up, Dru!" Galimer advised, slapping him across the back. "You're talking to a goblin! Might as well interrogate a four-year-old! We'll keep the coin—if it's as old as it looks, the dog-face has given us a fortune. If not, at least the silver's pure." Druhallen had blinked when he heard Amarandaris's words coming out of Galimer's mouth, but there was merit in what both men had said. He took the coin from Galimer's hand. He'd seen ancient coins dug out of the ground. All tarnished and corroded, they didn't look like the goblin's coin. The goblin's coin—Lady Wyndyfarh's coin—shone; its relief was sharp. The coin had to be new; it couldn't have come from Netheril.

"Call it coincidence, Dru, and let it go. We've got more important things to worry about." Galimer cocked his head toward Tiep, who hadn't budged from the wall.

Before Dru could agree, the goblin was tugging on his sleeve.

"Good sir leave Parnast? Good sir need leave? Need leave quick? Sheemzher know way. Sheemzher know very best way leave Parnast. Sheemzher help good sir. Good lady help; Sheemzher promise."

Rozt'a joined Dru, Galimer, and the goblin at the center of the room. "What gave you the idea that we wanted to leave Parnast?" she demanded coldly.

Sheemzher released Dru's sleeve and backed away. "Good sir meet Zhentarim lord. Go up together. Come down each alone. Good sir angry, not happy. Zhentarim angry, not happy. Sheemzher confused. Sheemzher worry. Good sir save child. Sheemzher understand. Good sir wise; good sir leave Parnast, yes? Sheemzher come. Sheemzher help good sir leave Parnast."

"And get an arrow in my back? You almost had me, Sheemzher. I was starting to believe you. It's dark, the gates are shut. Once curfew's rung around here, the Zhentarim shoot anything that moves."

"Good sir safe with Sheemzher. Good sir and all friends. Not horses. Horses not come. Sheemzher give friends silver coins. Horses safe with friends. Good sir, friends safe with Sheemzher. Good lady give good sir silver—"

"Enough!" Rozt'a shouted. She clamped her hand on the goblin's neck. "It's time for you to leave."

"Sheemzher return before dawn, good sir," the goblin said, wriggling out of Rozt'a's grasp. Things didn't usually escape from Rozt'a. "If good sir ready, Sheemzher lead good sir, friends. Good sir, friends, safe with Sheemzher. Weathercote Wood welcome good sir, friends. Good lady welcome good sir, friends. Sun not set, good lady welcome. Good lady help."

The goblin opened the door himself and was gone.

Rozt'a pulled it shut. With practiced moves, she looped the latch string around the bolt and pulled it taut. "That was no natural creature. If he comes back, he can scream himself blue before I'll let him in. I say, melt those coins and quickly!"

Dru shrugged and handed the coin to Galimer. "What are the chances that it's truly Netherese?"

"About the same as someone called Lady Mantis having a goblin servant."

Tiep stirred. "She might. I could ask Manya—"

"Village talk," Rozt'a sniffed. "Every wood is haunted when you're a farmer."

"Weathercote is haunted—well, not quite haunted. There's Lady Mantis and the Gray Man and a bunch of others. They're not wizards, Dru, not according to Manya; they're more than wizards. She wouldn't go into Weathercote Wood for love nor money, but her pa said he met the Gray Man when he was young. He showed me an arrow: a gray-metal arrow. Not tin or steel or anything I'd seen before. He told me to try breaking the shaft. I thought he was joking, but I couldn't make it bend."

"What about Lady Mantis?" Dru asked. "I got a look at your face when the goblin spoke that name. If you're in trouble, Tiep, you'd be wisest to tell us everything right now."

Tiep stiffened. "No trouble," he insisted, not altogether convincingly.

Dru thought fast. What they needed to do was get out of Parnast quickly, before discomfort became disaster. He missed the first part of what Tiep had to say about the goblin's lady.

"... tall, and always wears white. Her hair's white, too, with brown stripes, not up and down, but crosswise."

"Lady Mantis sounds more like Lady Owl to me," Galimer judged. "A woman alone in the woods with a goblin—unusual, yes, but not unthinkable, if she's a wizard, or more than a wizard. I saw you ring the dog-face early on. Anything come of that?"

"Sheemzher's a goblin. I've never measured a goblin. I didn't sense anything extraordinary—nothing like a stripe-haired woman pretending to be something she wasn't. I believe that he's a servant ... a minion. I took a walk to Weathercote this morning. You know how a place feels when it feels too peaceful?"

Galimer nodded.

"The forest around here has that feel."

"Forget the forest! Last I heard we had Zhentarim trouble," Rozt'a fumed. "Forget the dog- face and his bug-lady. Forget everything except that he claims he saw Amarandaris looking angry after you left. Are we going to slip out of here tonight?" She confronted Tiep. "You've gotten way too friendly, way too fast with this Manya and her family. They know you're just passing through. There wasn't any good reason for her father to be telling you his life story, or was there?"

The youth screwed his lips into a scowl. "Maybe he didn't want me thinking that his life hadn't been exciting. Look, are we going to cut and run?"

"Tiep!" Rozt'a roared.

"Well, if we're not, and you're done taking my life apart, I'd like to go out—"

His voice faded before he got to the where and why parts of his desire. Dru caught questioning glances from Rozt'a and Galimer.

"We're not ru

"I'll try the merchants again tomorrow," Galimer offered. "Now that I know what we're up against, I might have better luck."

"So, can I go out?" Tiep interrupted Galimer. "And what about the blue-eyes? Can I trade for the boxes?"

Rozt'a planted herself in front of the door. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Is her word final?" Tiep appealed to Dru and Galimer.

Galimer said, "Yes. You're staying here."

Druhallen surprised himself by saying, "No. What's cut, stays cut. If you're not telling the truth, you're the one who has to live with yourself."

The youth grimaced the way youths had grimaced at their elders since the dawn of time. "I'm fine. What about the blue-eyes? Can I trade?"

That was Galimer's decision alone. The gold-haired wizard studied the rafters, doing calculations in his head. "Against your own share or in common?"

"Common," Tiep said eagerly. "They're good boxes, Galimer. You'd agree if you'd seen them. And not too big. I can nest 'em behind my saddle. It's a good trade."

"All right, you've got your blue-eyes, but not a genuine Cormyr stamp. Give them the usual Zhentarim counterfeits. Odds on, they wouldn't know a true Cormyr coin if it rose up and bit them on the nose. If they do, offer five true-silver falcons and not a thumb more."

"Not a thumb!" Tiep agreed.

Rozt'a looked like a storm about to break, but she stepped aside to let Tiep untie her latch knot. She held the door and her tongue until he was gone.

"What's the matter with the two of you? You know he's not after wooden boxes! I've half a mind to follow him."

Dru cleared his throat. "Go after him now, and Longfingers and I will decide how we're getting out of here while you're both gone."

Rozt'a slammed the door shut. "All right. What's your plan?"