So, yeah, been a while... College + job search + WoW dead writer.

Ain't gonna leave this story alone forever, tho! And please review, you have no idea how much that improves my writing speed!

--

The swords met with a clang, Arik's effort enough to turn the larger katana aside. The curved blade, a weapon, Arik couldn't help thinking, that was specifically designed to cleave off body parts, swung around again, forcing him to narrowly dodge aside, his counterattack blocked easily by his opponent.

He pressed the attack again, but his opponent parried the blade easily, grinning all the while. "My friend," said the Kara-turan bounty hunter, "could you at least try to hit me?" His subsequent attack was deflected easily by Arik, who then tried to land a touch on Yoshimo's shoulder in response.

"I don't like hurting friends, Yoshimo. They just get so annoyed with me afterwards." Arik grinned, ducking under a swing at his neck. "It's interesting that you don't share my view."

"I am an expert at controlling my sword, Arik. Did you not claim the same as well?"

"I still don't like stabbing my friends."

Yoshimo smiled. "Kyri complains about it?"

"She complains about everything. Sometimes, I think she complains just because she can. That said, she does seems to have a particular issue with me sticking holes into my dueling partners."

It had been three hours since the party had returned from the slavers' den, and both a great deal and very little had occurred since then. Arik and Yoshimo had ventured into the government district of the city, and turned in both the troll's head and the still-living Haegan, along with the ciphered documents, to the cities officials for a rather significant bounty. Kyri and Viconia gave Hendak the good news about the rescued children, and got a bit of coin from him as thanks. And Anomen escorted Aerie to the circus, and reportedly was greeted with the most wonderful reward of all, a parent's joyful thanks. The coin Anomen received, however, was also welcomed by the rest of the party.

And, sure that he could find buyers for the looted gear from the slavers' den, Arik had that warm, fuzzy feeling that came from being paid five times for the same work.

It could have been six times, had Anomen not put his foot down on the casual thievery.

But, as long as the day could be, Kyri could not expect to earn any more before taking a good, long break. So while she stayed in the bar, looking for more work, she made it clear that everyone else could do whatever they wanted.

Anomen had left the Coronet, returning to his quarters in the Temple of Helm, supposedly to pray but more likely, according to Arik at least, to make sure that Viconia's healing had not cursed him to an early death. Arik and Yoshimo agreed to a friendly duel in the formerly gladiatorial pits, and Viconia...

"Is she still watching?" Arik whispered to his foe.

"I am afraid so. Why, do you think?"

Arik snorted, deflecting a half-hearted thrust by the bounty hunter. "Probably waiting for one of us to get stabbed so she can mock us."

"Or to prevent us from being slain," Yoshimo countered, countering with his blade shortly after.

Arik caught the katana on his hilt and, pulling it aside, he drew his dagger with his left hand and brought it to Yoshimo's throat. "Yield?"

"Yes," he said, rubbing his throat as the dagger was pulled away. "I had thought it was your rapier and my katana only?"

Arik grinned. "As some cynical bastard once said, 'only cheaters prosper'. Wish to go another round?"

"Of course."

The two rogues stepped away from each other, and raised their swords in salute. Yoshimo raised his katana above and behind his head, body square to the assassin, ready to cleave his target in two. Arik held his blade in one hand, pointed at Yoshimo's head and presenting as small a target to his foe as he could.

"You think yourself a ninja, correct?" asked Yoshimo.

"Ninja. That means 'the passing wind' in Kara-Tur? A sort of assassin?"

"Somewhat."

"No," he said, grinning. "It's foolish to try to move past a target, even in the dark of night. Better to stay in one place, where you know they'll come."

Yoshimo sighed. "I meant-"

"I know, but there's another reason why I'm not a ninja. Those ninja's use magic. I've never liked the stuff."

Yoshimo laughed, and began the duel with an overhead chop. "Your sister is a sorceress!"

Arik grinned, slapping the katana aside. "Why do you think I hate it? It made courting her far too difficult."

"You and Kyri..." he said, unable to keep the shocked look off his face.

