Author's notes: Appreciate the irony, people, and pity me, for just as I finished Book 1, I find myself in Anomen's exact same position. A triangle is an ugly shape, especially when you're in the bad corner… but fret not! Things have proceeded less miserably than expected, and I'll chalk it up to experience, which should enhance my writing of this situation. ;-) Besides, depression gives me more time to write. I'm just rather amused by the irony – it seems whatever I inflict on my characters, happens to me (next thing you know, I'll be turning into a ten-foot spiky monster. Hmm, that idea shows promise…!)

Chapter 81: Long Day Coming

Hours later, the sun managed to creep through a gap in the shutters of a room less than ten metres away, the rays efficiently falling on the face of the formerly sleeping lone occupant of the bed inside.

Anomen swore quietly as he rolled over in a vain attempt to hide from the sun's rays, knowing he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep even if he did so. He had enjoyed, at best, seven hours of sleep, which would usually be enough for him… if he didn't feel so drained by the events of the past few days.

Yet slumber would still evade him, so he sat up unhappily, rubbing sleep from his eyes. It wouldn't do to sleep the day away in any case. With Harrian in the state he was on, Jaheira would doubtless be preoccupied with his wellbeing, and Anomen was, really, the only person left to direct the others. Not that much directing would be needed, but if a crisis situation did arise, he didn't want to leave it in the hands of Minsc merely because he was still in bed.

But he'd need some of Samuel's wake-up juice to bring him to full consciousness.

The cleric slithered discontentedly out of bed, padding across the room to splash some cold water on his face from the pail in the corner, which made him feel a little more alive. He dressed quickly and simply, not anticipating a need to look his best today, then pulled on his boots and headed out the door.

The tavern of the Five Flagons had clearly been full a few minutes earlier as merchants, having arrived for breakfast before work, slowly dwindled in numbers, finishing up their meals and heading for their places of employ, leaving only a handful of people behind.

Anomen's eyes narrowed slightly as he descended the stairs, instantly spotting Imoen and Haer'Dalis seated in the corner of the tavern, quietly conversing. That was bad. He could take it when they were doing the rambunctious flirting thing, irritating as it was. But this… serious discussion between them was bad.

Why?

The cleric frowned as that treacherous thought entered his mind, prompting him to justify his feelings. Because… well… the tiefling cannot be trusted! Who knows what his designs on her are! I suspect he is likely to use her and then leave her, for one who believes that everything is ultimately doomed is hardly to search for a long-term relationship.

This seemed to satisfy himself for a moment, so he stepped fully into the tavern and headed towards Thunderburp, his expression stony. The halfling seemed a little flustered and harassed, clearly having been run ragged by the early morning crowd, but he still managed to throw the Helmite a cheerful smile.

"Well, if it isn't my good knight Sir Anomen!" he exclaimed cheerily, gesturing to a chair before the counter and turning to prepare the hot chocolate, imported from Maztica, that was Delryn's morning preference. He so loved how the noble-born had expensive tastes. "How are you this fine morning?"

This question was answered with little more than a half-nod as Anomen sat down slowly, casting a brief glance around the tavern. "How long have they been there?" he asked sullenly, inclining his head in the direction of the other two party members.

So you care enough about her to worry whether or not Haer'Dalis is going to hurt her, then?

"Oh, about an hour or so now. They were here when the regulars started trickling in," Samuel offered helpfully, setting the steaming mug in front of him. "I don't rightly know what they're talking about, though. They've been ever so earnest since she came down to find him."

Anomen almost choked on the drink as he tentatively sipped it, and Thunderburp gave him a concerned look. "It's… hot," he mumbled quickly, shaking his head to try and clear his head enough to absorb this new piece of information. "She… was looking for him? Expressly?"

I care for the good of the party. We have enough on our hands with Jaheira and Harrian to need another emotionally wracked couple. I'll have to pair up with Minsc if things get any worse…

"Oh yes. Quite anxiously," the halfling responded, quite oblivious to the cleric's mood. "She was ever so flustered…and wouldn't say anything of what it was about." He shrugged. "Clearly something only he could help her with, I'd be guessing."

Anomen stood with a snort, abandoning his drink as he turned and started towards the stairs angrily. "I'm going back to bed," he declared with absolute certainty, leaving a confused Thunderburp behind him as he started to climb the stairs.

