"I am glad you decided to join us Mr. Peris," Manshoon said from one of the three mirrors hung in the temporary Zhentarim Embassy. The other two held the images of the two other prominent Zhentarim leaders: Fzoul Chembryl, High Cleric of Bane and Bane's Chosen, and Xantriph, a great and powerful Beholder.

"Please forgive me, My Lords, I was summoned to an emergency meeting of all the ambassadors," Peris said with a deep bow, showing much more reverence than he would for Manshoon alone. He had to be careful not to disturb or annoy the Banite cleric, especially since Peris was well known to have differing religious beliefs. Xantriph was not as much as a problem as the Beholder rarely left his lair.

"Interesting, what was this meeting about?" Manshoon was always held the greatest interest in where power could be gained.

"Primarily it was concerning the orcish horde that has taken residence below the city," Peris reported dutifully. "Although they have officially done nothing to warrant an attack, they wanted advice on how to deal with them."

"And how did you respond?" This came from Fzoul, the least threatening, but possibly most dangerous of the three.

"I spoke the truth," Peris said simply. "If the horde is starving, they will soon attack, regardless of their numbers. Then, with the agreement of the Ambassador from the Moonwood, suggested extermination."

"How did they respond?" the beholder asked in a voice that could never have come from a human being.

"The Sunnydalers found it barbaric, quite frankly," Peris said, keeping his flinch unnoticed by the three. Fzoul kept staring at him. "In their opinion it would be foolish to antagonize them when they have done nothing wrong. They rejected the idea of extermination flatly."

"Interesting how these things work out," Manshoon mused as he absently stroked his mask. "How did the meeting conclude?"

"It was decided to 'provide aid' to the orcs, by requisitioning additional food and tools for the horde," Peris said, once again keeping the flinch internal as Fzoul's gaze pierced him. Xantriph laughed out loud in his horrid voice.

"How amusing! These fools feed the mouth that bites them," the many eyed creature remarked. "They should be easily crushed."

"No, offense intended Lord Xantriph, but I feel that would not be the best course of action," Peris said, putting his head on the proverbial chopping block. "They have abilities far beyond us. They defended their city from an army of Demons without any of the traditional defenses. If you attack, they will crush the Zhentarim army."

"You doubt the power of Bane," Fzoul Chembryl said quietly and dangerously. Peris visibly took a step back.

"No! Of course not, Lord Fzoul!" Peris said, accidentally letting some fear into his eyes.

"Then why do you speak of them so," demanded the Chosen of Bane.

"Their military is highly trained and has weapons that can pierce armor at a far distance," Peris said. "Their knowledge of alchemy far exceeds that of Lantan or the clerics of Gond. I have been told rumors of there even being weapons that destroy cities. An army would be nothing to them."

"Then why do they not use these weapons and take what they need," Manshoon put in. He was careful to derail Fzoul's interrogation before the cleric condemned the poor ambassador.

"I believe they see it as a defensive measure," Peris said carefully. "Something they will only use when attacked. The threat of their power is part of what protects them."

"How do you know of this weapon," the Beholder asked.

"I was speaking with some of the other ambassadors who had read of such things," Peris said. "They have extensive documentation and illustrations."

"Returning to other matters," Manshoon prompted pointedly, "we should uncover what the Zhentarim can do for the people of Sunnydale."

"Their first priority is food, My Lord Manshoon," Peris said. "After that comes glass, other building supplies, clothing, ore, stock plants and seed, and livestock. They have some very arable land because most of it has not been farmed in centuries since Hellgate Keep fell to the demons. They seek skilled craftsmen to set up shop making commonly needed goods. There has been some talk about temporary worker arriving to help assist in the expansion of the city."

"So we shall send 'aid' in both goods and services," Manshoon said with a hidden smile. One could hear the amusement in his voice. "Have your Black Cloak transport the list of supplies and we shall start shipping them in. They will come up the Delimbyr from Llorkh and will continue on north. Have you not been able to open a Portal yet?"

