“It’s safe now, Fannah,” she called out as she retrieved what remained of her cloak.

  She used the tatters to clean her blades before replacing the weapons in their sheathes. Soon enough, Fannah stood next to her winded companions.

  “Something tells me you two must be a sight, indeed,” Fannah said.

  Tazi smirked at the comment, but Steorf didn’t respond.

  “Well,” Tazi admitted, looking at the large carcass and the widening pool of blood on the floor, “we did a pretty horrible job of not leaving any kind of a trace behind.”

  She flashed a smirk at Steorf.

  He stepped over to the dog and knelt by its side. Steorf slid his hands over the dull collar and deftly removed it with a small click. He placed his hands on the dead beast’s side and closed his eyes.

  Tazi watched in mute fascination as a blue glow enveloped the dog. The animal’s wounds began to knit themselves shut, and the pool of blood evaporated. With only a few words, Steorf healed the hound. Soon enough, the animal opened its eyes and briefly thumped its tail as Steorf replaced the jeweled collar.

  Tazi took a step back, but the dog merely rolled upright and padded over to lie by the far side of the gate as though it were a comfortable hearth. Fannah walked over to the dog and hesitantly touched it. The guardian thumped its tail once more. Tazi turned to Steorf with an amazed expression on her face.

  “You said we shouldn’t leave any traces, and once it was dead I was able to remove the enchanted collar,” he offered in quiet explanation. “As soon as we leave, the creature will revert back to its former, unpleasant demeanor toward unwanted guests.”

  She cast a sidelong glance at him and said, “I thought you told me the other day that you weren’t very adept at necromancy spells.”

  “I’ve been practicing for this journey,” was all he would answer.

  Tazi jabbed his shoulder good-naturedly.

  “A good thing for us that you have been.”

  She smiled up into his face, trying to recapture some of their old camaraderie, for Fannah’s sake if nothing else, but he didn’t return it.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly and cast his eyes down toward his limp hands. “I just…” he struggled with the words, “seemed to have forgot myself during the battle.”

  Tazi moved a fraction closer and laid a hand on his forearm.

  “Just because you forgot yourself for a moment doesn’t mean that you lost yourself. Remember that,” she told him earnestly.

  He stared hard at her before laying his other hand briefly over hers. “Thank you, Tazi.”

  Fannah walked back over to them and asked, “Is it time?” Tazi looked at both her friends.

  “I think so,” she replied. “Steorf, do you have any idea what we might expect from this gate travel?”

  “I’ve heard many stories,” he replied, “but they have all contradicted themselves. Either none of them were true, or what they signify is that each gate is very different.”

  “Which do you think it is?” Tazi asked, valuing his thoughts on the matter.

  This was not lost on Steorf.

  “I believe every gate is very different,” he answered seriously.

  “Then I suppose the only way we’ll find out is by going through,” Tazi concluded.

  She peeked over at the dog one last time. The beast simply lay to one side, snoring softly. She shook her head but kept one hand on the hilt of her rapier anyway. Old fears didn’t just fade at the pass of a hand.

  The three approached the archway slowly. The gate looked as if it was made from pink sandstone, the kind one might find in the desert. Tazi was still able to clearly see the other side of the cellar wall. Her heart started to beat a little faster, and her mouth dried out. It had been a long time since she felt like this. In the last year, none of her wildings had left her feeling so alive. Even though she and her friends were going off to risk death or worse, she couldn’t help but grin.

  “This is it,” she told them.

  In unison, Tazi, Steorf, and Fannah stepped through. Tazi’s senses were immediately overwhelmed. She felt as though she had walked into a storm like the ones that battered the ships in Selgaunt Bay at year’s end. All around her, various shades of blue and yellow swirled and howled. There was no dirt or sky where she found herself. Tazi was terribly disorientated with nothing to ground her senses. She didn’t know if she was moving forward or backward. Fannah and Steorf were nowhere to be seen. She was beginning to panic just a little and bit back on that feeling.

