Chapter 43: Curses and Cures

Ployer's place of residence had not been particularly hard to find. Although there were many derelict buildings in the Slums district, only a few were on the east side, and quick investigation of those by Anomen, Yoshimo, Haer'Dalis and Minsc had revealed which one the former baron was hiding in. Harrian and Jaheira had been lead there, and they were now crouched outside, wondering how to go about it.

"Boo says we should just charge in and kick Ployer's butt until he relieves the curse!" Minsc declared, a little too loudly, so Haer'Dalis shushed him quickly. The ranger looked apologetic, then shrugged. "Minsc agrees. This evil man deserves nothing less."

"Although our hound's phrasing leaves much to be desired, I agree with him. Sometimes a simple display of brute force can be more effective than all of the eloquence of the plains," Haer'Dalis insisted.

"We need not kill this man," Anomen interjected adamantly. "If he refuses to comply to our wishes, then by all means, a display of force may convince him otherwise, but first and foremost he should have the chance to do otherwise."

Harrian considered this for a moment. "He's unlikely to agree to comply with our wishes, as he thinks he has these mages on his side. Once he sees that it's six against one, he's likely to be more.. receptive." The thief glanced over at Jaheira. "What do you think?"

The druid shrugged. "Ployer should have been killed a long time ago." She paused, then took a deep breath. "But we shall see what happens. Signing his death warrant early on is an inflexible plan."

Minsc stood up. "So then let us plant our feet on evil's buttocks!" he declared loudly, then walked over and kicked Ployer's door down with minimal ceremony. Harrian shrugged as they started towards the opening. It was less subtle than picking a lock, but just as effective.

Ployer all but ignored them as they entered, merely acknowledging them with a glance. He stood at a desk, writing some note. Once he had finished, he finally decided to pay attention to the massive berserker warrior, the dangerous-looking tiefling, the stoic cleric, the quietly deadly bounty hunter, the angry and wounded druid, and the murderous thief.

His eyes lit up at last as he looked at the druid. "Ah, Jaheira. I see you have dragged your sorry soon-to-be carcass here to see me. Are you here to beg? Perhaps to grovel? I don't mind.  I have even cleaned my shoes," he told her, rubbing his hands together nauseatingly.

Jaheira's eyes filled with fury as she took a threatening step forwards. "Despicable…" She stopped, coughed, then regained control of herself. "…Despicable wretch! You knew I would come here?"

Ployer shrugged, his eyes alight with the glee vengeance brought him. "Of course! I am your only link to life, so what choice do you have." He waved a hand impatiently at the floor. "Come now, grovel for your life before me. I haven't got all day!"

The druid gave him another hateful glare, and if looks could kill, the former baron would already be dead. "I am… I am not here to grovel, Ployer. You would sooner get that from my corpse!" she told him, still burning with an inner fury that Harrian knew he would never want to be on the receiving end of.

Ployer laughed a little insanely. "And I will, unless I get the satisfaction I want now. Come now, I can cure you if you drop your pretence of dignity and get your sickly carcass on its knees!" His voice then became a little threatening and most instructing.

"I…" Jaheira coughed, and it was clear that the curse was getting a greater hold of her. "I am not here to grovel! I may be weak, even dying, but you won't get that! I have come to take what is mine! I…" She coughed weakly again. "will be free of you… of your…" Her voice trailed off as her legs weakened, and Harrian took a step forward to support her.

The delight on the baron's face was insurmountable, and made the rage within Harrian start to bubble up even more. "You are about to collapse, and cannot even speak. Now, of course, you will have to grovel in pantomime. What could be more degrading than that?"

Harrian could see that Jaheira was in no state to argue, and he drew his sword, taking a threatening step forward as he pointed it at Ployer's throat. "She may be ill, but I am not! You will end this curse, and you will leave her be!" Although his voice held all of the fury he felt at this situation, he remained calm and quiet, which seemed even more dangerous than shouting at the baron. "Am I understood?"

Ployer laughed, shaking his head and adding fuel to the thief's flaming fury. "Your threats are nothing. You came expecting an old man in hiding, but I hoped Jaheira would find me because by the time she did she would be utterly crippled!" His chuckle echoed around the bare and derelict room.

"I would enjoy crushing her, but I will settle for you!" he continued dangerously. "Meet my hirelings! My last favours paid for them, and they are well worth it! Kill them!" The last word was an order, but only silence met his words. "Uh… attack!" There was still nothing. "I command you! Kill them…! Where are you?"

