Author's Note: The idea for this little tale came from a discussion in the Shirtless Saga threads on the NWN2 forum hosted on Bioware's site…
A Burning Question
Shandra stomped to the table and slammed her mug down, slopping ale in a wet ring.
"What is the matter?" Elanee asked, concerned, but Neeshka twitched her tail and gave her a knowing smile.
"What did he say to you this time?" she asked.
"Oooh, he…" Shandra glared across the room at Bishop. He gave her a mocking salute with his empty mug, and then set it down and sauntered towards the Sunken Flagon's front door.
"It doesn't matter what he said," Shandra muttered. "He is, by far, the rudest man I have ever met in my life and that is saying something." All three women watched him leave.
"Yes, but he's got a fine-looking rear, don't you think?" Neeshka said. "Don't you just want to give it a good squeeze?"
"No," Shandra said. "I don't. The only thing I want to squeeze is his neck. Where does he get off being so obnoxious, anyway? Does he think that kind of talk is attractive? Does he think any woman would be flattered by such crude advances?"
Elanee shrugged.
"I often find human males hard to understand," she said. "But he is attractive, isn't he, by human standards?"
"Sure, until he opens his mouth," Shandra said. "To hear him talk, it must be some great and wondrous treat to warm his bedroll." She took a big gulp of ale. "So is it?"
Elanee shrugged again. There was a pause.
"Well, don't look at me!" Neeshka said indignantly. "What, you think because I'm a tiefling, I bed every man around?"
"No," Shandra said, smiling a little. "I think because you're a rogue, you might have heard something."
"Bishop has never brought a woman here," Neeshka said. "There has been nothing to hear."
"See," Shandra grinned. "I knew you knew something."
"Well, I don't."
"But see, Bishop always stays here when he's in Neverwinter. So if he's this great lover, how come none of us has ever seen him with a woman?"
"There was that ranger in Port Llast," Elanee said slowly.
"Ancient history," Shandra said airily. "And she didn't seem all that satisfied, if you know what I mean. I think we have a little mystery here. I mean, come on, do you really see Bishop as discreet?"
"I don't know about that," Neeshka said. "He is a man with secrets. Maybe he doesn't like anyone knowing anything about him, even whom he sleeps with."
"Maybe," Shandra said. "Or maybe he is all talk and no action. Or maybe he buys all his loving from streetwalkers because no decent woman will put up with him."
"Perhaps," Elanee said.
"Why do you care?" Neeshka asked. "Are you…interested?" Shandra made a face.
"I'd rather bed a lizard man," she said. "But I do admit that I'm curious. I just have a hard time believing that anyone that talks that nasty could be any good in bed. And if he's really a lousy lay, I'd like to know, so I can shut him up once and for all the next time he hits on me."
"There's an easy way to find out," Neeshka said.
"I don't want to know that badly. There is no way I'd go to bed with him," Shandra said. "Why don't you do it? You said you liked his rear."
"Looks aren't everything," Neeshka said. "I learned my lesson with Leldon, thank you. I'm sticking with nice guys from here on out. Nicer than Bishop, anyway." Two sets of eyes turned to Elanee. She gave a delicate flush and shook her head.
"Oh, come on, El, we've all heard those stories about how elves like to experiment," Neeshka said. "It might be interesting."
"I think Elanee is interested in someone else," Shandra teased. The elf's blush deepened. Neeshka opened her mouth and Shandra kicked her under the table.
"Oh, okay then. Well, maybe Duncan knows if he's got a girlfriend or whatever." She waved at the innkeeper. "Hey, Duncan, get over here!"
"Hush, Neeshka," Elanee said, looking mortified but Neeshka kept waving, and Duncan came around the bar.
"What do you ladies need?" he asked jovially.
"Have a seat," Neeshka said. "Put your feet up." He gave her a mildly suspicious look.
"What is it, lass?"
"We have a few questions about Bishop," she said. Duncan had started to pull out a chair, but at those words, he pushed it back into the table.
"Sorry, but I can't discuss another customer."
Before he could leave, Neeshka stood and linked her arm with his.
"Bishop's not just a customer, he's one of us. Sort of. Come on, Duncan, we don't want to know any deep dark secrets. We just want to know who Bishop's been sleeping with—if anyone. He talks a big game but we're not convinced."
"What!? Now you've no call to be asking such questions, lass. Leave the lad his privacy."
"Come on, Duncan," Neeshka said in a cajoling tone. "We just want to know if he's a terrific lover, like he implies, or if he's just full of gas."
"I don't know anything about that and I wouldn't tell you if I did."
Neeshka let out an exaggerated sigh.
"Well, then, I guess one of us will have to find out the hard way. Let's draw straws for it, girls. Sorry for bothering you, Duncan."
"Now wait just a minute," Duncan said.
