Realms of the Underdark - J. Robert King [1]
The next day, when he returned to the office, he discovered that Volo had come by that very afternoon demanding payment for some manuscript he claimed to have delivered that very morning. Had Justin been in, something might have been worked out; but an overzealous employee (who was later dismissed) ushered the star author rather rudely off the premises and gave him a sound tongue-lashing for having stood up the venerable publisher for lunch.
Not a word had been heard from the author since that day, and Justin was more than a bit worried.
"Where will I send the next royalty payment?" the publisher fretted. "And, more importantly, what will I do for a new Volo's guide? We had discussed doing the next one on the Moonsea area. Without it, my next year's list is as barren as the Battle of the Bones."
Paige Latour, Justin's latest in a long line of secretaries and the most curvaceous to date, entered the publisher's office, undetected by her preoccupied boss. "Justin, I mean, Mr. Tym," she said, interrupting him from his worrisome speculations while proffering a sealed parchment pouch. " A messenger just dropped this off for you."
"Probably just another wanna-be submission," the publisher offered absently. "Send it back unread. You know the procedure."
"But I think you might want to read it."
"Not now," he retorted curtly. "Just handle it, and don't bother me."
"But, boss," she insisted, "I really think you should read it. It's from some guy named Volothamp, and I figured maybe you could talk him into shortening his name and taking over those Volo's guides you've been worried about."
"Volothamp?" Tym inquired, jolted out of his preoccupations.
"Yeah, boss," she replied. Patting herself on the back, she added, "Pretty neat plan I've come up with, huh?"
"Give me the pouch," the publisher ordered.
"Sure thing," Paige replied. "Can I be an editor now? You promised you'd show me the ropes, but so far you've only shown me…"
Justin only had to glance at the writing to immediately recognize the penmanship.
"Miss Latour," Justin interrupted. "This isn't the ideal candidate for a pseudo-Volo."
"It's not?" she asked, puzzled by her boss's reaction.
"No, this is from the real Volo," he replied.
"Oh," she groused, not even trying to hide her disappointment. "I guess I'm not ready to be an editor yet."
Miss Latour quickly left Tym's office as he read the short missive.
Justin, All is forgiven.
Moonsea guide is still in the works, but should be done on schedule.
We can discuss Magic volume when I return (dare I suggest over lunch?).
Till then, please spot me some gelt, care of the Shipmaster's Hall (you know my earned royalties will make good on it and more).
Best,
Volo
P.S. I'm working on another project that will make the Moonsea guide look like last year's WHO'S WHO AMONG THE ZHENTARIM, but have decided to keep you in the dark about it until it nears completion (Hee, hee!).
The publisher stared at the missive several times while mopping his brow with a recently untied cravat. He was happy the tension brought about by situations unknown seemed to have been defused, but he was still concerned about the upcoming schedule. Did this mean the Moonsea guide would be in on time or not, and what of this other project? Volo had always been fond of puzzles, puns, and conundrums. Perhaps there was a clue in the note, and maybe the solution would mean TWL's salvation as well.
Hmmmmm…
THE FIRES OF NARBONDEL
Mark Anthony
Chapter One
Weapons Master
There are a thousand deaths in the Underdark-a thousand different horrors skulking in lightless caverns and lurking deep in still black pools, each waiting to rend unwary flesh with fang, or talon, or caustic venom. In the overworld,