Keldorn Firecam's estate was impeccably messy, which meant that it was the sort of rustic that required a dedicated gardener's daily effort to maintain. The ivy twining up the walls of the house stopped just shy of the gutters and windowpanes where it might do some actual damage. The plants sprouting between the cracks in the drive stones were, in fact, specially chosen wildflowers without a genuine weed in sight.
Lady Maria was relaxing in her garden with her daughters, while a serving maid poured them tea. They waved to the Ilmatari, who waved back awkwardly, but eyed the drow with suspicion. At the door a toffee-nosed footman bid them wipe their feet, before sneeringly suggesting that they remove their shoes. Arowan had never understood that kind of snobbery coming from people who were themselves servants, until she'd experienced living in the Ducal Palace with Freya. The werewolf's lack of consideration to the carpets and upholstery had doubled the servant's daily workload. They'd probably had to hire an extra valet just to deal with her boots.
"Ah. Welcome." Keldorn said gravely. "Can I offer you some refreshments?"
Much to Arowan's disappointment, Anomen stubbornly declined on behalf of them all. Whatever Sir Keldorn had called them here for must have been important, because he was transparently uncomfortable having both Anomen and Viconia in his house.
They sat down in the living room on intricately hand carved chairs, with scratchy embroidered covers. It took a lot of money to live this uncomfortably. Keldorn rubbed his beard and sighed. His eyes flickered from Jaheira, to Arowan, to Viconia and back again. It was as though he was wondering where to start.
"Firstly, I wanted to thank you personally for the excellent service you performed for the Order in Trademeet and the Umar Hills," he said. "Garren Windspear has also informed us of how you rescued his child from the beast Firkraag. The loss of Ajantis and his party was a great pity, but nobody holds you responsible for that. In truth the young man's behaviour had been growing unpredictable for some time."
"I have done more for the Order than a dozen squires combined!" Anomen snapped suddenly. "And yet they will not suffer my presence to befoul their hallowed halls? Tell Sir Ryan and Prelate Wessalen that I piss on their hospitality."
"I will tell them nothing of the sort!" Keldorn glared at him sternly from under his greying eyebrows. "And I suggest that you refrain from such speech yourself. Based on your heroic actions since leaving the Order, I might have been able to make a case for your reinstatement. Were it not for the fact that your last outburst is still fresh in their minds!"
These words knocked the wind from Anomen's sails.
"R- reinstated?" he repeated stupidly. Then his face contorted with rage. "Bah! I have no desire to waste any more of my life with that rabble of porcine windbags anyway. To hells with them!"
"Even so, boy, if I were you, I would consider moderating my tone!" Keldorn retorted angrily. "Or there may come a day when you regret burning your bridges more than you have already!"
"IS THAT A THREAT?" Anomen thundered, rising to his feet. Rasaad and Jaheira leapt up immediately to force him back down by his shoulders.
"No, it was an offer!" the old knight growled, but he knew a lost cause when he saw one. "In any case, your party were not asked to come here as a slight to you Anomen. The Order are eager to see you all. Too eager. That's the point."
"Drat. They heard, did they?" groaned Jaheira in a bored voice. "Yes, it is definitely another Temple of Amaunator. I will mark the location on your map so that they can send their experts and archaeologists. Thank you for sparing us any further involvement."
"No that isn't what I- wait! You found another lost temple of Amaunator?" Keldorn cried, distracted. His eyes widened like saucers and he leapt from his chair, rubbing his hands together eagerly and pressing her for details. Anomen pretended to fall asleep in his chair and snored pointedly, much to Yoshimo and Viconia's amusement.
Sir Keldorn, however, found a kindred spirit in Rasaad. The monk was delighted to have found someone who understood the significance of their find. Together they retraced their adventure through the temple step by step, sketching a makeshift map of the dungeon. Arowan sat very quietly throughout, thinking of Mazzy. Every so often she imagined Rasaad's eyes flicker toward her accusingly when the Shade Lord was mentioned.
It was only when the conversation turned to the dead prophetess Amauna that he remembered why it was he had asked them to come.
"That explains it," he muttered. "Her spirit must be the one broadcasting the prophecies. Amauna was responsible the first time this happened, and now she means to warn us that it is happening again. She must have stopped broadcasting her visions when the Shade Lord took over and started again when you liberated the temple."
"What prophecies?" asked Jaheira, bewildered. Keldorn goggled at her.