"No, their mages seem most proficient in blocking any attempts," Peris said simply. He wasn't about to tell them that it was some other, greater power blocking them. This meeting was stressful enough. "After the demon army seemed to appear in the middle of the city, there is a strong sense of paranoia. Although they do not build walls, they are very strongly opposed to any possibility of someone entering by magical means."

"Have you had a chance to meet with any of these mages?"

"No, My Lord, I have not," Peris said simply.

"Very well, continue. We shall meet in one week's time to discuss this further," Manshoon said before Fzoul could argue. With a nod, he broke the connection, letting all three mirrors return to their previous state. Hearing clapping from outside the door, Peris stiffened. He turned to see Kellindil standing there, having heard the whole conversation.

"Nicely played," the elf Ambassador said with a smile.

"It was rather dangerous here and there actually," Peris responded. "You listened in, just like I asked. Good."

"So," the elf said as he ripped apart a loaf of bread, handing a chunk to the Zhent. "Do they suspect the truth?"

Peris paused to eat, thinking on his answer. "I believe Lord Manshoon knows. The other two do not. Fzoul is too blinded by Bane and Xantriph does not care unless he gains personal power. I would say only Lord Manshoon knows I am a Harper."

"Then why hasn't he killed you yet?" asked Kellindil.

"One thing you learn about Lord Manshoon when working with him is that he always has a plan," Peris said. "In his mind, I am but a pawn on a very expansive chessboard. Most people think there are only two players at chess. Manshoon makes sure there is only one. I could be used as an example some time in the future, but until I am no longer useful to Lord Manshoon personally, I will not be harmed."

"This is certainly going to make the next few years interesting," Kellindil said with a grin.

"You do know, that is commonly referred to as a curse where I grew up, right?"

"What is?"

"'May you live in interesting times.' It's almost the worst thing that can happen to a person."

"That certainly does seem to describe what I expect of the next few years." Kellindil offered the man a second piece of bread before they fell into talking about Faerûnian politics.

Xander was on break. In fact, he was in the supply closet. To be more to the point he was in the supply closet with Cordelia. Making out. A lot. It had been much more subtle than just doing it in public, and had the added thrill of pretending like they were getting away with something. Truth be told, they were only able to do this on the two hour lunch break every day. The work schedule make it almost impossible to meet up when they could be alone.

Added to the problem was that Cordelia's parents actually liked Xander. It had been an accidental meeting one night. Cordy had just finished her work and was on her way to the Bronze (which was still the after work hangout in town) to meet Xander. Xander was there waiting, as his job was much closer than hers. He had struck up a conversation with an older couple about work and goals. Cordy walked in to discover her boyfriend talking to her parents. It was possibly the single most terrifying moment of her life, aside from that one time with the invisible girl.

The Chase family was impressed. When Xander had expressed ambivalence about the possibility of college, Cordy's father had actually encouraged the teen to take some time off to think about what he wanted to do. Cordy could not believe her ears. This was her push-push-push father? She had obviously fallen into psycho-world, because that was not the father she had grown up with. Much to Cordy's chagrin, Xander had spotted her and called her over, introducing her as his girlfriend. And the liked him? How was this possible?

And so now they were making out in the supply closet of an abandoned factory that was being converted into a working factory. This was the fourth time this week they had ended up in the supply closet, but this time involved more clothes than the previous two. The hot weather of the past month had lead to less clothes than normal. That lead to certain things which were not allowed without reliable access to contraceptives. And that lead to situations neither were really ready to deal with. That said, they were careful which clothes went by the wayside in their romantic jaunts.

"We've-ah-only-oo-oh! got five-eh-ah, minutes left," Cordelia said. "I'm going to be-ah-yes! No! Late, I'm going to be late!"

Xander reluctantly pulled back. "See you tonight? At the Scooby meeting?"

"I don't really feel like I'm welcome to them," Cordy said.

"Hey, when we started dating, the We-Hate-Cordelia Club was officially closed," the boy said with a grin as he passed her shirt over to her.

"Thanks," Cordy said, taking the top back. "I know we're on good terms these days, but it seems like, I don't know. Everything is changing. It might have been different if we'd been back in California instead of the middle ages."

