Chapter 27: A Touch of Class
Their shopping plans had been delayed somewhat. Harrian had hoped to get it done that day, so it was something out of the way and they could concern themselves with the more particular matters of the plan.
But things had not been so. Haer'Dalis had been hard-pressed to tidy his endeavour up sufficiently before the required time so that they could get the gold they needed, and as his creative inspiration could come in useful (not to mention the money), they had been forced to wait for him.
So it was early afternoon the following day before they could split into groups and get their acts together with the clothing, then the rest of the day was supposed to be covered with Anomen briefing them on courtly etiquette for the ball. As Yoshimo pointed out, this showed how pushed for resources and information they were.
The clothes quest had been bordering on disaster. Haer'Dalis, being an actor, had not been short of elaborate clothing, and so had been sent with Jaheira to help turn her into the temptress they needed for the night. Anomen was similarly already with the necessary dressing, and so supervised Minsc, Harrian and Yoshimo on what they would need.
Things had got off to a bad start when Corias had assured him, point blank, that stockings and ruffles were out of the question. Yoshimo had, much to the consternation of both thief and cleric, argued his way into a traditional Kara-Turan garb, free of ruffles and stockings.
Minsc had agreed to go along with anything as long as Boo didn't complain, and as the hamster seemed to have nothing against ruffles or stockings, the only issue was finding him a suit that was in his size.
Finally, Anomen had coerced Harrian into clothes minus ruffles, stockings, but at the expense of a hat with a feather in it. Despite his complaints of 'Looks like I've got a bloody pheasant stuck on my head', he accepted the sacrifice with minimal protest.
It was six of the evening by the time they were preparing to depart, Anomen having somehow managed to make use of his family's coach. With the ball starting at seven and Delryn assuring them that a late entry would be all the more dramatic, nobody was in any particular hurry save Haer'Dalis.
Anomen had for once brought himself into Haer'Dalis's favour by being the first of the others to be ready, and had thus been conscripted into the duty of making sure Jaheira was ready. At the squire's quite panicky attempt to avoid it, Yoshimo, who had been present at the time and attempting to prove a katana was a part of traditional garb, had declared with frustration "Gods, man, you're a cleric! I'm sure even you will be capable of doing the task, and I doubt Jaheira will label you lecherous for doing so!"
Delryn, peeved by the bounty hunter's words, had left in a huff. There were no guarantees he was doing what the bard had tried to force him to do, but at the very least, he was out of the way for the moment.
After confirming with Yoshimo that, no matter what the tradition in Kara-Tura might be, there was no way of getting away with having a katana at a ball and if he insisted on a weapon, a knife might be quite acceptable, but hidden unless needed, Haer'Dalis had moved onto the party's big problem: Their leader.
Much to his amazement, when he arrived in Harrian's room, the thief was already dressed. The tiefling sighed with disappointment as he noted the black garb, but, after the tales Anomen had told him of attempting to get Corias to agree to any extravagant clothing, this was a small price to pay.
"My raven, you are ready. This is a most unexpected delight," Haer'Dalis declared with relief as he closed the door behind him. There was a pause. "Do I need to remind you that you cannot bring your sword to this occasion?"
Harrian looked archly at him. "Of course not, bard. Do you think me a fool?" he declared haughtily, gesturing towards his long sword, which lay at the foot of the bed. "I am equipped in case of an emergency, however," he continued, opening the jacket he wore to reveal five throwing knives in the lining.
Suddenly Yoshimo's request for a katana seemed unimportant. "My raven, we are going to a ball, not into battle," the tiefling groaned. "Although you do seem to be a little devoid of close range weaponry," he added, then desperately wished he hadn't.
Harrian shook his head, reaching into his boot and pulling a dagger from there. "I keep this thing all the time; you think I'm going to leave it when we're marching into the realm of someone who robbed us then left us for dead?"
"We were left unconscious; it is not quite as if we were left to die," Haer'Dalis pointed out, but he could tell he was fighting a losing battle. "Very well; you are ready, I shall have to accept that. But I'm sure you are aware that you cannot pull out your dagger at the drop of a hat."
"Oh, yeah, the hat," Corias exclaimed, then yanked the black, velvety cap from the bed and placed it jauntily on his head. "Now do I look like a ponce, or what?" he declared, deadpan. Haer'Dalis's reproachful look remained. "Come now, my good bard, you know I won't do anything stupid with the weapons. Just this Duchinov is a most dangerous man, and it always pays to be prepared."
