38. Plots, Plans, and Preparations
Shandra and Sand were waiting for Kail outside of Castle Never.
"Are you alright? How did it go?" asked Shandra, though she knew full well, having been there herself.
"I'm sorry, but I could not discourage her from following me," said Sand.
"It's okay," she told him. "It went fine, thanks. A little praying, a little singing, a little killing of the Luskan assassins... it went well."
"You may both accompany us to see Lord Nasher," said Sir Grayson. "But once we reach the throne room, you will need to be silent, so that Lord Nasher may address my new squire uninterrupted."
"Fear not, for I have long ago mastered the fine art of quieting my tongue," said Sand wryly.
"Yeah, I can be quiet too," said Shandra.
"Very well. Then let us proceed." He opened the heavy doors of Castle Never and led them through the halls. Everything looked too... clean, to Kail's eyes. Everywhere was marble, and carved stone, and it was all spotless. It made her feel very out of place, like an outsider, somebody who didn't belong here, and never would. Give me the Flagon any day, she thought.
Sir Grayson stopped outside a particularly ornate pair of doors, and gestured the guards aside with a wave of his hand. Then he turned towards her and bent over, to grasp her shoulders and look at her on her own eye-level.
"Are you ready?" he asked. It seemed like a strange question. Was she supposed to be showing nerves, or feeling over-awed? Surely a man was a man, whether he was a farmer, a king, or the lord of Neverwinter.
"Yes," she said, taking a deep breath, more to put Sir Grayson at his ease than to steady her own non-existant nerves; he seemed a little perplexed by her composure. He nodded to himself, then pushed open one of the doors and led her inside. Sand and Shandra followed behind.
Lord Nasher was not what she had been expecting. He was a tall, bald man, with a neatly trimmed beard and a long, thin face. On his brow he wore a crown, or diadem, or coronet; she didn't really know the difference. He wore robes of a dazzling white, and beneath them was a set of chain armour that shone gold in the light of the hall. He was seated on a throne, set atop a sweeping flight of low stairs, looking down on all those around him.
"Ah, Sir Grayson. A pleasure to see you," said Lord Nasher as they approached.
"It is my honour to serve, my lord," said Grayson, bowing low.
"What brings you here? You look troubled," said Lord Nasher.
"My lord, it has come to my attention that this woman stands accused of murder, and is to be given over to Luskan for trial."
"What you have heard is true. Is that why you are here?" asked Nasher.
"I am here because this woman is my squire, and must be tried by your hand and the will of the Gods alone," said Grayson. Though Kail knew that, outwardly, her face was still and her demeanour calm, inside, her mind was working overtime. What was this about? Lord Nasher already knew all of this! It was he who, through Nevalle, had suggested that she become a squire to Sir Grayson in the first place. Why the pretense?
"What is this nonsense?" came a voice from across the other side of the room. "This knight has no squire." It was then that she noticed the woman, dressed in a strange, multi-hued dress and fur-lined cloak.
"I would choose your words carefully, ambassador, lest I think you were accusing one of my knights of speaking lies," said Lord Nasher.
"I only hear the words of a man shielding a murderer," said the woman.
"Then let the accused speak. What say you -- does my knight speak truly? Are you his squire?"
"I am his squire, and I swear to serve Neverwinter faithfully and well," she said, bowing. She would probably live to regret those words, but what else could be done?
"Then it is true. That means this squire will be tried here, ambassador... not within Luskan's walls," said Lord Nasher. Ahh, now I understand, she thought. Lord Nasher can't be seen to be playing any part in this deception, or the Luskans will think him to be hiding a 'murderer'.
"There is no justice in this. But I was a fool to expect justice in Neverwinter," said the ambassador. Kail immediately disliked the woman. It was a combination of her false personality, and the extrmely low-cut dress that showed an unhealthy amount of cleavage. Some women just had no standards. Why, even the dancers in the Moonstone Mask wore more than this ambassador! The woman turned and stalked out of the room, somehow conveying anger whilst wiggling her hips suggestively with every step.
"Seeing that gloating smile stripped from her face pleases me more than you will know," said Lord Nasher. Then he sighed. "But this has bought only a little more time, time we cannot afford to waste. We must find the truth of what happened at Ember, and quickly. But you cannot do so here. You have my leave to depart Neverwinter, provided you give me your word to return for the trial."
"Of course, Lord Nasher," she said promptly.
"Travel to Port Llast," he said. "Someone there can guide you to Ember. Then return with whatever you can find that will prove your innocence."
"It would be wise to speak to Haeromos in Port Llast," said Sand in her ear. "He is said to be a fair man, and vigilant of his people and the lands around. We'll see." Sir Grayson shot Sand a meaningful 'I-thought-I-told-you-to-keep-quiet' look.