"Her prophecies, obviously!" he cried, pointing at Viconia who froze. "The Servant of all Faiths. Nobody doubts that it is you anymore, evil one. The visions that our clerics have been experiencing have grown far clearer and more specific of late. Perhaps because you met Amauna in person. She knows what you look like now. Our Prelate Wessalen has had particularly disturbing premonitions."
"Premonitions which warn him of what?" Viconia asked eagerly.
"A great cull of humanity and all other sentient races," Keldorn replied. "It is not, as you believed, merely one drow city. The purge will extend everywhere… but I see you are not surprised by my words. Perhaps you knew this already?"
"We learnt it from Firkraag," Jaheira said. "Though until this moment I was unsure whether to trust the mighty slug. Did your prelate's visions contain any other information? Anything might help."
"I believe there is more to what he saw," Keldorn replied darkly. "Hours before your arrival, Wessalen met with an emissary from the Dark Moon Order. I know not what was said, but as soon as the man left, the Prelate started asking me when Viconia and her party were expected to return. He wants to test the extent of your powers, Servant of all Faiths."
"Viconia, you cannot go!" Rasaad cried. "This emissary was Alorgoth, he must have been!"
The monk's hands closed possessively around Viconia's shoulders. She found that she did not mind. That Alorgoth was still hunting her was a most unpleasant surprise. They had all assumed that the appearance of Bhaal, wearing his horrible new avatar, had put the Doombringer off.
"He gave no name to the rest of us," growled Keldorn, "But I know that I trust the Dark Moon Cult even less than I trust this drow. Which is why I asked you here instead. To warn you to get out of Athkatla if you can."
"We must leave immediately!" Rasaad said. Viconia nodded shakily, but Arowan and Yoshimo exchanged a panicked look.
"We… can't," Arowan said. "Because…"
"Because we have already booked passage to Kara-Tur for our honeymoon!" Yoshimo took over for her. "Our ship leaves tomorrow morning."
"You didn't tell me this!" Jaheira said sharply.
"It was all a bit last minute!" Arowan explained quickly, noticing with a pang that the older woman looked hurt.
"Congratulations!" beamed Keldorn, getting up to shake her hand and Yoshimo's. "You didn't tell me you'd got married! Wonderful news! Jaheira, I took the liberty of preparing provisions for your party last night. I do not think it wise for you to visit the promenade at present. Perhaps you could check them over while I have a quick word with the happy couple?"
With a confused frown at Arowan, Jaheira left accompanied by the rest of the party. The Ilmatari stayed behind. When the others had gone, Keldorn closed the door to his living room discretely and motioned to them to sit down. He was no longer smiling, and the ranger suspected that whatever he had to say had little to do with their wedding.
The aging paladin sighed and scratched his neck distractedly. He probably ought not to tell them, but he was fond of the Ilmatari in a fatherly sort of way. Especially since they had patched things up between him and his wife.
"I do not wish to spoil your plans," he began, "But you should know that it is not only Viconia the Order want to see. As I mentioned, the visions have grown clearer of late. It seems that the Great Evil will harness the power of a god to bring about the prophesied destruction. There is precedent. Amauna attempted something similar in life, centuries ago. The gods sent a representative to dispatch her, we found the records of it deep in our archives. Now it seems that the child-prophetess has foreseen that history will repeat itself and is warning the world from her grave."
"I don't understand," Yoshimo said. "She told us about her 'mistake,' but she never mentioned that she was the one behind the Servant of all Faiths prophecies. Why not bring it up, when Viconia was standing right there? There is so much she might have told us."
"Possibly because you were present, Arowan."
"Me?" the ranger echoed blankly.
"A Bhaalspawn," Keldorn clarified. "Amauna does not know you as we do and may have feared that there was a danger in telling you too much."
Arowan paled and shot an anxious look at Yoshimo. They already had Irenicus to contend with as well as finding a way to rid herself of the Bhaal taint. Wasn't that enough, for mercy's sake?
"What does Bhaal have to do with this?" she asked miserably.
"Everything," replied Keldorn. "When Amauna first attempted the purge, she tried to harness the power of her own god Amaunator. But he is dead and his power dispersed amongst other deities. It cannot be him this time."
"So which god will it be?" she asked, though in her heart she knew the answer.
"The general consensus is that the likely candidate is Bhaal," Keldorn confirmed. "And that one of the Bhaalspawn will be the conduit."
