XXIX. INTO THE GREAT GRAY LAND

Ulblyn didn’t pry into the specifics of Theoderus’s death. That he was dead was good enough for him. The Harper had spent years working against the Black Network, the Red Wizards, the Cult of the Dragon, and, locally, the scheming Bruil family; a strategic assassination never looked like one, but that’s clearly what this was. The wizard’s house had exploded right before he was to reveal his Thayan contacts to the adventurers. The Red Wizards had probably always kept tabs on him with divination magic. It was even possible the dwarf had gone to them himself, proactively, hoping his honesty would convince them he was still worth something alive. Ah well. The question now was what to do. The Red Wizards must be looking for or watching Cuatala and her friends.

“I leave it to you,” said Ulblyn. “But a tenday’s absence will do no harm and might do some good. Our trail is as cold as that dwarf’s body.”

The adventurers were gathered in Ulblyn’s shop. It was snowing again, hardly auspicious for a journey through the Great Gray Land, but the halfling seemed bent on this new purpose.

“It’s a splendid idea,” said Vahaera. “Just think, Graddick. Your jade hammer–the jade hammer I gave you–belonged to the legendary King of Thar. Legendary kings are much better than real ones.” 

Graddick disliked real kings and legendary ones, and he especially disliked real kings who had become almost legendary, like the unnameable late king of Cormyr. But Vahaera–Vahaera he liked very much. “I am willing,” the knight said.

“As am I,” said Ystrien. That morning he had received an invitation from Libyette to a Feast of the Moon celebration at Nanther Keep. If the itinerary Kizami had prepared was accurate, they wouldn’t return to Melvaunt until Nightal. He relished having a real excuse.

So they all had their reasons for wanting to go, but of the four, Cuatala, who preferred the wilderness to city walls, was the most eager.

***

Thousands of winters had whitened Thar, and thousands of springs had made it gray again, since its only king was laid to rest in a cavern full of gems. Now it was almost winter once more, and the four black specks the ravens saw crawling inland were seeking that cavern. After two days, the adventurers’ conversations became terse and practical. After three, they become unnecessary. It was the quiet landscape that spoke then, in sounds and hues–in bird cries, wind, the subtle shifting of flatness, and all the colors the clouds allowed. It snowed only once, at midnight, for a few hours. Mount Celestia could not have been more radiant than the following dawn, but dark clouds blew in fast from the west as if eager to clothe its immodesty. The adventurers kept walking.

Several hours behind them, never close enough to be seen by the party’s keenest eye, crept Gudenny.