Chapter 11 - Chancy Situations
Sime tugged the strap of her satchel and pushed open the door of the Copper Coronet. All too familiar smells swirled out, bathing her in a cloud of sweat, roasting meat and spilt ale. She shook her head as the door swung shut, it was still nigh impossible to believe just how much the smell had improved since the change in management. Since Lehntian's oh-so-timely demise, the eau de Coronet had drastically improved. The tang of old blood, the cloying odor of rotten rushes and the sickly sweet smell of lotus smoke no longer mingled with the more legitimate and honest smells that filled every respectably seedy taproom in the city. Under Hendak's management, the Coronet was on its way up; still seedy and dangerous, but not the wretched hive of scum and villainy it had been.
Part of her would miss it. The rest of her, liking her insides where they belonged, couldn't bother to mourn.
A lot of that had to do with Aleria and her companions, and while it was still not a place fit for a lady or a knight of her stature, she could understand why the knight did maintain her quarters here. Hendak and Bernard were sworn and dedicated allies, reason enough, but she imagined the knight took no small pleasure in watching the Coronet rehabilitate itself. It was still leagues from respectable, but a quick scan of the crowd in finer fabrics and more modern cuts proved it was improving.
Shouldering her pack, she wove her way through crowd towards the bar. She'd stopped at her own quarters after waking from her Mook enforced sleep. The crafty old hand managed to sneak her a sleeping draught. Considering she'd succeeded she obviously needed the sleep. For that reason, she considered forgoing revenge on her Mook. Oh, not completely, but something small instead of trapping her wardrobe with alchemist's fire. Sure, she needed the sleep, but there was honor to be maintained.
Once she'd managed to shake off the induced sleep and Mook's escort, she'd gathered the gear she'd need to take care of her responsibilities. She'd packed her satchel with all the tools she'd likely need, especially with the Coronet her new base of operations until further notice.
Sauntering up to the bar, she rapped on the freshly waxed bartop and smiled at the heavyset Bernard. Anyone looking at the balding, affable bartender might assume he was just your average publican, perhaps a little quicker with the blackjack for managing such a rowdy place. Those who knew things knew he was one of the best smugglers in the city. But for the few like herself who even managed to pierce that veil knew that Bernard ran one of the most extensive intelligence networks in the city, one that rivaled Darkshadow's. The question no one could answer was whose. She figured him for a Harper, but there was enough evidence to point to any number of other meddling organizations. Or he could just be an independent. Whatever he was, he was an important man to know and even more important one to be friendly with.
She smiled broadly at him as he sauntered over. "Afternoon Bernard."
"Ahh, lil' Sime's back. Hate to tell you, but I did hire your replacement. Barely a shadow compared te your beauty, but a man needs his pints delivered."
"Thanks Bernard." She smiled graciously at his compliment. "Actually need a room."
"Let me guess, up on the third floor, near the back?" He smiled knowingly.
"How did you know I've always been partial to that part of your establishment?" she said mirroring his smile with one of her own.
"It's a barman's duty to know these things," he replied with that same grin and a tap of his bulbous red nose. "And wouldn't you know, I just happen to have a room." He leaned in and while the smile changed not a whit his eyes bore in. "Course, it be the room of a good friend of Hendak, so if I hear the need for it again, I'll have to move you out right quick."
"Course Bernard," she said with a nod, acknowledging the very plain warning. Not that she had any intention of annoying one of the Guild's allies at a time like this. "I completely understand."
The bartender smiled again and pulled a key from his apron and Sime matched the movement, plucking a small pouch of gold from an inside pocket. Tossing it to the bar, he did her the favor of not counting it in front of her, simply looking and giving it a quick weigh before handing the key.
It was nice to deal with professionals.
------
The room was more than adequate; of good size with a bed with fresh linen and new washbasin. The window wasn't much but it was heavily bolted and barred - from the inside. Good bit of security, one she'd improve for her stay. The wardrobe would also serve well, with plenty of room and easy to secure against prying eyes.