The ranger tried to remember everything she had ever known or heard about the Servant of all Faiths. Briefly, she even considered whether Irenicus might be the one to instigate the cull, but that made no sense. He had spoken of 'restoring' himself. Whereas the mass death of all mortal evil would have to include him. She could not imagine that there were many mortals in the world more wicked than he was. Though now that she came to think about wicked mortals…
"So that's what Dorn wants with me!" Arowan breathed, screwing her eyes closed.
She twirled the Charisma Ring on her finger, but she could not see how being a bit (or even a lot) prettier was supposed to help him. How could her going up a cup size or two unleash the destructive power of a god against the world? Perhaps he had simply been trying to make her trust him.
"Are you alright?" Keldorn asked, concerned.
"No less so than I was before, I suppose." Arowan groaned. "I knew it had to be something like that."
"If you don't mind my asking, who is Dorn?" the paladin pressed.
"He's a Blackguard. We first came across him during Caelar's crusade. He was hunting the Servant of all Faiths, but he took a keen interest in me as soon as we met," Arowan said. "He tried to teach me to fight, although he was always calling me weak. I think I was a disappointment to him."
"A Blackguard?" Keldorn cried. "An anti-paladin? By Torm! Why did you not run him through?"
"He's a very big anti-paladin," Arowan pointed out, gesturing to her own relatively small size. "And we were at war. Duke Silvershield wasn't about to turn down help from a warrior who was almost as strong as the Hero herself."
"And the fact that a demon-serving wretch like that took an interest in you didn't bother you at all?" Keldorn shouted, like an angry father.
The door slammed open and Jaheira was back, glaring livid at each of them in turn, but both ranger and paladin were past paying any attention.
"Of course it bothered me!" Arowan yelled back, truthfully. "There just wasn't anything I could do about it! As for running him through, you've seen the size of Rasaad, right? Well he, the Hero of Baldur's Gate and the Servant of all Faiths tried to take out Dorn! They couldn't manage it between them, so what chance would I have?"
She looked over at the doorway. Rasaad's tattooed face had appeared over Jaheira's shoulder, and Viconia was craning to get a better view into the room.
"We were just discussing Dorn Il-Khan," Arowan said stiffly. "Sir Keldorn is less than impressed that he travelled with me for a while. Understandably as things turned out. Just give us a minute. Please."
The door closed again, and after waiting a moment to be sure that they were gone, she continued her story.
"The demon lord Belhifet wanted Bhaalspawn blood to open a portal to hell. He tricked Caelar Argent into getting it for him. It turned out that was the whole point of the crusade," she said. "Since Dorn and his demon master Ur-Gothoz started taking a personal interest in me, I expected that they must be pulling a similar sort of stunt."
"So… this demon has you marked down to be the conduit?" Keldorn mused. "I won't lie to you, that is grim news indeed, but take heart young one. Bhaal had many offspring and there are numerous other candidates. Flee Athkatla with the others. If this Dorn cannot find you then his master cannot use you. Stay close to the Servant of all Faiths. Whatever the demons are planning, she is the one who is meant to defeat it. Though why the gods would choose a drow as their champion… they truly do work in mysterious ways."
"Stay close to Viconia? Never advice I want to hear," Arowan replied flatly.
Worse, it was advice she knew she could not follow. She and Yoshimo had to turn up in Spellhold on time, or the geas would kill him. There was no way she would risk taking the Servant of all Faiths to that accursed place.
They left Keldorn's house with the provisions he had provided. Jaheira kept looking at Arowan and frowning. Every so often the druid opened her mouth as though she were about to say something, but changed her mind.
They returned to the Copper Coronet to collect their belongings, only to find themselves in the midst of a full-blown riot.
"What in the hells?" yelled Anomen, as a chair sailed past his head and splintered against the wall behind.
"Bernard!" Jaheira screamed at the top of her lungs. "Bernard what is happening?"
The barkeep tried to reply but could not make himself heard over the chaos. He ducked and dodged between brawling men and dwarves, all of them shouting as they rained down their punches. Several of his more enterprising customers took advantage of his distraction to raid the bar. Soon they were passing out dozens of bottles of Nashkel Taverns Bespoke Hand-Crafted Ale. A drink and an extra weapon all in one!
"Murder!" Bernard panted. "There's been a murder upstairs!"
"Who?" she cried, aghast.
"Erm… who did it, or who got murdered?" he faltered under her angry gaze. Jaheira's eyes bulged at him and she swelled like a bullfrog.
