Chapter 4: Drinking Hole

"I'm n-not so sure we should be sitting in a tavern when we c-could be heading over to the Harper Headquarters," Khalid commented unhappily as he and Darial sat in the Crooked Crane, a rather ancient and dilapidated tavern just within the city gates. He sipped his ale then grimaced; there was clearly more water than alcohol in the mixture.

"We won't be here for long," the bard replied absent-mindedly, drinking lightly from a glass filled with a golden, sparkling liquid. "Gorion won't be expecting us for another few hours."

The half-elf frowned slightly, clearly a little nervous to challenge his direct superior on a matter that he was not necessarily fully informed about. "Then… why are we h-here?" he asked tentatively.

"Waiting for someone," Darial responded, not looking at him as she scanned the tavern from their seat at the bar. "I'd planned to meet him here all along." Finally, she gave the unsure warrior a sideways glance. "He's an old friend."

"I s-see," Khalid murmured, cradling the tankard in his hands as he stared at the swirling mixture he had been foolish enough to order. This was his first assignment with the Harpers, and he wasn't particularly sure why he'd been selected. From all accounts, Darial was a seasoned veteran, even if she was only a few years older than himself. He had no idea what he was expected to contribute to what sounded like a highly important mission.

Truth be told, he was also rather intimidated by the bard. He knew that there were still other members of the party they were to meet up with, and that he probably had something of an advantage, having travelled already with the leader, but her forcefully outgoing and perpetually chirpy nature was such a direct contrast to his own that it was slightly overwhelming. He rather hoped that his other companions would be a little more sedate then his leader.

He eyed the other drinkers of the tavern dubiously. Though Calimshan hardly heralded the greatest of drinking-holes, he was clearly softer than these hard-core Athkatlan drunkards – in that he was used to getting a clean glass. Khalid was fully aware that there were finer establishments than the Crooked Crane within the walls, and was thus very suspicious of Darial's reasons for dragging him in here.

Behind him, the tavern door swung open with an ear-piercing squeak that demanded oil, and the half-elf winced. As he took a gulp of his ale in the hope that the little alcohol within might help dull the pain, he barely registered Darial's face lighting up.

"Ah, here he is!" she exclaimed cheerfully, half-rising and waving in the direction of the door. As Khalid was facing the wall, he had his back to the newcomer, and by the time he'd managed to swallow his ale and turn around, the new arrival had already reached the table.

He looked up to see a sandy-haired man with a roguish grin he probably thought made him seem ruggedly-handsome; Khalid didn't think himself the best judge of such matters.

Belgrade was probably about two inches shorter than the half-elf, though it was difficult to discern whilst the latter was still seated. Despite this, he was slightly broader around the shoulders, which wasn't a particularly difficult task, and obviously in possession of a confidence Khalid was inherently lacking.

"Darial!" the human greeted the bard, pumping her hand warmly as he pulled up a nearby chair. "You must be the only person who could persuade me to enter a place such as this; by Tymora, the beer seems to have things living in it, and I do not refer to yeast!"

The dark-haired woman shrugged, shifting her chair around to offer Belgrade more space. "There's no place easier to get to than this tavern once you've hit Athkatla. I thought it'd be a good meeting spot," she exclaimed lightly. Khalid did not miss the glance the two exchanged as they spoke.

"Of course," Belgrade murmured, shaking his head. "You are accustomed to sordid establishments such as this, though I'd suspect you'd be murdered on the spot if you attempted to interrupt the drinking with a spot of singing…"

Khalid blanked them out as they started to exchange mildly friendly gibes, feeling a little put out. He studied the new arrival intently, taking in his practical yet fine clothing, neat leather armour and classing him as one of those rogues that occasionally graced the Harpers ranks.

So intend was he in studying Belgrade that he failed to notice the shadow that fell over him, and was only shifted out of his reverie by the pointed clearing of a throat. He glanced up to see Belgrade's half-elven companion, who was currently giving him a rather haughty look.

"Are you going to move so I can sit down, or shall I be forced to stand as you stare at your drink?" Jaheira asked as disdainfully as she could manage, rather ignoring Khalid's shocked expression.

Blushing right to the tips of his ears, the warrior mumbled something that could have been apologetic under his breath before shifting his chair around to leave Jaheira space for her to pull up her own seat to the now rather crowded table.

"S-sorry," he stammered, not making eye contact. "I w-was j-just… t-thinking…" To hide his embarrassment, he took another deep gulp of his watered-down ale and grimaced as the dregs from the bottom of the tankard found themselves in his mouth.

"Evidently," Jaheira answered, but her voice had now lost something of its former venom. The day had not gone well so far; she was irritated at Belgrade for making this unnecessary diversion when they would have done best to report to the Harper Headquarters as soon as possible.

Her eyes wandered over to the quiet, tanned red-haired man she had just been more than slightly abrupt with. The chain mail he wore had to be excruciatingly hot considering the temperatures both inside and out, though he seemed to be bearing it well, even if he did seem a little distracted.

Darial finally managed to extract herself from recounting the trip from Tethyr long enough to realise what she was supposed to be doing. "Oh! Yes! Introductions!" The bard set down her glass of sparkling wine and looked at Khalid. "This is Belgrade, an old friend of mine," she exclaimed, clapping the aforementioned human on the shoulder. "He's the sneakiest bugger you'll ever meet, but he has a heart of gold." She paused, giving a mildly melodramatic frown. "If he hasn't sold it yet."

Belgrade winked at her before shaking Khalid's hand. "I am presuming that you would be Khalid, the party's new warrior," he offered brightly. "I have heard… certain things… about you. Working together shall be a pleasure."

Certain things? How? Khalid wondered idly. He knew that Belgrade and Darial, as moderately respected members of the Harpers, would have access to information low-grade members such as himself would never be given, but he always wondered just how much was on file.

Instead of replying, he merely nodded respectfully before turning to Belgrade's companion. "And y-you are?" he asked lightly, trying to keep his expression open and friendly, rather than in its perpetually nervous state.

So the stammer is a speech impediment rather than something brought about by nerves, Jaheira observed silently as she briefly studied the other half-elf. "My name is Jaheira," she replied simply, not giving away anything in her expression. "I'm from a druid grove in Tethyr." She turned to Darial before Khalid could reply. "And I would presume that you are our party's leader, Darial?"

The bard paused, looking considerate at this assumption. "Pretty much right," she acceded, nodding slightly. "But this particular mission we're heading to, whatever it is, smatters of the higher-ups. The man in charge is going to be someone a little more influential than little old me." She grinned brightly, receiving little more than a cool and inquisitive glance from the druid.

"It is indeed Gorion, then?" Belgrade asked mildly, placing a hand on Jaheira's shoulder in a way that was not missed by either Khalid or Darial. The latter raised an eyebrow, but neither passed comment.

"Absolutely," she said instead, nodding. A quick glance out the window of the Crooked Crane confirmed that the sun was high in the sky. "I would suggest we get moving to go and meet him, then. Greenmantle can get a little bit… peeved if we yank him around." She flashed a grin at the other three. "You don't want to peeve a powerful spellcaster like him."