"You are to be congratulated on joning the service of Neverwinter and its knights," said Lord Nasher. "Serve Neverwinter, and it will serve you. Keep your resolve -- I am confident you will expose the truth of this matter soon enough. And after this trial, I will have more duties for you." Inwardly, she groaned.
"Come," said Sir Grayson. "I will escort you to the exit. After that, and until you return victorious, you are on your own, I'm afraid."
"We must speak in private," Sand said, laying a hand on her arm. She nodded; she had just the place in mind.
o - o - o - o - o
Kail trudged wearily towards the Flagon. With Shandra showing up, then having to defend against Luskan assassins, it had been a sleepless night. Now all she wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep for a day or two. But she didn't have that luxury. Lord Nasher had given her permission to leave the city, and she wanted to be gone before he could change his mind. She would use what was left of the rest of the day to make her preparations with Sand, and leave first light in the morning.
As she entered the Flagon with Sand and Shandra on her heels, everyone turned towards her, even Fenton and Weasel. She saw mouths being opened with a thousand questions, and jumped in before they could begin.
"I'm now officially a squire, though thankfully my 'knight' won't be around very much. I've been given permission to leave the city to find evidence of my innocence, so tomorrow at first light, Sand and I will be travelling... alone!... to Port Llast, and then to Ember. You are all to stay here and wait until I return for trial." Again mouths opened, and Duncan looked like he was ready to shout, so she quickly turned to Sand. "Come with me. We have plans to make."
She lead him through the common room and into the corridor that lead to the rear of the building. There she unlocked her door and ushered him inside, bolting it behind them. Fetching him a chair, she indicated for him to sit.
"I know it's impolite, but would you mind giving me a few minutes to go and have a quick wash? I have Luskan blood all over my clothes, so I think it's best that I get changed before we start talking," she said.
"Of course, take your time," he said graciously. "Ah, I see you have a copy of 'To Counter the Assumptions of a Flat Faerûn'. I shall amuse myself with your book until you return."
She thanked him again, grabbed a change of clothes from her drawer, and hurried to the bathroom. The door had been fixed and she quickly half-filled the bath with water that was only luke warm. She stayed in there only long enough to wash the blood from her skin and dust from her hair, then she dried herself and dressed before returning to her room.
"I feel much better," she said.
"And you look much better too. And smell better. You have no idea how the metallic tang of blood irritates my keep elven senses," he said.
"Can I get you anything? A drink? Something to eat?"
"No, no. Why don't we just get straight to the point."
"Okay. About this trial..." she said. "How much evidence to you think we need?"
"Hard to say until we actully find some. The best would be eye-witness accounts, of course, since that would clearly indicate that you're not the criminal here."
"Where's the best place to start searching for clues?"
"To Port Llast first, then to Ember. Then see what we find along the way, I think. No crime is perfect, so the true murderers are bound to have slipped up somewhere," said Sand confidently. She nodded absently. Lucas had said something similar, once. 'No performance is perfect. There is always room for improvement.'
"What do you know of a guy named 'Black Garius'?" she asked him.
"The name is familiar," he replied, narrowing his eyes in thought. "I believe he was once a low level wizard of the Hosttower of the Arcane."
"Well, now he's Master of the Fifth... apparently."
"To have him rise so high, so quickly..." said Sand thoughtfully, "He must have gained a powerful patron indeed. He was cunning, and had skill with the craft, but not enough to warrant this. Why do you ask?"
"Because in the past, Luskans have been sent to kill me. Sent by Black Garius, because I've been getting in his way. Or so I've been told."
"Really? That is interesting. If we can prove that Garius is an enemy of Neverwinter, then that will go a long way to proving your innocence."
"Do you have anything we can use against him?" she asked.
"Hmm. I did not know him well, but the mere fact that he has risen to power so quickly cannot mean he has a stable power base. And it must mean he made many enemies. Such enemies may reveal themselves if we seek to stop him... and they will become our allies."
"Then we'll just have to keep our ears open," she replied. "Now, let's discuss what we're going to need for the trip tomorrow."
o - o - o - o - o
"And then were were attacked by three Luskan assassins," said Shandra. Everybody was crowded around listening to her tale of the previous night; Grobnar was taking notes.
"How do you know they were assassins?" Neeshka asked.
"I am reliably informed that black clothing and a penchant for large poisonous amphibian collections is not truly indicative of an assassin," said Grobnar, smiling at Neeshka.
"Well," she replied, "they had these rings, like daggers, all pointing in a circle, and Kail said that they're called... the Circle Knives, or something."
"The Circle of Blades," said Bishop, in what she had come to think of as his condescending tone of voice. "Notorious Luskan assassins. Very skilled, and very dangerous... I'm surprised you managed to survive even one of them."
