undertaking it?"
Midnight's eyes flashed. "We're doing this because we must!" the mage snapped. "And we have one thing you haven't
mentioned that may tip the scales in our favor. The one thing the Zhentish won't expect."
Adon looked up. "Magic!" he breathed softly. "But Bane has your spellbook."
"There's one spell left in my memory," Midnight said, smiling at the scarred cleric. "One I was studying before we were
captured."
Varden shook his head and started to object. The two young soldiers eyed the exit from the tunnel. Gratus nervously rubbed
behind his ears. "If you mean to teleport us halfway across the city," the old man snapped, "you can count me out right now."
"No," Midnight answered. "That would be madness. We could end up inside solid rock or buried beneath the Ashaba." The two
soldiers from Hillsfar glanced nervously at each other and frowned.
"Any spell is dangerous," Varden said. "There are no guarantees -"
"Life itself has no guarantees," Adon interjected, running his hand across his scarred cheek. "Let her finish."
Tymon nodded. "Though I'm afraid to find out what the mage has in mind, I think we should at least hear what she has to say."
Varden frowned. "All right. Go ahead," the thief said, defeated.
"It's a spell of invisibility," Midnight stated, a smile creeping back onto her lips. It casts a cloak of invisibility for ten feet in all
directions. If it works, we should stay invisible unless we attack somebody. And since we would plan on avoiding any attack, we
should remain invisible for the entire time we make our way through the town."
"I still feel -," Varden began.
"Enough!" Wulstan snapped, standing up and moving to Midnight's side. "The matter is no longer up for debate. I'm no more
anxious than any of you to die, but it we can possibly be safe and still follow our orders, then I say we should give the mage her
chance."
Midnight's smile grew broader, and Tymon, Gratus, and Adon nodded in agreement with Wulstan. Only Varden looked away
from the mage, deep concern lining his face. "Fine. We should leave by the butcher shop entrance immediately," the raven-haired
mage said. "And we probably should inform Barth of our plan." The heroes crossed the tunnel to the Sembian's quarters.
The Sembian leader looked shocked when Midnight explained their plan. "At least give me a few minutes to clear the guards
from the basement entrance before you begin your sorceries," the burly fighter mumbled. "A good thing we have another exit."
After Barth recalled the guard from the small basement of the butcher shop, the heroes crawled through the tunnel and
prepared to leave the Sembians' haven. At the bottom of the stairs, Midnight gathered the components for her spell. From her pocket,
she removed a small piece of gum arabic, which she carried especially for this spell. Then she collected a single eyelash from each
of the heroes. Finally the mage encased the eyelashes in the gum and began her chant.
Gratus and Varden exchanged nervous glances. The soldiers from Hillsfar trained their attention at the wall beyond the mage
and forced themselves to think about anything but what might happen. Adon, however, stood before his friend, smiling serenely. From
the cleric's expression, it seemed he would welcome even death itself if the spell went awry and killed them all.
Steadying her nerves, Midnight finished the incantation. Unable to think of a single spell that had worked properly for her since
the escape from Shadowdale, the mage prayed that this one would work - for Kelemvor's sake. Soon a blue-white glow began to
surround Midnight. The heroes gasped and shielded their eyes as the light intensified, filled the room, then faded.
Gratus looked around the basement at his companions. "Nothing happened!" the old man said, much relieved. "And we're still
alive!"
At the same moment, Midnight saw Barth poke his head out of the crawlspace between the basement and the tunnels. A look of
amazement filled his face. The burly man's lips moved silently, and the mage laughed.
"What's wrong with you?" Wulstan said as he approached Midnight. "I can still see you. Your spell didn't work. Why should you
be laughing?"
Adon pointed toward Barth, and the heroes turned to see the Sembian staring into the room. "I-I can hear you," he whispered,
"so the spell must have worked. But I still can't see you. You are there, aren't you?"