"BOTH BERNARD!" she exploded, so loudly that a number of fighters paused to look at them. "MURDERER AND VICTIM ARE BOTH RELEVENT HERE!"
"Yes ma'am, sorry ma'am," Bernard stammered. "The victim's name is Llynis. Dwarf thief, nasty sort. He arrived a week ago and has barely left his room since. Reckon he was hiding from someone. He jumped a foot in the air every time housekeeping knocked on his door."
"And the murderer?"
"Right there!" the barman squealed pointing, before flinging himself under a table to hide.
A powdered courtesan was lurking calmly near to the back rooms. She was clutching a dripping dagger in one hand and, of all things, a teddy bear in the other. Bubbles smiled at them with rotten teeth and minced daintily down the steps toward the door. Arowan and Yoshimo recognized her instantly.
"She didn't try to hide what she was doing nor nothing!" Bernard went on from under the table. "But when one of the guards tried to stop her, them two went wild and started attacking everybody! All kicked off in minutes it did!"
He did not need to tell the party who 'them two' were. Shank and Carbos had miraculously survived their encounter with Kangaax, though they were looking decidedly ropey these days. Shank had lost his original nose, acquired another one from somewhere and attached it clumsily with needle and thread. The new one had a pretty crescent moon piercing in it which didn't suit him.
A surly looking dwarf had sliced off Carbos's left leg with an axe. The severed limb was happily carrying on without him, lashing out at the buttocks of the brawlers in a manner that would have made Minsc proud.
Bubbles was beaming and waving her over-manicured hand at them openly now.
"You know this woman?" Jaheira demanded.
"We've met," Arowan said. "Would you excuse us, just for one moment? I think we can sort this out."
Before the druid could reply, the Ilmatari were headed off without her again. She called out in protest but they were already making their way through the crowd toward the murderous courtesan and her clearly-undead pets.
Jaheira had not been invited to join the Harpers because Elminster believed she was born yesterday. Something was not right about the two Ilmatari and she knew it. Their sudden wedding was the least strange thing about their behaviour since returning to Athkatla. That she believed… but abandoning the Servant of all Faiths on a whim so that they could take a romantic vacation in Kara-Tur? It was so out of character for her morally fastidious daughter that she simply did not buy it.
"Don't let them leave!" she instructed Anomen and Rasaad.
"Where are you going?" cried Bernard. "What about the bar?"
"Hang the bar!" snapped Jaheira. "I'm going to the docks. I'll be back in an hour. If these idiots haven't punched themselves out by then, I'll sort it out for you."
"Oh. Thanks a bunch," muttered the unlucky innkeeper sulkily. "Bloody ungrateful Harpers… should have stayed in Nashkel…"
"Darlings!" trilled Bubbles as they approached. "So glad you're here. Perhaps you could clear up this little… ah… misunderstanding? Before anyone gets hurt?"
"Someone is already hurt!" retorted Yoshimo incredulously, gesturing to the dagger in her hand.
Bubbles looked down at it and shoved it belatedly into her belt, where it dripped blood down her petticoats. They were purple today, with a large slit up the side revealing fishnet stockings. Oddly enough she had rather nice legs and might have been quite pretty before her descent into necromancy. Now she seemed to grow more repulsive each time they met her. There was a reek of carrion emanating from those skirts.
"Oh. Yes. Well, unavoidable sadly," she sighed. "Bodhi was quite insistent on getting her lichdom before we summon Eric and Llynis was the last sacrifice on my list."
"You're sacrificing people?" cried Arowan in horror.
"You made Bodhi immortal?" cried Yoshimo, equally aghast.
"It's your fault! You're the ones who brought back that nasty fur coat!" Bubbles retorted defensively. "And Llynis was a child murderer if it makes you feel any better. That's why I chose him."
The Ilmatari thought about this for a moment, then their stances softened. Technically their faith taught them to forgive all crimes, but in practise there were limits.
"Yeah. Yeah, I guess it does," Arowan nodded fairly. "But what does Freya's fur have to do with anything."
"Bodhi chose it as her phylactery," Bubbles grimaced. They looked at her questioningly so she added, "The store for her soul if she dies. She was quite clever really. See the curse that she and her brother are under is degenerative. Bodhi won't be able to reform herself like a normal lich, but a coat can be worn."
Arowan clapped her hand to her mouth. An empty bottle of Nashkel Taverns hurtled past her face, but the ranger barely noticed it.
"She means to possess someone?" she gasped. She turned to Yoshimo, horror struck. "By Ilmater, what have we done?"
