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"We can't have you smelling like a dumb animal, even if that is what you are," one of them explained through a grin. "You're meeting the mayor."

Now, dressed in silk breeches and a starched white shirt, the finest fashions of Waterdeep, he was marched up a flight of stairs that wound back on itself at each landing. He was delivered into a narrow dining hall. Great decadent paintings decorated the walls, a white cloth covered the table, and cold iron chains bound him to his chair. A strap around his forehead held his head in place against the chains. He felt his feet on a plush carpet. Above his head, a magical light cast unflickering shadows over the walls.

He was left there a long time-he heard a bell sound outside, and later, another. Finally a man entered and took a place opposite him at the table. Somewhat rotund and red-faced, middle-aged with a receding hairline, he was dressed in sleek purple robes. Even if Hurd hadn't mentioned it, Sungar would have known this man was a wizard. Something about him was sluglike; his features were so soft, as if weather had never touched him. This was a man who never used his body for anything. He would be ill-equipped for physical combat, Sungar knew; he could snap the man's neck in an instant, were it not for his deceitful magic.

"Chieftain Sungar," he said with an over-wide smile. "I am pleased to meet you at last. I'm Geildarr Ithym. I'm the mayor here in Llorkh, and you are my guest.

"I regret the necessity of your restraints. I hope that in time I will be able to host you unencumbered. Perhaps you'd like to sample our civilized cuisine-it goes far beyond the berries and roasted joints you're probably accustomed to."

Sungar said nothing.

"You might come to enjoy the pleasures of civilization in time," said Geildarr. "You scowl at the word." Geildarr repeated it, savoring every syllable. "Civilization. The name for everything your people despise. But do you even know what it means?"

Sungar spat onto the table before him. He heard rustling behind him and knew that guards were ready to abuse him if he misbehaved. But Geildarr silenced them with a casual wave of his hand.

"Kiev told me you've been very cooperative in his interrogations," Geildarr went on. "But there's one thing I still don't understand. It concerns the axe you left in the Fallen Lands. The exact reason you thought to get rid of it is of great interest to me." Geildarr's gaze became intense. "The wizard named, according to you, Arklow of Ashabenford, demonstrated the axe was magical, so you threw it away. This seems to me-but admittedly, I'm no expert on Uthgardt honor-like an act so petulant as to befit a three-year-old child, not a mighty barbarian warrior.

"I realize you shun magic in all of its forms. I respect that-even a seasoned wizard like myself starts to hate the stuff every now and again. It grows boring when I use it too much. It loses its wonder. However, using a weapon infused with magic isn't quite the same as commanding magic.

"It was your choice to toss it away, to leave it there in the dust. It might have gone for the rest of eternity without anybody finding it. But through a happy accident, or perhaps divine will, somebody did. Sungar, do you know the name Berun?"

Sungar said nothing, but he knew his reaction gave him away.

"Of course you do. He's an important figure in your legends. Well, one of the tales of him was more than legend. That axe you wielded belonged to him."

Sungar scanned the mayor's face. Clearly he was enjoying himself; he was a torturer of another kind. Was that the whole reason for this show? If so, it told much about Geildarr. A true leader, one secure in his power, would not feel the need to taunt the helpless.

But, Sungar wondered, could Geildarr's words possibly be true? Could the weapon of the chiefs have come from the most ancient figure of their history?

Geildarr smiled. "Better still, it's possible-I can't be entirely sure about this, admittedly-that