With the speed borne of years of training and few possessions, she stashed clothing, spare weapons and coin about the room, hiding it appropriately. A small but precious pouch was laid carefully in the wardrobe as was the accompanying clothes purse. Armor repair kit, spare quarrels and one extra set of tools went with it. The other found another good home under a floorboard and she set to trapping the window and the wardrobe while putting a simple alarm on the door. Bernard would not appreciate any of his staff being injured, and he was decidedly protective of them.
After a few minutes work, her temporary base was set up. And since she hadn't heard any footsteps on the stairs or movement in the hallway, she had time on her hands.
Potentially a whole lot of time.
She looked at the wardrobe, considering pulling out her notebooks and reviewing her notes. But that would mean sitting alone in this room. Looking around the room, at her secure little base, it felt more like a prison than a refuge. It felt too much like another secure hiding place in another Athkatla tavern.
Shivering, she cinched her sword belt tight and took a deep breath. Feeling darkness coming back up for her, she needed to counter it or she'd be of no use to herself, Aleria or the Guild. And that was unacceptable.
She needed the antidote, and thankfully it was right downstairs. She needed the swirl of music and dance, the sound of laughter and bickering, the smell of ale and food. A healthy dose of it would drain the poison of the morning from her blood.
She needed people, all of their fun and action.
She needed … life.
So, with a quick and professional check of her appearance, she headed back to the common room.
------
Even in midafternoon, the Coronet's common room bustled. From the stairs, she spotted a bunch of dicing and card games mingling with friendly conversation, some egregiously drunken flirting, and from the look of two tables, a bit of business as well. It was why it was one of her favorite places to operate. You could find out so much, and if there wasn't much to find out, there was always a chance at a little coin.
It was packed with the action, the fun, the life she craved. She thanked Tymora and any other gods listening for Aleria and her companions settling on the Coronet. A place more fitting for a knight and hero of her stature wouldn't have left her many opportunities for entertainment. Shocking society ladies and reducing a couple of would be casanovas to crying wrecks really wouldn't substitute for real fun. Well, not for very long.
Scanning the room, she picked two tables to play her own version of Lady Tymora at. One definitely had the higher profit margin, but that dwarf Korgan was sitting at it. Unreliable, homicidal and rank were not high on her list of desirable qualities in a table. The second table looked more promising, a random gathering, a halfling, several humans and a half elf. Looked like a lively game of cards…
Well, well, well…
The smile was predatory. She knew it, she couldn't help it. She was honest enough with herself to know that she loved to gamble and that she hated to lose. Enough so that she'd learned little tricks to tilt Tymora in her favor. They required subtlety and skill. The thin, mustachioed blond man at that table also knew some of those tricks but he lacked the subtlety that a true master would possess.
Flaring the cards like that to mark them? Amateur.
Now, most people, when discovering a table was rigged would never sit down. But, where was the fun in that? If one was going to give Tymora a little massage, give her a squeeze, well, who better than against someone already doing it? Especially when you had someone to foist the blame on while you counted your winnings.
This was going to be fun.
Sweeping her hair back and smiling her most friendly smile, she sauntered over to the table. She wielded her smile like the weapon it was, relying on her training and attractiveness to disarm the males around the table while not being threatening to the tall brunette. It was an old trick, one Jocana drilled into her from her earliest days. Turning eventually to the Halfling, who seemed to be the de facto 'leader' of the table, she asked plainly without any of the sweetness or false sincerity that would give her away to her prey, "My companions haven't come back. Mind if I join you for a few hands?"
The Halfling, handsome for his short race, raked his hands through his hair, smoothing the mass of curls. "I've got no objections to another player. Anyone else?"
The cheater narrowed his eyes at her, trying to see if he was being played. Her defense held as the man only grumbled, "We've got a good table going Patrick. Not really sure I want to disrupt it."