They meandered out of the room and started down the corridor, collecting Yoshimo, sans katana, and Minsc, in a suit that had ruffles, stockings and looked two sizes too small for him. Despite all attempts to look the part, there would be no chance of being incognito at this ball.
The tavern was almost empty as they descended, as the hour was a little sooner than the one the regular drunkards preferred. Haer'Dalis took a seat and gestured that Harrian should join him, then glanced at the other two. "Mayhaps you could stay outside and await our carriage?" he asked lightly.
The point was not missed by Yoshimo, but he took it all in his stride and so he and Minsc started for the door as Harrian stared at the bard with a blank expression which hid the irritated trepidation he felt.
"My raven, I have a few predictions of what shall come to pass this evening," Haer'Dalis told him lightly, but his face was grave. "I feel – nay, know – that this plan of ours will work, at least in the basic principle. How far its success goes, I feel is down to yourself."
Harrian frowned slightly. This was not what he had anticipated. "All I have to do is sit around and make sure Duchinov doesn't get suspicious, or doesn't do anything to place Jaheira in danger. How does that affect this?"
"It doesn't. What affects this is the depth of your emotions, which I'm sure will lead to a most powerful one indeed: Jealousy." There was a lack of comprehension written all over Corias' face, so the tiefling felt compelled to elaborate. "How does it make you feel that this lady you adore – do not argue, even if it is not in the way I believe, then there is still adoration present – is to spend this evening virtually seducing another man for our benefit?"
Harrian glowered at him. "It doesn't exactly warm my heart. But we are doing what we must, and it is not as if there is any danger of anything happening, is there? At the very least we may require her to pursue a rendezvous with Duchinov at a later date, but I do not feel…" His voice trailed off, and he shook his head. "I am not going to do anything tonight that may endanger our quest."
"You are aware of the consequences if you do, do you not –"
Haer'Dalis was cut off as Harrian leapt to his feet, just this side of furious. "Of course I do, bard!" he snapped. "If we fail here, then the scroll is lost. If the scroll is lost, then Imoen is lost. She is my sister, and I am not going to do anything that endangers her or keeps her in that pit Spellhold for any longer than necessary! I know exactly what the consequences are, and I will suffer far more than you shall if this situation is to go awry!"
He stopped, his chest heaving as the anger ebbed straight through him. Then he took the customary cleansing, calming deep breath. "So do not lecture me," he continued, his voice now dangerously low as he narrowed his eyes at the bard.
"Ahem." They turned to see Anomen, resplendent in the crimson garb squires of the Order were required to wear for these occasions. His face was the same colour as his clothes. "I believe Lady Jaheira is ready."
"Anomen, if you do not cease with the overly formal prattling I shall break your skull with whatever comes to hand!" an irate voice from the top of the stairs declared loudly, and Jaheira swept down, looking more than slightly hacked off.
Harrian was no clothes expert, and even if pressed he would have been completely and utterly incapable of offering a description of her dress beyond 'blue… and… stunning'. He had anticipated that Haer'Dalis would see to it that the druid went all out, but someone here had surpassed themselves.
He tuned back in to check if his mouth was hanging open, and was most glad to find it wasn't. He managed a smile, then turned it into a lopsided grin as she glared at him, as if daring him to pass comment. "Ah… who made the dress?" he asked weakly.
"Madame Bourgette," Haer'Dalis answered with pride. Anomen raised an eyebrow discreetly, refraining from commenting, but the importance of such a statement flew over the heads of the others.
"A woman with far too much time on her hands to have any use in any land," Jaheira huffed. The situation had her less than happy – she was a druid, in Silvanus' name! She was not supposed to wear extravagant dresses and flaunt herself at parties.
"I am sure she has her place in the balance," Harrian stammered, feeling a need to contribute something before his head exploded. He decided to keep his eyes fixed on Anomen, for whom it looked as if helping Jaheira get ready had been a most traumatising experience.
The druid gave him a look as if to say 'want a bet?' but refrained from commenting. She glared at them all, unable as they were to offer salvation from this damnable evening she had bee tricked into, then swept towards the door, Anomen trailing helplessly.
Before they set off to follow them, Haer'Dalis gave Harrian a knowing glance. "I still advise you to keep in mind what I have said, and keep your head clear from the depth of your heart on this night," he informed him sombrely.