A/N: My deepest apologies for the extremely long delay in updating. I have been overwhelmed, but things are calmer now—although still busy. Chapters 3 and 4 are being beta read, and chapters 5-7 are halfway complete. Chapter 8 is the only one I haven't worked on yet. So updates should be steady from now on.

As always, I bluntly admit that my sources of inspiration are often anime and the Buffyverse. Of course, I do aim for a fresh take.

Thank you to Darkhelmet, Chi, and Rezuri for help brainstorming and/or beta reading!

Chapter Two

Dust motes glided through shafts of the afternoon sun, which filtered through the crimson and yellow stained glass of Lander Stonar's study window. The warrior observed the motes from his desk, relaxing by watching their slow fall to the rich maroon Calishite rug below. Having spent the majority of his twenty-seven years encircled by the death and blood which followed Zhentarim families, Lander wanted to be surrounded by nothing but beauty when at home. As a result his study, like the rest of his castle, was filled with pastoral paintings, richly-spun tapestries, and ivory statues that revealed the soft curves and busts of women.

Of course, the great irony contained within Lander's birthright estate was that the castle was more than a home—it was a deathtrap, a masterpiece which eradicated all intruders. This last thought made the warrior smile, for he knew he would soon have guests. Three of them, in fact: a drow, a human assassin, and a monk of Hoar, the last of whom he hoped would survive since his spies indicated she was beautiful. However, now was not the time to think of women. Lander's real concern was leeching information from an elven prophecy that should seal his current plan's success.

Lander experienced a moment's relief, then, when the heavy oak door to his study swung open and admitted his twin, Melcer. The typically grim wizard sported a half-smile—a sure sign of success.

"Do tell," Lander said, sitting up straight in his chair.

Melcer's shadow of a grin turned into a self-satisfied smirk. "Although I admit I've never found a subject more difficult to research and probe, I have—of course—collected some helpful details."

Yes, I figured that out already, Lander thought with a mental sigh. His brother had a way of stating the obvious, as if he had something to prove. Still, Lander bore it with the patience he believed befit an elder twin. "Such as?"

Melcer straightened his navy robes as though he were going to address a crowd. "The sacrifice must be made during a night of the crescent moon and must be done outside in a wooded area. Wherever the blood first falls will be where the portal opens, so we must be careful how we position the girl and where we cut her. If we get any blood on us, the portal would literally open through our bodies."

"A disturbing thought," Lander said, watching his twin closely. The face he studied could be his own: long black hair, dark eyes vaguely slanted, and a sallow complexion. A close observer would note that Melcer's face was faintly thinner, but Lander himself noted something far more meaningful: the crinkling of skin on his forehead that revealed his unease. "You're worried still. Why?"

"Prophecies are tricky," Melcer replied. "Some are even purposefully misleading. I feel as though I could gather information for the next year and still not know enough."

Lander stood and placed both hands on his twin's shoulders, squeezing them. "Don't fret. We know the identity of the sacrifice, and our soldiers are tracking her down now. We'll capture her, string her upside down like a dead cow, and bleed her dry." Enchanted by the picture he painted with his words, Lander continued, allowing his voice to rise to theatrical proportions. "Then portal will open, and we'll be in control of an army of monsters that will bring this entire continent to its knees! We shall begin by ruling this region, but in the end we'll rule the entire organization. Never lose faith in that!"

Melcer's signature frown had returned, but Lander caught the softening of his eyes. "When we work together, I can doubt nothing."

Feeling triumphant, Lander squeezed his shoulders again. This is why we'll succeed when so many others have failed. "That's my little brother."

Entreri stared at the castle that towered before them. Made entirely of black stone, the fortress asserted itself as proud with its six turrets—one on each corner and two twin spires jutting up in the middle. Fortunately, the builders hadn't seen fit to dig a moat, but they had perched the castle at the top of a sheer cliff. The assassin could only imagine the mechanical and magical defenses guarding such a residence.

"Brilliant idea," he sighed, inexplicably irritated with his mission.

"You like challenges," Jarlaxle reminded him.

"But I don't like exhausting myself before I can even reach my kill," Nyx chimed in.

"What she said," Entreri replied. He scanned the surrounding forest for threats, not at all sure they weren't being spied upon or followed.