Bubbles was not an unkind woman at heart, and she opted at this point not to say any more. The ranger was this upset just at the prospect of Bodhi possessing someone. Doubtless it'd cause her unimaginable distress to learn that her target was the soulless body of Skie Silvershield, a potential ruler of Baldur's Gate. Instead she changed the subject.
"So my ducklings. Off to Spellhold tomorrow. If this goes well, we'll finally be free! Any plans?" the courtesan asked cheerily. "I was thinking of taking a trip to Calimport myself. I've always wanted to go, although I don't think the heat will agree with Shank and Carbos. With any luck it might finally finish them off."
"We were thinking Kara-Tur," replied Yoshimo in a hollow voice.
He kicked Arowan on the ankle. Her insides were knotting with guilt and it was starting to show on her face. Bubbles noticed too, but she misunderstood the reason. She put a sympathetic hand on the ranger's arm.
"Don't worry sweetheart. The summoning will work," she said sweetly. "You'll be replaced, I'll be free of the geas and as for Eric, he thoroughly deserves it I promise you. I'll admit, I'm glad this means Irenicus won't use you. Every time I feel guilty about what I'm doing to Eric, all I have to do is remind myself that if I weren't doing it then you'd die in his place, and I don't feel so bad."
"You… you do feel guilty about it then?" Arowan asked despondently.
She was wishing that they had never had this conversation. Bubbles was starting to sound no more a monster than they were. Just another victim of circumstance. Only it was too late to save her. They had already told Irenicus their plan. Even if they didn't call Sarevok's name now, he would.
"Guilty? Oh bless you dear! All the time!" Bubbles laughed bitterly. "I even feel guilty about Llynis for the crying god's sake, and you wouldn't believe what a piece of work he was. Look at this!"
She held up the teddy bear. It had that threadbare, slightly chewed look of an over-loved toy. It was missing an eye and the stuffing was coming loose from some of the seams. A toy which was utterly valueless except, they suspected, to one specific child.
"Bastard took the little lad's bear after he'd killed him," the courtesan half-snarled. "Wellyn's his name. His parents tell me his ghost begs them to find it for him every night. He's even come here a few times to ask Llynis for it back in person, so he can pass on to the next life. Piece of shit wouldn't give it to him. Now tell me he didn't deserve to die!"
Her tone was defiant but her eyes were welling up. With an unbearable surge of despair, Arowan realised that she was looking at a murderess who never wanted to be what she had become. The ranger knew exactly how Bubbles felt.
"Yes," she said quietly. "He deserved to die. Come with us, there's another way out through the sewers."
"What about Shank and Carbos?" asked Yoshimo. The two zombies were still fully immersed in the fray. Once they had been passable as living people, provided you didn't sniff too closely, but they were past that now. Someone had embedded an axe into Shank's chest, but the former half-elf was fighting on regardless.
"Leave them," the necromancer sighed. "They'll find their way home. Or maybe they won't. Whichever."
Bubbles stared at the bear as they walked, her lip wobbling.
"I'll return it tonight," she said quietly. "It'll be some comfort to Wellyn's parents I suppose? Though I doubt they'll ever really get over it." The courtesan took a long, shuddering breath and pulled herself together, wiping a tear with the back of her hand. Her wrist came away black with eye makeup.
Yoshimo silently offered her a handkerchief, and Arowan could tell that he felt as terrible as she did. They could warn Bubbles, but for either of them to do so would condemn them both to death. She was not willing to sacrifice her spouse's life for the courtesan and neither was he. They said nothing.
"Ah well," Bubbles bid them farewell at the entrance to the sewers. "Occupational hazard of being the friendly village necromancer I suppose. People come to me with these sorts of problems."
She stepped away into the sewers, and the Ilmatari stared after her until the click of her high heels faded away. Arowan was scratching at the three-line scar on her face, running her nails over it again and again. The thief noticed blood droplets oozing out and caught her wrist firmly.
"Yoshimo?"
"I know."
"We've killed that woman."
"I know."
"We're murderers."
Her hand was moving subconsciously toward her cheek again, and once more Yoshimo caught it.
"No!" he pulled her close to him and stroked her hair to comfort her. "No, no, no. We didn't know. How could we have known? It was an accident. Just an accident… and don't forget, she is still a necromancer."
"A necromancer who brings ghost children their teddy bears back."