  Trying to move forward as best she could, Tazi could make out a shadow to her left. Desperately trying to focus her eyes, Tazi called out to the figure. As she squinted harder,

  Tazi was startled, and she let out a gasp. The figure was her elf friend. “Ebeian!” she cried.

  Tazi could see that he was whole again but suspended in the maelstrom of the gate. She watched as he writhed and moaned as if white-hot pokers were stabbing him. She could see he was in excruciating pain. Tazi stretched out her hand and tried to reach him.

  “Eb!” she called out, and everything around her went dark.

  Tazi crashed to her knees. She was breathing hard and had broken out in a cold sweat. She opened and closed her eyes several times until she realized the colors were gone, there was a solid surface beneath her knees and hands, and it was deafeningly quiet.

  “Is anyone here?” she asked finally, breaking the silence.

  She heard both Steorf and Fannah make weak replies. Tazi breathed a little easier after she heard their voices. The three simply sat where they were for a few moments and allowed their equilibrium to balance once again.

  “Did you see anything in there?” Tazi asked as she rose on shaky legs.

  “Nothing that made any sense,” Steorf replied. “You?”

  “I saw Ebeian,” she blurted out. “He looked… tormented.”

  Steorf moved carefully through the dark to stand beside her.

  “That wasn’t him,” he reassured her. “His soul has gone to its final journey. I think the gate picked up what was most on our minds and showed it to us.”

  “Do you think that was it? ” Tazi asked hopefully, hating the idea that Ebeian could somehow still be suffering.

  “I do,” he answered confidently. “Don’t you think so, Fannah?”

  “I’m not sure,” Fannah carefully replied. “I have been sightless since birth, but I saw something.” “What was it?”Tazi asked.

  “What I saw was for me alone, I believe. However, I did not see Ebeian anywhere in that whirlwind,” she confirmed for Tazi.

  “Well,” Tazi finally continued after a thoughtful pause, “let’s see where we’ve ended up. At least this place doesn’t stink.”

  The room was dark, but dry and clean. Fannah took the lead just as she had in the other cellar. In short order, she found a set of stairs and began to lead her sighted friends out.

  At the top of the steps, Fannah felt a door latch. She opened the door slowly, and the room was bathed in harsh light. Both Tazi and Steorf winced in discomfort.

  Fannah stepped out into a busy street and spread her arms. She closed her ice-white eyes, put her head back, and sighed before turning to face Tazi and Steorf. Tazi stood in the doorway and breathed in the smell of dust and sand. Still not having adjusted to the bright sunshine, she held up one hand to shield her eyes and squinted at Fannah. All she could make out was a black silhouette framed against gold.

  She heard her friend’s melodic voice say, “Welcome to Calimport, Tazi.”

  CHAPTER

  CALIMPORT

  Tazi was surrounded.

  All around her, life swarmed and teemed. She, Fannah, and Steorf found themselves in a bustling section of Calimport. The warm sun beat down on them, and Tazi took in everything. Many men and a few women pushed past her. The men were clad in loose trousers, shirts, embroidered vests, and robes. Most of them wore some type of head covering, but that varied in style.

  Perhaps it denotes station, Tazi thought.

  The women were completely covered, even wearing veils over their faces. Tazi caught glimpses of trousers when their robes peeked open, but no more than that. Those more poorly dressed were leading beasts of burden pulling heavily laden wooden carts. Tazi had to move quickly to avoid getting a toe crushed by one of them. There wasn’t a single creature that wasn’t bustling.

  Looking up toward the horizon, Tazi saw slim towers stab at the bright sky. Some of the towers supported incredible domes that glinted in the sunlight. The occasional flying carpet drifted from parapet to parapet. Lower down, the buildings were less than extravagant but wondrous nonetheless, a few sporting intricate mosaic designs. Tazi realized that she was standing in the middle of a throng of people, her mouth agape.

  “I must look like a fish just hauled out of Selgaunt Bay, mouth opening and closing,” she chuckled to herself.

  “What was that?” asked Steorf.

  Tazi was lost to her gazing again.

  Men and women were shouting things down to the merchants at Tazi’s level from atop the walls.