Jarlaxle grinned at them. "Come, now! This is what you live for!" He gestured at Entreri. "The judicious use of wit and intelligence, followed by sheer martial prowess." He then waved his hand toward Nyx. "And pure vengeance against the deserving."

Entreri and Nyx traded looks.

"He's being rather obvious this time," she said, scuffing the dirt with one boot.

"He promised to keep his manipulations transparent," Entreri replied. Or most of them, anyway, he thought to himself. I'm still suspicious about his motives for taking this job.

Jarlaxle chuckled. "Now, now. No need for you to both become grumpy at once. The last thing I need is to be in the center of a contest between the two of you to see who can be the most sour and cynical." He patted the Bregan D'aerthe emblem on his cloak. "Besides, some strategic levitation should make scaling the cliff easier."

Nyx ignored the drow and smirked at Entreri. "You have poor taste in friends. You should be glad to have snared someone like Tai."

"You're a poor friend, too?" the assassin quipped.

"To have not killed the drow upon sight so that months down the road we wouldn't be faced with this insanity? Yes."

Entreri pondered this and nodded. "I see your point." He allowed the corner of his mouth to curl and couldn't stop himself from adding a jab for Jarlaxle. "You could kill him now."

Nyx snickered.

Jarlaxle had cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. "Kill the only one of us who has good taste and good sense? Suicidal at best." He pointed to the cliff. "Shall we?"

"Take me up first," Entreri said. "I'm sure there are traps which will need disarming. If anything attacks Nyx during my transit, she can handle herself."

"I'll take that as a compliment," the monk said.

"You should," Jarlaxle replied as he wrapped his arms around Entreri's waist. "He doesn't say nice things unless he means them."

Entreri frowned, uncomfortable with the close contact. Few people in his life had embraced him, but he schooled himself to be mature about it—there was no other way to ensure he was transported safely. He grasped Jarlaxle's shoulders and then held on as the drow levitated them up the cliff. At first, he stared down, but the sight of Nyx and the trees becoming smaller made him too conscious of the height. However, when he glanced upward, the towering castle seemed to be falling toward him in some kind of optical illusion he couldn't explain. In the end, he just stared at the cliff, and Jarlaxle chuckled.

Once at the top, Entreri scrambled onto solid ground, crouched by the castle wall, and checked for traps. Finding none, he watched as Jarlaxle repeated the trip, bringing Nyx up.

When Nyx pulled herself onto the cliff top, her sheer whiteness made her sprinkling of freckles stand out. "I don't ever want to repeat that experience."

Jarlaxle was grinning. "But you must admit that it was much quicker than scaling it."

Entreri ignored them both, assessing the ways of breaching the castle wall. "We may have some climbing to do anyway." He ran his hand over the stone, checking for finger grips, but the castle seemed made of a material like obsidian—smooth and black.

Nyx joined him, checking for cracks. "Do you have rope?"

Jarlaxle patted the wall. "Again, there—"

He never finished the sentence. The instant the drow's skin joined the humans' in touching the stone, Entreri felt his stomach lurch. A brilliant flash of light like red lightning stung his eyes, and then the black stone seemed to blur past him. He closed his eyes, lost his balance as the ground seemed to give away, and then fell on his knees as gravity seemed to snap back into place. After waiting for his head to stop spinning, he opened his eyes, and registered he was no longer in front of the castle. In fact, he was no longer outside. He was kneeling on a crimson tile floor in the middle of a hallway. The ceiling arched dramatically over his head, creating a corridor shaped like an upside-down V.

"Teleportation," Entreri spat.

Nyx, who knelt beside him, had her hand over her stomach. She inhaled slowly. "Beautiful."

Jarlaxle, who had somehow managed to retain his feet, studied the mural that ran the entire length of the corridor on both sides. "In a purely aesthetic sense, yes, but I'd say we're in a spot of trouble."

Entreri stood and frowned at the mural, which depicted dragons, gorgons, and chimera that were frying, goring, and eating humans. "Master Brightwood had better be good for the other half of the gold he promised us."

Jarlaxle slapped him on the shoulder. "Just gold? Dream bigger! Who knows what may come of this adventure! We may gain both fortune and fame, a territory all our own, or—"

"Unspeakable deaths," Entreri interrupted. "Don't forget about the part where we're in danger."

