Chapter 66: Riddled Lectures
Minsc caught a pair of wild boars that night, after some coaxing from Keldorn, and as it was Imoen's turn to offer the party a culinary feast, they ate well. With Haer'Dalis as her unofficial assistant whilst Anomen and Yoshimo were stuck on firewood duty, a meal set to raise all spirits was prepared.
It did not quite go as planned. Anomen brooded considerably about searching for firewood, which was not his favourite task at the best of times, Minsc was quite tearful about spitting the two boars, and Harrian seemed in simultaneous fits over both Jaheira and the antics of tiefling and mage.
By the time they all perched on logs around the fireplace, the sun's rays already long departed from Amn for the day, half of the party was about to fall apart. Anomen was in an intensely foul mood, and kept on glowering at Haer'Dalis, who had given him a brief taunt earlier in the evening. Whilst it did not seem quite justifying the cleric's full fury, few worried too much, for they all knew how erratic Delryn's mood swings could be; Harrian was constantly attempting to try and hide his concern about Jaheira, which rarely worked, whilst giving Imoen brief, nagging glanced which nobody could successfully interpret; Jaheira was understandably quiet and withdrawn; Minsc sat quietly on his own, gazing sadly at his plate; and even the bright, cheerful Yoshimo seemed oddly uncomfortable.
As such, dinner was a relatively sombre affair, even the jokes of Haer'Dalis failing to penetrate the gloom that had settled upon the group. Once the meal was finished, both Yoshimo and Jaheira excused themselves and headed for their tents. Keldorn and Minsc lingered for a moment also, but eventually the brooding moods of Harrian and Anomen sent them fleeing to the tents.
The four remaining party members rapidly set about clearing up the remaining dishes that littered the area around the campfire. Imoen and Haer'Dalis had been duelling riddles most of the evening, and this had had the others almost in fits of frustration.
The tiefling had puzzled over Imoen's latest for a lengthy amount of time, and they had fallen silent whilst he continued to contemplate. The bard was murmuring under his breath, then paused and straightened up as Anomen threw another log onto the fire.
"Another run-through of the question, my wildflower, so that I may contemplate the wordings a little more?" he asked at last, straightening up, a delighted expression on his face at this challenge.
Imoen chuckled. "Hey, come on, Haer'Dalis. That's your third and last repeat, and if you don't get it… you take my watch tonight." She ignored Harrian's peeved expression at this – he hated it when people messed around with his delegation of responsibility. The tiefling nodded his acceptance, and the mage took a deep breath. "Alright… 'I can have no colour, though there may be darkness within. I have no weight and hold nothing, and if placed in a container it becomes all the lighter. What am I?'"
Haer'Dalis paused, frowning intently. "Verily, my wildflower, that is a most excellent riddle. I shall have to consider this one most thoroughly," he mused, picking up another pan and tossing it to Anomen, who was piling up the dishes.
The cleric caught the pan as it clattered against his chest. He winced slightly, still glowering at the tiefling, before letting out a derisive snort. "Verily, your ignorance never ceases to amaze me, bard. 'Tis not the hardest riddle man – or woman," he conceded, nodding to Imoen, "has ever conjured. No offence, my lady." Another nod to Imoen.
The tiefling blade straightened up, crossing his arms and looking far more challenging than Harrian, who was finishing off his roast boar, had ever seen him. "So, squire, you have the answer to this riddle she has presented?"
Anomen smiled a mildly feral smile. "I do indeed. The answer is 'a hole'," he declared smugly. Realisation sank into the tiefling, but the cleric would not let him get away that easily. "You see, a hole has no colour. But it can be dark," he explained patronisingly. "Obviously, a hole has now weight and can contain nothing, but place a hole in a container, and whatever is in it will fall out… thus it will be lighter." The corners of his mouth twitched smugly as he finished the condescending explanation.
Irritation struck Haer'Dalis's face, but an impressed expression followed as he refused to give the cleric the satisfaction of knowing how much he had irked him. He swiftly directed the look at Imoen. "Most ingenious, my wildflower! You are evidently far more skilled than I, but as our priest ruined the fun for us, mayhaps I should simply take your place and go with him to wash the dishes?"
Nobody noted the dismayed look on Anomen's face at that suggestion, and Imoen smiled brightly. "I think that might be okay," the pink-haired mage declared brightly. "After all, we can't have our favourite bard missing out on his sleep, can we?"
Everybody missed Harrian's subtle muttering of "Oh, gag."
Haer'Dalis laughed. "Ah, Imoen, my wildflower," he chuckled, shaking his head. "Have I ever told you that you've a most natural grace and innocent beauty about you? 'Tis something any man would find most charming." Suddenly, his eyes had darkened, his voice lightened, and he sprang across the campfire to hold her gently by the wrist.