"Well... Kail did most of the fighting," she admitted. It wasn't like she herself had had the same years of practise as everyone else, after all. "But I did kill one of them, for what it's worth. He just... sorta had a knife already stuck in his leg."
"I cannot say that I approve of you breaking the customs and spoiling the vigil for Kail. Your presence could have jeopardised her being accepted as a squire, had you been caught," said Casavir.
"On the other hand, Kail being dead would have jeopardised her being accepted as a squire," said Neeshka. "So Shandra did the right thing." She smiled at the thief. The woman wasn't so bad, once you got to know her.
"Yes, certainly," said Grobnar. "Imagine if they had had a necromancer with them. Why, they could have raised Kail as a zombie, and that would have put a stopper on her being accepted as a squire for sure! In fact, you would probably have to kill her now, Sir Casavir, considering the paladin stance toward the undead."
"But what's this about her having to go back to find evidence of her own innocence? It sounds risky to me," said Duncan. "If assassins dared strike at her in the Solace Glade, within sight of Neverwinter's walls, how much more bolder will they be once Kail's back over the Luskan border?"
"Over the Luskan border with nothing but a hedge wizard for protection," said Qara
"If you are intimating that we should go with her... we cannot. She has already forbidden it," said Casavir. "Besides, if she truly needed our help, she would ask for it." Bishop snorted.
"Well, either way, there's no point worrying about it until she's finished with Sand. Once he's gone, we can try to talk her into the right of it. I'm sure the lass will see sense," said Khelgar.
"Uh, Grobnar," said Shandra, "Do you think you can come and help me rearrange the furniture in my room? I'm not sure I'm comfortable with the bed being so close to the window. I get an occasional draught."
"Why of course, I would be happy to help. Whilst we're at it I can show you the new bed sheets I've had made for you, to help you feel more at home!" She slid off her stool and tried to walk casually away from the others. They barely even noticed her leaving; each one seemed wrapped up in their own thoughts. But now she was having a thought of her own. She had already followed Kail once... what was stopping her from doing it again?
o - o - o - o - o
Bishop crept along the corridor and stopped outside Kail's door. The rooms to either side of hers were empty. The Tiefling and the Dwarf had them at first, but they complained that she sang and played music at all hours, though she denied it, so Duncan had moved them. A smile tugged at his lips. It wouldn't surprise him if she'd done it on purpose, just to be rid of them. She was vehement about her privacy. A quiet bard. Who could have imagined it?
He pressed his ear to the door. Silence. But she was in there. He'd seen her go in, and she hadn't come out when the wizard left. He knocked on the door and waited, and her voice, when it came, was slightly muffled by the walls between them.
"Just so you know, I had Sand magically reinforce the hinges before he left. But it's not locked, so you can come in the non-violent way." He felt his teeth bared in a grin as he pulled the handle and pushed the door open, slipping into the room like a shadow, closing the door behind him.
She was lying on her stomach on the bed, her legs crossed in the air over her back. Her hair, still damp from her hasty bath -- you couldn't have Neverwinter's newest squire walking around covered in the blood of Luskan assassins after all, now could you? -- was slightly tousled and looked... different. Ah, she'd cut it shorter again, to just above her shoulder. Her white shirt was unlaced at the neck, and he could just see the top of the faint scar on her chest that marked where a shard of a Githyanki sword had torn through her skin as an infant. On the bed in front of her was a thick wad of paper, and she tapped a charcoal stick against it -- with impatience, or rhythm? -- as he assessed her. Her eyes, when he met them, watched him impassively. Grey stone, blue ice. He reached behind his back and slid the bolt across the door.
"How did you know it was me?" he asked. She gave him that pained 'I'm-not-as-stupid-as-I-seem' look that she normally reserved for the paladin, and a brief flash of emotion flickered across her eyes.
"You knocked. Therefore you couldn't have been Neeshka. I would have heard anybody else coming down the corridor," she explained patiently. Definitely not as stupid as she seemed.
"Well done, wildcat," he murmured, and her mouth quirked into a tiny curl of amusement.
"I will probably regret asking this," she said, "but what's on your mind?" Ah, little wildcat, if only you knew. There was a chair in her room beside the small dresser table, but her eyes had not yet flickered to it, not yet invited him to sit. He would play the game her way, for now. He folded his arms and leant back against the door.
"Ember. I'm going back there with you." Genuine surprise registered on her face, then she shook her head.
"Sand and I can handle it. We're going alone."
