Chapter 46: Dawn Dialogues

Imoen descended the stairs the next morning with as much bounce as usual, and was highly amused by the scene that greeted her. Minsc was still slumbering in the corner of the tavern, having consumed far too much alcohol the night before. All attempts to move him had failed fantastically.

The only other member of the party who was now awake after the previous evening's celebrations was Harrian, and from the look of him he would probably have been better off in bed. He also had consumed far too much alcohol.

But he was attempting Thunderburp's mystery hangover cure with as much enthusiasm as possible for someone with a killer hangover, and it did indeed seem to wake him up. He was a little too nervous to ask just what was in it, however, and was now of the opinion that ignorance was bliss.

He grinned as Imoen took a seat next to him and readily accepted the tea Samuel handed her instantly. "You know, Imoen, I think you're right," he mused quietly. "I should cut down on the alcohol."

She laughed, and Harrian felt the ache of his temples ease significantly at the noise. He had missed that laugh far too much. "I've been telling you that for the past two years," she told him, shaking a finger under his nose. "And yet, you never listen."

"Hey, you drank too!" he said defensively. "And yet, you never seem to get roaring drunk or have a killer hangover the day after. Magical charm?" Harrian asked lightly, raising an eyebrow at her.

"I drink less," Imoen reminded him, chuckling a little. Then she sobered somewhat, taking a sip of her tea. "So tell me… what lengths did you have to go to so as to get me out of Spellhold?" So far, all he had explained to her was that he'd struck a deal with the Cowled Wizards.

Harrian smiled. "Oh, you know, the usual. Defying the Shadow Thieves, battling with Vampires, stealing from the Cowled Wizards, organising a heist on the home of one of the city's most wealthy nobles…"

"Just like old times," Imoen commented brightly.

"Absolutely," he assured her, then carried on to fill her in on exactly what had transpired since her capture, airbrushing over some of the tension between himself and Jaheira, and taking much glee in explaining that, in exchange for her freedom, he had given the Cowled Wizards a gender-swapping scroll.

This she understandably found highly amusing, and Harrian was reminded once again of how much he'd missed her whilst she was gone. But that thought was banished as she grinned at him, and all that matter was that she was here now. "I would have thought I was worth more than such a cursed item," Imoen reproved, poking him lightly on the arm.

He laughed. "It was only when Edwin used it that I knew what it was. I would have exchanged it had it been the key to unlocking all of the power in the universe," Harrian assured her, his expression softening a little.

She smiled lightly. "Thanks for getting me out of there," she murmured, then hugged him tightly.

"Anytime, my friend. Anytime."

There was a discreet cough from behind them, and they pulled apart to see Jaheira standing there, a slight smile on her face. "I would not give him all the credit, child. If not for us, he would probably have been left incapacitated in a bar-room brawl within twenty-four hours of your abduction."

Harrian opened his mouth to protest, then remembered the Copper Coronet. "Hey, I could handle myself," he insisted, albeit a little weakly. Then he frowned. "That reminds me, I still haven't spoken to Anomen about his knocking me unconscious in there," he continued darkly.

"Nice. You seem to have collected an interesting entourage in my absence," Imoen told him lightly. There was a most piteous groan from the corner, and Minsc stirred. She glanced over to where the giant ranger was resting, and smiled. "Maybe I should go see if Minsc is okay."

Jaheira sat down in the chair Imoen had vacated. "You seem happier today," she commented lightly, accepting her own cup of tea from Thunderburp with a nod. "Considerably so, in fact."

"Why shouldn't I be?" Harrian asked, smiling broadly. "I mean, I know that Irenicus is still out there, but right now, I don't need to worry about him. He's still a prisoner of the Cowled Wizards, and now Imoen's here and alright, there's no rush."

Jaheira nodded. "I agree, but be careful that you do not forget about him. He may not be a threat now, and we may be able to deal with him at our leisure, but if you become complacent, then when he eventually emerges as a danger, your second encounter with him may be fatal." Her voice was cautious, and the warning she offered clear.

"I have no intention of doing so," Harrian assured her quietly. "I need answers from Irenicus, and he needs to face justice of one sort or another. I'm not going to forget that, just as much as I'm not going to forget what he put me through. Any of us through," he amended, his jaw tightening a little.

