Chapter X: Something Blue
Reynald blinked as Haer'Dalis, the tiefling bard he'd known only a short few days before he had parted ways from the company and gone in his own direction, approached to hug Harrian warmly. The swashbuckler returned the gesture vaguely, looking very confused and surprised, before taking a stilted step back and staring blankly.
"It warms the heart to see you again, my raven," the bard declared firmly. "I should have known that in these fateful times you would appear… and none too soon, considering the state of matters in this chaotic city. We are watching entropy at work, my friend!"
"What, exactly, are you…"
Haer'Dalis ignored Harrian's oncoming question and turned to Imoen, standing next to the swashbuckler and wearing a rather lost yet sceptical expression. The tiefling gave her a deep, elaborate bow, before grabbing her hand – before she could react and pull it back, Reynald rather thought – and kissing it lightly.
"My wildflower, you are as delicate as ever… it pains this sparrow's soul to know you are witnessing such dark times as these. Some things are above the destruction and death of doom, and you are one of them," he declared.
Reynald raised a hand to his mouth to hide the smirk threatening when he saw the expression on Anomen's face. The young cleric clearly hadn't read Imoen's completely bemused look correctly.
Haer'Dalis seemed to have noticed Anomen's reaction as well, for he turned to face the knight and clapped him on the shoulders. "My eagle! You are looking splendid, as always! Permit me to make a deduction – honour and glory at the raven's side called, and you were not found wanting."
"Tiefling, why do you persist in appearing whenever you are least wanted?" was all Anomen replied, seeming pained and defeated.
The bard had already moved on, however, ignoring both Reynald and Jaheira – the Fallen Paladin guessed she had never much tolerated someone as ridiculous as he – and finally reaching Sarevok, who seemed particularly unamused.
"And who is this? A tall warrior I see before me!" Haer'Dalis chuckled wryly, nodding at the burly fighter. "Another bold soul caught in the wake of the raven's beating wings? Following the chaos, seeing where destiny leads?"
Sarevok's hand shot out and grabbed Haer'Dalis by the neck, bodily lifting him up off the ground. Reynald saw Anomen's brief expression of satisfaction as the rest of the party stood around, distinctly taken aback and taking time to react. Quite a bit of time, Reynald noted.
"Who are you, tiefling, that dares to presume to approach us? And cease your riddle-speak; I have no patience for it at this time." Haer'Dalis had turned an interesting shade of blue by this time; going quite nicely with his hair.
Reynald reached out to place a gloved hand on Sarevok's plated forearm. "Rest, friend. As you should have gathered, he is known to us. This tiefling travelled with Harrian for some time… though mostly before I joined the party."
With a grunt, Sarevok released the struggling Haer'Dalis, who collapsed to the floor, gasping somewhat. Reynald became slowly aware that all eyes in the tavern had turned in their direction at Sarevok's strangling of the bard. I think we must abandon the hopes of maintaining a low profile…
"Do not call me friend," Sarevok sneered at Reynald, then turned to Harrian, who seemed to have regained something of his composure. "Does the dark knight speak truly? This wretch is a friend of yours?"
Harrian seemed to consider this one for a moment before he nodded firmly. "Yes. We travelled together." He stretched a hand down to help Haer'Dalis up, and the gasping bard accepted it gratefully, clambering to his feet.
"Perhaps I should… be more careful as to whom I greet in what manner, my hound," the tiefling mumbled, rubbing his throat ruefully and giving Sarevok a look. "But no harm done, see? My singing shall return to normal very soon, I am certain."
"Wonderful," Anomen said dryly, and rather loudly. He ignored the brief glance from Imoen.
Jaheira cleared her throat a little. Like Reynald, she had watched most of the proceedings quietly, though had seemed less inclined to intervene on Haer'Dalis' behalf as he had. "Bard… perhaps you should explain what you are doing here?"
"Your appearance was as unexpected to me as I'm sure mine was to you," Haer'Dalis replied casually, gesturing to the small round table he'd been seated at, with only four chairs available. He, Harrian, Imoen and Jaheira slid into them wordlessly, leaving the other three to exchange slightly lost glances before moving off to drag their own stools up.
"Let's just say that we're meant to be here," Harrian said wryly as Reynald sat down. He didn't envy Anomen and Sarevok, seated stiffly in their plate mail. Already, he was appreciating the freedom the light, supple Red Dragon scale offered, both in combat and elsewhere.
"More matters of destiny." Haer'Dalis nodded, a little more serious now. "I may suggest that could be why I ended up here as well. After all, of the many cities of Tethyr to visit in my wanderings, I happened to come across Saradush, which happened to be besieged by a great Fire Giant Bhaalspawn and you happened to arrive in?"
"Or you're just a magnet for trouble, bard," Anomen said somewhat bitterly. Reynald had been around the group long enough before to know that the cleric had usually kept his mumblings about the tiefling fairly quiet. He had not advertised his dislike – though it had been plain for all to see. Clearly, he was most upset by this return.
"That I am, young Anomen, that I am," Haer'Dalis agreed instead of being angry, nodding and chuckling.
Anomen bristled. "Do not patronise me, bard. I doubt you are hardly much older than I am!"
