Part The Seventh
It never rains but it pours, Duran thought, staring dismally out at the pelting rain. She was sheltered beneath a shop-keeper's awning with several others, Anomen close beside her. A little way away, Jaheira and Minsc were sharing their own cover with a couple of young nobles, and she could see her friends becoming more and more wound up by the pair's high and mighty attitude.
There was a loud splashing, and a guard skidded under the awning, shaking the water from his cloak. He glanced about at the people watching the rain, his gaze fixing on Duran and her companion.
'Greetings, citizens,' he said pleasantly, stepping forward to stand beside the diminutive half-elf. 'I trust you'll be keeping your weapons by your sides. I should hate to have to run you by the garrison if anything should happen.'
His eyes travelled swiftly over her appearance, appreciating the beauty she could not suppress. Duran felt Anomen stiffen in offence at the implication of the guardsman's action, and moved quickly to prevent an argument.
'I'm sure there are more important things than me for you to worry about,' she said softly, her eyes flicking to the bristling priest by her side.
The guard seemed to take the hint, stepping back a little way from them with a grim smile.
'Without question, but I'm making it my business to warn everybody on the street tonight.'
This time his gaze travelled over Anomen's armour, taking in the coat of arms on his shield.
'With all your gear, you might look a rich target to the wrong person,' he said snidely.
Duran leant backwards slightly, her shoulder coming into contact with her newest companion's breastplate and holding him back from the insolent guard. To her immense relief, he obeyed her gentle command and backed down, content to glare at the rude man. Behind her, she heard Minsc join the conversation, never one to walk within the lines of social etiquette.
'Heroes of goodness need no warning!' he declared happily, rainwater dripping down his face. 'Where we tread, evil trembles in our wake!'
Hiding a smile at the guard's surprised expression, Anomen leant down slightly to murmur,
'Is he often like this?'
Duran made no attempt to conceal her own amusement, replying in kind.
'All the time.'
Before the insolent guard could continue, another, older man slipped under the awning, obviously sensing the hostility his soldier was creating.
'Soldier, this isn't your beat,' he said sternly. 'Your presence is required in the Docks.'
With a smart salute, the young guard nodded gratefully.
'Yes, Sergeant Aegisfield!'
He turned and hurried off into the pouring rain, slipping on the muddy tracks as he retraced his steps out of sight. Sergeant Aegisfield sighed, shaking his head gently.
'My apologies if he overstepped the mark, my lady,' he said, turning to Duran with a slight bow.
She smiled, waving aside the un-necessary mollification.
'If he did, it was not I who took offence,' she answered. 'He was warning us of some implied danger in this district, though. Could you explain what that was?'
Suddenly the sergeant seemed many years older, the lines on his face growing more defined as sorrow touched his eyes.
'We've had a . . . a string of killings, and I don't want any more to happen,' he muttered, his voice dull.
Duran frowned, not seeing the real danger in what he said.
'People die all the time,' she mused. 'This is a dangerous age we live in.'
The sorrow on the guardsman's face was quickly replaced with anger as he rounded on her, suddenly furious.
'Dangerous enough for people that look for trouble, but when innocents . . .'
His voice trailed off, and he seemed to sag, once again looking older than his years. Duran could see that something to do with these killings had touched him deeply, scarred him with the horror of the circumstances. She could only imagine what that could be.
'This is different,' Aegisfield went on. 'Murder, unlike any I've seen in years.'
He gripped her hand, willing her to feel the horror as he did.
'There's a disgustingly sick person out there, and I simply don't have the manpower to protect everyone. He's been killing paupers, sometimes in the alley where they sleep.'
Mesmerised by the strength of his emotion, Duran heard herself ask,
'Why would someone prey on the poor? What could they have to take?'
'Nothing,' the sergeant spat. 'They have nothing to take. He kills them and that is all. Not only is it pointless, but he does it in as painful a way as possible. It . . . it's sick.'
He swallowed convulsively, showing no signs of relinquishing his grip on the young bard's hand.
'He flays them . . . alive,' he managed, and Duran felt the blood rush from her head.
She swayed, grateful for Anomen's presence at her back as he reached out to hold her upright. Jaheira and Minsc also moved forward to join them, shocked that anything could affect their friend so dramatically. Aegisfield nodded, seeing in the bard's eyes the haunting shock and horror of the murders.
