The maid came in just as I crunched the last of my toast. She curtsied and said, "Lady Mirielle, Inspector Trade is here to see you."

Sis smoothed back her curls. "Show him into the parlor, Jane. We shall be there in a moment."

Anomen pushed his chair back from the table, looking a tad green around the gills. "I should leave, my Lady. I would not wish to be in the way."

"Oh, Anomen, please stay," said Sis. "I'd feel so much better if you were around."

She looked at him with those eyes, and he folded like a card table. We followed Sis into the parlor. Two men rose from the pink leather couch. One of them, with a shock of black hair and a face like a collapsed lung, I'd met before. That would be Inspector Trade. A stand-up guy, if a bit wet behind the ears.

"Lady Mirielle," he said, "it's a real honor to meet you. My sister was in Imnesvale during the Shadow Wolf attacks, and I'll always be grateful that you put a stop to them before she got hurt."

He slobbered over her hand like an otyugh in heat, which she seemed to enjoy. Dames really went for that stuff.

"Why, thank you, Inspector," she said, batting her eyelashes his way. "It was nothing, really."

"Please, call me Les."

I watched Sis as they talked. She looked better this morning, only a little puffy around the eyes, even with the recent flood of tears. Trade certainly seemed to think so. He was one step away from kissing her dainty feet. Sis always had a way with people. She could twist a guy around her little finger in minutes. I ought to know. I was one of those guys.

Sis was the reason why I was standing here today. When she'd ruined my plans to take over our father's throne, I'd been dumped down into the Abyss along with all the other failed Bhaalspawn, part of one cosmic reject pile—or so I'd thought. Then she'd started to discover the powers in her blood, and, being the curious minx that she was, she messed around with them. Because she had no idea what she was doing, she brought me back to life.

Sure, she'd fried me with a lightning bolt the first time she saw my new body, but the second time, I made her an offer she couldn't refuse. With my blade at her side, no one stood against us. Fire giants, dragons, and even our father's last minions fell before our combined might. For this I was paid well in gold, gems, and nifty new weapons. Yes, she'd been my enemy, but it was so good to be alive again that I didn't give a crap. Plus, I'd always been a sucker for a pretty face. I'd never understood why Sis hadn't taken Bhaal's power and become a god, like I'd planned to do, but I guessed it had something to do with Kelsey.

The other guy, a bony shrimp with a salt and pepper beard, finally got sick of the chatter. "Can we get on with this?" he snapped. "I'm a busy man. I don't have all day to waste here." He stalked out of the room without waiting for an answer.

Trade went bright tomato red. "Sorry about Moore," he muttered. "I know he's a bit touchy, but he's a good man in a crunch. He came with the highest recommendations from the Cowled Wizards."

"Don't worry about it," said Sis with a dazzling smile. "I suppose we should hurry. I don't want to waste your valuable time."

We followed her downstairs into what looked like a basement laboratory. A heavy oak table stood in the center of the large room, every square inch covered with flasks, tubes, and other equipment. Moore was already there, checking out the shelves. They were lined with rows of heavy glass jars, all filled with squiggles. I opened a jar and took a whiff of its contents. Eye of newt and hair of dog. I sure hoped Kelsey's stuff worked. I'd hate to think dames across Athkatla were rubbing this stuff on their faces for nothing.

"I found Kelsey there, to the left of the table." Sis hugged herself and shivered.

Moore ran his eyes over the floor. "The guards moved the body already, Les?"

"I asked them to move Kelsey to the temple," said Sis. "The priests tried to raise him, but failed."

"They captured images in the scrying ball," said Trade, "if you really need them."

"Hmph. Very well. Do you have the personal item, Lady Mirielle?"

"Yes."

She handed him a simple gold ring. Moore closed his eyes and began muttering mystical mumbo-jumbo.

While he was busy, I took another look around the room. Something wasn't right, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. It didn't help that Imoen was tugging on my shirt.

"Listen to him, Sarry! I could do that spell in two seconds. He wouldn't need to whisper half that long if he were any good!"

Moore opened one eye and glared at Imoen. I ignored her and kept looking at the floor, then the walls, then all that delicate equipment on the table. It clicked. The place was too damn clean.

Most crime scenes show some sign of struggle, but this room was as neat as a shot of whiskey. Kelsey may have been a skinny sorcerer, but he was no pushover. He could fry an orc with a single thought, and he knew a lot of spells, each one nastier than the next. Even if the maid had poked her pointy nose in here, scorch marks were murder to remove.