"Tomas, you might be having a good run, but I've had better days. Another player might just change my luck for the better." He laughed good-naturedly. "And if not, at least Tymora will have someone else to pick on." Patrick waved to an open seat. "I am Patrick and this sourpuss is Tomas." He waved to the others in turn. "That is Rodrick, Jaila, Korren and the pointy ear is Venturi." The blond half elf gave him a stern if friendly glare. "Unfortunately, my Lady is busy so will not be joining us. However, another beauty will at least liven up the table."
She smiled at the genteel introductions, amused by the company's obvious camaraderie and the position of Tomas as outsider. This could make the game easier or harder, depending on the others. A game that already had begun with Patrick's very friendly and polite introductions. "Sime. And a pleasure to meet you."
She extended her hand to the Halfling and to her surprise, he didn't shake it but bent his head over it and kissed her hand. Coloring slightly despite herself, she laughed inwardly. It seemed knights and the nobility surrounded her on every side. Patrick smiled and winked at her. "Well, the pleasure is mine as well." The cards started to fly around. "Now, can I get you something to drink? Wine perhaps?"
She met his smile and twinkling eyes with a teasing half grin of her own. It seemed the Halfling was going to play the Game alongside the game. Which was fine with her, especially since he seemed willing to buy the wine. "Well, I suppose one drink wouldn't hurt," she said, using her 'not a complete innocent, but not exactly completely worldly' voice.
"Of course not," Patrick said with a wide smile. Jiala snorted softly to her left, pitched enough so she could hear the brunette's eyes rolling. The Halfling waved Anka, one of the serving maids over and quickly ordered another pitcher of wine and an extra glass along with some bread and cheese.
"Can we play cards now?" Tomas asked, nearly petulantly.
"But of course," Patrick announced with a good natured laugh. He turned to Sime. "Do you know how to play Corsairs?"
She smiled, drawing back her true smile by a half. Did she know Corsairs? The game had been invented by her countrymen and she'd long ago mastered it. "I've played it a few times."
"Good. Because Tomas here is a bloody master at it."
"Just a good run of luck, Patrick."
"Definitely," Patrick said with a laugh.
As the cards flew around the table, she watched Tomas. His slight of hand wasn't bad, managing to redirect cards as needed. As she swept up her cards, feeling the telltale notches of a well marked deck, she smiled. That run of luck was about to end, and end badly.
She played coy for the first few rounds, and so did Tomas, either just being cagey or trying to not scare off a new mark. The hands seemed to play out fairly, even though it was obvious he was giving them a little spin. She took down a pot by seeming luck and Patrick won two himself, the Halfling insisting on toasting her as his personal Tymora. She couldn't help but laugh with him, toasting him back. She was already starting to rather like the boisterous Halfling, his good-natured humor infectious.
As the cards spun and lady Tymora danced, she also got to know a little of Patrick's friends. He definitely dominated the table and the conversation, but that very dominance allowed her to get solid reads on the others. Rodrick was fun loving but short tempered, a tall, brawny blonde with a badly broken nose with a dirty sense of humor and a fighter's mien. Korren sat to his left, the small, slender man resplendent in his rich blue robes silently enjoying the proceedings like a well loved younger brother. Jiana, the tall, broad shouldered Tormtar priest, played at only tolerating the game but the light in her ice blue eyes showed she was having more fun than she thought proper so she had to scowl. The last of Patrick's companions, Venturi, was nearly inscrutable, excepting when Patrick teased him. She could real vast intellect and a deep affection for the jokester Halfling but everything else stayed a mystery. Her few attempts at small talk were met with bland pleasantry, so she refocused on the smiling, boisterous Patrick.
Of course, the first few rounds were worth more than just getting to know the table and its players. She was also reading Tomas's scheme and picking out which cards were marked. After the seventh round, where the luck started to turn back to Tomas, she'd figured it out the whole scheme. Overall, it was one of the classic schemes, a simple mark and read with hand rebalancing as necessary. He knew the marked cards, could assess the hands and when he dealt allocating them to best manipulate the hands. Made it easy to redirect, and she started by 'abusing' her cards.