For the mages had been bought, and there were no allies for Ployer. Harrian smiled an evil and most predatory grin. "That's the trouble with hired hands; if a better deal comes along they may just jump ship," he told Ployer apologetically.

"But...no!" He turned to face Jaheira, who was standing weakly, a small smile on her face at the predicament Ployer was then in. "Damn you, it's happened again!" he raged at her "Everyone against me, everyone!"

Harrian's face became an emotionless mask as he glared at the baron. "And now we will talk deal," he told Ployer calmly. "You will remove the curse, and you will leave and never return. Is that clear?"

The former baron's expression darkened as he slunk by Corias and towards the door. "Aye, you have won today," he muttered bitterly, "but someday I will…"

Harrian's grabbed Ployer by the shoulder in an iron grip. "Someday you will do nothing!" he snapped dangerously, his voice still low and threatening. "Not if you want to live past tomorrow! Do we have a deal?!"

The baron sagged with defeat. "Very well." He threw a lock of hair at Jaheira, and she fumbled before catching it. "Here, this is the personal item used to curse her. I took it from that fop, Belgrade. She should be fine with it returned. Now get out...get out." His voice was weak, but he still had an inner fury as he pointed at the door.

Harrian nodded. "You've kept up your side of the bargain, so now I'll keep up mine," he said, and nodded at the door. Slowly, the others started out, Anomen supporting Jaheira as best he could, and Corias took up the rear.

He was about the close the door behind him when he stopped. There was nothing to stop Ployer from coming back and threatening Jaheira again in the future, when he might have more power and more resources. And he deserved to pay for what he had done; as it was, he had emerged virtually unscathed.

As Corias turned, the rest of his party members looked to see what he was doing. "On second thoughts," the thief said quietly, standing immobile before Ployer. "I may just kill you anyway."

The former baron leapt up to defend himself in any way possible, but he had not anticipated the attack that came. He had expected Harrian to lunge at him with a sword, or to beat him with his hands.

He had not expected the thief to, almost casually, launch a poisoned dagger at him. It hit Ployer in the neck, and as the blood started to flow from the wound, the poison started to flow through his system.

Harrian didn't even bother to watch him die as he took a final step out and closed the door behind him. There was a weak noise from within, a cross between a groan and a whimper, and then silence.

All of the others except for Haer'Dalis and Jaheira were staring at him with a mixture of fear and disgust, Anomen most of all. There was a long silence before the cleric found his voice. "You just murdered him in cold blood," he murmured under his breath.

Harrian shrugged. "Yes," he admitted, frowning a little. "The man is a threat that cannot possibly be allowed to live. He was a slaver, and a murderer. He did not deserve any mercy that we might have shown him."

Jaheira nodded. "No deals for slayers of Harpers," she said quietly, and the others, despite any reservations that they may have had, fell silent as the party started to troop through the slums district, by silent vote heading back to the Five Flagons.

Harrian fell into step beside her. There was a part of him, a deep, buried part that applauded his killing Ployer… and the fact that the dark side of him was so in favour of cold-blooded murder shook him right to the very core.

"I feel… weak, but better," the druid told him at last, not looking at him. "I thank you for helping me through this. You have earned my gratitude and… and I should really get a full day of rest." As Harrian merely kept his head bowed, more than a little haunted at what he had done, Jaheira finally faced him. "If you had not killed Ployer, I would have."

Harrian didn't reply to her final comment, but he did meet her gaze. "We will get to an inn as soon as we can. With the curse gone you should heal normally," he told her blandly, his mind still in turmoil.

"I certainly hope so. Such weakness…" Jaheira shook her head. "I swear, if I meet his like again I'll not let the courts spare him." There was a long silence. "I'll… I'll be better after a night's rest."

Harrian thought for a moment. There was something trivial at the back of his mind dogging him, and it felt good to be able to worry about small, unimportant things… but he still had to get it off his chest. "Ployer said that he had taken the lock of hair from this 'merchant' Belgrade," Harrian mused. "What was he doing with a lock of your hair?"

Jaheira smiled, and Corias was glad he had managed to touch on a subject that didn't bring only sadness and bitterness. "I presumed you guessed. Yes, Belgrade was a Harper, the same as myself. I… knew him before Khalid."

Harrian considered this for a moment, but could come up with no apt reply. "We should probably go and all get some rest before we worry about anything more," was all he said at last as the six of them wandered through the great streets of Athkatla.