Haer'Dalis raised an eyebrow. "You overlook the blood of fiends and elves within me, my eagle. By Toril reckoning, I have lived sixty-three years."
They all looked at him oddly, all except for Jaheira, who was examining the faintly seedy bar with an expression of faint disgust and did not seem to be even slightly fazed by Haer'Dalis' announcement, and Sarevok, who just seemed bored.
Harrian coughed sheepishly, and gave Imoen a wry look. "As youngest around this table, I am not entirely sure that I can comment on that."
"Yes, little brother." Imoen seemed to regain an expression that vaguely approached normality, and nudged him in the ribs as Reynald chuckled wryly. "Does that mean you get to go and fetch the drinks for us all?"
Harrian gave her a look of mock-outrage. "But I am your vaunted leader! You go get the drinks!"
"No. As powerful archmage, I'm exempt. Besides, I'm sleepy," Imoen said, giving a wide yawn for effect.
Harrian grinned at the others. "Who's next youngest?"
"Twenty-seven," Sarevok rumbled, still looking bored. His eyes flickered over to one of the passing waitresses, piercing and evaluating. Reynald noticed that she deposited the drinks on the table next to them, where two dwarves were seated, then made a particularly fast withdrawal from the area.
"Twenty-nine," Reynald offered, also chuckling a little with the certainty of rest. All eyes flickered over to Anomen.
"Twenty-five," the cleric groaned, looking defeated. "But I… I must protest. After all…"
"Gods." Jaheira rolled her eyes and stood up. "The forty-six year-old half-elf will collect the drinks for the group of immature brats. You shall have mead, and like it, too," she added, shaking her head and starting over towards the bar.
"Forty-six?" Harrian echoed, looking vaguely surprised. Reynald supposed he might have not thought about this before.
Jaheira sighed with impatience, though Reynald was sure he could real the slight tight smile she often wore when berating the thief. "Harrian, broaden your mind and think outside of such limited human terms."
Harrian nodded sheepishly, grinning a little, and Imoen chuckled again as Jaheira headed off, swatting him on the arm.
Reynald rested his head in his hands sleepily, then glanced up again. There was something perpetually strange about this party, he had noticed over recent months. They could be trapped in a city under siege, with fate ready to rain down hailstorms, and difficulties tugging at the party personally on all fronts… yet could still banter like this. Granted, Reynald knew the others well enough now to recognise the slight distance in Jaheira gibes, the true guilt in Harrian's haplessness, the vague uncertainty in Imoen's laughs, and had no doubt these would remain until addressed. But these were people who certainly knew how to sit on a problem. Sometimes that helped, if it was not the time to manage issues. Sometimes problems sat on tended to just grow.
"It seems your wench has spoken, there, brother," Sarevok murmured, smirking a smile that was devoid of even Haer'Dalis' playfulness.
There was a taut pause as Reynald exchanged a glance with Anomen, Imoen dropped her eyes in an avoiding manner, and Harrian's expression went blank as he eyed Sarevok. "Wench?" he repeated in a deceptively innocent voice.
The pause remained, the strong Bhaalspawn and former child of murder eyeing each other until Haer'Dalis cleared his throat noisily. "I… ah… hope you shall linger tonight for my performance here in the tavern? Some ballads… you may recognise them?"
Harrian faltered for a moment, before tearing his eyes away from Sarevok and shifting his blank gaze to Haer'Dalis. "If I feature in any of these songs of yours, tiefling, I shall be most unamused."
Reynald was quite sure the table couldn't take any more tense silences before Harrian's face broke into a smile at last, and the swashbuckler laughed loudly. It took only a second before Anomen joined in pointedly, clearly wanting to avoid any of the upcoming confrontations. Just as Reynald was wondering whether or not to join in, Jaheira appeared mercifully with a tray of drinks.
"Next time, you people can be less lazy and collect them," she said curtly, shaking her head as she sat down.
"How much did they cost?" Harrian asked, reaching for the purse he kept inside his leathers, rather than on the risky pouch at the belt.
"Two gold each. The bartender tried to charge me double, but I managed to make him see the wrongness of his ways," Jaheira said with a shrug, passing some spare coppers over to him.
"You glared at him until he relented?" Reynald guessed, then ducked his head good-naturedly as Jaheira's glower, this time a little self-mocking at least, was turned in his direction, and he decided to grab a tankard and stay quiet. He did, however, see Jaheira pass Harrian his drink, and there was a certain lingering there on both of their parts – though furtive, as if they shouldn't, and when Jaheira glanced away first, Harrian wore a deeply pensive expression. Reynald guessed their leader still had reparations to make for his stunt.
"So, tiefling," Sarevok started, taking a deep gulp of the mead and letting out a slight sigh. Reynald realised, with a slight jolt, that this was probably his first great drink in year, just as last night would have been his first meal. "Are you planning to join us in our journey, or are you planning to merely prance on stage aimlessly and unproductively until this city falls about your ears?"
The final long silence came, and Reynald felt like smashing it as he looked up from his tankard. Sarevok wore a sneer, Anomen looked intensely worried, Jaheira unimpressed, Harrian curious, and Imoen… a little sick. But Haer'Dalis… was quite unreadable.