"We're a strange family." He shrugged, at least until he had to block an opportunistic swing. "I was a young, human man, and she was a young, elven lady. It's the most overused romantic story in the realms, and we grew up in a library full of bad love stories. And we were young."

"Ah, young love," Yoshimo said, smiling faintly.

Arik snorted. "Young lust is a bit more accurate."

"Did you and she...?" he asked, the end of the sentence clear.

"I may be a killer, thief, cheater and generally amoral person, but I don't kiss and tell, so to speak."

Yoshimo laughed and swung hard, Arik barely able to turn the sword aside, his counter abandoned when Yoshimo followed up with a powerful slash waist high.

"What about you, Yoshimo? What's in your past?" Arik asked.

"Why?"

"Just curious," Arik said, this time not shrugging and trying to feint low, rolling away as the bounty hunter ignored it. "You hardly talk about yourself, but you seem to be somewhat local, given your knowledge of local bounties."

Yoshimo's smile flickered. "I am a bounty hunter. I came to Athkatla with the hope that I could earn gold with my skills, and I have been able to do so. My reasons for leaving Kara-Tur are private, and I do not wish to discuss them with anyone," he said, his voice going hard at the end, his eyes narrowed though his smile remained, albeit somewhat drained.

Arik raised his hands in placation. "Fair enough. Any interesting stories since arriving in Athkatla?"

"Yes. A little elven girl hired me to save her human sister."

Arik barked a laugh. "Did this elf have a human brother?"

Yoshimo nodded. "He was an odd person. He kept asking questions that he knew would get no answers."

"Why do you think he does that? Sorry, did," he corrected.

"A good question. Perhaps it was because he enjoyed futility?"

"What kind of man enjoys futility?"

Yoshimo smiled wide. "The sort of man who flirts constantly with a Drow."

Arik bridled a touch at this. "What do you mean constantly?"

"Every moment he is with her," Yoshimo deadpanned.

Arik's blade was lowered, his guard well down, and the bounty hunter took advantage with a strong horizontal strike knocking Arik's rapier away and finishing with a overhead chop, the sword well controlled and landing softly on the assassin's shoulder. "Yield?" Yoshimo asked smugly, preening at the open laughter from the audience.

"Yes, damn it!" As the katana was lifted, Arik grumbled, "Whatever happened to fighting fair?"

"'Only cheaters prosper', I believe. Would you wish to switch weapons?" the bounty hunter offered. "I do not understand why you use such a light blade. My katana would have easily torn through the troll's leg."

"A rapier is easier to control and much faster as well, good enough to pierce the skin of most humanoids and excellent at sliding into chinks in the armor. But," he shrugged, "why not?"

Arik sheathed his sword and unbuckled his sword belt. He was no fool, no matter how often Viconia said otherwise. Irenicus was not someone who wore armor, he did not swing a weapon, and was more likely to summon something massive and evil than go toe to toe with a trained swordsman. Arik considered that maybe it was time to rethink his choice of equipment. Going into battle with a better slicing blade could only help.

At least, so he thought before hefting it. Katana's are not tremendously large weapons, but Arik was used to the rapier's lightweight. Holding something three times heavier on the end of his arms was different to say the least.

Holding the katana low, he nodded at Yoshimo, who had made a few experimental twirls of the blade. The bounty hunter nodded back, taking up a decent facsimile of Arik's preferred fencing stance. "Any advice?" Arik asked.

"It is very easy to over swing with that blade. Attempt to check the swing if you will not hit your target. And you?"

"Don't try to stop a heavy sword with a parry. Just deflect it to the side, away from your body."

The two rogues approached each other, cautiously, and swung their weapons very carefully. Arik blocked the clumsy slashes with ease, but his counter-attack, a slow overhead swing, was easily slapped away by the bounty hunter.

The blades grew faster, as the fighters grew more accustomed to their weapons, and Arik couldn't help thinking back to when Khalid tried to teach him how to fight with a longsword. It wasn't a pretty time, especially the countless times that Khalid had knocked Arik on his rear or sent his sword flying away, not to mention the times that the flat of Khalid's sword had slapped Arik's behind after Arik made a foolish thrust.