Jarlaxle patted his necklaces. "I haven't."

Of course you're safe. "Although I admit that if you could speak gold and gems into existence, you'd be set for life," Entreri snapped, suddenly irritated again.

Jarlaxle grew suddenly somber. "Words are powerful—more powerful than anyone realizes. Words of prayers or spells, certainly, but common words, too. You do indeed create and destroy worlds with what you say. And you, my friend, paint your world black."

Entreri blinked at the way the drow's façade had dropped away and revealed such seriousness.

"Focus, gentlemen," Nyx said. "Trap. Strange hallway. Escape."

The mercenaries glanced at her.

"Right you are," Jarlaxle replied, smiling.

"Good." Nyx turned to survey the hallway. "I guess we have to check for traps," she began, taking a step forward.

Entreri's sixth sense immediately screamed at him. "Wait!" he yelled.

A click sounded as Nyx stepped on one of the crimson tiles, and a whirling, circular blade shot from the wall. The monk sprung sideways, tucking into a roll and springing back to her feet. The arm holding the blade stopped a half inch from her chest.

"Hells!" she said, gasping for breath. All the color had drained from her face once again. "When I said we should check for traps, I didn't realize I was on top of one."

"I suspect we're in an underground labyrinth," Entreri said. He pointed to the torches set in the walls. "There's no natural light, and—" He shrugged. "My sense of direction simply tells me."

"I agree," Jarlaxle said. "It smells familiar—much like the Underdark."

Nyx scooted free of the blade and wiped sweat from her brow. "And of course this would be a labyrinth filled with traps."

Entreri smirked. "Is there any other kind?"

The monk pointed to the mural. "Does that mean there are dragons, chimera, and gorgons down here?"

"One hopes not," Jarlaxle sighed.

"Having a drow is like having a bad luck charm." Entreri smiled tightly. "I'm sure we'll meet all sorts of unpleasant evil." He pointed to the tile floor. "Not the least of which will be mechanical traps."

"I resent that," Jarlaxle said. "But you're right about the traps—mechanical and magical both."

Nyx stared at the blade that had nearly sliced her in half. "Maybe you should lead, Entreri. This is your specialty, right?"

"One of many," Entreri stated bluntly. He took point, testing both the walls and the floor for traps. "This could take awhile."

Nyx sighed. "Patience was never one of my strong points."

"Nor love of death mine," Jarlaxle chimed in.

"Both of you shut up," Entreri said, tapping the floor lightly with his sword tip, "or Tai will be doing our funeral rites over where he thinks the pieces of our bodies might be."

Another tile clicked, releasing a second whirling blade. Entreri yanked his sword back and watched as the blade stopped spinning.

"We'll be as silent as the grave," Nyx said dryly, her tone conveying her growing lethal intent toward the Stonars.

The sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves to dapple the road with dancing light. Stormrider, the wolf Miri had as her companion, ran ahead of the group checking for signs of enemies. Tai watched the muscles of Stormrider's back and shoulders ripple beneath its silvery fur and felt amazement at the power of the animal. Having the animal's superior sense of smell and hearing on their side made Tai feel safer, but he still kept mental fingers on the pulse of energy between himself and Hoar.

Since it was Darvin's turn to take rear guard, Tai walked alongside Miri, who admired the trees and wild undergrowth that surrounded them on both sides. Tai thought she seemed at home there among the plants, far more relaxed and natural than she had in her father's brownstone house.

"My aunt reared me," Miri was explaining. She was carrying her short spear in her hand and twirled it as she walked. "My mom died in childbirth, leaving my father alone with me." Her green eyes seemed to darken as she considered the memory.

"Is your aunt an elf, too, then? Your mother's sister?" Tai asked.

"Yep!" Miri grinned at him, the shadows in her eyes immediately banished. "She taught me all about nature. She basically reared me all by herself." She glanced back at Darvin, who kept pace with them ten feet back. "I did have Darvin to play with as a kid, too, and as I've gotten older, my aunt and father have let me make more outside friends."

"Why Darvin?" Tai asked.

"He's the son of my father's closet friend, and Father thought it would be good for me to have contact with another half elf."