She tapped them, fanned them and bent them. Patrick even gave him perfect cover with his good cheer and near constant friendly flirting. She flirted back like the young and relatively inexperienced woman she was supposed to be, laughing at his jokes, telling a few of her own and toasting him and his comrades.
Midway through the tenth hand, she found out she was actually having fun. Patrick was a great storyteller and jokester and a heck of a conversationalist. She'd pay, not much mind you, but a few golders, to watch Patrick and Gaelan cross swords on the fields of stories. The only difference was that Patrick really liked making people laugh, and as she snickered over a story about a very unfortunate gnome, a love potion and two orc lasses, she came to a decision.
She'd planned on draining off a good bit of coin at the table. For the entertainment and the laughs, she was going to return most of the lost coin to the original players. A slightly more difficult thing to do, but for the wine and giggles, Patrick and his friends deserved it.
The first hand she flipped was a matter of simple slight of hand, working a good hand into Venturi's hand with a few of the unmarked cards while making sure Tomas had one of those decent hands. He went for it, and the tall, blonde elf took down the pot. Tomas glared at it, but wisely said nothing. Unless you cheated blatantly, those sort of hands happened. And you don't want to lose this table yet, do you, you sly bastard?
Next few hands were standstills, unremarkable for anything other than Patrick's stories and Rodrick's braying laugh. Nothing major happened, just a slow bleed from Tomas's pile. Then, Lady Tymora took a strong dislike to Tomas, with Rodrick, then Patrick and then even the stern Jiala, who actually giggled, taking down big pots. She grinned behind her cards as Tomas started to look concerned. The signs were slight, just a little tightness around the mouth and eyes to signify his shock. Of course, the others likely read it as just concern over his sudden change of fortunes.
The deal going to Patrick, the Halfling laughed, "Well Tomas, it does seem that Lady Tymora's balancing the scales a bit, yes?"
Tomas grunted. "She is a fickle mistress."
"There's why there are other names for the Lady of Luck," Venturi said with a grin, precisely tapping his cards against the table.
Sime laughed, Tomas frowned and the cards spun. She let Tomas take a pot to feel better, then she grabbed one and then Patrick. The next went to Tomas, that one a legitimate pull, proving that Tymora really was a bitch at times. But it'd also keep him at the table.
As the hands went on, she started ratcheting up the pressure, remarking the cards and pulling some slight of hand that her teachers would have been proud of. She siphoned off a few seeming unrelated cards, sliding them into her bracer to prepare for the final hand, the one that'd crack Tomas and drive the poor cheater out.
Finally, after pulling another pot, the deal ended up to her. Tomas's pile was badly battered while the others piles were rapidly expanding. She even had a little profit from the venture. All around the table the others were smiling and laughing with the particular relief of people whose losses were flowing back. But Tomas was looking downright cranky. His face was flushed and he'd glared at the cards a number of times. Enough that Venturi and Patrick had both noticed that something was at least… off.
Time to put the dagger square in the lanky haired bastard's back. The antes went in and she baited Patrick and Rodrick into a punning contest, a decent cover for her next move. She dealt, redirecting the cards like a true master. She dropped a Tankard's Rail into Tomas's hand, one of the best hands in the game. Venturi got a strong hand but Rodrick, Jiala, and Korren all got poor, easy to fold hands. She gave herself decent hand out of habit. But Patrick, she gave a true gift, the perfect set up for a Sea King's Council, the best hand in the game. And with the cards remarked, it would just look like he only had a Knave's Cove.
Now she just needed Patrick to play it smart.
Thankfully the jokester did just that. He may not have been the best card player, but at least he knew how to gamble. A good solid open, nothing to scare off the fishes, but to make sure that coin would drag in. She smiled proprietarily as Tomas matched and raised. Rodrick folded, Venturi matched and Jiala and Korren limped out. She stayed in, feeling the need to keep up the dance.
