"Check him every half hour," Cale said to the guide, patting him on the back. "The time is getting close. We don't want them to have too much of a head start."
The guide exhaled, massaging his brow, and nodded.
Geared up and ready, they continued to wait in their room, increasingly restive. Time passed, and Magadon's periodic checks revealed the two remaining slaadi doing little. Riven paced their small room like a caged animal.
"We could move on them right now," the assassin said to Cale. "You could shadowstep us to that storehouse."
Cale shook his head, not bothering to explain his reasoning.
"Delay is foolish," Riven snapped. "By the time we move, we may find them in the midst of thirty hired swords. Then what? Your decision to wait will have put us all at risk, Cale."
Cale understood that, but simply killing the slaadi was not enough. He wanted vengeance, justice, chororin. For that, he would need to find the Sojourner, who had put all of it into motion, and stop him, kill him.
Instead of arguing with the assassin, he said, "You're welcome to stay behind."
Riven stopped pacing and his eye flashed. He stared at Cale for a moment before nodding at the pocket in which Cale kept his mask, his holy symbol.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you, First of Five?" the assassin asked. "No one to vie for his favor, eh?"
Cale answered Riven's stare with one of his own.
"His favor has nothing to do with it," he replied. "His favor got me this." He held up his regenerated hand, swathed in shadows. "This is about you doing it my way or not at all. Your choice to stay, Zhent. Nobody is holding you here. You can walk away anytime."
Riven held Cale's gaze for a moment before giving a mirthless smile through his goatee.
"I think I'll stay around," said the assassin, "for now."
He started pacing anew.
Jak and Cale shared a look. Jak's green eyes said, I don't trust him. For his part, Cale attributed Riven's mood to the irritability that had plagued the assassin since arriving in Skullport, and his impatience for action. Cale too was irritable, which explained his own overly harsh response to Riven's challenge.
"They're moving," Magadon said.
Cale and Jak jumped to their feet. Riven whirled on the guide and took three steps toward him.
"Where?" all three asked in unison.
Magadon held up a hand to forestall further questions. His eyes showed only whites.
"Exiting the storehouse. I cannot tell where they are. Heading along the street... carts ... slaves ..."
"No landmarks?" Cale asked.
Magadon shook his head and replied, "Still haven't seen the harbor. I think they're in the Lower Trade Lanes, heading north or east. Lots of street traffic . . . brothels, taverns, shacks, a glassblower's workshop. . ." He was quiet for a time then said, "The buildings are getting more and more decrepit, even for Skullport."
Magadon continued to describe the surroundings, hoping that one of them would note something with which they were familiar.
"Do you see any brewer's shops?" Riven asked. "Lots of goblins? Kobolds?"
Magadon shook his head and said, "No .. . wait, yes! A lot of untapped ale casks stacked outside of several buildings. And there are more goblins than usual."
Riven said, "They're in the northern Trade Lanes, in the slum warrens near Cart City. They're heading toward the Underdark tunnels that lead north out of the city."
"You're sure?" Cale asked.
Riven nodded and replied, "That's consistent with what the slaad described to me back at the Crate and Dock."
"Wagons ... lizard pens ..." the guide continued.
"Hold him for a while longer," Cale said to the guide. "We need to be sure."
Magadon nodded, his eyes still showing only whites.
They waited.
"They're reaching the end of the cavern," Magadon said. "Tunnels ahead. Lots of torches and lanterns ... goblin runners. It's a caravan assembly point but I only see one closed wagon. There are many heavily armed duergar, and four in no armor. I don't see the gray-eyed slaad."
"Cut if off, Mags," Cale said.
"Wait. . ." Magadon said. "The unarmored duergar are gathered around Azriim. To judge from his hands and perspective, it looks as though Azriim is in the form of a duergar himself, or something similarly short. He's handing them wands. He's looking toward a tunnel, gesturing. I think they're preparing to move out."
"Cut it now, Magadon," Cale ordered. "We know enough."
The guide nodded distantly and shook his head as though to clear it. Exhaling heavily, his eyes returned to normal. He looked exhausted.
Cale patted Magadon on the shoulder while he said to Riven, "That must be the caravan they described to you."
"Agreed," Riven replied. "Two of the three slaadi are there, along with the squad of duergar."
"Where then is the gray-eyed slaad?" Cale asked of no one in particular.
Magadon shook his head. Riven shrugged.
Jak already had pocketed his pipe and pulled on his pack.
"I still don't get it," said the halfling. "The slaadi are with the caravan, but they want us to attack it?"
"An ambush?" Magadon offered.
"Possibly," Cale replied, "but I'd wager it's more complicated than that. Remember that they can teleport away anytime, if they're willing to risk it. They might just be with the wagon to make it look believable, planning to get out of there when we appear."
Magadon tilted his head, conceding the point.
"Either way," Cale continued, "baiting us to attack the caravan is only a ploy, not the real play. So we follow it and them, hidden, but hold our steel until I say otherwise. There's something else going on here."
Magadon stood and shouldered his pack. Riven did the same. Cale looked to the assassin.