The slender man flipped long black hair back out of his eyes with a languid toss of his head and smiled more brightly. "One mask, sliced to ribbons. It pains me-my old foe had three quara in his purse, and even a crude replacement will cost me at least five."

Thoadrin sighed. "Marlel, can't you ever be serious?"

"Oh, now, Thoadrin," Marlel said softly, "don't make that dangerous mistake. I'm always serious." Somehow the little knife had vanished again, though the Cult warrior hadn't seen it go.

Thoadrin frowned. "The masks, the skulking, all these grand passwords and scrawled warning messages on doors-that's tavern-tale stuff. We of the Scaly Way-"

"— Prefer grim sinister silence, when you're not on your knees in front of dragons made of dancing bones. Each to his own style, Thoadrin. Mine amuses many folk, makes most of them underestimate me, and affords me some passing entertainment. 'Tis good heralding, too. As far away as Sembia, folk have heard of Marlel, the Dark Blade of Doom!"

Thoadrin winced. "Aye, so they have, as a mincing dandy or a crazed-wits, I fear. Doubting such gabble could properly apply to a man of your profession who flourished for more than five seasons before this, I preferred to trust Scornubrian sources-persons I've dealt with in confidence and to mutual benefit for years."

"And they told you?"

"That you were the best, bar none. One or two of the ladies went so far as to underscore that their testimonial applied in several ways."

Marlel gave the Cult warrior his crooked smile again and said, "But of course."

Thoadrin cleared his throat. "You've probably guessed why I'm here."

Marlel shrugged. "I try never to guess. I'm, here because the Cult of the Dragon pays me a retainer of far too many gems each month for me to ignore a summons from anyone claiming to be a member of the Cult. Moreover, my keep-confidence Scornubrian sources tell me you're highly placed in. the ranks of the practical side of the Cult-the men who invest coins and watch and deal with the passing world, rather than the raving spellhurlers and those who writhe about in dragonbones, lost in raptures. So here I am, confident that you've a task of importance for me."