'There has been blood all over the place,' he went on, addressing all of them. 'Little Faraji, a local urchin, found the latest victim. I hate to think of a child seeing that.'
Jaheira sighed, and Duran could almost hear her druidical thought processes click into action as she pondered the threat.
'The confines of the city do much to chisel at the sanity of its inhabitants, but I wonder if there is some other force at work,' she murmured, reaching out to touch her smaller friend's shoulder. 'We had best be wary.'
Duran nodded slowly, stepping away from Anomen's supportive arms as Aegisfield seemed to get a grip on himself once more.
'Enough of this,' he said firmly. 'I must go about my rounds. If you find any information about the murders, be sure to let me know. Don't go looking for trouble, though.'
He looked deep into Duran's eyes, his gaze seeming to burn into hers.
'I have enough problems with walkers and beggars,' he told them. 'Old Rampah was damn near killed and a street woman, Rose, was plain lucky. Don't be like them.'
With that, he turned away, and ignoring the rain, stalked off. Jaheira bent close to Duran.
'We would do well to investigate this, Duran.'
Anomen nodded, obviously shocked by such activities going on in his home city. Minsc, on the other hand, was already marching off in the direction of the nearest beggar, determined to right the wrong that had been so conveniently dangled before them. When calling after him did nothing, Jaheira sighed in disgust.
'Wait here, I'll bring him back,' she told the two, and drawing her cloak closer about her, slipped after the rapidly disappearing ranger.
Over an hour later, the rain was still pouring in sheets from the sky. Duran and Anomen stood, huddled together, under the eaves of an old run down house. Opposite them, under the shelter of a nearby trader's stall, Minsc and Jaheira were watching the weather with identical expressions of disgust.
'It doesn't look like this is going to let up anytime soon,' Duran said quietly, ignoring the drop of icy water hanging off the end of her nose.
Anomen watched it as it quivered for a moment before falling onto her chin and sliding down onto her cloak.
'I prithee, my lady . . .' he said awkwardly, almost losing his train of thought as Duran turned beautiful green eyes on him. 'It fills me with no small amount of wonder that you have not asked me of my journeys e'er we met. We have travelled a short time together and yet we know next to nothing of each other.'
He missed the quietly amused sigh as Duran turned away, her smile hidden behind her hand as she wiped the water from her face.
'Alright then . . . tell me of your journeys, if you wish.'
Inordinately pleased, Anomen cast his mind back to the last battle he took part in.
'There is precious little to tell, although my few adventures have been glorious indeed. The path to knighthood is a long one, however . . . hence the need for my travels. But a few of my deeds have reached the ears of the bards. Battle is commonplace enough throughout Amn, and the Order has fielded its army many times in recent years.'
Duran found herself eye to eye with Jaheira, who was grimacing about Anomen's tale before it had even begun. She swallowed the laugh that rose in her throat, turning back to the young squire as he continued his tale.
'Most recently, however . . . let me think . . .' Anomen was trying not to sound too eager to impress his young companion, and was fully aware that he was failing miserably. Still he was grateful for her tolerance of his arrogant behaviour. 'I was with our men when the orcs came down into the Ommlur Hills once again. In great numbers they are a force to fear . . . but individually they are no match for a warrior. I, myself, was able to fight through many of them alone and take the head of one of their foul chieftains.'
Even to him it sounded far-fetched, and Anomen cursed himself inwardly for ever even attempting to embellish the tale. Duran schooled her features into an expression of awe, not willing to make him aware that she knew he was elaborating. She couldn't bring herself to believe that his lies were anything more than an attempt to impress their party.
'That sounds very impressive.'
She glanced across to their companions and saw Minsc talking to his hamster, Jaheira concentrating on them and not Anomen. Thankful for this reprieve from their scepticism, Duran turned back to Anomen as he tore his eyes from their adoring examination of her profile.
'Aye,' he said, trying to sound casual. 'It has been a struggle to prove my worth to the Order.'
His voice changed, and Duran knew suddenly that he was speaking from his heart.
'I wish nothing more than to ride into battle with the crest of the Radiant Heart flying over my head.'
Duran smiled to herself. She had just heard the first truly real wish her companion held, and was grateful that he had chosen to share it with her, though she feared his acceptance into the Order was further away than he thought.
'But I speak too much of my own deeds. One would think me preoccupied with pride. I would not blame you, were you not interested in hearing tales of my prowess, truly.'