"You and the Elf, and the farm-girl. Don't forget about her. You're never going to get rid of her now, you know. She'll follow you around like some lost little puppy, hoping you can keep her safe." Good thing the paladin wasn't here. At this point he usually started interfering. Be nice to the little farm-girl, Bishop. Stop talking to our leader as if she's a woman with a mind of her own, Bishop. Don't shoot at the Gnome, Bishop. By the gods, that man needed putting out of his misery.
The woman on the bed merely watched him, with that strange look she sometimes wore that suggested she was listening to something only she could hear. He didn't like that look. It was a look that said 'I know things'. He just didn't know what she knew. Talk about still waters; she could probably teach the stone-faced paladin a thing or two. But there was a difference. There was something lurking under her surface, something that, when provoked enough, lashed out at everything around it. He was still trying to work out how to make that happen. It would be amusing to watch the effects.
"Shandra will learn what she needs to learn," Kail said with a small shrug. "Was that why you came here? To talk to me about Shandra?" It was an innocent enough question, but was that a hint of... jealousy, he heard in her voice? It would be worth exploring, later.
"No. I just came to tell you that I am going back to Ember with you tomorrow, whether you want me to or not. Do you really think you can keep me from following you? Or even from getting there faster than you?" he asked. She was smart enough to not answer that one.
"But why? You were a great help in tracking the githyanki. In fact, we couldn't have done it without you. But I know the way to Ember now. You don't need to guide us."
"You may know the way to Ember," he said with a small shrug, "but to get there you'll still have to cross over the Luskan border. That means avoiding scouts and patrols, and for that you will need me. Do you think they will just let you try to find evidence to clear yourself from a crime they probably committed in the first place?" He saw it in her eyes, then, and felt a small pang of victory. Uncertainty. Something she hadn't thought of. A tiny, barely noticeable crack in her cool, confident veneer. She's off-guard. Your advantage. He left the door and crossed the room, lounging back in the chair beside the table.
"Besides, I know how these Luskans operate. I've seen their handiwork before," only, it wasn't Ember, that time... "and whilst I'm sure the Elf will come in useful, there may be things that he might miss. Things that I can find." She regarded him for a moment with the intense, scrutinising gaze that she used on things that puzzled her. Then she put the charcoal stick down on top of the paper, pulling herself up to sit cross-legged on the bed.
"What do you think about the trial?" she asked.
"The trial? A Luskan trick. They're probably still angry with you for driving away their agents in Neverwinter. Yeah, Duncan told me about that."
"My uncle talks a lot," she said, narrowing her eyes at the door.
"Duncan sure does. Not one for keeping secrets, but always quick to call in a debt when he wants." And one day, he would regret it. Kail blinked and shook her head, then returned her gaze to his eyes. Not many people met his eyes like she did. Not for very long, anyway.
"What do you think I should do about it? The trial, I mean." Now it was his turn to be surprised. She rarely asked for advice, and never from him, unless forced.
"Are you seriously asking me, or just making conversation? Because it seems to me that a... 'law abiding' lady like yourself," he put a sarcastic twist on the words which suggested she was nothing of the sort, "might just be asking, for the sake of asking. And trust me, I'll respect you a lot more if you admit it now, than if you hear my advice and ignore it."
"If I acted on everything I heard, I wouldn't respect myself," she said drily.
"Hmm. True enough. I'm not one for following what everyone tells me, either. I think you should skip the trial and just try to kill the ambassador. That'll send them a nice message about what you think of justice." He watched her eyes glaze over, her gaze turned inward.
"I'll admit... killing her does have a certain poetic justice about it. Especially since she's probably guilty of the crime she's accused me of." The bard shook her head and smiled. Ah well, he didn't think she'd go for that one anyway.
"Well, if you don't want to waste time in court..." he said as he combined gliding from the chair to the bed and crouching behind her into one fluid movement. He lowered his voice to barely more than a whisper and bent his head towards her ear, ignoring the lightly perfumed scent of soap that tickled his nose. "You could just run from this. You and I could go find some hidden trail somewhere, and camp... for a year or two." It pleased him immensely that she didn't turn around and thump him. The farm-girl probably would have.
"Is that an offer, or just another snide comment?" she asked in a sickly-sweet innocent voice. Was it his imagination or was she leaning back slightly, pressing her shoulders to his chest? He moved back ever so slightly, and she shifted with him. Can you blame her? She's been travelling for weeks with a repressed, tin-headed paladin, an obsessive stalker druidess, a Gnome with slightly less sanity than his own lute, a stuck-up daddy's girl, a Dwarf who can barely string three complex words together, and a half-demon kleptomaniac. And before that she lived in West Harbor, where the idea of a good time consisted of a pig-farming contest and punching somebody until they passed out.
"I don't know. If it was an offer... what would you say?" he asked. Now her neck was so close that he need only tilt his head to be able to kiss it. If he wanted. Which he didn't. Obviously.