Imoen lightly extracted herself from his grasp, smiling broadly. "Yeah, okay, whatever. I don't know about my grace, but I'm not all that innocent, Haer'Dalis. I can smell a cheesy come-on from a mile away," she warned him, waggling a finger of the free hand under his nose.
The tiefling drew back, suddenly looking serious. "T'was not meant as such. I've no intention of offending you," he declared hurriedly, raising his hands in deference, and Harrian frowned as he suddenly realised he'd never seen the bard utterly sincere before… so this could well be it.
Imoen raised an eyebrow at him before returning to stacking plates. "Uh-huh…"
He pulled the plates away from her, and propped a finger under her chin, lifting her head to face him. "'Tis only that I see you in an unguarded moment, at times… and I see the ache in your heart reflected in your eyes. It saddens this sparrow to know there is no-one to hold you close, Imoen." His voice was quiet, sincere, and even mildly pleading.
"I…" Her light expression faded as her eyes widened. Behind her, Harrian suppressed a grimace by gnawing on the leg bone of the boar, and Anomen stacked plates, resolutely not looking at them.
Haer'Dalis stepped back, withdrawing ever-so rapidly. "But no doubt I over-step my bounds by saying so," he amended swiftly. "It has only ever been my hope that you might one day give me the chance to be the one that comforts you. It would be an honour, my wildflower."
There was a long silence as they stared at each other. Then a subtle, almost invisible flicker passed between them, and Imoen smiled nervously at last, fanning herself with her hand. "Whew. Gosh, you're good!" she sighed, chuckling.
Haer'Dalis grinned, bowing briefly. "Yes, I know. 'Tis an art form that has served this sparrow well, at times," he told her with a flourish, winking roguishly.
"Write a book. I'll buy it," Imoen told him firmly, nodding fervently.
Anomen coughed surreptitiously, picking up his own stack of pots, pans, and plates. "Come, tiefling. If we are to get any sleep tonight then we would do well to clear this mess that has been left in our wake… and shift our affairs to the river to be cleaned."
Haer'Dalis glanced at him as if jerked out of a reverie. "Hmm?" he mumbled, raising an eyebrow, then caught Delryn's peeved expression. "Ah, yes, my hound. Coming, coming," he muttered, picking up the third stack and balancing it delicately on top of the one he carried. They uncertainly made their way through the trees towards the river, leaving Harrian and Imoen alone.
The Bhaalspawn thief gave his foster-sister a suspicious look. "Just what in the nine hells do you think you're doing?" he hissed the moment he was sure the others were safely out of hearing range.
Imoen looked briefly at him. "What?" she asked defensively, sitting down on the floor next to him, folding her legs in the easy manner that always reminded him of lessons at Candlekeep in a most painful nostalgic way.
He pushed it aside. "You're flirting with Haer'Dalis. I hope you're aware of that," Harrian continued unnecessarily, waving his hands around in a more than slightly flustered manner and glaring his customary glare – which, whilst having nothing on Jaheira's, was not to be trifled with.
"I am. What's your point?" Imoen was defensive, still, but not aggressive; still talking in the easy and light tone that affected everything she came into contact with. Harrian loved his foster-sister very much, but there were times he wished she could have a shred of malice in her so he didn't feel completely evil when lecturing her.
He sighed, scrubbing his face with his hands. "You know what he's like. He's a bard, a tiefling, and he's… well… Haer'Dalis. For him, all things are temporary; everything ends. He's curious, but that curiosity doesn't last. He's not a user like half of the bastards you've run into, he's just…"
"Harrian, stop blathering," Imoen interjected, raising a hand slowly. "And let me get a word in edgeways." She stood up. "First off, nothing is happening between myself and Haer'Dalis. We happen to enjoy… matching wits in words and, as you saw, riddles. The 'flirting', as you put it, is merely light and it does not mean I'm going to jump into bed with him." Harrian sagged with relief.
"But," Imoen continued, making the thief look panicked, "that doesn't mean nothing will happen. He's a good-looking man, he's smart, he's cultured, and we get on. Things may well develop, and if they do, I hardly think I need advice from a man who's in love with his mentor's widow." The words were harsh, but her expression sympathetic and he felt no betrayal as she spoke.
He sat in silence for a moment, stunned. "I…" Then his face sagged, and he gave her a long, mournful look. He didn't seem convinced or silenced, but she had a feeling there would be no more lectures for the night. "I'm going to bed."
Imoen smiled her usual smile, before half-rising and giving him a brief kiss on the cheek before straightening up. "I'll be along in a minute. Good night, Harrian," she whispered, squeezing his shoulder briefly as he stood and headed towards his tent.