Anomen had seen her smile, and thought she was laughing at him. He couldn't blame her. He sounded conceited and self-centred even to himself, no wonder she found him amusing. He decided to switch to her side of her stories, wanting to know if she had accomplished any of what the bards regaled the masses with.
'I am interested in hearing something of yours, however, my lady.'
Duran suppressed a groan. She hated to speak about herself and what she had done, steeped as her history was in blood and death.
'I have been told a little of your deeds in the Sword Coast,' Anomen went on, 'albeit they do sound quite fanciful and exaggerated.'
Duran latched onto that as her saving grace, but could not deny what she had done. She never lied if she could help it.
'Well, most tales do grow with the telling, Anomen,' she told him. 'My story is no more exceptional than anyone else's.'
He nodded, seemingly relieved by her answer. Briefly she wondered just how much of the bard's tales he had believed.
'Aye, that has a ring of truth,' he said approvingly. 'I did not think that you truly stopped a war in the north on your own, skilled as you might be. Rumour brings exaggeration, I am told.'
He looked down to see Duran cringing slightly as she tried to think of a way to soften this particular blow to his male pride.
'Actually I did stop a war with Amn several months ago . . .'
His face fell. Duran hastened to reassure him, not quite knowing why his good opinion meant so much to her.
'But I didn't do it on my own, of course.'
He relaxed, a relieved smile breaking onto his face.
'Well, of course, you had fellow companions who aided you then as now. And together you performed deeds as great as those I hope to accomplish in your service.'
As he gazed out at the rain, Duran felt her heart sink. Was that the only reason he was with her? For glory? What was glory next to all the good that she had done? It seemed that Anomen had a lot to learn about the world he so longed to be a part of.
'A wondrous thing indeed,' he said softly, his tone reflective. 'Perhaps you will tell me more, Duran, as we walk . . . I would hear more of these former companions of yours and your valiant tales of the Sword Coast.'
Duran forced herself to grin at his enthusiasm, gazing out at the pouring rain.
'Walk to where?' she muttered. 'If you try to walk in this, you'll rust up, you big bag of hot air.'
'I'm sorry?'
She smiled at the young squire.
'Nothing.'
There was a brief commotion within the house by which they stood, and the door burst open. Three men shot from the derelict building, pushing past the two adventurers in their haste to get free of the guards who pursued them. Duran was knocked sideways into an old beggarman, minding his own business. Both of them sprawled in the mud, spluttering as they landed in the street.
'Who's dat?' the old man rasped. 'Who's pokin' ol' Rampah? What you want?'
Anomen leant down, hauling Duran to her feet as Minsc and Jaheira moved to help the old man from the ground.
'Get orf!' he complained, wrenching his arm from their grip and shuffling back undercover. 'Aegisfield send you?'
Duran glanced at her companions, wiping the mud from her face with a dirty sleeve. Jaheira frowned.
'Rampah, Duran,' she said softly. 'The beggar Aegisfield mentioned.'
They turned to look at the ancient beggar, huddled against the wall of the house and clutching his little bundle to his chest. He glared back with dark eyes that glittered with mistrust.
'I ain't stole nothing,' he said stubbornly.
Duran smiled, seeing years of abuse and deceit coming together in his suspicious countenance.
'Easy, old-timer,' she said, spreading her hands in a gesture of peace. 'We just want to ask you something about the local murders.'
The change in him was electric. He shot upright, his skinny limbs shaking with anger as his voice echoed around the soggy streets.
'I ain't done it! Wasn't me, I swears! You ain't takin' me to no guardhouse! Walls are bad!'
This last comment was too much for Duran and she gladly stepped aside for Jaheira to lean in, dissolving into silent giggles at the poor old man's ravings. Well, she reasoned, it had been a long couple of days.
'We're not from the guards,' Jaheira said smoothly, her voice gentle for the first time in days.
Rampah looked closely at her, and then around at her companions. Duran's smile never slipped as his hostile gaze swept over her, holding Minsc and Anomen back from moving any closer. If anyone could get the information they wanted from this crazy old man, it was Jaheira.
'Not from guards?' he asked, a little pathetically.
Jaheira shook her head, waiting for him to make a decision. He squinted at her for a moment, and shrugged.
'Okay, then I talk to you,' he said simply. 'They treat me bad sometimes, but I just wants to sleep. What you want?'
Jaheira stepped closer, smiling at his suddenly open face.
'Tell me what you know of the murders here.'
Rampah stared at her for a moment, and cackled softly.