"I will never run from a Luskan dog," she spat. He grinned. Defences back up, in record time too. But what will you run from, wildcat?
"In the mean time, I suppose you could follow the procedures and try to find proof of their claim. But that's only worth it if you can hurt Luskan in the process," he said, backing off the bed. Two strides took him to the door, which he unbolted and opened. "Try not to lose too much sleep over dead Ember. We'll need to make an early start in the morning."
He stepped through the doorway and pulled it closed behind him without looking back at her. Then, grinning, he silently crept down the corridor. She hadn't answered his question.
o - o - o - o - o
Elanee ducked back around the corner as Kail's bedroom door clicked open.
"Try not to lose too much sleep over dead Ember," said an arrogant voice. "We'll need to make an early start in the morning."
The door clicked closed, and she gave a silent count to thirty before peering around the corner once again. The corridor was empty, filled only with dancing shadows from the flames of the wall lamps. She narrowed her eyes at the bard's door. So, the ranger thought he was going with Kail and Sand, did he? No doubt he had all sorts of nefarious plans, and she didn't doubt that if the bard and the wizard went off alone with Bishop, none of them would be seen again. She would not let that happen. She had worked too hard, watching Kail all these years, to see that go to waste. Besides, she had become quite fond of the girl, for all of her strangeness.
She chewed her lip for a moment, a mannerism that she had only developed since arriving in this horrible city. Keeping Kail safe would not be easy. Like many humans, the young woman was stubborn and contrary, and prone to acting before thinking. If she thought that Elanee was covertly keeping a watchful eye on her, she might try to give her the slip, might even refuse to listen to her at all, and then Elanee would lose what little influence she had left with the girl.
She would need an ally. Two people meant two pairs of eyes, two minds working, two sets of weapons should they be needed. She needed somebody who would do what was right for Kail regardless of the young woman's wishes. Someone who would not let friendship or blind obedience cloud their judgment or get in the way of duty. Luckily, she had just the person in mind.
She slipped quietly down the corridor and knocked on another bedroom door. There was silence for a few seconds, then the sound of the bolt sliding back, allowing the door to open a crack. A pair of dazzling blue eyes looked out at her, surprise registering on the finely chiseled face.
"Elanee? Is there a problem?" asked Casavir.
"Of sorts," she replied. He opened the door wide to admit her into his room. It was dark, the only source of light from two candles beside a symbol of Tyr, on a small table. The man himself was dressed in a pair of loose pants, and wore a plain white shirt. He looked smaller, somehow, less imposing than when he was clad in his plate armour, but his presence was no less commanding. "I hope I'm not interrupting you," she said by way of apology.
"Not at all. I was just offering a prayer. To Tyr."
"Ah. A prayer for what? If you don't mind me asking," she added hastily. She wasn't even sure why she'd asked. Prayers that did not concern the land were pointless, in her opinion.
"For the dead of Ember," he replied, his expression sombre and troubled.
"Ah." Very eloquent, she chided herself. "That is, partially, the reason why I am here." He nodded for her to continue, and indicated a chair for her to sit while he perched on the edge of his bed. She took a deep breath, steeling herself to ignore the intensity of his gaze. He's just a human, she thought to herself. How in the name of the heavens does Kail bring herself to argue with such a warm, attentive face? No, pay attention. You're not here for flights of fancy. Duty. Remember duty. "I'm going back to Ember with Kail."
"I thought she did not want anybody else with her? She was quite adamant that we are all to remain here while she and Sand deal with the evidence," Casavir pointed out. That was something of an understatement. Kail had told them all that they were to stay here, and then had sequestered Sand in her room for hours so that she could make plans with him without anybody else overhearing. The woman was determined to do this alone. She didn't want help. Didn't know how to ask for it.
"Sometimes Kail makes bad choices, and rather than admit to them and ask for help, she digs her heels in and tries to weather the effects, like an oak tree standing before a storm. We, as her friends, need to help her when she needs it most, because those are the times that she will never ask for it," she explained patiently. Casavir nodded slightly at her words. He had obviously noticed that too.
"She is..." he seemed to struggle to find the correct description, "fiercely independent," he finished.
"Exactly. And whilst that isn't necessarily a bad thing, it does mean that she tends to try to do too much by herself. She will only end up burning herself out if she keeps trying to do things alone." Casavir nodded again. "Besides, I want to make sure she gets back alive."
"You do not trust Sand to keep her safe?" he asked in surprise. "I think you are worrying a little too much. The wizard is obviously wise in the ways of the world, and I suspect he wields not a small measure of power."