  None of the stalls or archways had any names or signs that she could read, and she likewise noticed no identifying marks on the door they had stepped out of, which was set into a mud brick wall. When she heard a telltale click, she tried the handle and found that the door was locked behind them. Tazi suspected it would not open again. There would be no going back that way.

  As someone shoved past her, Tazi realized that they needed, to move.

  Speaking loudly to be heard over the buyers above, Tazi yelled, “we shouldn’t stand here too much longer.”

  Both Steorf and Fannah faced her expectantly.

  “I would dearly love to tell you where we should go, but I can’t even say where we are right now. I think Fannah is best suited to do that.”

  Steorf nodded at her logic, and Fannah moved a little closer to Tazi.

  “Tell me what you see,” the Calishite asked her.

  “The mud walls all appear the same to me,” Tazi admitted, “and I can’t see any signs. In fact, the only thing I do see is a symbol cut high into the wall, but it’s the same design as one over an archway nearby as well so I doubt it means much.” “What is it?” Fannah asked.

  “It looks like the silhouette of a ship with one mast.”

  “Are the sails unfurled?” Fannah questioned.

  “Yes,” Tazi answered, realizing that the symbol might mean something after all, “the sails are full.”

  Tazi watched as Fannah smiled slightly.

  “Tell me,” she prodded further, “is there one building that stands out among the others near here?”

  Tazi turned around and spotted a five-story building with a six-story minaret on top within a stone’s throw from where theV stood. She described the edifice to Fannah, a little perturbed that the Calishite never gave her a quick answer.

  But she always gives me the right one, Tazi told herself.

  “We are in the Piqaz Drudach within the Osiir Sabban. The entire area is known as Hook Ward. This is my home,” Fannah said.

  “Too much of a coincidence,” Steorf muttered.

  “You might be right,” Tazi agreed, thinking she would mull that over later. “So what’s the building in front of us?” she asked Fannah.

  “That building is known as the Lighthouse of the Moon,” Fannah explained. “Not only does it serve as the only lighthouse within the harbor walls, it is also a temple to Selune.”

  “That’s a temple?” Steorf asked.

  “Yes. The priests of Selune man the lighthouse,” Fannah answered, “but for the last eight hundred years, they haven’t had to do a thing to make it function. There’s a mirror in the minaret that coalesces the moonlight every night and shines it out toward the harbor. No one has ever been able to extinguish that light. In fact, there is only one time every month when it doesn’t shine: the night of the new moon.”

  Tazi stared up at the mirror. “How fortunate to have such a dependable beacon!”

  Fannah smiled once more. “It’s funny how many creatures mistakenly fear the night, as though blackness was somehow inherently evil. They don’t realize they should look to themselves, that it is the darkness within that they should fear.”

  Fannah pulled the hood of her travel cloak over her head, and Steorf followed suit. All that was left of Tazi’s cloak, however, was a pile of rags after her encounter with the dog. She realized she was a bit exposed.

  “It would help if we could get some clothing less conspicuous,” Tazi noted. She had already seen several men stare at her a little longer than she was used to, even dressed as she was.

  “Like in all of Calimport, the merchants of Hook Ward sell most everything. It shouldn’t be difficult to find some suitable supplies for us,” Fannah informed her.

  Tazi and Steorf flanked Fannah as they began to maneuver through the throng. As Fannah deftly wove amongst the sea of people, Tazi had a little time to notice more of her surroundings.

  Much like Selgaunt, people were buying and selling every kind of merchandise possible, but what puzzled her was that several different priests were hawking their gods as though the deities were simply wares as well. In front of the lighthouse, proselytes of Selune, dressed in their white and blue finery, were preaching to a group of slaves. Tazi suspected Jhe slaves were listening merely to give themselves a break for a few moments, but then two other acolytes descended on the small congregation. One wore the black and purple robes of Shar and the other a pair of white bound hands, showing she was a follower of Ilmater. It only took a short time before the sermons turned to shouts between the three. Tazi had never seen any temple in Selgaunt tolerate that type of behavior.

