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tongue, fool! VP
    Though he wore a magical amulet that allowed him to comprehend and speak D’tarig, Lander feigned ignorance. Since both of his guides spoke Common, the universal trade language of Toril, he had seen no reason to let them know he could understand their private conversations.
    “I do not need to know the name of this tribe to know they will kill those who loot their dead,” Lander said, looking pointedly from one D’tarig to the other.
    The hands of both guides unconsciously brushed the pockets hidden deep within their burnooses. “What do you mean, Lord?” Musalim asked suspiciously.
    Lander smiled grimly. “Nothing, of course;’ he replied. “But if 1 had taken anything off the bodies of the deadrings off their fingers or jewels from their scabbards, for example-I would also be anxious to leave:’
    Musalim furrowed his barely visible brow, but Bhadla seemed unimpressed. “Bah!” the older D’tarig said. “The survivors will think the raiders took these things:’
    Lander looked toward the sand dunes. “I don’t think so,” he said. The figure that had been watching them all morning was gone-but not far, he suspected. “They’ve seen with their own eyes who looted the dead:’
    Musalim’s eyes opened wide. “No, Lord!”
    “I’m no lord,” Lander snapped. “Don’t address me as if I were:’
    Bhadla’s eyes narrowed. “You’re lying:’
    “Not at all;” Lander replied. “My father was a wealthy but untitled merchant of Archenbridge, and my mother was … well, there’s no need to discuss her. Let’s just say I’m no lord:’
    Bhadla shook his turbaned head angrily. “I don’t care if your mother was a goat who gave milk of silver and urine of gold!” he yelled. “Were the Bedine watching or not?” Lander flashed a conciliatory smile. “I never lie:’
    The D’tarig uttered a curse in his own throaty language, then began pulling jewels and rings out of his pockets. Laying the booty on the camel-wool tent at Lander’s side, he hissed, “You should have told us!”
    “You shouldn’t have taken it,” Lander replied.
    “It’s not our fault,” Musalim complained, also emptying his pockets. “Those who attack should take the plunder, not leave it to tempt us. Who razes an entire camp and steals nothing but camels?”
    Studying the devastated oasis with a grim expression, Lander answered, “The Zhentarim:’
    “Black Robes?” Bhadla echoed. “They couldn’t have done this. They’re just traders:”
    Lander could understand Bhadla’s misconception. The D’tarig lived on the fringes of Anauroch. They survived by goat herding, but the most adventurous and greedy ventured into the Great Desert. These “desert walkers” collected resin from cassia, myrrh, and frankincense trees, then sold it to merchants sponsored by Zhentil Keep. The Zhentarim resold it to temples all over the realms for use as incense. As far as the D’tarig knew, the Black Robes were nothing more than good merchants.
    “The Zhentarim are much more than traders,” Lander explained, turning to face Bhadla. “They’re an evil network of thieves, slave-takers, and murderers motivated by power, lust, and greed. They rule hundreds of towns and villages, control the governments of a dozen cities, and have placed spies in the elite circle of practically every nation in Faerun:’
    Musalim shrugged. “So?”
    “The Zhentarim want to monopolize trade and control politics over all of Faerun;’ Lander said. “They want to make slaves of an entire continent:’
    Dumping his last ring onto the collapsed tent, Bhadla said doubtfully, “I don’t believe that. Wealth is one thing, but who would want the trouble of so many slaves?”
    The Sembian shook his head. “I don’t know why the Zhentarim want what they want, Bhadla,” he said. “Maybe they’re working on Cyrie’s behalf:’
    “What is this Cyric?” interrupted Musalim, still searching the hidden pockets of his robe.
    “He was once a