"Trust Sand? Not really. He is only helping because his arm has been twisted. He cares only for seeing Luskan humiliated. He does not care about Kail." She leant forward and place her hand on his arm, her heart thudding in her chest as she did so. "Not like we care about her." He nodded slowly, as if admitting something to himself. She had suspected that he cared for the bard more than he was letting on, and it pained her to see him admit it. Why should that bother her? He was just a human. Her only concern was with the land. And with keeping Kail safe. It was up to her to see that Casavir wanted to keep the young woman safe at all costs, no matter how much it pained her to do it. "Besides, Bishop is going with them, and him I do not trust in the slightest."
"Bishop?" Casavir asked, his blue eyes turning to ice as they narrowed. That was all, but it spoke volumes. From what she understood -- which admittedly wasn't very much -- paladins weren't supposed to hate. They were supposed to be above that. They were supposed to teach forgiveness, to show mercy and compassion to even their enemies. But Casavir hated the ranger. Bishop made a mockery of everything a paladin stood for. Kail was right in the centre of most of their fighting, and, disturbingly, none of them seemed to see it.
"You see now why I am worried?"
"Kail does not like me... helping her," said Casavir slowly, working through his thoughts. "Why did you not take this to Khelgar, or Neeshka? I am sure she would accept help more readily from one of her... friends."
"You are one of her friends, Casavir," said Elanee, saying what needed to be said and hating herself for it. "Don't think that you're not. She doesn't agree with a lot of your opinions or perceptions... for that matter, neither do I. But you will always have her respect, as you have mine. Yes, she is close to Khelgar and Neeshka, but the three of them are too close. She will follow them, and they will follow her, and they will all go along with what the others want without questioning their methods or safety. They encourage her despite the risk to her. Khelgar encourages her to fight, and Neeshka encourages her to break laws, and they both lack the common sense, and maturity, possessed by you and I. That is why I came to you, rather than them. Because I know you will remain impartial. You will see things they cannot because they are blinded by loyalty and too caught up with their own plans. You and I can see the bigger picture."
"I am touched by your faith in me," he said quietly, his voice rumbling in his chest. Despite all reasoning, her insides felt as if they were melting. She hastily stood up and crossed the room to the door.
"Keeping Kail safe is not the only reason I am going with her tomorrow. I make no secret of the fact that I care little for this city. I find it stifling and restrictive. A journey into the woods would be most welcoming for me, and Kail will not begrudge me that. I do not think she would begrudge you, if you wanted to visit Ember to pray, personally, for the dead." She slipped out of the door, pulling it closed behind her, then took a deep breath. Now all that was left was to pack a bag, and hope she could survive a trip to Ember watching Casavir look longingly at Kail.
o - o - o - o - o
"Keep still, moss-breath," Neeshka hissed.
"Bah, stop shifting yer weight around, Tiefling. I'm a Dwarf, not a step-ladder."
"I wouldn't have to shift my weight around if you'd stop throwing me off balance. I want you to stand still, not dance a jig. Even the tree-worshipper could manage better than you."
"Well why don't I go and get her then, and the pair of ye can get on with yer spying together?" She let out a quiet yelp as Khelgar started walking.
"No, I'm sorry, take me back, I almost had it." He moved backwards, and as the window ledge loomed at her she reached up and grabbed it, hauling herself up slightly as Khelgar supported her feet on his shoulders.
"What do ye see?" he asked.
"A whole lot of dirty glass. I doubt Duncan has cleaned these windows since the place was rebuilt. It's filthy."
"If this has all been for nothing..." he growled the threat under his breath.
"No, no, it's not for nothing. I think I can see something. Can you raise me any higher?" she asked.
"Maybe if I had somebody to stand on, I could. But this is as high as you go. Now tell me what's going on. The ranger was in there as soon as the wizard was out the door."
"Shut up and let me listen then," she snapped, turning her head to try and catch the words. "He's walking to the door. Now he's opened it."
"...try not to lose too much sleep over dead Ember. We'll need to make an early start in the morning." She hissed, and jumped down from Khelgar's shoulders, landing in a crouch.
"Next time, I'm doing the spying. It's got to be easier than supporting a big fat Tiefling," said Khelgar, rolling his shoulders as she dusted off her hands.
"I'm petite and you know it, barrel-house."
"I think you've been eating too many of Sal's pork pies. And I don't see why Duncan had to put the window so high up. Ye'd think he did it on purpose, just to spite us. Now, what was going on in there? Or is it one of those things I really don't want to hear in detail?"
"Oh gee, thanks, just what I needed. Mental images. I think I need a drink," she groaned.
"Hey, that's my line! So what, then?" he pressed.
"We missed most of the conversation. I only heard one thing that he said as he left, and it sounds like he's managed to weasel his way into going back to Ember with her."
"Hnh." Khelgar gave a grunt of distaste. "Then we'll just have to go with her too. A young lass, out there alone in the wilds, with possibly rabid animals, it isn't right!"