"Yeah, it's true. We don't really know what's gonna happen," Xander said. "You're still welcome to come."

"I'll think about it," Cordy said with a grin. She gave him one last kiss before slipping out the door.

"Ma, it's been a month, I can get up a little," Larry said, swinging his legs off the bed. Ever since he had been hit by the tanarukk attack a month before, Larry had been in bed rest. The wound had been serious, but emergency surgery had saved him minus one kidney. He was tired of being in bed and wanted to move around. He was supposed to move around some, truth be told. His mother was being over protective; it was partly because it was her nature, partly because he was her son, and partly because she felt it was her fault he got hurt.

"You need to heal up," was her command. "You've been excused for your injury and everyone's working hard for your sake and all those with you."

"I know I'm on the injured list. That doesn't mean I can't move around the house," Larry said as he stretched towards the crutches just outside of his reach. His mother huffed and passed them to him. He weakly pushed himself up and perched himself on the crutches before working himself forward. He had never felt this weak, of course he had never experienced major surgery and axe wounds before either. "Ma, help me over to the table."

"Oh, don't push yourself," his mother said. Deep inside, Larry was loving it.

"Amelia, I has been a pleasure meeting you," Gara the Stone Giant said, leaning over her doctor and friend. They were standing outside the perimeter of the town. After being given a clean bill of health, it had been a couple of weeks before people had decided what to do with the three stone giants. One thing was sure, they could not afford the food bill for very much longer. The wounds had healed to bright pink scars, but with a cane the stone giant could walk slowly.

"I am glad to call you a friend Gara," Amelia Chung said with a grin. "I want you to come back in a few weeks for a checkup."

"I plan to," Gara said. Gara whistled to her children who waddled after her like the giant toddlers they were. "I also plan to ask my elders to open trade. Our rothe herds for some of your stocks could be the start of a wonderful friendship."

"See, I knew you would like Casablanca," the doctor said, slapping her twelve foot tall friend on the hip (it was about as high as she could reach). With a wave, the giant started off towards her hidden village in the hills.

The Tiefling had been surviving by using his ensorcelled vampires fetch his food. In the past month he had begun mastering the local language which he learned was known as English. The first vampire he had captured, known commonly as "Ed" was actually a fairly intelligent individual. Apparently, Ed had served a master vampire called the Master. The Tiefling had long since decided the Sunnydalers had a problem with redundancy. Ed had been trained well by his sire, Luke, but had learned more from Luke's death at the hands of the Slayer. Ed learned quickly how to avoid detection by picking and choosing his victims. He NEVER made neophytes.

Luckily for the Tiefling, Ed had been an ESL teacher in life and had taught at the local high school the year before the Slayer arrived in Sunnydale. He knew exactly how to teach his new master the English language. At night Ed would go out in the world and get blood, food and teaching supplies. Then, during the day, Ed would return and teach the Tiefling everything he knew about English. Unfortunately, this all came to nothing.

"Interesting," came a voice from behind the tiefling. The Zhentarim agent spun around to see Kaanyr Vhok standing in the entrance of the haven, flanked by his mistress and three succubi. "I had wondered if any of your people escaped. It is unfortunate that so few of my forces survived."

"What are you doing here?" was the tiefling's quick demand. He glanced over the five and quickly realized all three succubi were armed with Sunnydaler weapons. "I was not aware that demons were allowed to roam free in this town."

"You would be surprised," grinned Aiisza. "Transformational magic is most deceptive."

"Well, forgive me for not being a Transmuter," the tiefling sniped back as he reached for his wand tucked into the back of his belt. "I'm really much better at enchantments."

"Now, now, you are worth much more to us alive than dead," the cambion said, glancing pointedly at the tiefling's arm. "You pull out that wand and we have a stand off. I might not know what kind of spells are enchanted in that stick, but you might not be able to Charm us all at once, and missing even one of these lovely ladies would put you in a very difficult situation."

"Then what do you propose," was the Zhent's questioning reply.

"An alliance of sorts," Aiisza said simply. "You have resources and a support base already. We, on the other hand, have powers and abilities that we can, and will, contribute."