There was a surge of light, and Moore released Kelsey's ring. It hung in the air, floating on a cloud of silver sparkles, and then it began to spin, faster and faster. Imoen had just enough time to mutter, "If I'd done it, the sparkles would be much cooler. And pink." before an image formed in the air above the spinning ring. It fuzzed a bit before resolving.

In the image, a crossbow bolt struck Kelsey in the chest. He flung out an arm and staggered back, the surprised look freezing on his face as two more bolts pinned him to the floor. He twitched a little and died.

Sis squealed like a pig on the chopping block. Anomen rushed to her side and covered her eyes with his hands. "Have you no feelings, man?" he bellowed.

"Terribly sorry," said Moore. "One moment, I'll have this fixed. Let me just..." He waved his hand. Kelsey sprang to his feet, bolts flying backward and wounds smoothing into unbroken skin.

Trade sighed. "Just go back to the beginning, will you?"

Moore grumbled, but swept his little finger sharply to the left and down. The image blacked out, and then the lights came up on a different scene. In this one, Sis stood next to Kelsey, packing tiny flasks into a large wooden crate. It looked like part of that shipment she'd mentioned. There were six other crates stacked against the opposite wall.

Running a hand through his carrot-colored crew cut, Kelsey said something to Sis. She wiped her brow and poured him a glass of water from a large jug. He said something else and motioned to a table. She smiled, walked over to the table, and set down his drink.

"No sound," Imoen muttered. "Amateur work."

Sis kissed Kelsey on the cheek and said something before breezing up the stairs and out of the image. Kelsey nodded, a hapless "yes, dear" look pasted on his skinny mug. He turned away and picked up his glass, draining it in long, thirsty gulps. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and went back to packing.

Nothing exciting happened, so I let my eyes take another walk around the room. Trade was watching the picture so intently that I thought his eyes would bug out of his head. Anomen had an arm around Sis, who had recovered enough to quit crying. Her mouth was open in a dainty pink "O" as she watched.

Imoen gasped. I turned back in time to see a man appear in the room behind Kelsey. He blipped into existence without any of the fireworks and fancy puffs of smoke that mages tend to use. Very slick. I liked his style.

The man's equipment was professional grade. He had a black leather breastplate, plain dark breeches, and a common-make crossbow, nothing you couldn't get at the Adventurer's Mart. A dark hood covered his hair and most of his face. There was a gold ring wrapped around his left pinky, but everyone and his brother wore those in Amn.

He looked to me like a hired killer, just a cut above the street trash that infested Athkatla's docks. It would make perfect sense. After our rampant do-gooding in Tethyr, there would be no end to evil organizations wanting Sis or Kelsey dead. There was only one thing that didn't add up. The man was going the wrong way.

At first, I thought Moore had screwed up the spell, but no, the man really was sneaking away from Kelsey. He didn't stop until he reached one of the stacked crates, where he shifted his crossbow to his left hand and moved his fingers in tiny circles. It looked like a spell to me.

"Imoen, check those crates," I ordered, not taking my eyes off the image. "Find out what that man was doing."

"Sure thing, boss." Imoen sauntered to the crates and began to jimmy one open.

By now, the man in the image had finished his handwaving. A soft golden glow seeped into the crates. You could almost hear the man thinking, "One down, five to go." He backed off and began to get the hell out of there, but Kelsey raised his head. Perhaps he had sensed the use of magic, or perhaps the man wasn't as silent as he seemed.

Like I said, Kelsey was no pushover. So he did just what I expected. He turned around and confronted the guy. They exchanged words, none of which we could hear, and then they fought. Luckily for Sis, Moore paused the image just before the man fired his crossbow.

"Got everything?"

"Yes," said Moore.

"Then let it go. We can review it later." Trade scratched the sparse stubble that passed for his beard. "Funny that Kelsey didn't manage to cast a--"

"Wait!"

We all turned to look at Sis, who extended a trembling hand. "That insignia," she said in a strange, choked voice.

Insignia? I turned back and squinted. Sis was right. The crossbow had pushed the man's sleeve just far enough back to reveal a black leather bracer. If I looked hard enough, I could make out some sort of design. It rang an alarm in my head. I had seen it before, not too long ago.

Anomen peered over my shoulder. I could feel his bristle of outrage. "Farrahd!" he roared. "Yusef Farrahd!"