"A necromancer who granted Bodhi the gift of eternal life," Yoshimo retorted harshly. "Spare a thought for the poor devil who ends up wearing Freya's fur coat. Or all those thieves whom she sent to their deaths so that she could break into Irenicus's library. We are not about to start feeling sorry for Bubbles. It is done Arowan. It's done!"
Arowan took a deep steadying breath and nodded, her resolve stiffening.
"Let us have some lunch, collect our things from the Mithrest and go to bed early," Yoshimo said. "By this time tomorrow it will all be over. We'll have the rest of our lives to atone for our mistakes."
One of their mistakes was underestimating their party leader. When they returned to the bar the fight had died down and the rest of the group were helping Bernard clean up. At least Anomen and Rasaad were while Viconia directed them.
"Where's Jaheira?" asked Arowan.
"Gone for a walk," replied Bernard smoothly. The Ilmatari shrugged and were about to start tending to the injured when Rasaad rounded on them.
"Who was that woman?" he demanded.
"Her name is Bubbles," Arowan replied bluntly. "She's a necromancer who lives in the Bridge District. Helped us out during that business with Rejiek Hidesman."
"I am sure that I have seen her before!" the monk insisted. "She is the same courtesan that we saw battling the lich with Edwin."
"Yes," agreed Arowan. "Yes she is."
"What did she want with you two?" Anomen baulked.
"A way out of the Inn," Yoshimo shrugged. "So we showed her one. What else were we going to do, start a fight with her? I don't fancy ending up like those two… no! Hoi! No! Leave that alone! Shoo!"
He had looked over at Shank and Carbos as he spoke. The two zombies were crouching over a groggy fallen dwarf. Shank had found two only slightly-broken plates and tucked a napkin into his collar. Carbos was holding a knife and fork in one hand and the dwarf's own axe in the other. Both were looking at the brain-containing skull with obvious intent, like squirrels eyeing an acorn.
"Where's Bubbles?" Arowan called at them, as Carbos raised the axe. "Hadn't you better find her?"
Carbos dropped the axe behind him with a clang and blinked stupidly. He and Shank looked about the Copper coronet with dull, milky eyes, realised that their mistress wasn't there, and shambled to their feet.
"You lose Bubbles!" Shank grunted accusingly.
"No, you lose Bubbles!" Carbos retorted.
"Shall we fight over our beloved Bubbles?"
"What a spiffing idea. After you old chap!" replied Carbos politely, moments before Shank's hand connected with his face, leaving a couple of fingernails behind.
"Eric really did have a twisted sense of humour," Arowan muttered under her breath.
Salty air and the squawk of seagulls told Jaheira that she was nearing the docks. A sailor loading crates onto a cargo vessel unwisely attracted her attention by whistling at her.
Quick as a flash, vines leapt through the pavement and seized the man. He dropped the rope he had been heaving on, causing his cargo to smash into the deck with a splintering crash. There were angry yells of protest from the above, and a dozen surly faces peered over the side at them.
"You!" Jaheira snapped. "I am looking for the ship bound for Kara-Tur in the morning. Is this it?"
"Kara-Tur?" the man grunted. "Do we look like we're from Kara-fucking-Tur? We're headed back to Calimport!"
Jaheira looked up and down the docks. There were five more ships weighing anchor, but only two were large enough to make such a long sea voyage. A trio of men were running toward her. The Harbourmaster had heard the commotion and was on his way to sort it out.
"What's going on here?" he barked.
"Where is the ship to Kara-Tur?" Jaheira commanded him to tell her. "I have some questions for her captain."
"There's no ships scheduled for Kara-Tur," the Harbourmaster informed her bluntly. "Not for another three weeks at least, and only then if the weather is fair. If you're looking to get out of Athkatla in a hurry I can give you a discount on Thay if that's any help?"
"No ships to Kara-Tur?" Jaheira repeated slowly. "I couldn't catch one to Calimport and change?"
"We're a trading vessel," the man in the vines replied bad-temperedly. "We're making a dozen stops along the Sword Coast before we get home, and who knows the shipping schedule in Calimport? You might get stuck there for weeks. You're best off waiting for a direct voyage."
The druid's heart began to thump. She'd been right.
"Harbour master, did two Ilmatari try to book passage in the last two days?" she asked urgently. "A Kara-Turan man and a northern girl? Both human?"
The Harbourmaster shrugged.
"Haven't seen them."
"I see. You've been most helpful. Thank you," replied Jaheira. She turned and set off for the Copper Coronet at a run.
