Coran and the Girdle of Femininity

Part VIII: The Letter

"Dearest Freya,

I write to you in great distress. Please do not think me too presumptuous, I know our acquaintance was only brief, but I have nobody else I can turn to. That dashing but dastardly rogue Eldoth has taken me prisoner and is using me to blackmail Daddy. He never loved me, he was only using me to extract ransom money. I am being held in a basement beneath the Iron Throne headquarters in Baldur's Gate. So far they have not hurt me but I fear it is only a matter of time because my relentless whinging is so grating that any sane man would be driven to throttle me. Please help me I am so scared.

Yours faithfully,

Skie Silvershield"

Freya finished reading, folded up the letter quickly and immediately got to her feet, pausing only to grab her most essential belongings and completely abandoning her tent.

"Woah, hold there!" Coran cried, snatching up his pack and hurrying after her. "We can't just stroll back into Baldur's Gate, the Flaming Fist are still hopping mad with us."

"And speaking of the Flaming Fist," added Safana, her eyes narrowing shrewdly, "Why didn't she send her message to them? They're closer and they all work for her father."

Freya ran her fingers roughly through her luscious golden mane looking rather distressed. She unfolded the letter again. It was scrawled on the back of a receipt from the Elfsong for four pints of ale, the soup of the day and 'other services.'

"How the hells should I know?" growled Freya. "Could be there's a reason Skie can't trust the Fist. Maybe Corwin's in on it, she can't be very happy with Skie right now. Or maybe she was in on it from the start. She was hanging around with Eldoth when we met them. Perhaps she was trying to get me thrown out of the city."

"What? That makes no sense at all, you dumb mutt!" howled Safana. "You'd never even heard of them before that day in the tavern, and I doubt they knew who you were either. None of this adds up!"

But Freya was already striding away, her large boots flattening clumps of dewy grass.

"Doesn't matter," the werewolf snarled. "You can ask her these things after we've rescued her."

"No, no, no," said Imoen. "Safana's right this is as fishy as Winthrope's latrines. You're only going to get hurt."

"There's no rush. Skie says herself that she hasn't been hurt," pressed Safana, running forward so that she could drape herself over Freya. "We can investigate carefully if you really want to, but we have been slaughtering gnolls non-stop for two days. Everything I own is drenched in blood. At the very least I want to gather enough gold to replace my clothes!"

Safana played with a lock of Freya's hair and tried to make eye contact. Normally she found her party leader extremely easy to manipulate. Fluttering her eyelashes was normally sufficient to get her own way, but right now Freya was having none of it. Even though the stench of blood on their belongings was bothering her more than anyone.

"Sorry mate," sighed Coran. "It's a 'no' from me too."

"Seriously?" howled Freya. "You do realise you're never getting out of that girdle without Skie's key? If she dies 'little Coran' dies wit her!"

"Not necessarily! There are loads of things we haven't tried yet. On the outskirts of Beregost there is a famous wizard and a powerful temple to the Morning Lord. Both of them have to be worth a shot before we go another round with Eldoth. Besides… there is one sure fire way of getting it off… as a very last resort…"

Though it wasn't a risk he was sure he was willing to take. Eldoth had said Coran's own death would cause the girdle to fall off. However resurrection spells were, on rare occasions, known to fail. Most of the gods viewed life and death as their prerogative, and took a dim view of mortals who took matters into their own hands.

"I'm going with or without you!" barked Freya defiantly.

"You will go with Minsc and Boo!" declared the Rasheman, clapping her fondly on the arm. "You have helped me to save my Dynaheir and we are eternally in your debt. Though from the sound of things it will take some time to clean the slime from my boot once it makes contact with this Eldoth's backside."

"You are not wrong," said Freya, gripping Minsc's arm in return and hugging him like a brother. "He's a fucking slime mould that crawled out of the sewers and evolved legs! For the gods' sake don't cleave the little ooze with your sword or we'll end up with two of him."

"What is the matter with you?" yelled Safana in exasperation. "Even those slobbering gnolls you just slaughtered had more brains than you! I can say that with certainty because I'm covered with them! Seriously Freya, did Gorion drop you on your head as a puppy?"

"I'm going," Freya told her defiantly, "And that's all there is to it."

Safana groaned at the heavens. Something was very wrong with this whole situation, but on the other hand Freya was like a goose that laid golden eggs. Following the wolf around had provided her with the best steady income she'd had since leaving Calimport. She wasn't about to leave the party, even if they were walking into a very obvious trap.