Tai glanced back at the surly-looking priest trailing them. His brown hair seemed to stand up into natural spikes and didn't flatten regardless of the number of times he ran his hands through his hair. In contrast to his wild hair, his clerical robes were pristine white even after all their traveling. Although he had never heard of such magic, Tai wondered if the robes were enchanted to stay clean.

"So tell me about yourself now!" Miri chirped. "You said you're from Tethyr and your ancestors are from Unther, but that's it. Tell me how you became a priest of Hoar! Was your father a priest, and you just followed in his footsteps?"

Tai snorted. "No. My father was—and still is—a devout follower of Tyr. It was my uncle's intervention that turned me to the path of Hoar. The church of Tyr allowed my eldest brother to be condemned to death for an act of civil disobedience, so I chose to follow Hoar because he would never condone such a punishment. Hoar is concerned with the spirit of the law while Tyr is concerned with the letter of the law."

Miri nodded, tucking her spear under her arm. "How long ago did he die?"

"When I was six." Tai shook his head. "I suppose it might seem strange, but my brother's death altered the entire course of my life. He had been my idol, my hero. I'll never forget the way he would wrestle with me, joke with me, and play games with me. Since he was ten years older than I, he was like my second father." He clenched his jaw, finding the words increasingly difficult. "And they killed him."

Miri patted his arm, and the shadows had gathered in her eyes again. "I can tell you were fond of him just by listening to you speak of him. I can't imagine how hard it was."

"It was hell," Tai whispered. "I saw him be executed."

The druid gasped and stopped in her tracks; her wolf sensed her horror and glanced back at her as though it was making sure she was all right. "You saw it? That's horrible! Were you forced to watch?"

Tai halted as well. "No." He snorted, disgusted by the memory of his own stupidity. "I was ordered by my parents to stay home. My great-grandmother stayed with me, but she had a habit of dosing off. I slipped away from her and ran to the village square. I'll never forget, as long as I live, the unspeakable horror of knowing my brother was doomed but being unable to stop it."

Miri grimaced and began walking again, apparently to keep Darvin from catching up and overhearing the painful conversation.

"Despite the fact I was six, I had a basic understanding of what death means," Tai continued, reliving the day in his mind, "but no one really understands that level of loss until it happens to them—regardless of their age. He was hanged for his supposed crime, and I screamed and cried as they kicked the stool out from under is feet. He wasn't lucky—his neck didn't break. So he was choked to death, instead. The memory of his pain and suffering, the changing color of his face . . ." His throat constricted with both anger and grief, and he couldn't continue.

"I'm so sorry," Miri said. She grasped her spear in her hand once more and gripped it tightly, causing her knuckles to whiten.

Seeing her anger on his behalf enabled Tai to resume speaking. "My rage could not be abated. No matter how my parents, sister, and remaining brother tried to help me—or at least grieve with me—I couldn't entirely shake the bitterness. And that's why I was sent to live with my uncle Kassur."

The druid nodded. "You don't seem bitter now. In fact, you seem very wise."

Tai shoved the grief back down into his soul and tried to smile at her. "Thank you. I worked very hard. And I've dedicated the rest of my life to seeing that real justice is done, and injustice is set aright."

Miri returned his smile. "I think you're a wonderful priest. You're also the only follower of Hoar I've ever met other than Darvin!" Her brow furrowed briefly. "Although the way you speak of justice and retribution is far different from the way he speaks. And the consistency of your communing! It seems that you pray every night."

Tai blinked at her. "Of course! How can you know your god if you don't speak with him? How can you hope to channel his divine power or know his will? It would be like trying to build a friendship with someone you never talk to!"

Miri laughed. "I guess you're right. I'd never thought of it that way."

But Tai didn't laugh with her. Something about Darvin unsettled him, and the feeling wasn't helped by Miri's observation. He was distracted from his thoughts, however, when Stormrider suddenly halted in front of them, hunched down, and growled.

"Zhents?" Miri whispered, leveling her short spear.

Tai glanced back at Darvin and saw him holding up his javelin with one hand and in the other hand clutching his necklace, which was the holy symbol of Hoar—a gloved hand holding a coin. "Either Zhents or an equally dangerous monster." Tai couldn't help thinking about the dire wolves that he and his friends had faced several months before, and he immediately prayed to Hoar for blessings upon himself and his allies.

