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The master traveler was quite full of himself as he passed the secretary who had tried to bar his way. Volo chuckled, realizing that the lackey was probably staring daggers at him. That will teach him to try to get in the way of the master traveler of all Toril, Volo thought proudly.

Still preoccupied with his own elan and facility, Volo didn't even notice accidentally bumping into the sour old mage whose appointment he had usurped. Had he done so he probably would have apologized. Instead he continued on his oblivious path, not even hearing the vitriolic curses that were being spewed behind his back.

* * * * *

Upon returning to the Traveler's Cloak Inn, he was immediately greeted in the dining hall by the now refreshed Passepout, whose pleasant afternoon nap had added fuel to his already voracious appetite.

"Volo!" Passepout yelled. "Over here!"

I must remember to go alone on my visitations that require a low profile, the master traveler reminded himself, and then joined his friend at the opulently laid table.

"Dela darling," the portly thespian called to the barmaid, "Please set a place for my friend here, and bring more food. He might be hungry." Turning his attention to the recently seated Volo, he whispered, "I think she likes me. I have a way with barmaids."

"I remember," the master traveler replied. "You were always quite the ladies' man."

Dela quickly set a place for Volo, and was about to return to the bar when Passepout gave her a friendly pat on the rump, and said, "Very nice, my sweet. Play your cards right, and I'll put in a good word for you with the management."

Dela gave Volo a long-suffering look, and said, "You sure he's a friend of yours, Mr. Geddarm?"

"Afraid so," the master traveler replied.

"Well, please advise him to keep his hands to himself," she instructed, and regained her place at the bar.

Volo looked to his friend, and said admonishingly, "Well, you heard her."

Passepout was affronted. "Imagine her nerve!" the indignant thespian boomed. "I have a good mind to have a word with the owner about her."

"She is the owner," Volo instructed.

"Oh," said the chubby thespian warily. "Do you think I should leave? Or maybe apologize? A few well chosen compliments might go a long way, her being female and all."

"Just let it pass," the master traveler instructed. "Dela is a good sort, with a keen business sense, and no desire to alienate any potential paying customers. You can't ask for more in an innkeeper in these parts."

Passepout nodded, and continued the inhalation of his meal. Volo put his napkin in place, and joined in the dining experience. After a few more mouthfuls, Passepout once again struck up a conversation.

"I only arrived here yesterday," the chubby thespian confessed. "Is there anything I should know about these here parts?"

"Plenty," the master traveler replied. "But first a question: why did you come to Mulmaster to begin with?"

After a swallow and another quaff of ale, the portly thespian explained.

"Somebody around Westgate told me that there was plenty of room for my sort of trade in the Moonsea area."

"You mean acting, of course," the master traveler clarified.

"Of course," Passepout replied. "I learned my lesson after that little stay in Baldur's Gate, when you last came to my rescue."

"Go on," Volo urged, not wanting to experience another exuberant outbreak of undying gratitude from the chubby actor, nor relive his last jailbreak experience.

"So I said to myself, 'Self, where should we go?' Zhentil Keep was obviously out of the question. I mean, who is willing to pay good money for drama when your city is in ruins."

"Agreed."

"And Hillsfar didn't exactly seem to fit the bill."

"For sure," the master traveler replied, wondering if there was still a price on their heads for impersonating Red Plumes, the city watch, the last time they were there.

"And Phlan already has a resident thespian, Ward T. James."

"Ward T. James?" Volo repeated inquisitively. "Never heard of him."

"He's a big guy, like me," Passepout explained, patting his expansive tummy