"You want to align Hellgate Keep with the Zhentarim?"

"No, that is not possible," the cambion said simply. "With the destruction of the army, my mother will not be very happy to see me any time soon, if ever. The other survivors will have reported my failure to complete my mission, as foolish a tactic as I was required to use. I am not welcome in Hellgate Keep any longer. My soldiers are either destroyed or captured. I am stuck in a city where there is no direct road to power and only a few straggling game paths to survival."

"So, you plan on taking power here by aligning yourself with me, because I am in a position to assist with your continued survival," the tiefling said simply.

"Indeed, we are in similar situations," Aiisza argued. "You are as cut off from your power base as we."

"And this way you have no need of dealing with the undead vermin which haunt these tunnels," Kaanyr Vhok growled with obvious disgust.

"All but one, he is teaching me in the ways of their people," the Tiefling said. "It will be better to insinuate ourselves when we learn the language and culture."

"I agree on that count," the cambion said with a grin. "So, do we have a deal?"

"I believe we do," grinned the tiefling, giving the half-fiends a slight bow of respect.

"It has been three weeks, Vierna," grumbled her brother Dinin. "We are lost. Lost while seeking a demon that will destroy us all."

"Brother, do not grumble," snarled the priestess of Lloth. She hated it when her brother spoke something so close to the truth. They had been tracking their youngest brother's path to the surface, but it was not an easy task to bypass ten years of savagery to find the signs of later stability in Drizzt's path. "We shall find it soon."

"Tell me priestess," asked the jovial eye-patched Drow mercenary, Jarlaxle, "would it not be better to follow the path of the Zin-Carla?"

"Perhaps it would," admitted Vierna. The two males shared a surprised look at this statement. It was not like a priestess to simply take suggestions so easily. "Brother, find us a place to rest, I shall complete the rite to track its path."

Dinin and Jarlaxle wandered away a moment later in the pretense of finding a place to rest. In truth, the priestess' behavior was alarming. She seemed to shift from manic to depressed without warning. That she also flaunted Menzoberranzan tradition by referring to Dinin as "brother" suggested she was either insanely arrogant or delusional. Such talk would have had her eliminated quickly to prevent the creation of a stage to challenge the First House.

"She calls me 'brother,'" Dinin said with obvious confusion. "This has never happened before."

"Yes, I had noticed that," the mercenary leader mused. "It seems the announcement of the apparition has given your sister a streak of arrogance beyond the usual for a priestess."

"I am not sure that is it," Dinin said simply.

"Perhaps it is her father's blood," grinned Jarlaxle. He grinned at the Do'Urden's confusion. "She shares the same father as young Drizzt. It is not so unbelievable that she might lean in the same direction as her wayward brother."

"Some might say I am just as wayward, Jarlaxle," Dinin commented with a matching grin. "I am just as much a threat to House Baenre as she or Drizzt. I even caught her referring to him as 'brother' as well. Those are dangerous words, considering the Baenre spies among us."

"I wondered when you would notice them," the mercenary leader said with a wry smile before taking a swig from his water skin. "Her actions make me wonder if she intends to restart House Do'Urden."

"Her current arrogance would support that theory," Dinin admitted with a shrug. "This may very well be the reason she is seeking Drizzt out, to rebuild our Family from the ruins. Truth be told, I have no desire to face that demon again. Even if he is my brother. He slew our sister with terrifying ease, and yet, he despaired for doing so. Even today, the thought of facing him fills me with such terror." When Jarlaxle raised a curious eyebrow, Dinin shook his head slightly. "This fear is not weakness, like so many would suggest, but an instinct for survival."

"So he is just as formidable as his father," Jarlaxle commented. The other dark elf shook his head almost violently.

"Far greater than," Dinin said with startling conviction. "He was able to defeat a form of Zaknafein with all the skills and strength of the Weapons Master, but none of the conscious, longings or emotions. One who could slay Zaknafein in Zin-Carla is not someone to be underestimated."

"I shall take that under advisement," Jarlaxle said. Dinin looked at the mercenary leader, obviously about to reply before pausing a moment.

"…wait. Wasn't your patch over your other eye?"