Without warning, an arrow whizzed past Tai's ear, and he jerked to the side. Stormrider charged the tree-line, fangs bared, and Miri seemed to be reaching deep within herself to cast a spell. Tai drew his magical stiletto dagger, which carried a vorpal enchantment, and prepared himself to strike out at his enemies with divine power.

The first Zhent solider, clad in black armor, burst from the underbrush and swung his sword at Darvin, who blocked the strike with his javelin. However, the javelin had never been meant for melee and was a distance weapon, so it bowed under the pressure of the sword.

"Exactly why I don't carry Hoar's favored weapon," Tai muttered to himself, but then he yelled out in fear as the Zhent solider disengaged and struck again, snapping the javelin in half. Darvin had already angled the javelin to the side, so he missed being sliced in the neck. However, Tai saw the sword make contact with the other priest's arm.

Tai started to run for Darvin, but then realized he'd be leaving Miri alone to face her abductors. Miri, though, had completed her spell; she lifted her hand toward the sky, and burning chunks of brimstone hailed down upon the Zhent soldiers as they emerged. Tai counted a dozen men and women, but right before his eyes, three were killed by the flames. The others managed to dodge and continued their assault.

Tai reached deeply into his own soul and called forth Hoar's power, striking blind the man who charged him. The soldier screamed and dropped his battle axe, and Tai lunged forward, simultaneously slashing open the man's neck and electrocuting him with his enchanted blade.

Miri's wolf stood before her and snarled at two soldiers who tried to reach her as she cast her second spell. Tai frowned as Miri's face seemed to flatten and her shoulders hunched forward. She opened her mouth and growled, and her canines extended into fangs. Golden fur and black spots covered her face and arms, and then suddenly she was a leopard.

Tai blinked, but her attackers screamed as both the leopard and the wolf attacked them. Tai had no further time to consider the particular talents of a druid, however, since two men were closing in on his position. Quickly invoking Hoar's power, Tai said, "Enith." A dimensional door opened, teleporting him ten feet behind his enemies—both the two who had been charging him and one other. Tai crept forward, backstabbing the first man. The first two were now headed toward Darvin, so Tai silently sneaked up behind them and drove a dagger into each of their backs.

Darvin had fallen to the ground and was defending against his attacker by holding the end of the man's spear. Tai suspected that he'd raised a divine shield, but sure that Darvin was in mortal danger, he charged the soldier and buried his dagger into the man's spine, directly below his skull. The soldier died instantly, his corpse falling to the ground with a thud.

Not waiting to check Darvin's condition, Tai ran back toward Miri, only to find four mangled corpses littered around the leopard and the wolf.

"Never mind," Tai murmured. He glanced about the trees, checking for further signs of attack, and finding none, relaxed.

Meanwhile, the leopard stretched luxuriously, then transformed back into a half elf maiden. A naked maiden, in fact, with long, graceful legs, rounded hips, and—

Tai clasped his hands over his eyes and spun away. His face and ears burned with such embarrassment that he thought he might catch fire. A spike of electricity seemed to jab his stomach, and he realized that in no uncertain terms he was severely attracted to Miri Brightwood, her sunny personality, and . . . her gorgeous body. "Oh, no," he groaned.

"Took you long enough to look away," snapped an irritated male voice.

Tai lowered his hands and stared down at the bleeding priest. "It wasn't my intention to grope her with my eyes."

Darvin glared at him, and Tai glared back, insulted by his implication. Still, this was no time to begin an argument, so Tai pointed to the wounds on Darvin's arms and legs. "Would you like me to heal you?"

Darvin sighed. "Yeah. Go ahead."

Don't sound so grateful, Tai thought, but he simply leaned down and held his hands over Darvin. It seemed he could do no right by his fellow priest.

Miri sat on the fallen log and patted Tai's knee, but he was still embarrassed enough over seeing her naked that he kept his gaze on their campfire.

"Thank you for healing Darvin," she said, resting her hand on his leg. "And for loaning him one of your daggers. It was incredibly kind of you."

Tai glanced at her hand and smiled, feeling a blush spread on his cheeks. "It was nothing, Miri-sen. I'm just glad he wasn't killed when the javelin broke."

"You really do have a heart for people, don't you?" she asked, wonder in her voice.