'Nothin',' he wheezed. 'Not a thing.'
Anomen and Duran exchanged incredulous looks.
'Nothing?' the priest asked. 'Not a thing?'
Duran hushed him quickly, motioning for Jaheira to continue.
'The guard thought you might,' the druid pressed, her frown deepening with the thought that she might have actually picked a truly crazed old man to interrogate.
Rampah continued to cackle to himself, coughing as the effort grew too much.
'Don't know nothin',' he told her triumphantly. 'Guards kept us away. They know all I know. That's it.'
He watched as their faces fell, the chance of a lead disappearing before their eyes.
'But . . .' he laughed chestily. 'But I got something they don't, I got what they don't.'
He leant forward, grasping Jaheira's arm in order to whisper into her face. With tact that Duran had not known her abrasive friend had, the druid winced, wrinkling her nose, but said nothing.
'They be blind,' Rampah rasped. 'But I saw it, and now it's mine.'
Jaheira's left eyebrow rose in a manner all too familiar to the bard. That was the expression that told her whatever was coming, she would do as she was told.
'What did you get, Rampah?' the druid asked, sounding rather too eager to Duran's trained ear. 'What did you find?'
The old beggar looked her straight in the eye, and sniffed disdainfully. He leant back.
'Not tellin',' he said diffidently. 'You want? You gotta buy.'
Even Minsc rolled his eyes in response to this rather disappointing remark. Jaheira sighed in frustration, but refused to give up.
'I found it, right near a body,' the old beggar went on. 'It's mine, so you gotta buy.'
Duran hid her smile at this rather sub-standard bit of bargaining and slipped into the conversation, one hand on her money belt.
'How much do you want, Rampah?' she asked.
He looked her up and down.
'You pay . . . one hundred gold? Yeah, one hundred.'
Anomen looked ready to tear the old man's eyes out for asking such an amount, but surprisingly it was Minsc who diffused the situation.
'Forgive me for saying so, wise one, but Boo is thinking if it was not yours in the first place, what right have you to sell it for so high a price?'
Duran felt her jaw drop at this amazing feat of reasoning from her Rasheman friend. Glancing at her companions, she could see Jaheira's equally comical expression of utter astonishment. Minsc smiled down at the old beggar as Rampah thought this over.
'Gotta have somethin' for it,' the old man muttered. 'Nothin' else to get money with . . .'
Duran touched his arm gently, waiting patiently for his muttering to cease before speaking.
'If I could give you something that people would give you money for, but could never take away from you, would that be enough?'
Rampah's eyes narrowed even further as he peered down at the young half- elf.
'What's that?' he asked suspiciously.
'A song,' Duran said simply, watching as this sank in.
'You a bard?' he demanded.
With a grin, she nodded.
'I could write you a song, and then you could sing it to people as they walk by,' she explained. 'People are more likely to give money if they think you've earned it.'
He stared at her for long moments, during which the sky began to lighten and the rain to peeter off.
'Alrigh',' he conceded. 'But song first . . . it's mine.'
Duran nodded.
'I'll come back when I've written it,' she promised, letting the old beggar slip away from them.
Jaheira was staring at her, as was Anomen, both incredulous at her assumption that she could write something for a beggar as easily as she thought.
'Are you sure you know what you are doing, my lady?' Anomen asked, his tone dubious.
Duran grinned impishly up at him.
'Of course I am,' she assured him, patting his hand gently. 'Now, the rain's letting up, where do we go for the inn?'
Spurred into action by this sudden need for his local knowledge, Anomen let the business drop, stepping out into the road with Minsc at his side. Jaheira hung back to walk beside her young friend, concerned about her sudden confidence in her ability to write.
'Are you absolutely certain you can do this, Duran?' she cautioned, her voice inaudible to all but Duran.
The half-elven bard rolled her eyes in exasperation.
'Of course, Aunty J, don't you trust me?'
She laughed at Jaheira's sceptical expression.
'I've had a melody line going around my head since I clapped eyes on him,' she confessed, watching as her friend relaxed. 'All I need to do is add words and teach it to him. Simple!'
Jaheira held her gaze for a long time before finally sighing and acceding the simplicity of what the bard had chosen to do. They hurried to catch up with the men, who were stood waiting for them beneath a sign that bore the legend 'The Five Flagons'. Exchanging smiles with her companions, Duran ducked into the inn, ready to welcome whatever work they could offer her.