With the hand called, she asked, "Cards gentlemen?"
"Just one, Sime," Patrick said with a smile. "Preferably a lucky one."
"I'll do my best," she said with a smile. She slid the top card of the deck, sliding it across the worn table. It glided perfectly, landing next to his hand. She watched Tomas's eyes flick to the left corner, confirming the mark as a Seven of Stones. Course, she'd changed the mark. The card was actually the King of Golds, the last card Patrick needed. She turned her attention to Tomas and smiled sweetly before he could look at Patrick's face. "And you Tomas?"
"Just fine," he said, looking confident again. She almost considered feeling bad for him.
"Venturi?"
"Two for me."
She slid him two cards, breaking up his potential Rail. She announced her attention of two for herself. She pulled a Maid's Flush, a good hand, but nothing compared to what she'd laid out. She leaned back in her chair and grinned like Tymora had come down to personally rub her shoulders.
This was going to be so much fun.
Patrick caught her grin and chuckled. "You know Sime, I think part of the game involves bluffing. Just so you know."
"Really?" she laughed, grabbing her wine cup and seeming to take a long pull. "Course," she continued with practiced 'tipsy' hauteur, "I was just thinking about that tale you told about the two gnomes and the gryphon catapult."
Chuckles burst out around the table, even from Tomas, who must have been feeling quite confident. Rodrick snorted, "Well, you know gnomes and gryphons."
"I never did understand that," Jiala replied with a chuckle.
"One of Toril's great mysteries," Patrick chuckled. Then with a grin of his own, tossed a rather prodigious amount of gold into the pile. "You'd think the gryphons would eventually learn!"
She caught Tomas's arched eyebrow and the tiniest, fleeting grin. The bastard thought he was finally going to recoup his losses and was likely planning out the 'wind down' hands. He tapped the table and finally pushed in coins from his shrinking pile. "Some things never learn," he said. "And I'll raise you twenty."
Venturi simply dropped his hand without a word.
The bet came to her and she looked at the large pile. She looked at her cards and then at the pile. The betting had gone up a little higher than she'd expected and she started considering whether she really wanted to keep the bluff up. It would wipe out almost her profit but it would help sell her as an 'innocent' if she matched the bet.
Oh well, it was only coin. Coin could be gotten anywhere. She picked up the right amount of coin and tossed it in. "I'll match that," she said with a confident grin.
Patrick looked at the pile, at his own and then at the rest of collected coin in both his piles and Tomas's. "Well, in for a copper in for a crown," he said with a grin and shoved the rest of his coin into the pile.
She couldn't quite control her eyebrow raise, and from the gasps and exclamations from around the table, neither could the others. The only one looking at all calm was Tomas. He simply looked at the coin. "I can't quite match…"
"Side pot then."
"I'm in."
Both turned towards her. Time to put on a performance. She sucked her teeth and looked at her cards and at the pile. She checked her coin pile and then the table again. She looked at both men then at her cards again. She let her face crumple as she sighed and sank into the chair as if Lady Tymora had suddenly got bored with her. Sighing, she tossed her cards to table. "I can't afford that."
"Well then… just you and me Tomas. What have you?"
Tomas grinned wide. "A Tankard's Rail… knave high," he said splaying out his cards and reaching for the pile.
"Good hand, but it doesn't beat the Council." He flared his hand impressively.
Tomas blinked owlishly, staring at the cards. He looked at his, then at Patrick's hand, staring at the cards. He snatched them up, even checking the edges. "How? That's… how?"
"I drew them. Why?" Patrick asked almost lightly, eyebrow arching.
He stared at the cards unblinkingly as Patrick started to gather in the coins. She simply sat back and looked puzzled as stares of puzzlement and suspicion started to focus on Tomas. He did nothing to help his cause, too amateur and too stunned to realize what was going on. "But I had… and you had…"
"I had what?" Patrick's tone seemed light and cheerful, but there was no mirth in his smile.