Arik had to admit, the katana was a much better blocking sword. Yoshimo was striking almost as quickly as Arik could, and while his defensive moves were amateurish, Arik was still able to bring the heavier blade around to meet every test.

At least until the bounty hunter made an excellent feint for one who had never wielded a rapier before, managing a shallow cut on Arik's arm before he could knock the blade away.

"You said you'd never used a rapier before, Yoshimo," Arik muttered through clenched teeth.

Yoshimo did not bother with feigning innocence, merely smiling and saying, "I did not say that, only that I did not understand why you used one."

Arik scowled and took a ready stance again, inviting a small chuckle from the bounty hunter. Yoshimo began the duel again quickly, and the pair fought in silence.

Slowly, Arik was getting used to the heavy blade. His arms cried out in protest, but at least he was moving the sword around quickly enough. A few hard swings put the bounty hunter on the defensive for once, finally giving Arik time at last to actually think about what to do next.

Unfortunately, thinking while dueling had become a difficult prospect for Arik. He had always enjoyed a duel, albeit not because of the act itself, but rather the company he kept while doing so. Khalid was just a generally pleasant person, and would never be afraid to give advice to his opponent, while Imoen, well, they would cross words while crossing blades more often than not.

It was hard for him to ignore the pain that came from thinking about them, but Arik had been getting better at it, partly because he had almost died from an errant thought. The moment he began to flash back to one of his favorite duels against his sister, he braced for the stab of pain. His vision flared red again, this time his body reliving one of his earliest injuries, a crossbow bolt that had thankfully hit the fleshy part of his shoulder, hurting like hell instead of killing him.

But once the moment had passed, and an opportunistic thrust by Yoshimo was knocked aside, Arik realized what was so familiar about this duel. Yoshimo, for all his experience with a variety of blades, was an archer, just like Imoen. He fought like someone who preferred his sword to be his last resort, keeping his foe away from him, much more willing to retreat than press the attack.

And when your sword is your last resort, you seldom practice fighting with what is truly your last resort.

Arik continued to press the attack, swinging harder and faster, albeit always in a way where he could be sure that he could pull it away if Yoshimo was too slow with the blade. He needn't have worried: the bounty hunter brought the rapier around each time, turning aside each swing with an ever-increasing level of panic. Until the last, when Arik caught the rapier upon the katana, pulled it up, stepped forward, and made a very purposeful strike with his knee.

After all, only cheaters prospered.

After a few silent, uneventful moments, Arik knelt down to the prone, but swearing, bounty hunter to recover his rapier and scabbard. "Sorry, but you did ask for it," he said, doing his very best to keep the smile off his face.

Arik stood up, and called out to the now cackling spectator. "Viconia, do you mind making sure that I didn't hurt him too much?"

He didn't wait for an answer, choosing to climb out the gladiatorial pit and make a grand, noble and above all dignified exit. The man's pride was hurting bad enough as it was, no need to add insult to injury.

At least, until he left the room, where he promptly burst out laughing. Thank you Immy...

--

Reentering the tavern's main room, he found his other sister quite easily. She had decided to find a table near the bar, reading through a tome she acquired only Oghma knew where, so she could entertain any possible opportunities to earn some more hard coin.

One such 'opportunity' was leaning over the table, in a rather swaggering manner. Arik certainly recognized the type making the offer, someone who made ogres look both rather weak and extremely bright, and the offer was most likely either a totally immoral proposition, or he was asking for sex. Given his current, non-inflamed status, Arik was betting on the former.

Kyri sent the thug away with a scowl on his face, and she then proceeded to turn back to her book, close her eyes, and slam it theatrically on the table a few times.

Arik walked up to her, staying out of sight until right next to her, bent over the book. "So," he said as deep as he could, "there's this guy who owes me some coin, and I was thinking-"

"Arik, by Oghma, if you finish that sentence you won't fill an urn," Kyri said, not even taking her eyes off the book.

"Is it really that bad?"