"We're just testing the effectiveness of the spell," Midnight said, and the burly fighter started slightly, bumping his head on the
top of the crawlspace. "Let's go, then," the mage said, and the heroes left the hiding place.
As Midnight and her allies journeyed across the city, Gratus stopped from time to time to point out various safe houses whose
residents were likely to admit them should the need arise. "Lashan had friends in the city," Gratus noted softly as the heroes passed
one such house. "And many of them do not approve of Scarsdale’s declared neutrality."
"I've been curious about something, Gratus," Midnight said softly. "Exactly what is it you do in Scarsdale? You aren't a mage, a
fighter, or a thief. How do you make ends meet?"
Varden laughed. "I'm not so sure he isn't a thief."
Gratus leaned close to Midnight. "I was Lashan's Minister of Propaganda," he whispered. "The city pensioned me off, but they
refused to turn me over to the likes of these two boobs from Hillsfar on the condition that I keep my mouth shut about Lashan's
possible return. Now I sell boots."
Wulstan overheard parts of what the old merchant said and quickly moved to Gratus's side. "You'd better watch what you're
saying, old man, if you know what's good for you," the fighter growled.
Gratus replied mockingly, "So the rumor is true... people from Hillsfar have no sense of humor whatsoever."
Wulstan reached for his sword, hut his partner quickly raised his hand. "Stay your arm!" Tymon warned. "We can't afford to have
our invisible shield fade. The moment we attack something... anything... we will become visible."
Adon stepped between Gratus and Wulstan and looked at the mage. "If only one of us attacks something, will the spell be
canceled for us all?" the cleric asked quietly.
Varden took Gratus by the arm and pushed him in front of Midnight. "The way magic works nowadays, I wouldn't be surprised if
we are never visible again," the thief said with a grin.
Midnight's flesh paled. She had not even considered the possibility that the spell might work too well.
"Imagine the fortune that could be amassed in this town by a thief gifted with invisibility," the thief went on, apparently happy for
the first time in hours.
The Hall of Records, where Midnight and Adon had met Gratus earlier in the day, came up on the left. The building looked the
same as it had earlier in the day, although a lone Zhentilar stood guard at the doors.
"I was worried they'd burn the place down," Gratus whispered as they passed the guard. "There are some very interesting
papers I'd like to retrieve from there."
They continued on to the end of the block, then took a sharp right. Immediately the heroes spotted the warehouse where the
assassins had landed and the Zhentish garrison beyond that. As expected, the sounds of revelry floated through the streets from the
garrison. A token number of guards were posted outside the fort, and the entire building that served as the Zhentish headquarters
was brightly lit.
"Bane must be allowing his soldiers to celebrate with a victory party," Midnight said softly as she led the heroes into an alley
next to the warehouse.
"How very different from the way he drove his troops in the Battle of Shadowdale," Adon observed. "I wonder if the Black Lord's
defeat has humbled him in some way..."
"I doubt it," Midnight replied. "Perhaps he's simply learned to recognize the value of his troops. In any case, we might just he
able to turn his lenience against him."
"You mean you've solved the problem of how we get in?" Varden asked, running his hand through his blond hair.
"We need to check out the warehouse before we worry about the garrison itself," Midnight said as she turned to Varden. "We
should circle around the building and see if there are any other doors."
The heroes slowly moved around the outside of the warehouse, staying as close to the side of the building as possible. Twice
groups of Zhentish soldiers passed them, singing bawdy songs and telling off-color jokes, but they never even suspected that six
intruders were only a few yards away.
At the rear of the warehouse, Varden discovered another door, though this one was locked. The thief quickly took out his
lockpicks, and in a moment the door was open. He opened it slowly and peered inside.
"We couldn't have come at a better time," Varden whispered as he turned to Midnight. "The warehouse looks empty. We should
be able to move around freely." The heroes silently filed into the building, with Midnight in the middle so that no one would stray
outside the invisibility spell's area of effect.
"Close the door," Midnight hissed when they were all inside.
