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Beldar lifted an eyebrow. "Admirably cautious."

"We've good reason," Taeros said bluntly. "The Dyre girls are with us-and Master Dyre's apprentice was murdered while following them."

Beldar frowned in bewilderment. "And you thought to find his killer here?"

"There's little chance of finding him at all," Starragar said. "Some sort of necromantic rune carved into his forehead blocks magical inquiry. A popular spell, it seems; there's another corpse in the tunnel yonder sporting the same rune."

A little chill wandered down Beldar's back. The mad priest Golskyn, his burning-eyed sorcerer son, the Dathran…

"Magic's nearly endless in form and variety," he murmured. "I know an outlander mage well versed in dark arts."

Again his friends shot looks at each other. Starragar thrust his head forward. "Oh? And how came you by this… acquaintance?"

"My brother took me to her as a prank, years ago," Beldar explained impatiently. "She mumbled the usual dire prophecies and grand promises. What of it, if she knows a way around those runes? I'll take something personal from this body you've found; it might help her find the killer."

"Worth trying," Korvaun admitted. He looked at Taeros, who handed Beldar an intricately worked iron medallion.

"We'd planned to take it to the Warrens in hopes someone could name the owner," the Hawkwinter explained.

"Your corpse is a halfling?"

"Dwarf."

Beldar waited for Taeros to elaborate, but his friend merely regarded him. With unfriendly eyes.

Suddenly he understood; Lark must have already reneged on their deal.

"What did she tell you?" he demanded.

His friends gave him only silence. After it had lasted long enough to become uncomfortable, Taeros asked, "Just when did you take up beating unarmed women?"

Shame and relief swept over Beldar together. If this was the sum of their complaints, a simple half-truth should set them at ease. "She bore a stolen charm: Silver, on a silver chain. I tried to take it from her. Though I'd no intention of striking her, my hand… connected, ere she fled. I deeply regret this mishap and will tell her so at first opportunity."

Taeros absently reached for his chest, at just the place where a charm might hang, and Beldar knew his words had hit their mark.

"And where's this charm now?"

Beldar shrugged. "Find the wench, and you'll find your property."

Starragar scowled. "She said much the same of you."

For a long moment Beldar regarded his boyhood friends, realizing they'd become strangers all. With all the dignity he could muster, he said, "If you think me a liar and thief, put me to the test. Surely at least one of you has a truth-seeker."

Starragar stripped a ring from his hand and all but threw it at Beldar. "Put it on. You'll be compelled to answer three questions truthfully."

Beldar donned the ring and waved at the other Gemcloaks to proceed.

Korvaun winced. "Blast it, this isn't right! Never once has Beldar Roaringhorn given any of us cause to doubt his word! Never once has he forgotten a debt or failed to stand beside his friends!"

He turned to Beldar. "Take off the thrice-damned ring and tell me straight out you don't possess the charm or know its whereabouts-and I'll believe you."

Beldar regarded Korvaun, held up his hand so the ring was prominently displayed, and said flatly, "I don't have it, I don't know where it is, and this ring is far too garish and made of brass, which is utterly, unforgivably common. Is that truth enough for you?"

"Please accept our apologies," Korvaun said. "There should be no talk of truth-spells among us."

"It's forgotten." The Roaringhorn tossed the ring back to Starragar. "I'm off, then. What say we meet at the club come sundown?"

"Agreed," Korvaun replied.

The other Gemcloaks just nodded, content to let Korvaun speak for them. At that moment, a truth hit Beldar hard. The Gemcloaks now looked to Korvaun-steady, decent, honorable Korvaun-rather than to him.

Loss-almost grief-stabbed at Beldar. Forcing a smile onto his