7th Day of Fireseek, 565 CY
The Brass Dragon Inn, Furyondy

In spite of everything, Elrohir permitted himself a small smile.

This is looking much better, thought the ranger.

Along with everyone else, he had breathed a sigh of relief when Cygnus and Aslan had returned, together and smiling. Now, with the sun having set several hours ago and taking the rain and hail with it, both parties were again clustered around tables, eating and drinking. At Argo's insistence, this was all on the house. Cygnus had gone pale at the announcement, but Elrohir had successfully explained that a sudden infusion of otherworldly currency in the local economy might eventually attract unwarrented attention, if it were traced back to them.

Although the inn remained closed, the staff had been released from their quarters below, and were once again in full swing, taking orders and serving guests. The five remaining commoners had left, so the main room now resembled what Elrohir thought an Adventurer's Guild might look like, full of fighters, mages, priests and who-knew-what-else. He had never seen an actual Adventurer's Guild, although he had been told the great metropolis of Greyhawk to the south sported one.

The children, Thorin and Barahir, were gone. Aslan had teleported them to the sanctuary of the Castle Calastar in the Shield Lands, which all of his friends constantly (and irritatingly) could remember only as the "Square Castle." The party had done the local lord there a great favor some time ago, and now the party was calling in its marker. The castle contained a huge, lead-lined room, where the children would stay for the time being. The lord had pointed out that this room was in fact a treasure room, and not designed to hold people for an extended period of time, but had stated that, upon his honor, the children would be fed and cared for as well as was possible. This was acceptable to all involved, except of course for the children themselves. Barahir had wailed non-stop at being taken away from his parents, and Thorin had begged his father for the chance to stay, but the wizard was firm, and his son had eventually given in, since he knew he had no allies in this matter among the party.

Thorin's experiences while a hostage had revealed no breakthrough information. The room where he had spent his time sounded like any flea-ridden inn room anywhere. What was interesting, although not totally unexpected, was that Nodyath had an ally (or minion). Thorin described him as a "dirty-looking" human male, about forty years old, with graying, curly hair and a mutton-chop beard. Although the man spent a fair amount of time in the room with Thorin watching over him, he rarely spoke to him. He carried no visible weapons other than a blackjack (the cause of the boy's cheek bruise when he had failed to use his chamberpot quickly enough).

Although technically a child himself, Tadoa had remained behind. The party had long become accustomed to treating the elf as an adult, and he seemed to wish it so in this matter, although he had been morose at losing his best friend Thorin's company, even if only for a short while. Now, he was sitting to the right of Wescene, gazing at the young elf with ill-disguised puppy love eyes.

Young was, of course, a relative term. Elrohir pegged Wescene at close to two hundred years of age.

For her part, Wescene seemed only interested in the half-elven Sitdale who sat on her left side. It was obvious to anyone except Tadoa that the two were a couple. Or perhaps Tad did realize it, but with the determination that only an adolescent can muster, thought he could sever that bond with verbose and very frequent interruptions in their conversation.

Cygnus and Torlina were chatting amiably. Elrohir couldn't make out their conversation from the general din of the common room, but he assumed it was about matters arcane. He had been worried that Torlina might have been interested in Cygnus in a romantic fashion, but that seemed not to be the case. In fact, it was very clear that Torlina and Sir Dorbin, who was sitting on her other side, were personally involved as well. Argo was right, Elrohir thought. They're probably as crazed as we are. Crazier, in fact. We've retired, and they're still adventuring.

At the moment, Sir Dorbin was speaking quietly to Aslan, who sat on his other side. The paladin had been very surprised when the knight had revealed his Talent to him, but had quickly recovered, and it looked like the two might be well on the way to becoming friends. Elrohir's eyes narrowed, recalling Dorbin's insistence that neither he nor his party would leave until Nodyath had been slain. While the ranger was in fact looking forward to that outcome, he didn't want anyone else's life endangered needlessly due to Dorbin's selective fanaticism.

Argo and Caroline seemed to be hitting it off very well with Monsrek and Unru. The priest of Trithereon, Monsrek, was an enigma, Elrohir thought. His manner seemed as judgmental and calculated as Aslan's, yet it seemed to hide a free spirit much like Argo's. In Elrohir's experience, priests scowled at dirty jokes- they didn't tell them. Monsrek, once he relaxed, was turning out to be quite the party animal (Talass had said she caught him leering at her).