It never rains but it pours, Duran thought, staring dismally out at the pelting rain. She was sheltered beneath a shop-keeper's awning with several others, Anomen close beside her. A little way away, Jaheira and Minsc were sharing their own cover with a couple of young nobles, and she could see her friends becoming more and more wound up by the pair's high and mighty attitude.
There was a loud splashing, and a guard skidded under the awning, shaking the water from his cloak. He glanced about at the people watching the rain, his gaze fixing on Duran and her companion.
'Greetings, citizens,' he said pleasantly, stepping forward to stand beside the diminutive half-elf. 'I trust you'll be keeping your weapons by your sides. I should hate to have to run you by the garrison if anything should happen.'
His eyes travelled swiftly over her appearance, appreciating the beauty she could not suppress. Duran felt Anomen stiffen in offence at the implication of the guardsman's action, and moved quickly to prevent an argument.
'I'm sure there are more important things than me for you to worry about,' she said softly, her eyes flicking to the bristling priest by her side.
The guard seemed to take the hint, stepping back a little way from them with a grim smile.
'Without question, but I'm making it my business to warn everybody on the street tonight.'
This time his gaze travelled over Anomen's armour, taking in the coat of arms on his shield.
'With all your gear, you might look a rich target to the wrong person,' he said snidely.
Duran leant backwards slightly, her shoulder coming into contact with her newest companion's breastplate and holding him back from the insolent guard. To her immense relief, he obeyed her gentle command and backed down, content to glare at the rude man. Behind her, she heard Minsc join the conversation, never one to walk within the lines of social etiquette.
'Heroes of goodness need no warning!' he declared happily, rainwater dripping down his face. 'Where we tread, evil trembles in our wake!'
Hiding a smile at the guard's surprised expression, Anomen leant down slightly to murmur,
'Is he often like this?'
Duran made no attempt to conceal her own amusement, replying in kind.
'All the time.'
Before the insolent guard could continue, another, older man slipped under the awning, obviously sensing the hostility his soldier was creating.
'Soldier, this isn't your beat,' he said sternly. 'Your presence is required in the Docks.'
With a smart salute, the young guard nodded gratefully.
'Yes, Sergeant Aegisfield!'
He turned and hurried off into the pouring rain, slipping on the muddy tracks as he retraced his steps out of sight. Sergeant Aegisfield sighed, shaking his head gently.
'My apologies if he overstepped the mark, my lady,' he said, turning to Duran with a slight bow.
She smiled, waving aside the un-necessary mollification.
'If he did, it was not I who took offence,' she answered. 'He was warning us of some implied danger in this district, though. Could you explain what that was?'
Suddenly the sergeant seemed many years older, the lines on his face growing more defined as sorrow touched his eyes.
'We've had a . . . a string of killings, and I don't want any more to happen,' he muttered, his voice dull.
Duran frowned, not seeing the real danger in what he said.
'People die all the time,' she mused. 'This is a dangerous age we live in.'
The sorrow on the guardsman's face was quickly replaced with anger as he rounded on her, suddenly furious.
'Dangerous enough for people that look for trouble, but when innocents . . .'
His voice trailed off, and he seemed to sag, once again looking older than his years. Duran could see that something to do with these killings had touched him deeply, scarred him with the horror of the circumstances. She could only imagine what that could be.
'This is different,' Aegisfield went on. 'Murder, unlike any I've seen in years.'
He gripped her hand, willing her to feel the horror as he did.
'There's a disgustingly sick person out there, and I simply don't have the manpower to protect everyone. He's been killing paupers, sometimes in the alley where they sleep.'
Mesmerised by the strength of his emotion, Duran heard herself ask,
'Why would someone prey on the poor? What could they have to take?'
'Nothing,' the sergeant spat. 'They have nothing to take. He kills them and that is all. Not only is it pointless, but he does it in as painful a way as possible. It . . . it's sick.'
He swallowed convulsively, showing no signs of relinquishing his grip on the young bard's hand.
'He flays them . . . alive,' he managed, and Duran felt the blood rush from her head.
She swayed, grateful for Anomen's presence at her back as he reached out to hold her upright. Jaheira and Minsc also moved forward to join them, shocked that anything could affect their friend so dramatically. Aegisfield nodded, seeing in the bard's eyes the haunting shock and horror of the murders.
'There has been blood all over the place,' he went on, addressing all of them. 'Little Faraji, a local urchin, found the latest victim. I hate to think of a child seeing that.'
