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visitor.
    The dwarf seemed inordinately cheerful for a prisoner in a dungeon, or at least so thought the imprisoned young mage. Perhaps he was a spy.
    The dwarf spoke again.
    "I can't see your eyes with that funny coal bucket on your head, but I still think I can tell what you're thinking. You're probably saying to yourself, 'Self, who is this crazy old coot?' Well, I already answered that question, but I don't mind repeating myself. My name is Hoffman, and I am formerly of the Seventh Dwarven Abbey-of which I was senior abbot and protector of the legendary Seal of Robert, I might add-and I have been a prisoner down here for quite a long time, since before something that someone told me happened, the Time of Tremors, or something."
    "You mean the Time of Troubles," the masked prisoner corrected.
    "I might do, I might do," the dwarf assented. "You're probably also asking yourself, 'Self, can I trust this crazy old coot? Is he a spy? Is he a madman?' Well the answers to those questions in order are: yes, no, and maybe. The Seventh Dwarven Abbey was attacked by Zhent agents, and I alone survived. Once I had ascertained the safety of the Seal, I came to Mulmaster in search of help. The powers that be claimed I was a spy, threw me in the dungeon, and forgot about me. It is a fate worthy of a sole survivor… in a cosmic sense. Don't you agree?"
    "I'm not sure," Rassendyll responded, not realizing the apparent similarity of their situations.
    "Now what did a fine young fellow like yourself do to wind up in a place like this?" Hoffman quickly inquired.
    "I don't know," Rassendyll replied, "and how do you know if I'm young or not?"
    The dwarf started to laugh.
    "Heckuba," Hoffman swore between guffaws, "just about everyone around here is young compared to me."
    Unexpectedly, the dwarf's laughter was quickly halted and replaced by a racking cough that seemed to shake the former abbot's entire body. Rassendyll immediately came over to him in hopes of casting a spell to help him, but quickly realized he was unable to, and instead settled on putting his arm around the dwarf and helping him into a recline on the floor of the cell.
    As soon as the coughing fit seemed to subside, Hoffman cocked his head tothe side as if to listen for something, and said in an urgent whisper, "Quickly, the guards are coming, and they mustn't discover me here or it will go badly for both of us. I must return to my cell. Help me over to the tunnel, and return the stone to its place blocking it. I promise to return shortly, once the coast is clear."
    Rassendyll helped the old and now obviously infirm dwarf over to the tunnel, through which the visitor quickly scurried. The masked prisoner had no sooner replaced the stone to its proper location, when a light was flashed through the small window in the cell's door.
    "You there," a stern voice bellowed, "take your plate or go hungry, madman. Whatever you choose doesn't matter to me."
    The light remained in the window, while Rassendyll crawled on hands and knees to the door. A plate had been placed at its base, and the young mage was barely able to reach it through a narrow slot in the door. The guard moved on as he began to eat. The food was rancid, and probably the most inedible sustenance that he ever encountered in his entire cloistered life, but as it had been over two days since he had last eaten, he managed to choke it all down.
    Once his meal was over he replaced the plate through the slot at the base of the door and looked back at the stone that he had just recently put in place in hopes that the jolly gentleman with the long white beard would return as he had promised.
    * * * * *
    In the Captain's Quarters in Southroad Keep:
    Rickman was not amused.
    "Blough, what do you mean that itinerant thespian has disappeared?" he shouted.
    The fearful Hawk maintained his composure, even though he knew that he had just told his commanding officer information contradictory to what he wanted to hear, and repeated his