"You make it sound as if every mage of this world can dispose of us with a wave of his hand," Atari said bitterly.

"If you sneer at them and rush into battle with them heedless of what might befall," Ahorga told him, taking flight with a sudden, powerful wingbeat that almost tumbled them from the tree, "that's exactly what may happen." He circled around them. "Go softly, and make surprise your best weapon."

"Will we see you again?" Yinthrim asked.

"If you stay alive, almost certainly," the senior Shadowmaster said. "Remember, an ambush is your best tactic, and against Elminster, it's your only tactic."

"We'll practice ambushes, then," Yinthrim promised grimly. "The Realms around here, I think, are suddenly going to become much more dangerous."

"Now that sounds like a son of Malaug speaking," Ahorga said approvingly. Without a farewell, he flew off southwest.

Atari watched him go, and then said in a small voice, "Are mortal mages really that dangerous?"

"No," Yinthrim assured him. "He was just telling us that overconfidence is."

"Words to live by? Hmmph," Atari said, and turned one wing into a tentacle long enough to make a rude gesture into the southwest. Yinthrim chuckled and flew from the branch.

"Where are you going?" Atari asked in sudden alarm.

"I'm going to practice ambushing something-anything," his fellow Malaugrym replied. "I'm hungry."

Verdant farms stretched away on both sides of the road, which ran like a sword blade down the length of Mistledale. Along the backs of those prosperous steadings stood the unbroken green wall of the encircling Elven Court woods. On this bright morning Mistledale was a beautiful place to ride, with a good mount moving strongly beneath the saddle-even if the rider rode in the midst of a solid ring of ebon-armored warriors, who took care to keep their armored forms between her and any possible attack.