Tai met her gaze. "I suppose so. Why is that so surprising?"

She smiled at him, and he became hyperaware of the fact she hadn't removed her hand. "Because it's a rare quality."

Tai glanced back at the fire. "Well, fortunately the world isn't filled with only murderers, rapists, and child-abusers. Some of us strive to do good."

"And punish evil," Darvin said as he entered their camp. He glared at Miri's hand, and she removed it quickly. "Such as killing said murders and rapists and flogging child-abusers."

Miri shuddered, but Darvin ignored her reaction and handed her some of the berries he'd foraged.

"Flogging?" Tai asked, weighing the possible poetic nature of the justice.

"Well of course you must flog him," Darvin snapped, looking at Tai as though he'd grown six extra arms. "It says so in the Assurian Codex. Don't you remember? I quote, 'All parents who beat their children must be flogged ten times for each year of the child's age'—book 4, paragraph 16."

Assurian Codex? Book 4? Paragraph 16? Tai furrowed his brow, confused. "I don't have a copy of the Assurian Codex."

Darvin stared at Tai as though he had just confessed to secretly being a Bane worshipper. "You don't have a copy? And you're an initiated priest?"

Tai blinked. "I wasn't even aware there was an Assurian Codex. My uncle and I were the only two followers I knew of for a long time."

A long pause ensued in which Darwin's eyes became almost comically wide. "So you haven't even read the Assurian Codex?" The condescension in his voice could have been distilled into acid. "How have you carried out proper poetic vengeance without knowing The Codes?"

"Darvin," Miri said, glaring at him.

Tai felt a faint flush in his cheeks. He'd never questioned himself as a priest. The closest he'd ever come to doubting himself had been during the days and weeks after the rape, but even then, his questions had little to do with his competence as a priest. Yet suddenly this young man, who was only a year older than himself, seemed infinitely older, wiser, and learned than he. "I relied on communing with Hoar," he replied, uncomfortable.

Darvin seemed to consider that. "Well, I suppose that could have gotten you through until now. But if you ever want to grow in your priesthood, you need to have a copy of the Codex." He nodded sagely. "Best if you copy them all by hand, but if necessary, I suppose you could hire a scribe to do it." He raised an eyebrow at Tai. "You can write, correct?"

Tai's jaw clenched. "Of course."

"Don't be so insulting!" Miri exclaimed.

"I was simply asking a practical question."

Tai willed himself to remain calm. "How long is the Codex?"

"Five books." Darvin shrugged. "It's roughly 500 pages."

Tai struggled not to react. Copy 500 pages by himself?

Darvin smiled, walked over, and patted Tai on the shoulder. "I know it's lengthy and would require a great deal of time and effort, but if you copy it down yourself, you'll memorize it faster."

Tai frowned. "Unnecessary, I assure you. I have an excellent memory."

Darvin shook his head. "Well . . . it's your choice, of course. I'll lend you my copy so you may begin reading." He handed Tai some berries.

Tai stared at the priest and realized that while this man shared his mission, he was definitely not his ally.

Entreri cut the thin wire which ran across the bottom of the third double door they'd found. The maze had branched several times, but the group had continually turned right, hoping to retrace their steps easier should they reach a dead end. Their course had taken them through two tricky doors and rooms, however, in addition to the endless traps in the hallways.

Shooing Jarlaxle and Nyx back, Entreri retrieved a small block of wood from his utility pack and held it in front of him as he pushed the doors open. Two darts flew from the newly exposed lintel, lodging themselves in the wood.

"Poisoned to be sure," the assassin said. He yanked the darts free and tucked the wood away again.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm glad you're such a well-trained thief," Nyx said.

Entreri didn't respond. His companions' lives, as well as his own, depended upon his being perfect. Granted, protecting them was part of assuring he'd escape the labyrinth alive, but the burden had an unfamiliar weight to it.

The assassin remembered the early morning hours before they had followed Mordecai into the saurian ruins, when he had admitted to himself that he had come to care for his companions—cared enough to not only tolerate their company but to prefer their continued survival. And, then, like now, he had frowned at the turn of events even as he continued to press forward.

"I did not ask for this," he said, echoing his thoughts from that morning. I did not wish for this pain.

"Ask for what? Disarming all these traps?" Nyx asked.

