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"Beggin' yer pardon, sire," said the small demihuman, sweeping off the hat to reveal a tangle of red hair, "but I understand that yer the gentlem'n that was lodgin' on the top floor yesterday eve? The one that had all the thunder and shoutin' and whatever?"

I deeply wished I had some form of native magical ability at the moment, for a comprehend languages spell, or a distill dialect, or whatever would be useful. I chose to stay with a time-proven response. "Yes?"

The halfling shifted uneasily on his furry pads. "Well, sire, I was outside and heard a lot of it, and the big god-voice said ye was huntin' the Raven."

I nodded my head, slowly, hoping I would appear sage but in reality praying my melon would not pop loose from my shoulders and roll around on the porch. "And you are…?"

"Caspar Millibuck, at yer servants," the halfling continued. "Well, I'm huntin' the Raven meself, and I figgered that one like ye, with such powerful god-voices, could help one like me, bein' small and short and all, and we could both nab the thief together."

"Uh-huh," said I, banishing most of my foggier thoughts back to the corners of my mind. "And why do you want the Raven?" I had not just fallen off the spell-wagon, and knew that halflings always had at least three reasons for doing anything, two of which would violate local laws.

The halfling examined his fur-covered pedicure. "Well, it's just that the Raven staled from me family as well, and I'm s'posed to get me money back. I can't go home till I get it"

Even in its ale-induced state, my heart went out to the small individual, trapped in a similar situation to my own. "And what did the Raven steal from you?"

"Gold, sire," said the halfling quickly, "all the gold in me orph'nage."

"Orphanage?" I shook my head. "I thought you said it was stolen from your family?"

"Indeed, sire," the halfling bobbed his head up and down rapidly. "Ever'body in my family's an orphan. We're very unlucky."

"Indeed," I muttered, and wondered what the halfling was really after. Of course, Ampratines was nowhere about, and here it was nearly noon. If I could wrap things up without my erstwhile ally, that would show both the genie and my granduncle I knew a thing or two myself.

"Very well," I said. 'Take me to the Raven. We'll sort things out, man to man."

"Ach, ye can't do that," slurred the halfling. "The Raven's no man, but a doppleganger, and can change shape at whim. I think I know where to find him, but ye have to be ready to move, and move quick, when I call. Will ye be helpin' me? For the other orphans, at least?"

With tears in his eyes, he looked up at me, and of course, I said yes. Noble thing to do and all. And besides, this little fellow knew how to find the Raven, and that would make my job all the easier.

I took the ale from the halfling, but did not finish it. I sent the next ale back undrunk as well, and asked instead for a tablet and a stylus, and some of the house stationary. I was in the midst of composing a letter to Granduncle Maskar, telling him everything was under control, when Ampi reappeared. One moment there was nothing to my left shoulder, and the next, there he was-as noble a djinni as ever 'jinned.

"I take it you have something," I snapped, the effects of the long-delayed hangovers coming to the fore. "You've taken most of the morning."

Ampi gave a small quarter-bow from the waist. "A hundred apologies, Lord Tertius," he said. "It took some doing to ascertain the nature of the device and what exactly happened to it. I finally spoke with a sylph that your granduncle uses to clean out the chimneys. She apparently witnessed most of the news on this unpleasantness."

"Well then, spit it out," I said, impatiently tapping my stylus against the tablet.

"The Tripartite Orb is an artifact of Netheril," said the genie, putting his hands behind his back like a schoolboy reciting his lessons. "Netheril was a kingdom of wizards that fell thousands of years ago, before the founding of Cormyr or Waterdeep. The least of these wizards, it is said, was more powerful