"Almost." She sighed. "There are three jobs that might actually help raise the coin we need. One of them, well, it's grave robbing with a dwarf with fewer morals than you."

"That's rather impressive..." Arik said, smiling slightly at the joke at his expense.

"The other two are outside the city. One is at this keep about a day's travel from here. The heir says that its been taken over by monsters and she needs help liberating it. Except she won't say what took over."

Arik nodded, realizing where she's going with this. "And, even if it's not an army of, oh, the worst monsters in Elminster's Ecologies, it's still a job for an army instead of five heroes. We'd just get overrun, and even if we succeed, it's two days, each way. By the way, what's the book?"

"I've been reading up on where Imoen might be. The temple of Oghma in the city gave me a book on mage prisons, and I don't want to leave her in any of them for that long, especially this one," she said, pointing at the open page.

"Spellhold? I thought that was a myth."

"It's the most likely place, if it exists. And, before you ask, no one knows where Spellhold is, or if they are, they aren't saying. And it'd still be a guess."

"So, anyway, what's the other job?"

"This hugely rich noble is willing to pay us a king's ransom to kill a few orcs," Kyri said, face blank.

"Gotcha, trap."

She shrugged. "Probably. To be honest, I really can't tell. He didn't seem to be lying, but neither was he telling the truth. It's... hard to explain. And, either way, it's twice as far from this other keep, the," she looked down at a piece of parchment," the De'Arnise Keep."

"De'Arnise? Was this girl red-haired, noble by stance but wearing ratty clothing?" Arik asked.

Kyri smiled. "Carefully ratty, I'd say."

"That sounds about right, from what I've heard at least. She's one of those 'for the people' nobles, all into charity and giving, sorta as a way to show how great a person they are. Still, she sounds desperate, or at least that's what the people I've talked to have said."

"How..."

Arik shrugged. "People talk. Me and Yoshimo didn't have much to do coming back from turning in the bounties, so we asked around for juicy gossip. And no one gossips like wealthy women, especially when the rumor is about other wealthy women."

Kyri laughed. "Well, she's honest, looks more afraid of losing her home than deceiving us. She even says she'll help..."

"If there's nothing else, and we can't rob some local noble blind, I don't see what choice we have."

She sighed. "No burglary, Arik."

He grinned at his sister. "What if I convince Anomen?"

Kyri rolled her eyes. "Very well, Arik. If you can convince Anomen, a servant of the most lawful god in existence, to let you burgle an innocent, then go right ahead." She sighed, glancing back at her book. "How much gold do we have?"

"I said noble, Ky, not innocent." Arik closed his eyes, going through the calculations once again, if only in the hope that the answer would be rather higher this time around. "Seven-five, maybe eight? A lot of what we have is gear and gems, Ky, and I don't know the best places to sell it. If I find the right people, and I have good luck bargaining with them, I might be able to get eight-five. Maybe," he added for emphasis.

"We got lucky, didn't we?" Kyri said, sadly. In their experience, good luck was often quickly followed by bad, such as the time they finally found the Iron Throne, who had seemed responsible for all the attacks on Kyri, only to be framed for their murder, and thrown into the jails of Candlekeep. And then, when they broke out, they had to fight through an army of doppelgangers in order to reach safety.

Not to mention how their defeat of Sarevok was followed only a week later by a cheap inn, drugged food and a villain that made Sarevok look cuddly by comparison...

"Well, we've been pretty unlucky recently. Maybe eight thousand gold is Tymora's way of making it up to us," he said, well aware it'd do nothing to convince her otherwise.

"Maybe." She shook her head, fighting off a yawn. "We'll have better luck finding honest work in the morning. Who knows, maybe Anomen will find something."

Arik smiled, although the expression did not reach his eyes. "At this rate, we'll be able to afford Im's rescue in three more days. No worries, Ky."

Kyri said nothing, though her eyes told Arik more than enough. If Imoen were around, she'd remark that it look like someone kicked Kyri's puppy.

Somehow, Arik couldn't bring himself to say that. As he walked away to his room, reminded of the goddess of good fortune, he dug the good luck charm they had looted from the slavers, and gave is a toss for no reason at all.

