"I don't know. Murdered with magic, I think, but by whom, I've no idea—or they or I would be dead now."
"I see. Have ye kin?"
"No. Unless my father yet lives."
"And what know ye of him?"
The thief shrugged. "He was a man. A powerful wizard, I was told."
"By whom?"
"My mother's apprentices—gemcutters, all long fled. They were drunk when they said that."
"Mother dead, apprentices fled—where d'ye live now?"
Narnra shrugged. "The rooftops. By the warm chimneys in winter. The City of the Dead, mostly, in summer."
"Alone?"
"Alone."
"And ye earn coins enough to eat by—?"
"Stealing. As you know."
"For or with anyone?"
"Alone."
"Any friends?"
"No."
"Folk ye sell stolen things to?"
"Many."
"Name some of them."
Narnra stared into the old wizard's eyes and said evenly, "Dock Ward holds many men who ask no questions about where something came from—and take care that they know nothing about whoever's selling it. If the Watch confronts them, they always say they just found it, tossed into their yard—or window—that morning. In turn, I take care not to ask or know their names. "Tis the accepted way of such business dealings."
The mage nodded, as if remembering things far away and long ago. "Truth rides on thy tongue well."
"So reward me."
"With?"
"My freedom. The way back."
The old wizard smiled. "High payment for a few civil answers. I'll have more before we advance so boldly into rewarding, hmm?"
Narnra shrugged again. "The power to dictate," she observed flatly, "remains yours."
The wizard below her grew a sudden grin, and from beyond the mists came a faint, swiftly suppressed sound that might have been a Mage Royal's chuckle.
"Are ye a member of any guild?"
"No."
"On any rolls?"
"No."
"Pay taxes?"
Narnra made an incredulous sound. The old wizard grinned again and asked, "D'ye know who I am?"
"No. I can see and hear that you're an old man and a powerful mage, yes, but no more."
The old wizard nodded, strolled a few paces away, spun around, and snapped, "What do ye do with thy days?"
"Steal. Sleep. Spy on folk to steal from. Steal. Sell what I've gained and use the coins to buy food. Eat. Flee the Watch. Steal some more."
"What happened to your mother's shop? House? Goods?"
"Snatched, seized, and spirited away, the moment the city knew she was dead, thank you for asking," Narnra said coldly. "Some slave-seeking noble sent his men after me."
The wizard nodded slowly. "I find myself unsurprised."
The mists suddenly boiled up into a gigantic, looming serpentine head, all scales and great jaws, parting to menace her—
Narnra screamed—and so did the Mage Royal.
The world burst into blinding brightness in a great roaring flood of force that swept the dragon head away and the Silken Shadow after it, tumbling end over end unseeing into—surging flows of power that caught and clung and held her, drawing her down out of roiling chaos into . . . hanging upright in midair once more.
The mists churned and whirled around her with more force than before, trailing sparks here and there, but otherwise, the cellar was much as before—except that the senseless Red Wizard now floated head-downwards.
The old wizard was standing just as before, but his gaze was now bent on the cellar entrance arch. "I did warn ye, Mage Royal," he said quietly. "Know ye not an illusion when ye see one?"
Narnra found that she could turn her head and did so. Caladnei was on her knees, struggling against what looked like ropes of crawling fire that held her wrists down and away from her sides, looped around her neck, and snarled around her spread knees and her ankles behind her.
"Will ye stand peaceful, and work no magic?" the old wizard demanded.
The Mage Royal of Cormyr glared up at him over the crackling flames and said flatly, 'Wo."
The wizard shrugged and turned back to Narnra—and in a chilling, throat-choking moment the dragon head loomed in front of her once more.