Chapter 20: What goes around…
At the precise moment Harrian and the others were tripping the alarms of the Cowled Wizards and bringing all hell down upon their heads, Jaheira, Anomen and Minsc were engaging in the closest thing to a drinking match a teetotal druid, a cleric who had seen first hand the effects of alcoholism, and a large warrior who forgot what they were doing halfway through could manage.
Suffice to say, it struck onlookers as more like a civilised dinner which simply had a lot of drinking of tea, some cautious sipping of a fine wine – not for quaffing – and the random downing of mugs of beer. Between three very ill-suited people.
Jaheira's tea-drinking seemed more out of anxiety than hydration. Corias and the others had been taking far longer than her calculations – and even their optimistic planning – had allowed. Anomen had advised that they wait a little longer, pointing out that delays were not uncommon for the sort of job they were undertaking. However, the druid was quite unconvinced. If something had gone wrong, the Cowled Wizards would not exactly send them a note telling them of their capture. They'd just disappear and never be heard of again…
This rather morbid thought jerked her into action and she stood up quickly. The movement jostled the table, almost upending her salad and sending Anomen and Minsc's steaks to the floor. They looked at her reproachfully.
"We are going," she said in response to their expressions. "We shall go and find them… if they are alright, the worst we will have to bear will be Harrian's moans, and I assure you, I shall receive the brunt of them. That I can handle.
"But if things have taken a twist for the worst, then they will require our assistance, and the sooner we can lend it, the better. Now, are you going to join me, or are you going to allow a lady to wander the streets of Amn by herself?" This last part was directed at Anomen, for Minsc's face already showed resolve. The cleric muttered something under his breath and nodded reluctantly.
* *
Harrian tensed himself as he flew through the air, preparing for a landing. He was falling from quite a height, and thus mismanaging the alighting could end very badly. He needed to be in one piece at the end of this so he could run.
Things had not gone too well. They'd made it into the office, and he'd grabbed the scroll before the magical traps could kick in, though his hair was singed from a low-flying fireball. The wizards had stormed the room within seconds, and thus the swashbuckler had employed the better part of valour and fled. By jumping out the window.
He bounced off the top of a market stall, the kind which were always positioned to break a fall, then fell to the ground, managing to roll as he hit the floor to minimise the impact. He lay, stunned for a moment, then clambered to his feet just in time to break Yoshimo's fall as the bounty hunter followed him.
The two men grappled for a moment, both struggling to get to their feet, then pulled apart just as Haer'Dalis, light as a feather, landed cat-like next to them. "My raven, I would suggest we move… for the wizards seem unlikely to let the matter drop."
Corias nodded grimly. "Aye… the bastards just don't seem willing to give up," he mumbled, then looked up in surprise as a black shape started to descend from the window they had leapt from, albeit far more sedately than their helter-skelter falls had been. "Bloody levitation!" Harrian continued, then turned and ran, sticking the scroll inside his jerkin, his two companions hot on his heels.
The thief was sure that they hadn't been identified, which they could easily use in their own defence. The Cowled Wizards would search the city for this scroll, whatever it was, but that would take time. Enough time for the party to decide just what it was they were going to do with this magical artefact.
There was no order to their fleeing. They simply ran, heading for the small alleyways that were popular in Athkatla, planning to use the darkness to their advantage. For these were three who knew how to make the most of the shade, veritable masters of the shadows.
They ran in grim silence for many minutes, until Harrian, who had been slowing for the past two blocks, came to an unsteady halt, resting on a barrel for support. "I… I think we've lost them," he gasped.
Yoshimo grabbed him, pulling him onwards. "You hope," he amended. "Veritably, I have seen no sign of them, but these are wizards…" They paused for a long moment before the bounty hunter nodded. "I think we can return to the main streets," he conceded.
There was a surprising number of people in the alleyways as they headed down to the main road of the Bridge District – for that was how far they'd run. They were a stone's throw away from the Five Flagons, and silently anticipating the turn of events for the better.
They could not have been more wrong. In hindsight, Harrian supposed he should have paid more attention to the suspicious characters lurking around them, but he was physically exhausted after their mad dash and emotionally stimulated at the apparent success of their mission. They had stolen from the Cowled Wizards… and got away with it!
So it was Yoshimo who noted that they had been subtly surrounded as dark figures blocked the route ahead and behind. The bounty hunter spoke quietly, but with a note of fear in his voice – if these were the Cowled Wizards, then leniency and mercy towards those who had wronged them were unheard of.
Harrian drew his sword, his expression grim, resisting the urge to go for the scroll and physically protect it. This was his only link to Imoen, however distant. He would not abandon it without a fight. And a damn good one at that.
Their followers, or attackers, or whatever they were, must have known they'd been detected as the trio drew to a halt, for a single, black-cloaked figure emerged from the group, striding across the few metres in between them.
They quickly found two short swords, a long sword and the tip of an arrow pointed at their throat. The black-clad figure, whose features were impossible to see, paused for a moment, but the body language did not suggest fear or trepidation.
A hand reached up to push the cloak back, revealing the coarse and confident face of the man who seemed to be their opponents' leader. "I really wouldn't do that," he assured them, his voice surprisingly devoid of accent or identifying inflection.
Yoshimo visibly started at the sight of him, then grimaced. "Oh, Gods," he murmured, then swore in Kara-Turan under his breath.
The man grinned, though the expression was, like his entire face, devoid of any emotion. "Yoshimo-san of course, knows me. I'll let him fill you in later… if you're both around, that is," he continued, shrugging. Then the smile became a little more playful. "Someone wants a word with you…"
It would be nice, Harrian reflected, if this damn city wasn't filled with mysterious people, none of whom we know, who are out to make our lives harder. A familiar face would be more than welcome.
Instead, he said, "we're not going anywhere."
The man shrugged, his smile still chillingly devoid of pleasure or humour. "Have it your way, then. We'll just take the scroll." This time, a tone did slip into his voice. One of menace.
Harrian's expression darkened. "You know how damn hard I've had to work to get this scroll?" he demanded rhetorically. "No bloody way am I handing it over to anyone. You know how much this means?"
The man shrugged. "No, not really," he confessed, without much consideration in his voice. "I don't think you know how much it's worth, or what it truly does. I only know one person who does… and he wants it."
"Well, you're not getting –"
That was the last thing Harrian remembered of that encounter, for at that moment someone struck him over the head from surprise. He remembered seeing stars, seeing the mysterious man's face, with a degree of satisfaction on it, then everything went black.