~Disclaimer: BioWare, Black Isle, and WotC own copyright to Baldur's Gate, Amn, and the Baldur's Gate characters within, excepting Kelsey Coltrane is owned by Jason Compton. I own copyright to all characters not original to the game (Aleria and side characters)

~Note: This story will deviate from the existing plotline in places. Be warned.

Chapter 1

Meetings

The deceptively heavy and reinforced door slammed shut with a certain emphasis that was not at all lost on the room's sole remaining occupant. The blonde man, dressed in fraying excellence, sighed and put his feet up on a once richly brocaded cassock. He stared at the door and waited for the soft, tell tale scrape of the secret door under the stairs opening.

"That went better than I thought, and yet… could have gone a lot better," the blonde man said with a shrug as a slim, dusky skinned woman in black leathers emerged from the observation room.

"The important thing is that we've secured her help," the woman said as she assiduously began dusting herself off. She settled gracefully in one of the other chairs. She gave her head a shake, trying to shake some dust out of her long, black hair. "And Gaelan? You really, -really- need to clean back there. I get keeping the front of very down at the heels, but you could spare a moment for the hideaway."

Gaelan Bayle grinned widely and stroked his well maintained goatee. "I suppose I could, Sime. But, somehow watching you so thoroughly dust yourself off…"

She hurled a pillow at him with deadly accuracy. "Gaelan, you are dirty, no good scoundrel."

"All why the Shadowmaster had me play this part," he said with a grin while plucking the collar his faded, embroidered jacket.

"And I thought it was because you played a cretin so well," Sime said, flashing a grin of white teeth and snapping her fingers. "Some might say you play it so well you were born into it."

"It takes true skill to act stupid and make people believe it," the bard replied with a laugh.

"I just thought it involved going 'Coo-eee'," Sime replied, impersonating Bayle's 'trademark' affectation, "Until the marks' brains bleed from their ears."

Bayle laughed. "People thrive on feeling superior to others. Act the fool and people underestimate you. Their purses end up lighter, I end up wealthier and the Council remains quite pleased with me. Something you should keep well in mind."

A fine eyebrow arched as Sime's dark eyes narrowed. She studied the smiling blonde man, looking for some sign of danger. Bayle was not known to be a violent man, one who'd rather talk his way out of a problem than resort to steel. Still, these -were- trying times. Right hand very subtly sliding to the short sword at her hip, she asked incredulously, "Was that a threat, Bayle?"

"No Sime, it was not," Bayle said with a wide smile and a hint of a chuckle. "I don't threaten. If there was an irresolvable problem between us, my sweet sandstorm, I certainly wouldn't take care of it in person. Blood is so trying on the wardrobe." He brushed his sleeve disdainfully. "But it is a warning. You have risen fast and far since the… unpleasantness began. Now, no one would question your skill, but not all of us are as collegial as you and I. Just be careful. It would be unfortunate to lose a mind… and a face like yours." He smile crept into a friendly leer. "And you know, a face like yours is wasted in your duties. You should join my operations. I could find you an … excellent place."

Sime rolled her eyes then flashed a pleasant smile. Voice as sweet as honey, she replied, "I swear, no matter how much the Shadowmaster likes you, if you say 'underneath you' with that same leer, I'll cut your tonks off and use them for a new coinpouch."

Bayle touched a hand to his forehead and made a flourishing half bow from his chair. "Dear Sime, I would never make such a crude and boorish remark. I only meant to say that I believe your talents would best be used in the grift. A beautiful woman has an amazing ability to weaken a mark's resolve. Skulking about in the dark and rifling through drawers is best left to those to whom darkness is a blessing."

Sime snorted. "It seems that beauty can do more than just distract the mark." Grinning, she leaned forward, offering a view of her cleavage to Bayle. She never would be accused of having a great deal of it, but she did think what the gods had gifted her was quite eye catching.

"It has been known to happen, Sime," Bayle said with a smile, his eyes defiantly staying locked on hers. "But only to those weak in will."

Sime nodded and stood. "And Gaelan Bayle's never been weak on will?"

"Not for many years. It is why I still draw breath while many competitors have given up that habit."

"Indeed. Well, while this has been both fun and educational, I should report to the Shadowmaster. If he doesn't get his report before he gets a troupe of disgruntled paladins knocking on his door, he will be less than pleased."

"And that would be exceptionally unfortunate."

"Only for a short period," Sime said with a matter of fact shrug of her shoulders.

"Well, then I bid thee adieu. I do have another meeting in an hour. I should prepare," with a nod, Bayle stood and headed for the back of the house.

"Aren't you forgetting something, Bayle?"

