46. Hedged Uncertainties

With her dreams and Branwen's thoughts still on her mind, Jade dressed and slid from her tent, happy to hear the snores of Kagain, Xzar, Montaron, and Edwina (whose now wafted in a distinct alto); she was eager for idly practice with her new scimitar, Icingdeath. No sooner had she gone past the first trees from their campsite, though, than she came upon Kivan; already out of reverie. He stood within a comfortable gap of the trees and underbrush, and he now practiced with Drizzt's other scimitar, Defender, the morally aligned weapon that, Jade recalled with an internal wash of anger and guilt both, had weighed a ton in her grasp. Free of his hooded and cloaked and down to a sleeveless doublet, the elven ranger now twirled it in a two-handed grip, muscles rippling in the arms and finessed twisting in the hands; the sword's motions flowing crescents that glinted the bright dawn light of a welcome cloudless day after the overcast rain of the previous.

He betrayed no notice of her for several minutes, continuing and completion a long, obviously long-practiced form. Jade stood content to watch avidly, and at the end he finally met her gaze, and then looked to her scimitar. She smiled, brushed back a scarlet bang, and stepped form within the ring of trees. He faced half-away from her, taking a guard stance and extending Defender in one arm, laying the flat of the blade over the other forearm extended forth. Jade mimiced his stance with Icingdeath, noting with a bright smirk that the male elf's figure was little different from her own. He looked to her as he slowly moved into the first technique of the form, drawing back his arm and the forward leg and sweeping through the air with Defender, taking the second hand in grip and arcing the blade in a backslash, then about again in a third slash. Jade followed each of his movements, as he continued on through the form, a painstaking but gentle ballet of posture and parry and attack that moved them in a star pattern opposite one another within the trees. The sun rose on, glinting brighter and brighter off their exquisite blades, the air grew warmer but Jade's body remained calm and cool and her face crisp and alert.

She exhaled in satisfaction as she swirled her scimitar through the final eight-point technique of the form, but her pride was cut short as a deep, womanly yell came back from the camp.

"You might have informed me last night that you wanted to keep your cursed form, before I memorized Remove Curse!" The yell was Branwen's, and none too amused.

"Oh, you're just jealous because I make a far comelier woman," Edwina's sharp but syrupy voice snapped back. "Don't be so put out. It encouraged you to ask your silly warrior's-god for the third tier of spells and now they've been granted; not that it's much use compared to the arcane power simmering from my fingernails." Within the circle of tents, she stood opposite the dead fire from the cleric, fanning her fingers to inspect her gold-painted nails.

"The Lord of Battles does not grant power idly!" Branwen's face reddened, but Edwina ignored her in favor of the study of her manicure. "It is disgraceful enough we delayed hunt of Tranzig to pursue your illegitmiate would-be assassination, now you must disdain me outright? You made a mockery of a man, and as a woman you only pander to the chauvanist superstitions of my tribe."

"Because I've heard of a 'comb'?" Edwina giggled and tossed back her long raven tresses. "You'd come in dead last in a beauty pageant of she-orcs. Even we...the men of Thay have more fashion sense than you."

"Tempus grant me patience!" Branwen threw up her arms, and turned to pack in her tent.

--

Three hours later, Jade was examining the rectilinear shapes of Beregost piercing the gentle treeline on the horizon; at her side Kivan inspeted them in great detail and looked continually about for wild monsters

"Do you think your brother will have reached here?" Branwen asked.

Jade smirked. "We beat him to Nashkel by several days. I doubt anything has changed."

"Not on your afterlife, mommy," Xzar smiled, "Harpers and paladins take forever to travel overland, you know. Have to rescue every little girl's cat from out of a tree or under a waterfall. If we Zhents didn't waste equal reserves of time going out of our way to burn and pillage and steal, I doubt they'd ever foil us. I swear upon the Sock Puppet King. But you try getting Manshoon's ear on these matters. The one thing truly evil about the Zhentarim is all the red tape."

Montaron grunted in agreement, and Edwina raised a carefully plucked eyebrow. "Just what is wrong with red tape? I have half a mind to design an outfit from nothing but, the better to show off my new curves." She peeled apart the throat of her robes to the base of her amulet nestled in the breasts she now possessed for a second day, and Montaron winced, grateful he wasn't tall enough to see anything. The conjuress looked sidelong to Jade, "I should have gotten more tattoos done back home. I don't suppose they do them in this little backwater?"

Jade rolled her eyes. "I doubt it, 'wina. Forgive me if I'm less than sympathetic."