Unru was even odder. Elrohir had no idea what the man's profession was, nor would any of his party reveal it. He seemed like an ordinary looking-man of possible Yatian descent (on Oerth, he might be thought Baklunish) with thinning brown hair, brown eyes and a somewhat gaunt frame. He wore rather simple clothes of dark color, except for a loose yellow shirt, on which was sewn a half-dozen pockets. His only weapon seemed to be a round piece of wood about a foot long with a knobby handle near one end. Dorbin had told Elrohir that this was not Unru's true appearance- although he said it was close to it- and that Unru, via a magic item, was forever altering his image. Great, thought Elrohir, rubbing his eyes. Another shapeshifter.

With the possible exception of Sir Dorbin, Talass had not really warmed up to any of their guests, but she was unfailingly polite and gracious, and was eager to exchange information with them. Just a little off to the side, Tojo and the Dorbin party's other wizard, Flond, sat together at a small table. Elrohir would have sworn that neither of them had said a single word to each other all night, yet still they sat, each nursing their single drink. Elrohir could only assume they were having a good time, although it looked to him that both of them were getting ready for a funeral, for all the fun they might be having.

Grock, Mirage and Dudraug were circling the tables like vultures, occasionally snapping up a stray morsel that was either offered or dropped.

Well, Elrohir thought. Time to act the leader.

He rose and clinked his knife on his wineglass. After several repetitions, he finally had everyone's attention. He cleared his throat and began.

"Thank you. I'm glad to see that we're all still capable of smiling. At least most of us," he added with a look towards Tojo and Flond. There was some mild laughter, while Flond's perpetual scowl only deepened. Tojo raised an eyebrow at his party leader but said nothing.

It suddenly hit Elrohir that he was sounding like a bad court jester. This was not that type of chewed his lip and began again, getting right to the point this time.

"From what I understand of the Talent from Aslan and Sir Dorbin, Nodyath is currently low in the amount of it he has available to him. Ideally, if we can find him within the next eight hours or so, before he can mindrest any further, we might be able to destroy him before he can escape. This assumes, of course, that he is still alive. Our sole scroll of divination we used a week or so ago, and I understand no one here can cast such a spell on their own." Heads nodded in confirmation

"So," Elrohir put the question to his audience,"if we go on the assumption that Nodyath still lives, does anyone have any ideas on how to find our foe?"

Argo Bigfellow Jr. stood up, a little unsteadily. For a moment, Elrohir was concerned that his friend might have had a little too much to drink, but Argo's manner seemed serious enough.

"I have an idea, Elrohir. Since Nodyath seems all fired up about the goodies we have stashed in our little treasure chest, I say let's show him something else from it." He turned to the mage sitting nearby. "Cygnus, get the Rock."

There were murmurs from Sir Dorbin's party. "So, you keep rocks stashed in your treasure horde, do you?" asked Unru.

"Hey!" shouted Fee Hal, standing up and with no doubt that he had indeed imbibed a few drinks, clumsily pulled off his right boot and dumped its contents on the table. "I've got some pebbles right here. Barkeep, free drinks for everybody!" he laughed loudly. There were a few chuckles, but Sir Dorbin looked grim. From what Elrohir could remember, Fee Hal was Dorbin's squire. At seventeen, he still sometimes acted the teenager he was.

"Coming right up!" To Elrohir's surprise and consternation, Argo swiped up the pebbles and quickly strode over to the bar, planting them in the hand of the barkeep, who could only gawk. Argo leaned over the bar, grabbed something from underneath it and then straightened up and came back to Fee Hall. He plunked a large glass vial, a little smaller than a mug, in front of the youth. "Drink up!" the ranger smiled, thumping Fee Hal on the back.

The squire picked up the vial and eyed it. It contained a deep green, translucent liquid. Elrohir noted that Cygnus, who had gotten up and was heading towards the Tall Tales Room, had stopped and was looking at Fee Hal with a smile as big as Argo's.

Fee Hal's suspicion and inebriation were battling it out with each other. He blinked and looked at Argo again.

"What's this again?"

The ranger's smile didn't waver. "Our house specialty."

Fee Hal was slowly lifting the vial to his lips when Aslan rose and said loudly, "stop!"