It came down Beshaba. It's a good thing I don't believe this coin works, Arik mused.

--

For all of Lehtinan's faults, and there were a number of them, Arik could at least praise him for purchasing heavy drapes for the windows.

When he finally retired, Arik's best estimates put sunrise in a mere hour or two. While there were few ways better to wake up than with the morning sun illuminating the room in a healthy glow, Arik had always found that the magic was somewhat lost unless you had gotten eight solid hours beforehand.

Yawning, deep, he began to undress for the night, or what he was determined to think of as night.

He unbuckled his dagger's sheath from his back and slid it under the pillow.

His rapier and scabbard went under the bed, carefully positioned to allow him to draw it without standing first.

He pulled a sun-rod from his pack and placed it under the bed as well, perfectly positioned for throwing on a moment's notice.

With all the precision that went in the placement of his weapons, a casual observer would be easily surprised with how his armor, leggings, gloves, and belt were thrown haphazardly into what resulted in a rather inglorious heap on a chair, with only the recent sewer adventure saving his boots from the same treatment.

Arik wasn't all that tired, but he knew that if he didn't get some sleep now, in an hour or two he might not be able to get any.

Still, fighting for one's life and a good bit of dueling afterwards was bound to tire even the hardiest of adventurers, and so when he collapsed into the bed, only a muffled "Ow" could be heard from the room.

That's the trouble with sleeping with a dagger under the pillow, his last thoughts before drifting asleep.

--

"Is it open yet?" asked Arik.

"Stop asking!" Imoen whispered back, biting back a curse. "No one's coming, right?"

"Nope." He moved around a bit in the brush, his legs cramping up under him, shifting his cloak around to keep out of the rain as best as he could. A dark and stormy night, but sometimes these things just happened. Jahiera and Khalid were enjoying a night together, or at least that was what Jaheira said she was aiming for. Kyri had her nose buried in a book, discussing the more intricate aspects of magical theory with Dynaheir, with Minsc watching over his witch with almost alarming dedication.

Which left the two thieves with nothing to do but either read or perform mischief. Somehow, the rest of the party thought that they would be hard pressed to get into trouble during a dark and stormy night, but Arik and Imoen had already cased out this house, what could only be a noble's house given the positioning and what decor they could see from outside. It was empty, likely because the owners were living in a city at the moment. What could be the harm in taking from one who had too much so that those without much, such as themselves, could live a better life?

Or a longer life, Arik couldn't help thinking. One week in the adventuring profession had already begun to instill the cynicism that went hand in hand with the trade.

Let's see... Right now I would be in Winthrop's, tucking into a nice piece of chicken, warm and happy and listening to Kyri whine about Gorion's reading assignments or Imoen grumble about what chores Winthrop had given her as a punishment, and what prank she'd pull to get back at him for it. Arik sighed and shook his head. He knew that dwelling on the past too much would only make him break down in tears.

"Gotcha!" cried Imoen from the door, somehow managing to whisper a yell. The door opened with a creak, and Imoen slipped inside, seeing no one. Arik took one last look around, making sure no one was spying on them, and entered the dry house.

Arik broke a sunrod on his knee, the alchemical wonder glowing faintly before Arik smothered the glow with some cloth. Imoen did the same, and began to creep upstairs, while Arik checked downstairs, just as planned. After a cursory search found no residents, they began to take stock of what was there.

A few candlesticks, expertly made out of silver. They ignored them, unsure if they could find a fence nearby that would buy them. Too well made, so to speak.

Two old swords, relics of some ancient war. Good iron was expensive these days, but no way Jahiera or Khalid wouldn't notice their sudden addition.

Careful inspection of a desk found a hidden compartment with a number of gemstones, which were quickly pocketed. However, they were of the cheap variety, no way they could fetch much.

"This is just sad," Imoen said, rechecking one of the upstairs desks. "Ya think that someone livin' here would have somethin' worth stealin'."