"Oh, of course. Do be careful out there Sime. It's getting dangerous for us, and not just the fools and the incautious."

"Thanks Bayle, but I was thinking of something else," she arched an eyebrow impatiently and extended her hand. "You know, the money?"

"Ahh, the money," Bayle said with a laugh. Tossing the deceptively heavy pouch to Sime, he added, "Just testing your attention to detail."

"Right. Right," Sime replied, snagging the pouch out of the air. As Bayle disappeared into the kitchen with another musical laugh, she began wrapping the pouch in a heavy wool blanket to deafen the clink of coin and gem. Shadow Thief or no, walking through this part of the city with that much coin rattling would be a foolish thing. Slipping the bundle into her bag, she slipped out the side door and into an alley. She had an appointment to keep.

-----

Her journey through the winding side streets and alleys of the slums of Athkatla to the new dock headquarters passed with more event than she would have liked. The confrontation with a mangy mutt that seemed to think her calf would make a lovely meal was nothing new. However, having to flash steel to dissuade two thugs was unusual. The fact it was necessary after her identification was even more so.

She knew that their losses had been noticed, that the Organization's grip on the city had certainly weakened. But to the point a couple of thickheaded thugs would actually threaten a Shadow Thief, to consider robbing one, was a shocking revelation. To be fair, it wasn't that they were just considering robbing her. The dull gleam in their eyes indicated their intent to do more than that. And if she had enough time, she would have disabused them of the notion. But an insult to honor was nothing compared with displeasing the Shadowmaster. So, a little careful bladework and a few insults had sent those two crying off to mama.

As she worked the locks and wards on one of the guildhall's secret entrances, she reflected on just how the Organization's fortunes had fallen in the last few weeks. For instance, this contact with Aleria of Candlekeep. Apparently, it originally had been hatched as a way to make a pretty penny and tweak those insufferable Cowled jerks. Now, it was vitally needed funds and a contact with desperately needed muscle.

Nothing reflected that better than the fact that she was handling such an important assignment for Rhuar Darkshadow, the Shadowmaster's spymaster. Bayle hadn't been kidding that it was a rapid rise for one Sime, late of Calimport. She'd been promoted from the ranks of infilitrators to running this operation after the disappearance of the two former operation managers. The first one, Tolan, one of the Darkshadow's best, simply disappeared weeks ago. The second one, Dyana, well… they'd found her. Well, parts of her. Here and there. The look of frozen terror on her face was enough to keep Sime on her guard, even here in the heart of the Shadow Thieves territory.

Tolan and Dyana weren't the only losses, she reflected as she slipped inside the door and set about resetting the traps. The sudden guild war had decimated the ranks, and not just the low levels. She'd lost a couple of old friends, Guan even daring to defect to this new guild. And he'd been a well respected specialist in second story work. Add in the rumor that one of the Council had disappeared two nights ago, well things were not looking good.

Which explained those thugs and her desire to grow a second set of eyes in the back of her head.

And why the Shadowmaster now needed the help of an Order knight. A bloody Tyrran Order knight to boot.

She came to a stop outside one of the entrances to the Shadowmaster's interview chambers, waiting for the guards to check her out. Yorrin, a massive, bearded blonde man from Icewind Dale and one of the Shadowmaster's personal armsmen, stepped out of the darkness. "You're running a little late, Sime," he said with a nod.

Sime handed over her bag for inspection. "Ran into some punks who were thinking of robbing me."

"You teach 'em a lesson?" he said as he carefully and professionally searched the bag.

"If I had, I'd be even later. Just showed them some steel and gave them a tongue lashing."

Yorrin snorted and proceeded to professionally pat down Sime. "Well, I'll make sure Harrik sends some men around to reinforce that messing with our kind is a bad idea." His search was short and effective and the big man deftly managed to relieve her of most of her weapons. She had to grin that he'd missed one. Then again, if she couldn't slip at least one weapon past even the best guards, she wouldn't be worth much in her job.

"You know, after that pat down, you owe me at least a drink," Sime teased.

Yorrin simply shrugged and handed her back her bag. "You're clean. Shadowmaster's waiting."

"Thanks Yorrin," she said with a smile.

The smile was returned. "You're welcome. It's nice a few of you actually appreciate the need for security, especially now. Some aren't so understanding."

"What can I say, we're not exactly a trusting bunch," she said with a shrug. "No one likes being unarmed. So some are gonna grump."

"And some are professional enough to adapt," Yorrin said with a nod.

"Course, it helps that the one doing the search is as handsome as you Yorrin," she said with a bright, teasing grin.

Yorrin chuckled. "I know you'd never consider the time wasted, but flirting with the armsman while the master waits isn't exactly wise."