  “What’s going on?” she asked Fannah.

  Fannah turned slightly. “What do you mean?”

  “Those proselytes over there are about to start fighting,” she exclaimed.

  “Oh, that,” Fannah chuckled. “It’s a well-known saying around here that ‘Hook Ward has a holy war at least twice a day’!”

  “I can’t believe it’s fitting for them to behave like that,” Steorf added, breaking his silence. “Doesn’t it shame their gods?”

  “Steorf, you misunderstand,” Fannah explained gently. “I think nearly every deity of Faerun is represented here in Calimport. Many of the clerics have to compete for followers or their temples will suffer. It is their duty. In fact,” she added, “it is perfectly acceptable for clerics to hold secular positions in the city, with their salaries going back to their respective temples.”

  “I guess I just don’t understand,” Steorf replied, shaking his head.

  He glanced around uncomfortably, and Fannah smiled indulgently.

  “It is a little hard for foreigners,” she said. “Come along. Selamek’s Warehouse is not too far away. We’ll be able to pick up a few things there.”

  Traveling in a southeasterly direction, the three continued to push their way through the crowds. Tazi looked back over her shoulder one last time at the sermon to see if the priests had come to blows, but the crowd swallowed up the view.

  Fannah expertly led the two through the mazelike streets and Tazi found herself shoved right up against her, the crowd was so thick at times. The Calishite woman didn’t even appear to notice the close quarters, but as Tazi glanced over Fannah’s shoulder, she could see that Steorf looked distressed as well.

  Though Selgaunt was a busy merchant city in its own right, Tazi found she was almost suffocated by Calimport. The streets, such as they were, were very narrow, with mud brick walls dividing and subdividing every possible space. Though the streets opened to the sky, across many of the walls that separated the drudachs merchants had laid poles. From these poles, the ingenious peddlers managed to string up even more goods. Tapestries and rugs hung from some, while jewel-hued, freshly dyed yarns hung from others like cheerful spiderwebs. Hardly a breeze stirred the hot air. Tazi felt trapped and claustrophobic.

  “Fannah,” she whispered in her friend’s ear, not wanting Steorf to know she was uncomfortable. She felt that, for the sake of the group, and since she saw his reticence with the dog, she couldn’t afford to show fear or allow failure.

  “Wouldn’t it be easier if we went along the walls above instead of fighting our way against the tide down here?”

  Tazi had been noticing how much room there was on the higher walkways, and how much airier they looked, too.

  “If we did that,” Fannah explained, “we would draw much more attention to ourselves. The upper walkways are for more ‘noble’ people. There is anonymity and safety for us down here.

  “Don’t worry,” she added, “I can tell from the smell that we’re nearly there.”

  Soon enough, Tazi understood what she meant. A sour odor filled the unmoving air, and Tazi found herself gagging. Without saying a word, Fannah motioned down one of the side streets and Tazi could see twenty large indentations in a clay platform as big as a house foundation. Each hole in the platform was the size of a small drinking well and was filled to the brim with a colored liquid. Every pot had a differelit color. A couple of robed men were leaning over the various holes like they were scrubbing laundry.

  “Leather dyeing,” Steorf offered.

  “It is a rather unmistakable smell, isn’t it?” Tazi replied, absently running a hand down her own leather vest.

  The three rounded a turn and came upon one of Calimport’s official bazaars: The Scarlet Cross Trading Coster Warehouse. Tents and stalls were pushed up against more permanent structures, and people were shouting to and fro. Merchants thrust objects mercilessly in their faces as Tazi and her companions ran the gauntlet of shops.

  “A leather sack for all your treasures?” one seller called out.

  “Something sharp and shiny for milady?” another cried.

  Tazi was startled as the vendor simply levitated several swords and a mail shirt near her, twirling them around for her inspection. She saw Steorf flinch when the shopkeeper did it to him too.

  Tazi also noticed that the types of items for sale changed the deeper they went into the market. The outermost shops had hard goods and weapons, while further in, the stalls were all full of coarse fabrics and different kinds of clothing.