Branwen snickered, and turned her attention to the approaching town, under her breath praying for this day to bring vengeance at last. The party grew increasingly alert as they entered its environs, wary for any more assassins like the godsawful bard who had greeted them in Nashkel. They marched without incident into the grimy cobblestone streets, and a pleasant lute tune wafted into their ears as they came upon Feldepost's, the largest and most upscale of the town's inns. "Money down the latrine, this place," Kagain grunted as they came up the steps.

"A poor excuse for luxury," Edwina sighed, "I do miss the comforts of Thay. Fine spices and foods, rabble-free streets, plush bedchambers, servants at one's every beck and call..."

Montaron snickered. "I not be wonderin' which type ye took into those plush bedchambers."

"That," Edwina stamped her foot down at the top of the stairs, "A Red Wizard...-ess...does not discuss with grimy pint-sized thugs."

"Ye say that like ye be insultin' me," Montaron grinned, greasing back his mohawk and spitting. "One might think ye be a man trapped in a woman's body, but I shouldn't wonder if it elseways around."

"Enough," Jade glowered, and turned back to the party before opening the front doors. "Within is Branwen's vengeance, and the next link in the chain of our quest. We find our man, we get our information, and we deal with him."

Branwen nodded solemnly and the party's bloodthirstier members murmured in approval and glee.

Within, the tavern was calm enough, at lunch were a number of the town's better-off (they could scarcely be called nobles, as Edwina was quick to point out), and no belligerent drunkards were to be had at this midday hour. Jade was prepared to bribe the pot-bellied propritier as to the whereabouts of a guest named Tranzig, but Edwin pushed ahead of her, sitting at the bar and sprawling her cleavage out over its surface as she made the inquiry. This proved sufficient to fish an answer, and they made for the stairs to the upper floor. Edwina caught herself approving of the luxuriant inches-think carpeting and ostentatious tapestries upon the well-laid wood of the walls, but Jade's hand signaled kept the party hushed as they used the carpet's dampening to walk quietly up around the door.

Kivan nodded, able to made out the scribblings of a quill. "At last..." Branwen whispered, summoned a spiritual hammer, and bashed in the door with one swipe.

Within at a desk was the pale, thin, and rat-faced sort of mage, even Edwina sneered in disdain. Tranzig started at the break-in, blotching his ink, and jerked up from his desk to look at the scarlet-haired woman in the doorway; an aze-toting dwarf standing just in front of her body; others behind them.

"Dull Gray-Black?" Xzar giggled, peeking over Kivan's shoulder to look down the same drawn arrow as the elf and inspect the man's robes. "What kind of a Favorite Color is that?"

Branwen moved into full view, and Tranzig squeaked, lips quivering for a moment before he commenced the gestures and chanting for some spell.

Jade and Kagain held back, letting Branwen move in. "Tempus's vengeance take thee!" she cried, her hammer flew up and caught Tranzig's chin hard on the upswing, shattering his jaw and ending his chanting or any further chance. He started to collapse even then, but Branwen caught up on the downswing. Blood spurted out his ears and eyes as the glowing hammer caved his skull in, and he fell almost bonelessly limp to the floor, blood pooling in a neat circle from his head.

"I thought we be wantin' information," Montaron squeaked.

Jade winced. Oops. "Search him." The halfling didn't need to be told.

Branwen dismissed her hammer, folded her hands, closed her eyes, and whispered to herself. Jade clapped a hand over her shoulder, and smiled. "It is done."

Branwen opened her eyes, and looked over the others. "Thank you." Her gaze returned to Jade, and she clapped her hand over Jade's forearm. "Until all of this is done, my arm is yours."

Jade nodded. "And it will come to an end."

Little concerned for solemnity, Montaron was already busy looting the body, while Xzar collected up the eyeballs that had already popped neatly from the head, and juggled them a moment before depositing them into one of the many spell component pouches lining his acid-green robes. Montaron attempted to furtively pocket a magical ring, but Jade glared at him and snapped her fingers impatiently. With a groan the halfling flicked it like a coin into the air. "Protection," he mumbled, and Jade palmed it out of the air, and handed it to Branwen. The cleric slipped it on her left ring finger, opposite Mulahey's ring, and took a deep breath, her faroff features softening as Jade had not seen them since her first softening from stone.

"The next link in the chain, indeed," Montaron grinned, unfurling a letter and holding it up like some court page for his taller companions to read.

Tranzig,

I am perplexed as to why Mulahey has not communicated with us in some wile. You are to go to the mines and ifnd out the condition of his operation. You are also to collect any iron that may have been stolen by the kobolds. Your next raid will most likely take place at Peldvale, or Larswood, so visit either of those areas and track us back to our camp.