"You had…" he looked up, his eyes locking onto Patrick's, the color draining out of his face.
The Halfling snatched a few of the cards out of his hands. He studied them, looking at the edges like Tomas had. It only took a few seconds for him to pick out the slight notching and patterning of the edges. There was no cheer in his voice now. "These cards are marked."
"What?" Tomas said, voice shaking. "Couldn't be. I lost! Someone else marked them!"
"Are you accusing me of marking them?" Patrick asked, a tone of menace creeping into his voice.
"No! Sime did it! She had to!" Tomas cried, pointing at her as he stumbled to his feet.
"Sime's the cheat?" Patrick said incredulously.
"Me?" She sputtered, staring back at him with wide eyes and open mouth. Even Gaelen would have been impressed with her portrayal of the shocked, wide-eyed innocent. "But I lost!"
One by one Patrick's companions climbed to their feet, Jiana's eyes flashing and Rodrick looking like a blonde haired thunderstorm. Patrick himself stared at the blonde man. "Considering how lucky you've been, I'm just going to bet you were the cheat."
"No! Not …" he looked around at the ring of stares. His courage snapped like an overdrawn bowstring and he leapt from his chair. He went streaking for the door, with Rodrick and the others hot on his heels.
Only Patrick remained.
He settled back into his chair, lifted his wine cup and gave her a measuring stare. She returned it, looking a bit befuddled, because it was obvious who the cheat was. One bushy eyebrow arched and he grinned. "Why do I get the feeling two games were being played at this table, and Tomas lost both?"
"He did seem to come off poorly," she said, only allowing a hint of a smile.
"He did at that. And will be even worse if Rodrick catches him. Thankfully Korren and Venturi will keep him from doing too much damage." He chuckled and sipped at his wine. "It is funny however, that Tymora's attentions turned so powerfully once you sat down."
She smiled and lifted the empty pitcher, signaling for a refill. "Tymora sometimes favors me, but…" She nodded to the vast pile of coin in front of him. "She seems to favor you even more."
He grinned. "That she does. That she does. And I wonder why?"
"Tymora is known to favor those who tell good stories and make people laugh."
He nodded and lifted his goblet, smiling. "Well, I shall have to thank her then."
"I think you could call it even… for services rendered and all that."
"Oh?"
"Well, you did reveal that terrible cheater," she laughed. Tomas had been a poor cardsharp.
"I suppose I did," he laughed back, smiling. "You are… quite the woman, Sime."
"Is that so?" another voice asked, words tight and clipped. Both turned to face a Halfling woman with broad shoulders, a stern but pretty face, and a massive shock of red hair. Fine mail peeked out from under the sleeves of her tunic and a rather impressive short sword hung at her belt. The look she was giving Patrick was… rather proprietary.
She suppressed a shiver. This woman obviously was not one to be trifled with, no matter her size. In fact, her size might make her even more dangerous and her movements spoke of skill with that short sword. In a way, she looked like a smaller, more concentrated version of Aleria and just as dangerous to cross. She started to consider ways of escape and hoped the woman would not take their laughter the wrong way.
Patrick however, seemed completely at ease. "Indeed she is, Love. If it weren't for her, I would have lost terribly at cards. I would be completely broke, forced to sing for my supper."
The redhead snorted and a smile cracked that fierce countenance. "Well, she must be then, considering your card playing skills." She smiled at her and stuck out her hand. "I am Mazzy Fentan, Truesword of Avoreen."
"Sime," she answered with a smile, smoothing over her initial concern. From the looks they gave each other, it seemed she was playing a little part in a lovers' game.
"Well, it seems then I owe you my gratitude. Patrick is a fine man but a horrible card player," Mazzy smiled while Patrick groused loudly and indignantly. "So thank you for saving him from himself."
"It was my pleasure, Mazzy," she said, smiling and laughing. "He's quite the storyteller."