He didn't get too far as the door to the Five Flagons was thrown open noisily, and the stamping to herald the arrival of a quartet of thugs was heard. Anomen came to a brief halt, turning and watching, half-concealed from view by the twist of the staircase.

They marched in, dressed in the usual leathers and brandishing the typically beaten swords of the pettier thugs on the street. But the leader, a tall, lithe man in a cloak which concealed his clothes but was of a quality which placed him above his fellows, approached the counter. Delryn missed how Haer'Dalis stared at him for a long moment, an odd, considerate expression on the tiefling's face.

The leader placed a hand down on the counter, giving Samuel Thunderburp an inquisitive yet imposing expression. "My good friend… I believe I inquired at this establishment a few days ago regarding the location of a certain group of adventurers you declared were absent. I have been wondering if they have shown themselves here since I last asked?" The voice was quiet, silky, and whilst very courteous, there was the undertone of passive threat which did not encourage deception.

The halfling, to his credit, didn't bat an eyelid, but then Anomen suspected his wits had been dulled by fatigue. He fixed the man with a broad, slightly stupid smile, then nodded enthusiastically. "Mr Corias and his friends? Yep, they're back. He's currently indisposed, and I don't really think he's in a state to meet with you, but some of his companions are over there." He nodded at Imoen and Haer'Dalis, who were, by now, looking mildly furtive.

The leader turned towards them as they both stood, the bard looking worried. No, not frightened, Anomen, still silently watching, thought. More… cautious. There's something not right here.

"Ah yes, the tiefling," the man declared, a slight smile crossing his face as the four of them faced the two adventurers. "I remember you quite well. As I recall, you managed to break the jaw of one of my best men all those weeks ago. Impressive."

Imoen raised an eyebrow at him archly. "Before we mess around with all this silly false courtesy, could you at least do us a favour and tell us just who in the Nine Hells you are?" the mage demanded, her voice deceptively calm.

The man smiled again. "Ah, the Lady Imoen. I see you are alive and well. Not that it matters to me, to be fair." He gave a short bow which could have been mocking. "My name is Quint. Just Quint. I work for the Count Duchinov."

A slightly queasy expression had crossed Haer'Dalis's face. "I thought Yoshimo said that nobody knew your name," the tiefling mumbled, his voice oddly devoid of emotion or any discerning inflection.

"That is true," Quint replied, shrugging.

"Then why did you tell us your name?" the bard pressed anxiously.

Quint merely smiled a feral smile.

"I really wish you hadn't asked that, Haer'Dalis," Imoen muttered, frowning a little. Then she straightened up and looked Duchinov's right-hand man in the eye. "So… just what do you want with Harrian?"

Quint shrugged. "There is the small matter of retrieving a piece of Count Duchinov's property I believe you have in your possession. His lordship went to great pains to acquire this particular item, and he will not take your theft lightly."

Haer'Dalis frowned slightly. "If you refer to the Nether Scroll, permit me to remind you that you initially stole it from us. We merely retrieved it." He paused a moment. "Besides, we no longer have the scroll in our possession. It was passed on. To the Cowled Wizards." The bard had no qualms about setting Duchinov against the powerful mages.

Quint looked both unamused and unconvinced. "Bring me to Corias. Now. I will not tolerate the fiction of frivolous bards any longer than I have to," he stated coldly, more than a slight frown on his face.

Anomen, seeing the expression on Haer'Dalis and Imoen's faces, whirled around, planning to dart up the stairs to find and warn Harrian, so they could rouse Minsc and Jaheira and leap on Quint and his thugs when they emerged.

He didn't get very far in his darting. Minsc had somehow managed the amazing feat of descending the stairs silently, and the priest collided with the berserker's giant chest even as he moved to rush upstairs.

They bashed together with a loud thump, and Anomen bounced off forcefully, in visible danger of falling back down the stairs. Minsc frantically shot out an arm to grab the cleric, but his balance had been disrupted from the collision and he lost his footing, merely being dragged after Delryn.

Quint turned at the crash to see Anomen and Minsc collapse on the floor at the foot of the stairs, the cleric mercifully landing on top of the ranger, both of them looking battered enough to be unable to offer any kind of resistance. He smiled slightly. "Mr Delryn. So nice of you to join us."