TAZOK

Kivan grumbled from within his mouth, and looked severely at Branwen. "Your revenge is had, my friend. Now we look to mine."

--

Back in the wilderness, Viconia hissed, and the humans, who could just barely make out the shape of the High Hedge, looked inquisitively at her.

"The doors are torn asunder," she informed.

"Heavy doors they were," Onyx mused grimly, drawing his longbow; Khalid and Minsc did likewise.

"Warded and magically strong," Garrick added, lifting the crossbow from his belt.

They advanced with caution. Onyx could sense no evil beings, but a carrion stench became palpable, and then almost overpowering. Slain gnolls lay near the Hedge, less than fresh bodies slashed apart in clean lines, but not looted.

"K-k-k-k-killed by m-men and not m-m-m-monsters," Khalid chattered, glancing again to the foreboding hole of the Hedge's open doorway. As they passed and ascended the stone steps, the odor of rottish flesh burnt the tongue and constricted the throat. Onyx balked when he saw the true cause - Thalantyr's flesh golems had been destroyed in the anteroom, and the magics that had kept their bodies animated were now gone, leaving the meat to rot, and they seemed to be making up for lost time. They were rancid will beyond the bodies of the gnolls which lay in the hot sun.

The others pretended not to notice as Viconia fell back, her rich ebony skin gone pale, waiting until the others entered to vomit off the side of the steps. She conjured water for herself with a clerical orison, cleaning herself more neatly than a cat might until she regained her imperious standard of appearance.

The others were growing as disgusted and amazed as they were wary. The great dais in Thanaltyr's central chamber was now dead of glowing, lively magics. The runes did not shimmer, electricity did not coil about, and the great crystal had gone dark and appeared cracked. Onyx cursed the name of every demon or evil god that he knew when he circled about the dais and found the inevitable - the body of Thanaltyr. Imoen gave a cry when she recognized - barely - poor hapless Melicamp. The bodies, like the gnolls', had been cut as by sword, yet these also looked to have been fed upon, much of the flesh devoured. "The bitemarks look human..." Onyx half-gagged.

"Elven," Viconia corrected their thoughts as she came up. "These are the bites of an elf."

Jaheira looked darkly at the drow. "Methinks you've seen, indeed caused enough such bitemarks in your time, that I will not argue with you."

"That will be a first," Viconia retorted.

"Bitemarks?" Safana shrugged. "Who hasn't?"

Dynaheir sighed, shook her head, and walked among the desecration. "And a tragedy if this Thanaltyr was a mage of great knowledge and power as you say. It would seem they are few in this rustic westerland, and I had very much hoped to meet him."

Viconia sneered at her and glanced to Onyx in the instinctual hope he too would be sneering at the witch for this slight to his homeland; she took herself back after a moment, remembering her own opinions of this roofless world were quite the same. "You have," she grinned at the Wychalarn, and gestured to the wizard's body. "I present Thanaltyr."

"Basest savagery," Dynaheir turned up her nose at the macabre drow, "It is not only evil, but should sicken any who are good at heart." She glaned at Onyx, and while he nodded and murmured a prayer, she cast her magic divination again, and found the dais was indeed dead of magic, though as with the gnolls it seemed the place had not been robbed; she detected dozens of magical auras of other objects about the place, if the place itself was dead. Safana looked pointedly at her, and without any amusement on her face she gestured. Imoen followed giddily as the senior thief followed the Wychalarn's finger to the same segment of the wall where the wizard had vended his wares the other day. Imoen pointed it out herself but Safana was already digging a dagger into one of the stones.

"I'd'a thought it'd take some magic to get into a wizard's stuff?" she asked, peering around the pirate lady's shoulder as she worked.

Safana giggled huskily, happy to humor the teenager. "Watch and learn, little girl. The wizard would have thought it would, but his cantrips won't do so much good if we just pry around them. Now, be a dear and step back in case I do set off a poisoned dart or two."

Imoen squeaked and fled a half-dozen paces until her curiosity got the best of her again, and she turned to continue watching. Safana banged her other fist on the pommel to hammer in the dagger each time, breaking into the mortar on all four sides of each of four bricks in a large rectangle on the wall. "Lover?" she called over her shoulder. "Be a darling and put the dark elf's little mallet to some use, would you?"