Arik shook his head, lifting up what few paintings he could find looking for another hidden stash. "Maybe they took all of their valuable stuff with them when they left. You know, to prevent them from being stolen by some dastardly thieves."

"We're not dastardly!"

"You're right, we're the noble sort, breaking into this house for no reason other than us being bored," Arik said, rolling his eyes.

"C'mon, you know we're gonna need the gold. We've already been attacked by three bounty hunters goin' after Ky. And, in case you didn't notice, the bounty's been going up."

Arik sighed again. "Which means that we're gonna be attacked more and more often by those with better gear."

"Damn right. Isn't Khalid always talkin' about 'a-a-any edge you can get, t-t-take'?" Imoen said, dropping into a rather excessive stutter, poorly imitating the Harper.

"Something tells me a Harper wouldn't quite agree with this edge."

She stuck her tongue out at her brother, Arik grinning and rolling his eyes in response. Just by coincidence, his eyes happened to take in a nearby bookshelf, shelf after shelf filled with books. "Hey, Im, bookshelf."

"I think ya spent too long in the library, Arik. Not that many valuable books out there."

"Hiding place, Im."

She smacked her palm against her forehead and hurried over to the bookshelf, carefully removing each book one by one and opening them briefly. Arik joined in and, halfway through their third shelf, "Ha! Nice!" Imoen said, digging out a small wand and dropping the hollowed book on the floor.

Arik glanced at the wand and looked down at the discarded book. "Wand of Lightning. Fires a lightning bolt at whatever it's pointed at when you say the command word."

"How'd you know that?" Imoen asked in shock. He'd never before had shown any skill in identifying magical items.

"Says so in the book," he said, pointing down and trying not to grin. "One charge left, apparently."

Imoen sighed. "Cheater." Her eyes widened as she read the note for herself. "Oh. This is an old wand. Really old."

"So?"

"It's the old version of the Lightning Bolt spell."

Arik sighed. Sometimes Imoen could be as bad as Kyri when it came to magic. "So?" he repeated.

Imoen rolled her eyes. "It bounces off walls. The new one just goes poof when it hits one."

Arik whistled. "Sell as an antique?"

"Nah. It's a spell Kyri still can't cast. 5 cop says we'll need it."

"Ha! No bet."

Imoen paused for a moment. "You're hating this, aren't you?"

Arik figured that this wasn't the time for a bad joke, although he was tempted. "Which this? Stealing from people who probably don't deserve it? Or the constant danger and needing to kill people?"

"Guess that answers that," she said sadly.

Ark sighed. "It's more exciting, I'll say that. Meeting new and interesting people-"

"And killing them," joked Imoen, a touch of dark humor so unlike her, Arik couldn't help but notice.

"Well, yes, sometimes. But we've done some good, and," he lightly jabbed at Imoen's shoulder, drawing her eye, "can't beat the company."

If it were Kyri, she'd blush and smile politely. It being Imoen, however, earned him a half-hearted push in the shoulder and a rather more wry smile. "Cute."

"You're not thinking of running off, are ya sis?" he asked, a fake smile plastered onto his face.

Imoen shook her head. "And leave you to watch Ky? She wouldn't last five minutes without me!" she said, laughing at Arik's theatrical scowl. She leaned forward, pausing only an inch from Arik's face, and said, "'sides, bro, you couldn't go ten-

--

Arik's dream was broken by two things. The first, a loud pounding on the door, had little overall effect on him, merely taking him from asleep to only rather groggy.

The second, however, took him the rest of the way, and a good deal further. That same, cursed agony, awoke as he did and began to vividly remind him of all of the close calls he ever had. The shooting pangs of a number of arrows and bolts. Three broken ribs from when an ogre had caught him unaware, ribs that had nearly punctured his lung. Long strokes of agony across his back, the remnants of a flanker's sword that had nearly sliced his spine.

And, as all this was fading, a single, sharp stab of pain, from a helmite's armored elbow smashing into his nose.

"Tymora," Arik croaked, once he had finally recovered, "save me from spells with a sense of humor."

"Wael. I do not think Tymora can save you from this curse."