Chapter 32: Down to Earth
Haer'Dalis had been poring over the scroll since their return to the Five Flagons. The sun was just starting to creep over the tops of the buildings, its rays filling the streets as merchants rolled out their carts to start selling their wares, and the tiefling bard was no closer to an answer than he had been when he started.
He sipped some of the strong tea that Thunderburp had brought to him a few moments ago, and shifted in his chair to block the sunlight streaming through the tavern's windows and falling on the scroll, almost blinding him as the white paper reflected it into his eyes.
A glance at the stairs as they groaned the customary groan reserved for when someone was stepping on them confirmed that the early risers, the merchants in the city on business who stayed in inns and departed for unknown offices for the duration of the day, had started to emerge.
That seemed to make the truth of how little progress he had made hit him harder than the rays of the sun had. Six or seven hours of solid work, but he just didn't have the knowledge needed to unlock the secrets of a magical artefact this powerful.
The front door opened, and Harrian stumbled inside. His hair was mussed, the formerly smart clothing ragged and dirty, and he looked overall as if he had just been to the Hells and back. Haer'Dalis knew he had only returned to the Five Flagons the previous night to give him the scroll to work on, minutes after Jaheira had stormed in, then he had left for unknown parts.
"My raven!" the bard exclaimed before he could really take in their leader's bedraggled appearance and reconsider bothering him. Harrian gave him a stony glare, before sidling into the chair opposite the tiefling. Haer'Dalis paused a moment. "Ah, actually, I believe this can wait until later… when you are rested."
"I had five hours of sleep on a park bench, I'm perfectly well rested," Harrian told him firmly, but it was a poor lie, and more to convince himself than Haer'Dalis. "What's the problem? Any progress with the scroll?" Despite his fatigue, he leant forwards to take a look, mildly interested.
The blade shook his head dolefully. "I'm afraid not, my friend," he apologised. "I may know how to cast magic missiles to destroy our enemies, knock down their defences and bolster our own strengths, but that is street magic in comparison to the depth of this scroll. You need a dedicated mage rather than a bard such as myself."
Harrian's expression became even more doleful as he poured himself a cup of tea. "Imoen would have been able to sort that out in seconds," he muttered, downing the entire cup with little ceremony.
Haer'Dalis could tell it wasn't a dig at him, but still felt a little sheepish. The shame turned to concern as he realised the temperature of the tea the leader had just downed. "Isn't that exceedingly hot, my raven?"
Corias' expression became a little bleary, and he grimaced. "Exceedingly," he croaked, before moving onto the pitcher of water, Haer'Dalis watching the rather pathetic display with more pity than concern.
"It seems as if being rejected does not do any great wonders for body or mind," he mused quietly, but easily loud enough for the leader to hear. Indeed, he had no worries of Harrian knowing what he thought.
"That is not something we will be talking about," Corias snapped, massaging his throat. "The situation is completely dealt with, and has absolutely nothing to do with you. If I want your advice on the matter, I will ask for it. If I don't – and I don't – I won't."
"She does not want to admit what she feels?" the tiefling asked lightly yet confidently, rolling up the scroll and sipping his own tea, far more cautiously than the thief had a few moments previously.
"Pretty much," Harrian moped. "But she stated quite clearly that she doesn't want to even look at it. So… so I shall stand by her decision. Some day, I trust she will come to a conclusion, a decision on what she wants, rather than what she thinks she should want."
"Obligations are hard to ignore," Haer'Dalis answered, still in the same tone as before. "However, I would not worry. I believe that she will most likely do her best to forget that yesterday ever came to pass, and things shall continue as they were before." He smiled a little. "Verily, 'tis a shame that I had already completed the play, for there is material here that could have a crowd beginning for more."
"Yes, you really were as subtle as a brick with that play, weren't you," Harrian commented, a little bitterly. "I don't think that helped the situation. And if she just pretends it never happened… well, I will too, because I managed to make a supreme fool of myself last night whilst presenting my heart to her, only to get it beaten." He blinked, then shook his head. "So… the scroll. What do we do?"
"I have sent our bounty hunter out in search of a mage, but in this city, I sincerely doubt that it will be easy to find one. The Shadow Thieves have many wizards working for them, Yoshimo said –" At Harrian's expression, Haer'Dalis hurried to add, "- but he also pointed out that very few of them have solid allegiances."
The thief snorted, but the bard could tell that he clearly was in no mood to pull principle on such an abstract point. "So we should have some mage, doubtless in fits over a chance to take a look at something like this, hopefully by the end of the day?" Harrian sighed with satisfaction at the news. He was itching to get things back in motion, and taking care of the damnable scroll was a step in the right direction. "Then in that case… I'm going to bed."