Chapter 65: A Warning
The group strode down the Great Eastern Road – but travelling in a western direction – brightly, cheerfully. Although other troubles had reared their heads since their departure from Athkatla, the trip had had the intended results, for the group was far more relaxed, far less uptight. Harrian only hoped their return to the city would not herald a return of the old feelings.
He was particularly worried about Jaheira. Though she had snapped out of the morbid mood after their talk that morning, she was still less than happy, as could be expected, for she had just turned her back on the group which had, truly, been all she'd had left after Khalid's death. Harrian held no illusions about his being enough for her whole future… not with things how they were. He knew, understood, the depths of his feelings for her – he thought – but he would keep them secret for as long as was reasonable, in the current time.
They had made good progress that day, and, if they kept up with the time, they should be at Athkatla late the following night, ready to fall into their beds at the Five Flagons then arise, fully ready for a hunt for Irenicus the day after. Harrian had decided to finally move forwards in his search for the mage, although he was loath to aggravate the Cowled Wizards more. He was unaware that this would be unnecessary.
Imoen was at the back of the party, sandwiched between Haer'Dalis and Anomen, who had frequently been vying for her attention in a way Harrian intensely disliked. The sight of the bard and cleric seemingly squabbling without even realising it was amusing, and it was heartening to see how Imoen managed to ignore their bickering and yet let them feel she was paying attention to them both equally.
Keldorn, Yoshimo and Minsc were at the middle, the latter two flanking the former, who sat astride his horse, easily the most comfortable in the party for the duration of the journey, though the inquisitor had claimed Edumar had got far too fat during their stay at Trademeet without exercise. Harrian couldn't see how, for it had only been a few days.
He and Jaheira were at the front, meandering rather than marching, an easy silence between them as they simply walked onwards, enjoying each others company, content without needing to speak but mostly lost in their own thoughts. Which was why they failed to notice the man striding towards the road from an adjoining path, so small it presumably only led to a few farms.
Dermin Courtierdale was nothing if not a fascinating man. He had served the Harpers for many years diligently, introducing young people like Jaheira to their cause, and was one of the most respected 'instructors' in the organisation. He was often a mentor to new members, and was thus seen as something of a kindly, if rather quiet, old teacher.
The fact that he was one of the most skilled warriors in the Harpers and had once been their most vital assassin before age stopped him from being quite physically capable enough to perform as well as he used to was often overlooked and forgotten, even by those he had taught years ago.
Thus he was just as efficient at ever at creeping up on people when they least expected it, and when a party was lost in thoughts, discussion or bickering as the Bhaalspawn's was, it was a simple matter to approach them unheralded.
"Jaheira! I would have words with you!"
Jaheira's head snapped up, jerking her out of whatever pleasant memories had brought a slight, teasing smile to her face, and the emotionless mask slipped back on instantaneously and effortlessly.
It did not take long for realisation and shock to beat the mask when she saw who had called her. "Dermin? What are you doing back here?" she mumbled numbly as the Harper strode towards her, cat-like. "I am glad to see you," the druid managed at last, blinking fast, confused. "I had thought our friendship…"
"I am not here for a social call." Courtierdale's voice was cold, hard, merciless, and devoid of any friendly tone. "This is the last time we will see each other peacefully. I have come to speak a warning."
A lack of comprehension replaced the realisation and shock as Jaheira struggled to recover the mask, failing amazingly. "What are you talking about?" she asked quietly, though there was a note of defeat in there, as if she already knew what was coming.
Dermin folded his arms across his chest. "It has been decided. You are a killer of Harpers and a traitor. You have collaborated with our known enemies. Your execution has been ordered." There seemed to be a trace of regret in there, but it seemed to Harrian as if it was more because he thought there should be rather than triggered by true remorse.
Despite the fact that she clearly knew that Courtierdale was not to be the bearer of good news, Jaheira still seemed stunned to her very core. "What? Such a thing has never been done!" she exclaimed, shaking her head.
The Harper shrugged, his expression devoid of any pity. "This is a very special case. You have faced little opposition from the Harpers so far. From here on the attacks will increase in severity, unless you come with me now." His tone didn't suggest that coming with him was the better option.
"What do you mean?"
"This is an internal matter of justice, and does not involve this Harrian. You can spare him the attacks if you submit."
Harrian stepped in, frowning, certain she would not have to deal with this on his own. His right hand went down to the Daystar subtly, though it was a movement not lost on Dermin. He doubted it had the intimidating effect he had hoped for, however. "What sort of deal is this?"
Courtierdale's head snapped towards him, and he threw the Bhaalspawn a cold, evil look, as if everything that had come to pass was his fault – for, truly, he doubtless believed it was. "The only sort she will get," he spat harshly, then looked back at the druid, his tone turning softer. "Think on it, Jaheira. You will receive the hearing you wish."
She seemed considerate, quiet, lost in thought, and there was a long pause before she answered. "Very well, Dermin. I will think on this," she decided at last, frowning with contemplation.
Courtierdale nodded sternly. "You do that, Jaheira. There will be no other warnings," he muttered ominously. He then threw the party a derisive glare before turning and striding off down the Great Eastern Road at a pace which was surely far too fast to maintain for very long… but, then, what was a Harper doing alone in the middle of the wilderness if he couldn't manage some fast walking?
Harrian turned to face Jaheira, aware but not caring that everyone was staring at them. "Jaheira… you can't possibly be meaning to turn yourself in to the Harpers," he muttered, frowning. "They'll give you a false trial and execute you!"
She threw him a venomous look. "You know nothing of the Harpers," Jaheira snapped defensively. "They are not like that… I have been promised a hearing, and I have faith that Dermin will see I get one."
"Yeah, well, I don't trust this Dermin! For all we know, he could have been a lackey of Galvarey's!" Harrian retorted, shaking his head. "Besides, you know full well they'd execute you without a decent trial if they could! You spat on Harper justice just a few days ago!"
She fell silent, and he knew his words had struck home. How much she would listen to them, however, was anyone's guess.
When she did speak, her voice was quiet, calm, calculated, and very much saying that this was the end of the discussion. "This is Harper business, Harrian. It no longer concerns you. It concerns me, thus it is my decision to make. Do not attempt to control any choice I finally decide upon."
It was as if an iron gate had been slammed shut in front of him, stopping him from reaching her. It was a sensation he had never had before, not since he'd been able to get those gates open, and it was particularly disconcerting. Harrian took a step back, knowing when to quit, and turned to the others. "We camp here tonight. And we keep watch."