"Yeah, not to mention with Sand and Bishop," she said.
"That's what I meant," he said, and she gave him a quiet chuckle. They walked into the Flagon and gestured for Sal to bring them some ale at one of the group's usual tables. Fenton and Weasel were the only other people present in the room; even Duncan wasn't around. They waited for Sal to disappear before bending their heads closer together.
"So, how do you want to do this? We could tell her outright that she's not going without us, or we can follow her some way until she's out in the forest, and then approach her, at which point it will be too late for her to send us back," she suggested.
"I don't think we've got much chance at following her. She's hardly out of her element in forest, and she and the wizard and the ranger... they're all pretty damn attentive. I think they'd see us before they got very far," he said thoughtfully.
"Yeah, not to mention that they'd smell you a mile off," she grinned.
"Or hear the angry pitchfork-waving mob chasing you from ten miles off. Hmm, d'ya think we should tell the tree-worshipper? She has that way of talking to the animals... might be useful to get some of those on our side if it comes down to sneaking."
"It's not 'sneaking', it's 'being subtle'. Sneaking is what you do in illegal situations. But we are not involving the tree-worshipper. I don't trust her. At least I'm honest about my sneaking. At least I don't pretend to be something I'm not. As far as I'm concerned, this is none of her business. We're Kail's friends. We care about her. All Elanee cares about is using Kail and the shards to get her answers, to try to..." she raised her voice to a mocking tone "'heal the terrible wound in the land, and all the fuzzy-wuzzy little animals being harmed'."
"Hmm, you're right about that, at least," said Khelgar grudgingly. "What about the others?"
"No, just you and me. We've been with her since the beginning, and we need to be there for her like she's been there for us. The others wouldn't understand. Besides, Shandra won't let Kail out of her sights. She'll end up tagging along with them, and that means Grobnar will be tagging along after Shandra. And if they get to go, we get to go too."
"Alright, but I nominate you to tell her that we're going with her," he said with a malicious smile.
"Fine by me. We're like sisters, me and Kail. She'll be fine with it. Really."
o - o - o - o - o
"My, are you really going to need all this... stuff?" asked Grobnar, holding up a bag of items that, for once, he didn't seem to be able to identify. Shandra blushed, snatched the bag from him, and shoved it into her pack.
"They're women's things, okay?" she snapped, and regretted it when he looked slightly hurt. "Look, I'm sorry, alright? I didn't mean to get mad. It's just... this whole situation stinks. I want to wrap my hand around that who-o... err, Luskan ambassador's neck and throttle her until she dies."
"I'm sure there's no need for that," Grobnar replied, patting her hand. "I'm sure that Kail will be able to prove her innocence. After all, she's a Squire of Neverwinter, a member of the City Watch, the slayer of countless thousands of orcs, and a really good bard."
"Countless thousands? Really?" she asked as she tipped out her backpack and began repacking it. Sometimes Grobnar could go a little over-the-top.
"Well, maybe not thousands. But two really important, high-ranking ones. And their clans. And not to mention all those nasty githyanki who were holding you and the Blade Golem prisoner," said the Gnome.
"How do you do this?!" she asked in frustration.
"It's not easy," he said, standing up and pacing the room. "There are times when it feels like the whole world is against you, when the thought of waking up to another day of travelling, of fighting, of merely trying, seems too much to bear. And in those times, the only things that keep you going are your friends, and the hope that you are making a difference in somebody's life." As he spoke he began gesticulating passionately, and she found herself impressed that so much emotion could come out of one little person. "The hope that someday, somewhere, some young person is going to turn to their parents and say 'You know, I really admire that Grobnar fellow. I want to become a bard, and be just like him, and travel around the realms gathering knowledge and making a difference in other peoples' lives.' Yes, it's hard when you're starting out, and you're constantly asking yourself 'what am I doing here?', 'why am I doing this?' and 'where did I put that whitethistle that I collected last week?', but believe me Shandra, it really does get easier."
"Wow. Thanks, Grobnar," she said with a smile and a pang of guilt. "But I uh... I meant how do you fit so much stuff in your backpack? It seems like no matter how much I trim it down, I'm leaving something important out."
"Oh. Well, I think I can help with that." He knelt on the floor beside her empty pack and the pile of supplies. "What's this?" he asked, holding a small pouch up.
"Women's things."
"And this?"
"Women's things."
"What about this? Ah no, wait, I know this one. Haven't seen one before, but I believe it's one of those steam-powered devic-"
"Actually, it's women's things," she said.
"You know..." he said slowly, as if he was actually thinking about his words for once, "I don't believe I've ever seen Kail carrying so many women's things."