Jaheira sighed, and Duran could almost hear her druidical thought processes click into action as she pondered the threat.
'The confines of the city do much to chisel at the sanity of its inhabitants, but I wonder if there is some other force at work,' she murmured, reaching out to touch her smaller friend's shoulder. 'We had best be wary.'
Duran nodded slowly, stepping away from Anomen's supportive arms as Aegisfield seemed to get a grip on himself once more.
'Enough of this,' he said firmly. 'I must go about my rounds. If you find any information about the murders, be sure to let me know. Don't go looking for trouble, though.'
He looked deep into Duran's eyes, his gaze seeming to burn into hers.
'I have enough problems with walkers and beggars,' he told them. 'Old Rampah was damn near killed and a street woman, Rose, was plain lucky. Don't be like them.'
With that, he turned away, and ignoring the rain, stalked off. Jaheira bent close to Duran.
'We would do well to investigate this, Duran.'
Anomen nodded, obviously shocked by such activities going on in his home city. Minsc, on the other hand, was already marching off in the direction of the nearest beggar, determined to right the wrong that had been so conveniently dangled before them. When calling after him did nothing, Jaheira sighed in disgust.
'Wait here, I'll bring him back,' she told the two, and drawing her cloak closer about her, slipped after the rapidly disappearing ranger.
Over an hour later, the rain was still pouring in sheets from the sky. Duran and Anomen stood, huddled together, under the eaves of an old run down house. Opposite them, under the shelter of a nearby trader's stall, Minsc and Jaheira were watching the weather with identical expressions of disgust.
'It doesn't look like this is going to let up anytime soon,' Duran said quietly, ignoring the drop of icy water hanging off the end of her nose.
Anomen watched it as it quivered for a moment before falling onto her chin and sliding down onto her cloak.
'I prithee, my lady . . .' he said awkwardly, almost losing his train of thought as Duran turned beautiful green eyes on him. 'It fills me with no small amount of wonder that you have not asked me of my journeys e'er we met. We have travelled a short time together and yet we know next to nothing of each other.'
He missed the quietly amused sigh as Duran turned away, her smile hidden behind her hand as she wiped the water from her face.
'Alright then . . . tell me of your journeys, if you wish.'
Inordinately pleased, Anomen cast his mind back to the last battle he took part in.
'There is precious little to tell, although my few adventures have been glorious indeed. The path to knighthood is a long one, however . . . hence the need for my travels. But a few of my deeds have reached the ears of the bards. Battle is commonplace enough throughout Amn, and the Order has fielded its army many times in recent years.'
Duran found herself eye to eye with Jaheira, who was grimacing about Anomen's tale before it had even begun. She swallowed the laugh that rose in her throat, turning back to the young squire as he continued his tale.
'Most recently, however . . . let me think . . .' Anomen was trying not to sound too eager to impress his young companion, and was fully aware that he was failing miserably. Still he was grateful for her tolerance of his arrogant behaviour. 'I was with our men when the orcs came down into the Ommlur Hills once again. In great numbers they are a force to fear . . . but individually they are no match for a warrior. I, myself, was able to fight through many of them alone and take the head of one of their foul chieftains.'
Even to him it sounded far-fetched, and Anomen cursed himself inwardly for ever even attempting to embellish the tale. Duran schooled her features into an expression of awe, not willing to make him aware that she knew he was elaborating. She couldn't bring herself to believe that his lies were anything more than an attempt to impress their party.
'That sounds very impressive.'
She glanced across to their companions and saw Minsc talking to his hamster, Jaheira concentrating on them and not Anomen. Thankful for this reprieve from their scepticism, Duran turned back to Anomen as he tore his eyes from their adoring examination of her profile.
'Aye,' he said, trying to sound casual. 'It has been a struggle to prove my worth to the Order.'
His voice changed, and Duran knew suddenly that he was speaking from his heart.
'I wish nothing more than to ride into battle with the crest of the Radiant Heart flying over my head.'
Duran smiled to herself. She had just heard the first truly real wish her companion held, and was grateful that he had chosen to share it with her, though she feared his acceptance into the Order was further away than he thought.
'But I speak too much of my own deeds. One would think me preoccupied with pride. I would not blame you, were you not interested in hearing tales of my prowess, truly.'
