Noph made a rude sign as he scratched his cheek.

His father's consort knew the boy at least as well as she did the man. "Noph, why don't you take a look about?

There's no more dangerous company in Undermountain than you'll find here in the palace tonight."

Noph blinked at her. Though he hated Stelar for openly squandering his father's money-Noph's own inheritance the woman was perceptive, shrewd, scandalously fun, and at five years his elder, an honest beauty. Noph knew she was trying to get rid of him, but he halfexpected she spoke the truth about the perils in Piergeiron's palace.

Nodding knowingly to her, he made a quick exit. The heir of the Nesher estate had just rounded one slim column of the room when be heard his father's voice ask, "Where's that brat off to now?"

Stelar's reply was appeasing. "Oh, off to save Faerun again, I'm sure."

The white-suited groom, Piergeiron Paladinson, and his eight-foot-tall bodyguard, Madieron Sunderstone, headed past banqueting tables filled with nobles and guildmasters. Or, at least, they tried to head past. Every one of the guests stopped Piergeiron to ask a favor.

The guests had been sitting long enough to become entrenched and fidgety. Forks, knives, and other weaponry lay tantalizingly close. Roasted boar taunted from steaming platters. The very air smelled of opportunity-all of it just out of reach. This combination of heightened appetites and suppressed activities conspired to make the guests aggressive, suspicious, and covetous of Piergeiron's attentions. Until they could feast on boar, they would dine on groom.

First had been the Neshers-lumber money of the most vulgar kind. Piergeiron noted the conspicuous absence of their ever-prodigal son, Noph, the most pleasant member of an unpleasant crew. Laskar Nesher ended his greeting with a request to be moved closer to the elven nobles of the High Forest. He hoped to "trick the longears" into bartering away logging rights.