"Did he tell you the one about the catapults and the gryphon?"
"Yes he did."
Mazzy laughed. "Complete fabrication. He's very unreliable, you see."
"I am completely reliable," Patrick said with faux indignation. "Just because some women cannot appreciate a little exaggeration…"
"A little?"
"Okay, perhaps a bit more than a little…"
Sime laughed, warmed by their loving bickering and both of them quickly joined in. Mazzy stopped first, looking at Patrick, "Where are the others? I left them with you."
"Oh, they're out distributing a little justice, Love."
"Ahh…" she looked at the table and he eyebrow arched. "I see. Well, we should go find them. We have a mission."
"A mission?" Patrick's eyes lit up with interest. Hers did as well.
"Yes. Apparently one of the outlying villages has suffered strange attacks. Imnesvale is the name, and they've put out a call for someone to come and investigate. I figured we've been in the city too long, a little fresh air would do us some good." She smiled brightly and poked Patrick in the stomach. "And a march or three would help with that as well."
"Do that again and see what happens," he said, eyebrows arching threateningly.
"Behave yourself," Mazzy admonished. And blushed.
"Never!" Patrick laughed. He pushed a few coins into the middle of the table to cover the bill and leave what had to be a generous tip. "I wonder… Sime?" he asked. "Care for a bit of adventure?"
She prided herself on rarely being caught flatfooted, but the curly haired bastard managed it. She stared at both of them, her mouth hanging open like a fool. Snapping her jaw shut by reflex, she tried to order her suddenly jumbled thoughts. People, some of them her friends, were dying, were dead. The Guild was facing vampires, deep enough in it they now needed paladins to save them. Add in for extra special fun, one mad bitch Yzabel to the foul mix. And now, all that churning in her belly, here comes these two, Patrick and Mazzy. Yes, there'd been a short, questioning look from Mazzy to Patrick, but that look only emphasized the offer was on the level. Taking them up on it, following them would give her a way out of the city. A chance to escape before some horror ripped her throat out or some nut gutted her. She could disappear and have real, honest to the gods adventures, the kind of excitement that filled all of Jocana's stories. Get fabulously wealthy on the road, be a story instead of just listening to them.
Tymora it was tempting. Aleria and her friends could handle this. She didn't need to do this. She could escape.
Mook's face floated up into her mind. Mook, lying dying on the cobbles. Sareena bleeding out in a dirty dank cave. Her friends in the Guild. Her family. If she ran now, she'd abandon them; have to leave them for good, never coming back. Yes, it was terrifying, but they needed her. They trusted her. Aran Linvail had trusted her with defending the Guild.
She couldn't betray that trust. They'd shown her loyalty, took care of her, raised her. If she abandoned them, abandoned Mook…
Responsibility was a gods cursed thing.
Plus, said a little voice in her head. It's OUTSIDE. Mud and dirt and filth and no hot water for leagues. Are you willing to abandon regular bathing just because of a couple of scary dead chicks with bad fashion sense?
In the end, the decision wasn't that hard. "Thanks for the offer, but the great outdoors and I have an arrangement. It stays outside the walls and I leave it alone."
"I understand," Patrick said with a grin. "But if you do change your mind, we'll be gathering at the Mithrest."
"And if you want another hand or two of cards, I'll be right here."
"I think I pressed my luck enough this time around, but when I get back… you're on," Patrick said with a bright laugh.
"I do hope this job pays well," Mazzy sighed dramatically. "I can barely afford to cover your losses now."
"Oh ye of little faith!" Patrick teased, provoking the 'stern' looking Mazzy into laughing long enough to claim her arm. s He smiled broadly at her and Mazzy slid into next to him in that way of comfortable couples. "Thank you for the company."
"And thank you for keeping this rascal out of trouble," Mazzy added, ignoring Patrick's dramatic sigh.
"My pleasure," she smiled. "Tymora smile on all of you."