Wulstan started to follow Midnight's order, then paused and looked at the door's lock. "It looks like it locks both ways," the
fighter said, motioning for Midnight to examine the door.
Midnight nodded and removed a piece of the gum that she had left over from her incantation and handed it to the soldier. "Put
this in the lock first. The door will shut, but it won't lock. Then we won't be trapped if we need to make a quick exit."
Wulstan and Varden both looked at the mage with surprised expressions.
"An old friend taught me that trick," the raven-haired magic-user said, her thoughts suddenly turning to Cyric. But then Midnight
felt a dark, somber mood settle over her, and for an instant, she was almost overwhelmed by her sorrow. The mage closed her eyes,
steeled her will, and dismissed the emotion. Cyric's dead, and there's nothing I can do about it, the mage decided calmly. Kelemvor's
alive and in need of my help. I can grieve later.
Midnight's thoughts were interrupted when Gratus moved to her side. "Could that be something you're looking for?" the old man
asked as he pointed toward the shadows twenty feet to the left of the door.
Midnight squinted. Something sparkled in the moonlight. It looked like tiny shards of amber light.
"It couldn't be!" she breathed, then advanced toward the light. Adon rushed ahead of her and bent down over a partially open
canvas sack.
"Midnight, they're here!" the cleric cried, a broad smile lighting up his face. "The sphere of detection and your spellbook are right
here!"
"The assassins must have forgotten about them in the confusion caused by our escape!" Midnight said, picking up the sack.
"I didn't forget about it at all," a voice boomed from a darkened corner across the warehouse. "And I was counting on your not
forgetting it either." Durrock stepped out of the shadows and into the pale moonlight filtering in through the windows. He wasn't
wearing his armor, and his disfigured face was uncovered as he walked toward the heroes.
Midnight nearly gasped as she saw the assassin's face, and a brief flicker of sympathy flared inside her. Then she felt the
canvas bag slip in her grasp, and she tightened her grip on it. Quickly the mage realized that, since she didn't have the canvas sack
with her when she first cast the invisibility spell, it was still visible!
"Thanks for showing me exactly where you are," Durrock growled as he drew his night-black sword. The assassin was striding
straight toward Midnight. "I've been waiting here for you for some time now."
The heroes spread out as far as they dared, and as Durrock came close to the mage, several of them circled behind him.
Midnight tossed the sack to the ground and tried to dodge the assassin's attack, but the scarred killer made a feint forward, then
reached out and grabbed the mage's hair. Midnight screamed.
Suddenly a large wooden plank crashed over the assassin's head, staggering him and forcing him to release his grasp on the
mage. As Midnight scrambled away from Durrock, a blue-white aura enshrouded each of the heroes as the spell of invisibility faded.
Gratus stood behind the assassin, the shattered plank of wood still in his hands. Durrock gripped his night-black sword more
tightly and screamed with rage and pain. The assassin's sword flashed out just as Varden grabbed the old man's shoulders and
yanked him backward. The sword bit into Gratus's chest and blood spurted from the wound.
Midnight backed away from Durrock in shock. The assassin turned and took a step toward the raven-haired mage, but Adon
appeared beside her and look hold of her arm. "Run!" the cleric hissed as he pulled the magic-user toward the door.
Durrock started to follow her, but the two soldiers from Hillsfar stepped into his path, drawing their swords. "Come on, you
Zhentish pig. Let us see how you fare against someone closer to your own age!" Tymon taunted as he stood before the scarred man.
Wulstan glanced over his shoulder at Midnight, "Take your treasure and run!" the fighter screamed. Midnight hesitated for an
instant in the doorway, then picked up the canvas sack and backed out of the warehouse. Varden was already pulling the wounded
merchant to the door, but Adon took hold of Gratus, too, and the heroes disappeared into the night. They slipped into the shadows
and were far from the Zhentish garrison before the drunken soldiers even knew what had happened.
* * * * *
"Wake up!" the guard yelled and clanged his sword back and forth over the steel bars of Kelemvor's cell.