"Kail is a Squire of Neverwinter, a member of the City Watch, slayer of countless thousands of orcs, and a really good bard. She probably doesn't need women's things." From what she'd observed, Kail could be as oblivious as Grobnar at times. Maybe all bards were like that. Maybe their own creativity drove them towards insanity.
"But Elanee, Qara and Neeshka..."
"Don't count either," she said, and then sighed. "Look, I know it might be hard to understand, but... well... the others, they've all had time to get used to having adventures and traipsing around the realms killing stuff, and being totally self-reliant. But up until a few short days ago, I was a farmer. A good farmer, but a farmer nonetheless. When I made my runs to Port Llast and Ember every year, I had my carts with me, and the drivers I hired. I guess with everything that's happened, and in such a short space of time, I'm just trying to cling to what little normalcy I can."
"It's not hard to understand at all. But I think you might be better with a clean break. Sweep out the old and usher in the new, you know?"
"I know that you're right, but part of me doesn't want to let all of that go. Part of me just wants to go back and rebuild my farm and start over," she admitted.
"But Shandra, if you do that, the githyanki might find you again! Besides, Kail will need your help in Ember and Port Llast. Since you know so many people there, from your merchant runs, you may be able to discover things that she and Sand would miss. Her very life could hinge upon your travelling with her!"
"Gee thanks, no pressure then," she said. But it would be nice to be able to help Kail, to maybe even learn something that could save the bard's life. After everything the younger woman had done for her, she owed her that much at least. Besides, it would be nice to get away from this tavern for a while. Not that she didn't like the Flagon, or Kail's uncle, but her friends could be downright exhausting. It seemed like everybody was arguing with each other constantly. Khelgar and Neeshka, Casavir and Bishop, Sand and Qara... even Elanee took a snipe or two when the mood took her. It seemed like the only person who didn't go out of his way to purposely antagonise people was Grobnar. 'Purposely' being the key word. Most of them seemed to look down on the Gnome, but she rather liked the little man, and she knew Kail did too.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply that you're the only one who can save Kail from Luskan torture devices," he said, then winced at her expression. "Sorry."
"Why don't you come with us, Grobnar?" she asked. It would be nice to have somebody to talk to. Sand didn't seem like the chatty type, and Kail had been in a dark mood ever since Nevalle had shown up with the news of her accusation.
"Me? Oh, no, I don't think Kail would like that. You see, she gets this little glint in her eye when she's made up her mind and won't be argued with. The same sort of glint that Khelgar gets when he hears the nearby sound of a brawl, or that Neeshka gets when she sees the coins, or that Sir Bishop gets whenever he talks to Elanee. I'd hate to have her glinting at me like that."
"But if you think about it, you'd actually be doing Kail a favour," she told him earnestly. "Kail's supposed to be teaching me, but I can't ask her to spend all her time on me whilst this trial's looming over her head. It wouldn't be fair. If you're with us, on the other hand, you can help me learn what I need to learn to become a successful, surviving adventurer, and then Kail won't have to worry about me as much."
"I say, I hadn't thought of that before," said Grobnar in surprise. "And you know, it really would be an excellent opportunity for me to work on a song I've been thinking about. It's a song about a hero of Neverwinter who's falsely accused of a crime she didn't commit, and together with her stalwart companions, she overcomes extreme adversity and prejudice to prove her innocence and expose an under-handed plot to overthrow Neverwinter itself!"
"That sounds like an inspired story. I hope there's a part in it for the hero's trusty sidekick. That is, if she ever gets her backpack sorted."
"Ah, of course. Here's what you need; a weapon, armour, one small bag of tea, one small bag of assorted medicinal herbs, one small bag of bandages, one change of clothing, one bar of soap, your toothbrush, hairbrush, cup, fork, knife, spoon, ground-sheet, sleeping bag or blanket, some tinder and a flint striker, money, one packet of travelling rations, and one canteen of water. In addition you may take no more than one small bag of women's items," he said, tallying off the items on his fingers. She packed the bag and was surprised to find that it had room to spare.
"Are you sure this is all I need?" she asked skeptically.
"Of course, of course. You need the additional room for things you might want to buy or collect elsewhere."
"Thanks, Grobnar. I would have been here all night without you," she said.
"Oh, it is no problem at all. And now I think I'll be off to get my own bag packed." The Gnome jumped up and wandered absently to her door. "I've been having a little trouble getting the mechanical view-enhancers to fit amongst all of..." his voice trailed off as he left her room, and she doubted that he would even notice that he wasn't talking to anybody. With a sigh, she tidied up the rest of her pile and then flopped back onto the bed. She hoped Kail would not shout too loudly tomorrow. But if she did, she would discover than Shandra Jerro could shout just as loud.