The druid nodded again, sipping her tea. "It is good, however, that we do not need to rush into anything. That could be more fatal than considering him harmless. Matters should be more… secure now that Imoen is here." She smiled a little. "Things may just work out after all."

Of course, she was speaking a moment too soon, for it was then that a cloaked figure entered the tavern. Early in the morn as it was, visitors at this hour were rare, and usually consisted of delivery boys or merchants stopping for breakfast before departing to man their stalls. The new arrival was most clearly neither, for the pace with which she walked, the ease of which she treated her surroundings and the aura of power and control was directly in contrast with any of Harrian's guesses as to her origins.

The figure approached them coolly, and for some reason Corias felt inclined to place a cautious hand on one of the throwing knives in the bandolier across his studded leather, hidden as the move would be by his own cloak. A warning look from Jaheira stopped any such movement, however.

"I wish to speak to you, Jaheira," the woman said, her features invisible under the cloak that she wore. "There are matters of great importance that need to be dealt with, and quickly. Your assistance is needed."

The druid frowned, and twisted in her chair to face the newcomer. "I am sorry… do I know you? Of what is it you speak?" From the look she had given Harrian, the thief suspected that she had many ideas and clues as to who this person was, but wanted a bit more confirmation before committing herself.

There was a sigh from underneath the cowl, and Harrian imagined the visitor was rolling her eyes. "My name is not important," she insisted, then shifted a little so that the pin she wore on her cloak was visible. "We are one and the same, and I bear the pin that tells our name. I bid you to come with me."

Jaheira nodded solemnly. Harrian had missed anything of importance, for the pin seemed indistinctive to his eyes, and he silently cursed himself for missing the relevance of it. "Very well," the druid said. "Permit me a moment and then I shall do what must be done."

The visitor gave Harrian a glance, and he felt for all the world as if he was being evaluated and judged in a single moment. "Very well," she said quietly. "Make your farewells, and then depart." Then she withdrew towards the door of the bar.

Corias raised an eyebrow at Jaheira. "What's going on?" he asked, trying to keep his voice light but the tightness in his gut not permitting him to maintain such a charade effectively, and some tension crept into his words.

Jaheira paused for a moment, then stood. "Do not worry; I shall not be gone long. I do not want to be apart from you for long." He looked up at her, and their eyes met for a long moment before she squeezed his shoulder quickly. "I shall explain later. I'll be back as soon as possible, I promise."

The moment the door closed behind her, Harrian felt the tension increase tenfold. This was wrong, very wrong… He could feel it in his gut, every fibre of his being complaining at her departure, but his brain couldn't deal with it.

He was cut off in the process by Imoen hopping back into the chair next to him. "Minsc seems okay now," she said by way of greeting and explanation, but her face was serious for once as she looked at him. "Are you?"

Harrian raised an eyebrow at her and forced a laugh out. "Me? Why shouldn't I be okay? Jaheira can most certainly handle herself, and she seemed to know what she was doing. I'm fine."

"Hmm." Imoen was clearly unconvinced. "I've clearly missed a lot in my absence," she commented. "You two have sparks flying more than I'd ever have guessed… I take it she's getting over Khalid, then?"

Her expression was completely unreadable, and Harrian hated it that she could see deep inside his heart and soul with such ease but he couldn't do the same for her. Not only was it irritating, it did make him feel as if he should be doing more.

But he was fortunately saved from interrogation as Yoshimo swung the door open and entered the tavern. He threw them both a broad, cheerful smile, and approached them with his customary swagger. "Greetings to you both. Are you the only two souls who are conscious in this inn?"

Harrian folded his arms across his chest and leant back to give the thief an evaluating look. He was hiding something too. Bastards, all of them. Taking advantage of his limited ability to read them. "Whatever you have to say, spit it out."

Yoshimo glanced around tentatively, then shrugged and took his own seat. "This had best be discussed when Anomen arrives, but I should warn you of what is to come." He smiled humourlessly. "I spoke to Tellis. We may have to pay Saerk Farrahd a visit."