Anomen had seen her smile, and thought she was laughing at him. He couldn't blame her. He sounded conceited and self-centred even to himself, no wonder she found him amusing. He decided to switch to her side of her stories, wanting to know if she had accomplished any of what the bards regaled the masses with.
'I am interested in hearing something of yours, however, my lady.'
Duran suppressed a groan. She hated to speak about herself and what she had done, steeped as her history was in blood and death.
'I have been told a little of your deeds in the Sword Coast,' Anomen went on, 'albeit they do sound quite fanciful and exaggerated.'
Duran latched onto that as her saving grace, but could not deny what she had done. She never lied if she could help it.
'Well, most tales do grow with the telling, Anomen,' she told him. 'My story is no more exceptional than anyone else's.'
He nodded, seemingly relieved by her answer. Briefly she wondered just how much of the bard's tales he had believed.
'Aye, that has a ring of truth,' he said approvingly. 'I did not think that you truly stopped a war in the north on your own, skilled as you might be. Rumour brings exaggeration, I am told.'
He looked down to see Duran cringing slightly as she tried to think of a way to soften this particular blow to his male pride.
'Actually I did stop a war with Amn several months ago . . .'
His face fell. Duran hastened to reassure him, not quite knowing why his good opinion meant so much to her.
'But I didn't do it on my own, of course.'
He relaxed, a relieved smile breaking onto his face.
'Well, of course, you had fellow companions who aided you then as now. And together you performed deeds as great as those I hope to accomplish in your service.'
As he gazed out at the rain, Duran felt her heart sink. Was that the only reason he was with her? For glory? What was glory next to all the good that she had done? It seemed that Anomen had a lot to learn about the world he so longed to be a part of.
'A wondrous thing indeed,' he said softly, his tone reflective. 'Perhaps you will tell me more, Duran, as we walk . . . I would hear more of these former companions of yours and your valiant tales of the Sword Coast.'
Duran forced herself to grin at his enthusiasm, gazing out at the pouring rain.
'Walk to where?' she muttered. 'If you try to walk in this, you'll rust up, you big bag of hot air.'
'I'm sorry?'
She smiled at the young squire.
'Nothing.'
There was a brief commotion within the house by which they stood, and the door burst open. Three men shot from the derelict building, pushing past the two adventurers in their haste to get free of the guards who pursued them. Duran was knocked sideways into an old beggarman, minding his own business. Both of them sprawled in the mud, spluttering as they landed in the street.
'Who's dat?' the old man rasped. 'Who's pokin' ol' Rampah? What you want?'
Anomen leant down, hauling Duran to her feet as Minsc and Jaheira moved to help the old man from the ground.
'Get orf!' he complained, wrenching his arm from their grip and shuffling back undercover. 'Aegisfield send you?'
Duran glanced at her companions, wiping the mud from her face with a dirty sleeve. Jaheira frowned.
'Rampah, Duran,' she said softly. 'The beggar Aegisfield mentioned.'
They turned to look at the ancient beggar, huddled against the wall of the house and clutching his little bundle to his chest. He glared back with dark eyes that glittered with mistrust.
'I ain't stole nothing,' he said stubbornly.
Duran smiled, seeing years of abuse and deceit coming together in his suspicious countenance.
'Easy, old-timer,' she said, spreading her hands in a gesture of peace. 'We just want to ask you something about the local murders.'
The change in him was electric. He shot upright, his skinny limbs shaking with anger as his voice echoed around the soggy streets.
'I ain't done it! Wasn't me, I swears! You ain't takin' me to no guardhouse! Walls are bad!'
This last comment was too much for Duran and she gladly stepped aside for Jaheira to lean in, dissolving into silent giggles at the poor old man's ravings. Well, she reasoned, it had been a long couple of days.
'We're not from the guards,' Jaheira said smoothly, her voice gentle for the first time in days.
Rampah looked closely at her, and then around at her companions. Duran's smile never slipped as his hostile gaze swept over her, holding Minsc and Anomen back from moving any closer. If anyone could get the information they wanted from this crazy old man, it was Jaheira.
'Not from guards?' he asked, a little pathetically.
Jaheira shook her head, waiting for him to make a decision. He squinted at her for a moment, and shrugged.
'Okay, then I talk to you,' he said simply. 'They treat me bad sometimes, but I just wants to sleep. What you want?'
Jaheira stepped closer, smiling at his suddenly open face.
'Tell me what you know of the murders here.'
Rampah stared at her for a moment, and cackled softly.