Blushing while she snickered disdainfully at him, Onyx borrowed Viconia's winnings from Bassilus, and joined Safana. She stepped aside and he pounded each of the four stones in turn with the magically hard hits of the hammer. Each shattered like no more then chalk after a single blow, and upon the fourth a snapping sound eachoed from in the wall, and Onyx jumped aside just before the rectangle of the wall within fell out, cracking with a terrible echo as it hit the floor of the chamber.

Safana gestured with provocative theatrics, gliding her hands across herself and to the opened recess. "Door number one. That's a jackpot, thanks for playing the wheel of fortune." She swept an arm along the surface of the dais as it putting it into a spin.

Garrick ran up, face bright with excitement. "I noted everything Thal said about his wares..." his eyes glistened as she reached into the hidden storage compartment, "I suppose I should really save the most amazing stuff for la-"

"Let's have the loot, bard," Safana grimaced.

"Er, without further ado..." he blushed, and pulled forth a folded bundle of fabric, and held it up to let fall out into a stunningly intricate red, gold, and green wizard's robe. "...A Robe of the Good Archmagi!" he flipped it folded again with one swift prestidigation, and held it out to Dyanheir as if there were a silver platter beneath.

Minsc scratches his bald head. "Minsc's witch is very much shaped like a lady, and those appear to be for a man. Boo likes the bright colors, but they are much too large for him, and too small for Minsc."

"You big silly!" Imoen stuck out her tongue and swatted the ranger on the bicep that hung even with her face, "Didn't I tellya bout the Favorite Color Rule?"

"Only twenty times," Viconia informed. "Since this morning."

Imoen rolled her eyes with a huff. "It goes for size, too. It'd fit a busty hobbitess mage as well as a gaunt old fusty wizard." She stoppd for a second, and turned to Onyx. "Hey Ony, kinda like the first codger we met on the road."

Dynahier, gratefully accepting the gift from Garrick with a reverent face, started at once and glanced at the auburn-haired girl. "Pray tell, what didst he look like?"

"Oh, y'know, baggy red robes, beard older than I am, big pointy hat..."

Dynaheir stood up straight, and inhaled slowly. "And how did thy parlay go?"

"Well, Jadey kinda told him to shove his long wooden stick up his dry dusty a- ..."

"Imoen!" the Wychalarn gasped. "I believe thou were speaking to Elminster of Shadowdale?"

"Oh..." the girl went a little pale, and held her hand over her mouth. She looked frightened for a moment, but then giggled. "Hey wait, isn't that the one who did the wertle-woo-woo with Mystra?"

"Imoen!" Jaheira joined Dyanheir.

"Jumpin' junebugs, you'd think he'd'a been a little less high-strung with a notch like that on his staff.."

"Imoen!" Viconia unisoned.

"Okay!" she rolled her eyes, and quieted down.

In Thalantyr's stash they found too a Neutral Archmagi Robe, many magical arrows and potions, scrolls for Dynaheir and Garrick to use or scribe, and much other loot. Onyx and Minsc, less than enthusiastic about the pilfering even if it had no other rightful owner, meanwhile undertook the odious task of carrying outside the mutilated bodies of Thanaltyr and Melicamp (and the head of Charleston Nib, wom they did not recognize), and burying the bodies under a copse of trees that grew flush against the side of the Hedge, where they seemed least likely to be disturbed. With bowed heads they asked Mielikki for a graceful return to the earth and Lathander for swift ascent to the heavens, and feeling more at peace, if still unsettled over the mystery of the murderer, turned away. The rest of the party spent no more time in that ominous place, and with heavier backpacks and spirits, they continued northeast, to Beregost.

--

Montaron and Kagain unabashedly picked their teeth with the ends of their pipes as the strolled out of Feldepost's, patting satisfied stomachs after a celebratory lunch. It had been pricey enough, but Montaron had seen to it that their meal be subsidized by the purses of the other patrons. Licking his lips with the satisfaction of a profitable, quest-furthering murder, a nice filling meal, and a productive pickpocketing spree, Montaron took a long drag from his pipe and blew out a ring of smoke.

"Ho there wanderer!"

Jade groaned and went pale as she came down the steps after her short companions. "Not again…"

"Yes, again," Xzar groaned, nodding toward the pointy had and robe with the walking stick ambling up the street their way. "I'd recognize Pinkish Red anywhere."

"A disgrace to Red everywhere," Edwina harrumpted, daintily fishing a bit of chicken from her teeth with a fingernail.

Jade braced herself at the front of the party as the bearded man approached, but then her jaw dropped as she saw a familiar face rounding Feldepost's and another behind. "Onyx! Imoen!"