"Can't help it. It's that desert blood, runs too hot," she said with a wink. Yorrin opened the door with a smile and ushered her into the Shadowmaster's presence.

The room itself, deep below the street, was large and richly appointed. Not so much because of the occupant's taste for luxury but that such a chamber had to be. The rare objects d'art, the Matzican wood desk and the thick carpets served to reinforce that the Shadowmaster truly was a man of great influence and power and not to be trifled with. The appearance of power often times was just as important as real power, sometimes even more so. Confidence and swagger were important weapons in the battle of wills, and the Shadowmaster never left a tool unused.

Of course, the fact that the carpets hid pressure triggers effectively, the desk could stop any crossbow bolt and at least three of those rare vases contained weapons was just an extra bit of prudence.

Crossing the carpet, she nodded to the cluster of top advisors already gathered. Darkshadow calmly sat to the Shadowmaster's left. Kelvin the bookkeeper to Darkshadow's left fidgeted in his chair as he consulted a heavy ledger. Yzabel, the tempestuous head of the Knives, leaned grumpily against a wooden column. Nector, the Shadowmaster's chief armsman stood impassively behind the Shadowmaster's chair to the right.

The Shadowmaster himself, the famed Aran Linvail sat calmly in his heavy leather chair. His finely chiseled features were perfectly composed. He could even be called handsome if one didn't consider the mind that resided behind that pleasant face. His nut brown eyes regarded her calmly and pleasantly as she approached. He spared a slight smile for her. "Ahh, Sime. There you are. I take it that all went well with our new friend?"

She handed the bag to Kelvin. Screwing up her courage, she nodded, "Yes Shadowmaster. While she was not entirely pleased to hand over the money, she has agreed to meet with you."

"Please, Sime, I am no slave to title. Aran will do." He looked over to Kelvin, who quickly nodded. "And that is good news."

"I still think it is foolish to involve an Order knight in our affairs," Yzabel growled. "We can handle this ourselves."

"Yet, so far we have little success in that, have we Yzabel?" Linvail said mildly. "We still do not know the leaders of this new Guild, and it continues to attack. We continue to fall back. Our losses continue to mount. Considering the pattern of these attacks and some of our theories, an Order Knight might be exactly what we need."

"And what's to stop this Order Knight from just wreaking havoc from the heart of our defenses? Of striking a blow for -Justice-? Or even worse, be working for whoever's leading that other guild!" She spat into the fireplace. "I don't trust it, Linvail."

"It is a possibility I've considered. However, I do not think it's likely. Sime, would you agree?"

"Yes sir," Sime said hurriedly, a little shocked to be dragged into this high level discussion. Knowing her word choice might just decide whether she would meet Yzabel and those hard green eyes in a dark alley some night, she chose them carefully. "This Aleria, should she chose to move against us, would not use this level of subterfuge. Yes, she has shown a greater… adaptability and creativity than we usually expect from the shiny armor set, but negotiating under such false pretenses is extremely unlikely."

"Not all of those 'knights' are above such subterfuge," Darkshadow pointed out calmly.

"True, but she hasn't been able to secure any other ally in getting to Spellhold, not ever her Order. You have to understand, Imoen is desperately important to her. Based on my predecessors' reports and some investigation of my own, she is hell-bent to get her sister back." She smiles crookedly. "Enough that she is 'willing to swallow her pride and honor and deal with these dregs and dastards.'"

"Dastards?" Linvail said with a hint of a smile. "I rather like that."

"Well, she was on her third cup of wine," Sime said with a grin.

"So, you're drinking buddies with this Aleria now, are you?" growled Yzabel. Her voice lacked its previous bite, showing she was grumping more out of habit than specific reason.

"No, but a few silvers and a serving girl's dress picks you up a lot of secrets."

"And where was that serving girl's dress?" Yzabel fired back with a crude smile.

Linvail held up a hand. "I do not concern myself how my agents get their information, so you do not need to either. I'm sure Sime stayed with in the bounds set by Darkshadow, so let us use the information."

"As you wish, Shadowmaster," Yzabel said contritely, bowing her head. However calm her voice, those green eyes glittered dangerously.

"Indeed." The Shadowmaster smiled. "Now, it seems Aleria of Candlekeep has arrived and is making her way downstairs as we speak. This should be an interesting interview. Sime?"

"Yes sir?" she said, already preparing to disappear out one of the side doors.

"Please join us. With your knowledge of our new ally, your impressions of her will be most useful."

"Of course, Shadowmaster," Sime said with a bow. At the Shadowmaster's acknowledging nod, she slipped into a corner to wait and watch. The coming meeting would definitely be… interesting.