'Nothin',' he wheezed. 'Not a thing.'
Anomen and Duran exchanged incredulous looks.
'Nothing?' the priest asked. 'Not a thing?'
Duran hushed him quickly, motioning for Jaheira to continue.
'The guard thought you might,' the druid pressed, her frown deepening with the thought that she might have actually picked a truly crazed old man to interrogate.
Rampah continued to cackle to himself, coughing as the effort grew too much.
'Don't know nothin',' he told her triumphantly. 'Guards kept us away. They know all I know. That's it.'
He watched as their faces fell, the chance of a lead disappearing before their eyes.
'But . . .' he laughed chestily. 'But I got something they don't, I got what they don't.'
He leant forward, grasping Jaheira's arm in order to whisper into her face. With tact that Duran had not known her abrasive friend had, the druid winced, wrinkling her nose, but said nothing.
'They be blind,' Rampah rasped. 'But I saw it, and now it's mine.'
Jaheira's left eyebrow rose in a manner all too familiar to the bard. That was the expression that told her whatever was coming, she would do as she was told.
'What did you get, Rampah?' the druid asked, sounding rather too eager to Duran's trained ear. 'What did you find?'
The old beggar looked her straight in the eye, and sniffed disdainfully. He leant back.
'Not tellin',' he said diffidently. 'You want? You gotta buy.'
Even Minsc rolled his eyes in response to this rather disappointing remark. Jaheira sighed in frustration, but refused to give up.
'I found it, right near a body,' the old beggar went on. 'It's mine, so you gotta buy.'
Duran hid her smile at this rather sub-standard bit of bargaining and slipped into the conversation, one hand on her money belt.
'How much do you want, Rampah?' she asked.
He looked her up and down.
'You pay . . . one hundred gold? Yeah, one hundred.'
Anomen looked ready to tear the old man's eyes out for asking such an amount, but surprisingly it was Minsc who diffused the situation.
'Forgive me for saying so, wise one, but Boo is thinking if it was not yours in the first place, what right have you to sell it for so high a price?'
Duran felt her jaw drop at this amazing feat of reasoning from her Rasheman friend. Glancing at her companions, she could see Jaheira's equally comical expression of utter astonishment. Minsc smiled down at the old beggar as Rampah thought this over.
'Gotta have somethin' for it,' the old man muttered. 'Nothin' else to get money with . . .'
Duran touched his arm gently, waiting patiently for his muttering to cease before speaking.
'If I could give you something that people would give you money for, but could never take away from you, would that be enough?'
Rampah's eyes narrowed even further as he peered down at the young half- elf.
'What's that?' he asked suspiciously.
'A song,' Duran said simply, watching as this sank in.
'You a bard?' he demanded.
With a grin, she nodded.
'I could write you a song, and then you could sing it to people as they walk by,' she explained. 'People are more likely to give money if they think you've earned it.'
He stared at her for long moments, during which the sky began to lighten and the rain to peeter off.
'Alrigh',' he conceded. 'But song first . . . it's mine.'
Duran nodded.
'I'll come back when I've written it,' she promised, letting the old beggar slip away from them.
Jaheira was staring at her, as was Anomen, both incredulous at her assumption that she could write something for a beggar as easily as she thought.
'Are you sure you know what you are doing, my lady?' Anomen asked, his tone dubious.
Duran grinned impishly up at him.
'Of course I am,' she assured him, patting his hand gently. 'Now, the rain's letting up, where do we go for the inn?'
Spurred into action by this sudden need for his local knowledge, Anomen let the business drop, stepping out into the road with Minsc at his side. Jaheira hung back to walk beside her young friend, concerned about her sudden confidence in her ability to write.
'Are you absolutely certain you can do this, Duran?' she cautioned, her voice inaudible to all but Duran.
The half-elven bard rolled her eyes in exasperation.
'Of course, Aunty J, don't you trust me?'
She laughed at Jaheira's sceptical expression.
'I've had a melody line going around my head since I clapped eyes on him,' she confessed, watching as her friend relaxed. 'All I need to do is add words and teach it to him. Simple!'
Jaheira held her gaze for a long time before finally sighing and acceding the simplicity of what the bard had chosen to do. They hurried to catch up with the men, who were stood waiting for them beneath a sign that bore the legend 'The Five Flagons'. Exchanging smiles with her companions, Duran ducked into the inn, ready to welcome whatever work they could offer her.