Her brother and friend appeared to have noticed the same old man they'd met outside Candlekeep, and looked at her with bright smiles and waves of greeting as they approached alongside a the party. Jade counted a new ninth among their number, a leather-clad woman on her brother's other side, and raised a skeptical eyebrow. Her Zhentish and Thayvian allies were groaning at the reappearance of the Harpers and Rashemani, but Jade ignored it as she had her brother closed the distance and hugged.

The old man coughed pointedly, and she turned to him with unmasked irritation. "What now?"

"Sis…" Onyx winced, looking to the old man.

"Well now…" he chuckled, lifting his wide-brimmed hat slightly to give a spray gleam of his eyes, "Our paths cross once more."

Jade snickered. "Yes, funny that. Quite the small world, 'E'."

Her brother winced again, smiling politely at the old man, who merely continued, planting his staff firmly against the cobblestones. "I suppose proper introductions are in order, as we will no doubt meet again. My name is Elminster."

Jaheira and Khalid exchanged glances; it wasn't lost on Onyx as he looked sidelong at them.

The wizard looked between him and Jade as he went on. "I've heard nothing but tales of thy exploints in the time we have been apart. It would seem that thou art destined to have quite the impact on the Sword Coast. Quite the burden for one so young."

Edwina snickered, "When you're 2,000 years old, young is a bit of a tautology." Elminster whistled dismissively through his teeth at the Red Wizard.

"I was not aware that my actions were common knowledge," Jade put her hands on her hands.

"Perhaps not common knowledge," Elminster tipped his hat, "But everything is plain for those who know where to look."

"Cut the crypto-babble and get to the point," Jade demanded. Onyx sighed.

"At it is," the sage wizard went on, "I am aware of thine efforts and accomplishments. Thou art each quite adept, as Gorion predicted. All that remains is to determine motive."

"Maybe mine aren't yours to determine," Jade sneered, but Onyx took a half-step before her, and smiled and Elminster. "Gorion? Pray tell you knew him? But you said nothing before." His voice was polite but skeptical too.

"'Twas neither the place nor the time for such things," Elminster shrugged. "As painful as the circumstances may have been, 'twas time for thee to forge thine on paths. One of the most valuable lessons that life has taught me, is…"

"…sleeping with goddesses is career-boosting and fun besides?" Edwina asked innocently.

"…when not to go sticking my pipe in other people's affairs. Such is the case now, as well."

Imoen winced and shifted her weight, and looked up at Safana, whispering, "I don't like the thought of him sticking his 'pipe' in our affairs!" The elder thief snickered in agreement, and stepped up to drape her arm Onyx and tilt her head skeptically at Elminster.

The paladin felt more assertive and leveled his gaze under the wizard's wide hat. "Tales I know speak well of you as a force of good. You could tell me so much, about Gorion and myself alike. Surely your wisdom could only set us on a better path."

Jade rolled her eyes, and Elminster's face remained unreadable under his bushy beard. "I fear I cannot. Self discovery is best left to the self, and all thy questions will be answered in time.

"That's a rhetorical statement," Jade folded her arms over her chest and looked pointedly at Elminster.

He lifted his hat a bit to reveal and raise a bushy eyebrow, then leaned forward to bow faux-politely over his staff. "Then it would seem I have no more words of use for you, and with this, I shall take my leave." Indeed, he then vanished in the proverbial puff of smoke.

Onyx leaned on Safana and rubbed his face, looking to Jaheira. "A guide or a game? May I attribute this to Harper balance?"

Jaheira folded her arms and looked no more amused than Jade had. "What was said was what he believed you needed to hear. We have our leads from the Surgeon as you seemed so sure this morning, guidance will be given when needed. You are a warrior of faith, so have faith."

Jade strode defensively before her brother and glared at her. "We grew up just fine without a mother, thank you, and we won't be needing one now."

Dynaheir moved up alongside Jaheira, and then Branwen opposite her alongside Jade. Kivan appraised the drow for the first time with a glare as dark as her hue, and Kagain grunted, hefting his axe pointedly as he appraised the elf. Khalid straightened his posture alongside his wife and Xzar tiptoed forth to leer ghoulishly at the skittish half-elf. Dynaheir stepped forth to fold her arms and look down her nose at the unbalanced wizard, her face fell in surprise when Edwina courtsied sarcastically; Minsc scratched his head but looked vaguely unsettled. Montaron nearly bent backwards to snarl up at the hulking berserker.

"Hooboy…" Imoen groaned, and shared a grimace with Garrick. "Nothin' like one bein' big happy party again."