"And Avoreen on you, Sime."
With a last smile and handclasp, they headed for the door, the crowd quickly swallowed them up until even their laughter faded into the din. Chuckling, she availed herself of her newly refreshed pitcher and wished them the best.
------
Finally, after a half carafe of wine and a fresh loaf of sesame bread, Aleria and her company arrived back at the Coronet, looking a little worse for wear. Mud and a few less indentifiable things stained clothes and armor, with Sir Delryn seeming to have taken the worst of it. Based on the smug smiles both Yoshimo and Kelsey were flashing at the Helmite's back when he wasn't looking, she had a pretty good idea what those other stains likely were.
Sauntering over and leaning against one of the many support pillars, she sipped her wine and arched an eyebrow. "What happened to all of you?"
Aleria removed her helmet and raked her fingers through her hair. "We ran into some friends of an old friend. Apparently he took exception to us revealing him as the filth he was."
"He is no better than an otyugh," grumbled the Helmite as he gingerly rotated his left shoulder. "No matter what his birth."
"Otyughs serve a valuable role in the Balance," Jaheira said, lips thin. "Do not insult them by comparing them to him." She turned her attention to the Helmite. "And you should let me look at that shoulder."
"Lady Jaheira, it is fine. The fracas was not worthy of us, nor the injury deserving of a healer's touch," Sir Delryn… -Anomen-, replied, face flushing. "It is merely a sprain. Some rest will be more than sufficient."
"And perhaps a hot bath, young samurai?" Yoshimo added. "It is known to ease aching muscles."
"And might even help with the stench," Kelsey chimed in with a grin.
The priest glared balefully at them both. "Yes, a bath might be called for as well. That and my armor needing servicing, if you will excuse me, my Lady?"
"Of course, Anomen," Aleria said with a smile and a nod. "In fact, you are all released until dinner. I suggest baths for all, at the start."
There were a few chuckles and nods, with Sir Keldorn nodding and taking his leave while the others dispersed. Jaheira, notably, stayed by Aleria's side while the men headed for the upper apartments. Watching Anomen lead the way, she smiled inwardly. There would be an excellent opportunity to discharge her debt. Might even take that frown off his face for a while.
"Curious as to what happened?" Aleria asked, catching her studying the priest.
She snapped her head around. "Something obviously did. Sir Delryn looks even crankier than usual."
Jaheira snorted and Aleria smiled slightly. "We were ambushed by some the business partners of a certain former officer and noble, one Isaea Roenall."
"That scum?" Even years of practice at controlling her facial expressions couldn't keep the sneer off her face.
"Indeed. They were not very good, but one of them managed a lucky blow. Anomen was caught off balance and landed very badly on his shield arm." There was a slight hint of an almost wicked smile on the knight's face. The curl of Jaheira's lips was far more telling.
"It wasn't just how he landed, was it."
"No. He landed in …" Aleria paused, the smile becoming more pronounced. "An overflowing cesspit."
"Mook always said, better pissed off than on." She chuckled. "Looked like he proved her point."
"Indeed. But please, leave him be. He is rather… sensitive about such things."
"Overly much, if you ask me," Jaheira remarked pointedly.
"Pride is pride, Jaheira. We all have it, it's just how it manifests." Aleria shrugged, then turned her attention back to her. The humor slipped away as she studied her. "I take it your employer has more tasks in store for us?"
"Yes," she said, suddenly missing the friendly atmosphere of a few moments ago. But work was work, and knights were rather notorious about such things. "There are some things we should discuss. In private."
"Of course. Will you join us for dinner? We have a private room upstairs and Bernard keeps it quiet."
"I will see you then," she said, wondering exactly how quiet it would be from Bernard's ears.
As Aleria and Jaheira headed for the stairs, she plotted her next move. She had time and a heck of an opportunity. Shame to waste it, and better to have it over and done with. So, draining the last of the pitcher to fortify herself, she headed upstairs herself.