"We were hoping there would be an easier way to find out about his so-called prowess. But that's okay, Duncan. It's just one night and surely it won't be that much of a sacrifice to have to sleep with the guy. Even though none of us wants to..." Neeshka let her voice trail off suggestively. "I mean, all we wanted to know was if he had a steady girlfriend tucked away somewhere, or if he has to pay for his pleasures…"
Duncan gave her an exasperated look.
"Leave the lad alone," he said sternly. "He is dangerous."
"Don't worry about us, we can take care of ourselves," Neeshka said airily. "I mean, even if one of us gets a disease or something, we can get it cured at the temple. Right?" Duncan's annoyance had grown to faint alarm.
"I…hmm…well, it is said that there is a brothel he frequents," Duncan said, frowning at her. "And no, lass, I do not know where it is. And that is all I am going to say and I don't want to hear any more about this foolishness." He stomped back to the bar.
"A brothel," Shandra said, as soon as the innkeeper was out of earshot. "Well, that figures. Are there any brothels nearby, Neeshka?"
"What, you think because I'm a tiefling, I know all about brothels?"
"No," Shandra said, her eyes twinkling. "I thought that you, being a native of this city, might know more than us newcomers."
"Hmph. Well, in this case, I don't. Other than the Moonstone Mask and it's not a brothel anymore."
"Well, who would know?" Shandra asked. "I don't think Duncan is going to tell us anything else. Casavir knows this city but brothels—I don't think so." Elanee and Neeshka both giggled.
"What difference does it make?" Elanee asked. "Even if we found the brothel he frequents, how do you expect to find which, um, lady he, um, visits? And why would she tell us anything?"
"She might, for a price," Neeshka said, rubbing her thumb and finger together like she was warming a coin. "How badly do you want to know, Shandra?"
"I'd spend some coin to learn the truth," she said. "Not a lot, but a little, sure. But how in the hells are we going to find out? It seems impossible."
"Few things are truly impossible," Grobnar said, setting his lute on the table so he could pull out a chair and clamber into it. "Although improbable, yes, that is another tale entirely. Why the long faces? I do believe that you ladies need a song to cheer you up."
Neeshka rolled her eyes but Shandra smiled at the gnome.
"Thanks, Grobnar, but what we really need is some information," she said. The gnome's face brightened.
"Why, information is my specialty!" he exclaimed. "Always happy to help, I am."
"Yeah, well, we don't want to know anything about shield-mounted codpieces or ratchety underslung whatevers," Neeshka muttered. "We need to know about the local brothels."
"Which one?" Grobnar asked. "There are four in this quarter, although two are very small, more or less family-style, you know. But if you are talking Neverwinter in general, there are quite a few more, of course, quite a few." The three women stared at him.
"Um, Grobnar?" Shandra asked hesitantly. "You do know what we mean by 'brothel', don't you?"
"Why certainly, it is a place for men and women to spend some quiet time together—or not so quiet, as the case might be. They are very popular with sailors and other travelers."
"And you, um, go to these places?" Shandra asked.
"Why, every chance I get!" Grobnar said happily. "The pay is excellent and the working conditions are really quite pleasant. And it is not uncommon for me to receive tips of most generous size!"
Around the table, jaws dropped.
"Grobnar, are you saying that you—you—work in a brothel?"
"Certainly, Shandra. You should all come see me perform sometime. It is quite a sight, if I say so myself, and I could tell you the most astonishing tales. Why, one night at Madame Flouncy's place, the chimney stopped drawing and I improvised a large bellows out of a silk skirt but unfortunately I neglected to allow for…"
"I believe Grobnar is trying to tell us that he works as a musician," Elanee said, interrupting. "Is that right, Grobnar?"
"Yes, didn't I say so? But of course I am always willing to lend a hand wherever needed."
"I see," Shandra said, putting her hand over her mouth to hide her amusement.
"But what we want to know is what brothel Bishop uses," Neeshka said.
"Sir Bishop? Oh, I've seen him at the Dire Tiger a time or two. He keeps his hood pulled over his face and he doesn't stay downstairs to listen to the music, but of course I would recognize that cloak of his anywhere."
"And does he visit any particular lady there?" Neeshka asked eagerly.
"Yes but…" Grobnar paused and his face fell. "I'm truly sorry but I really couldn't say anything that would get one of the ladies in trouble, you know. I hope you understand." With that, he reached for his lute and started tuning it. The three women exchanged glances.
"You know," Shandra said slowly. "Grobnar has a good point. If we get any dirt on Bishop and use it, he is going to guess who told us. And I think he'll be pretty darned angry."
They all sighed and picked up their mugs. Neeshka finally interrupted the growing silence.
"What we need is a woman who will do just about anything," she said at last. "We need someone without morals or conscience. Someone who can take care of herself, but who we don't really care what happens to if she makes Bishop mad."
"But where could we find someone like that?" Elanee wondered.
Three sets of eyes slowly swiveled towards the end of the bar, where Qara scowled as she set mugs before a table of tipsy and noisy sailors. Three pairs of lips turned upwards in almost identical smiles.