Argo and Cygnus groaned, the latter resuming his trip to the Tall Tales Room. The paladin walked over to Fee Hal, took the vial from his hand, and set it back down on the table. "This is green goop," he announced to the Dorbin party at large, "a disgusting concoction dreamed up by Argo and Cygnus. Unless you enjoy projectile vomiting for the next several minutes or so, I'd advise against imbibing."

"You always do," grumbled Argo, sitting back down. "Spoilsport."

Aslan ignored this and returned to his seat. Soon, Cygnus returned to the common room.

In his hand, he held an odd-looking object. It only superficially resembled a rock. Its shape was that of an oval spheroid, cleaved in half lengthwise. It was just under six inches in length, and resembled a smooth, brownish piece of quartz more than anything. Lighter-colored streaks seem to run through the interior.

"Whatever that is, it's radiating a very strong magic," Torlina informed her companions.

"It should," said Cygnus. "It can grant you a wish."

The entire Dorbin party leaned forward. More than one mouth fell open soundlessly. "A wish?" whispered Torlina.

"Well," said Cygnus, a little sheepishly, "perhaps I overstated that. It's power is limited, yet quite varied. We have used it to great effect ourselves."

"I'm certain that a properly phrased request will enable all of us to be transported to Nodyath's location," put in Argo.

"The problem Argo," said Elrohir, "is that each person only gets one wish, and we've all used ours."

Smiling, Argo turned to his fellow ranger.

"We have indeed," he replied, then turned to regard Sir Dorbin. "But they haven't."

Ten minutes later, everyone was standing outside of the inn. The night air was crisp and cold, now coming from the west. No one really complained, though. In fact, some- such as Fee Hal- were quite grateful for its invigorating effect. Sir Dorbin and Cygnus stood apart from the others, the knight eyeing the Rock.

"How do I activate it, Cygnus? Do I place my hands on it?"

The mage shook his head and rubbed his finger over the Rock's surface, hard. A small piece broke off. Cygnus handed it to Sir Dorbin.

"No, my good sir. You eat it."

Dorbin eyed the chip he held. It looked somewhat like a fried potato skin. He eyed the wizard critically. "If I start throwing up, Cygnus, I will be very, very disappointed in you."

Cygnus just smiled.

Dorbin turned around to the rest of his party behind them, then abruptly shouted out.

"Unknown enemy! Battle positions!"

Instantly, they formed a circle behind the duo, with Monsrek, Fee Hal, Sitdale, Aiclesis and Wescene forming the perimeter, and the others inside. All drew weapons.

Aslan turned to Argo. "That is something we could learn from them, Argo." The ranger snorted in reply.

Sir Dorbin took a deep breath and crunched down on the chip. It was brittle but had no flavor. After choking it down, he spoke out loudly, "I wish that all of us present here were immediately transported to the presence of Nodyath!"

Nothing happened. Seconds dragged by, then a minute. Cygnus broke off another piece and handed it to Dorbin. "Wish for something else," he said. "Something simple."

Dorbin shrugged, bit the chip, swallowed, and then announced. "I wish for a tankard of ale."

Nothing.

Cygnus said quietly to Dorbin, "Have your party stand down." Dorbin did so, while the Elrohir party huddled.

"What went wrong?" asked Elrohir.

Cygnus shook his head. "His wish was used, if not enacted. I don't know why, but I'm guessing one of two possibilities. Either Nodyath is dead, or the Rock doesn't have the power to fufill the request."

Argo frowned. "It should."

"How do you know?" replied Cygnus, a little annoyed. "We know next to nothing about this Rock, other than the fact that we can't use it anymore. I don't want to waste any more pieces of it experimenting. We go to plan B."

Aslan raised an eyebrow. "Plan B? And what is that, Cygnus?" he asked, his voice darkening. "Another plan of your own devising?"

"Not at all," said the wizard, heading back into the inn. "Plan B means we throw every protective spell we can think of on ourselves, go to sleep, and if Nodyath appears tomorrow to kill us, we wing it from there. For details, see Argo."

Aslan stared as Cygnus vanished back into the Brass Dragon, and then turned his gaze to the ranger. "Well?" Argo put his hand on Aslan's shoulder and leaned in.

"Plan B. Things turning out all right without any kind of elaborate battle plan that never works anyway," Argo said. "And that is something that Sir Dorbin can learn from us. Good night, my friend."

Argo turned and headed in for the night. Slowly, everyone followed.