"Never mind," Entreri snapped. He could dodge Nyx's questions, but he couldn't as easily ignore the fact his feelings did scare him. He didn't understand why he had them, where they came from, or why he couldn't seem to toss them aside. But the source of his fear was their meaning: caring for someone meant being hurt by their death, taking responsibility for their well-being, and—worst of all in his mind—opening himself to betrayal.

Pain. In short, it was an exercise in pure pain.

Tai's words from months earlier came back to Entreri, however: "What if friendship gave more to your life than it took away?" And in those words the assassin glimpsed part of the reason he couldn't just walk away.

"Does it look clear?" Jarlaxle asked, and Entreri refocused on his job.

The door revealed what looked to be a library, with bookshelves that reached all the way up the twenty-foot high walls. Three large oak desks created an L in the middle of the room, with a circle of leather couches surrounding them like a wagon train.

"I'd say it's about as safe as ramming your fist into a bee hive," Entreri said.

Nyx pointed to the far side of the room. "But there is a door out."

Jarlaxle withdrew an ebony wand and aimed it at the room. Nothing happened. "I can't detect any magic at work here."

"Yet," Entreri said. "Follow me, and stick to the sides of the room." He crept along the shelves slowly, his agile fingers tracing and testing the wood and books.

An angry snort interrupted his concentration, followed by a curse from Jarlaxle. The assassin spun around and saw the immediate source of their danger: a six-foot-tall bull stood in the doorway behind them. Long silver horns shone as the creature lowered its head and hoofed the floor; the torchlight reflected off its black metallic scales, tinting them a black-red that matched its glowing eyes. The beast snorted again, expelling a grey-green mist from its nostrils.

"Gorgon," Jarlaxle whispered. "It if breathes on us, we'll be petrified."

Entreri was more focused on the enormous horns. "Run," he ordered Nyx.

She didn't balk. She dashed for the far door, while Jarlaxle covered her escape by pulling out a bluish-silver wand and firing a cone of snow and ice at the charging bull. He and Entreri nearly collided in their scramble to escape the bull as it slid.

However, Nyx's dash across the room had triggered a spell. The books flew from the shelves, pummeling the trio as they raced for the door. The gorgon hit the far wall, only feet from them, and shook its head and snorted. Jarlaxle managed to pull out a green-tinted wand and spray acid at the beast, whose metallic scales sizzled from the contact. The bull bucked wildly, hitting itself against the shelves and crushing a couch.

Dozens of books slammed into Nyx's head and shoulders as she tried to wrench the door open. "It's stuck!" she yelled. She covered her head with her arms, then stepped back and kicked the door with all her might. The wood splinted under the force, and she and the mercenaries pushed through the doorway and stumbled up the stairs beyond. The books followed, hurling themselves corners-first into their victims' backs and legs.

"Just run!" Entreri yelled, more concerned about the gorgon than any future traps. The stairwell was narrow, so he was sure the broad-shouldered bull wouldn't be able to follow if they could just get far enough up the staircase.

Nyx leapt up the stairs three at a time, Entreri close on her heels. Jarlaxle brought up the rear, spraying the doorway with ice for good measure. Flying books zoomed up the spiraling stairs without difficulty, though, striking them before falling to trip them in their rush.

Finally, Nyx reached the doorway at the top of the stairs and, without caution or preamble, slammed it open with her shoulder. Entreri raced out behind her, slid on the marble floor suddenly beneath his feet, and jumped back to grab the door. As soon as Jarlaxle cleared the threshold, the assassin slammed the door shut. The door shook from the impact of hundreds of books thudding against the wood. Nyx and Jarlaxle both lent their weight to the door as well, holding it closed until the onslaught stopped.

Sore and bruised, the trio turned wearily and faced their new room: a massive foyer with towering wooden doors on the right and a Y-shaped staircase to the left. The marble stairs arched gracefully to the mid-story landing, only to split and arch the rest of the way to the second floor. And there, leaning against the banister on the landing, stood a six-foot-tall man dressed in leather armor.

"Welcome to Stonar Manor," the man said, smiling. "I trust you enjoyed making your way to the castle proper? There is, after all, nothing more enjoyable than a good maze."

Entreri growled, instantly deciding the Stonars would die slow and torturous deaths.