It had been a full day, Lidia thought.
Their spirits buoyed by the firewine, Aerie and Minsc had led the way as they wandered through the Promenade with Lidia in tow. Since the warmth of spring had began in earnest, the market was much busier than it had been even a tenday ago. Now it was an overwhelming array of sights and smells the size of a small village, spilling out from the limestone arena into the surrounding streets.
For Lidia, who had spent most of her life in a keep that tightly regulated visitors, the sight of this many people tightly packed into one place had been almost overwhelming. Not even the coronation at Baldur's Gate had brought this many people together at once.
"Wait until midsummer," Aerie had said. "Even this isn't anything yet."
After spending about half the day there, and when the heat of the day began to wane and the shadowed started lengthening, Lidia had asked to return to the Coronet. Her first day of work was tomorrow. She was supposed to report in to the River District Garrison at the crack of dawn.
So by the time the sun set that day, Lidia had returned to her quarters at Room H in the Copper Coronet, checking over and repairing her equipment first.
While she still had a spot in the barracks back at the Order's keep, it wasn't the easiest time getting out there, and in any case there was no expectation that she return every night, but rather regularly report to Sir William every half tenday or so. If she was going to spend time walking the streets in the River District, it was probably better that she spend the bulk of her time here, too.
She'd been on the move most of the time for the past two days, so she hadn't had much time to settle back in since returning to Athkatla. One of the first orders of business, which had been delayed for too long, was getting organized.
She started by checking under the two roughly hewn bedframes, where she knew Bernard kept a couple of long, narrow wooden boxes. Under hers already was Sarevok's sword. But, if Jaheira was out of town, she thought, she'd have much more space to stash everything else, too.
She checked under the bed where Jaheira usually slept. Sure enough, the box was still there. But, as she pulled it out, it felt heavier than it should.
She carefully slid the lid off with her hands, trying not to create too much friction or splinters. Inside were some familiar-looking possessions: some travel-stained but clean clothes, an extra pack, a tightly wrapped leather case. Lying on top of these, however, was a small silver pin, glinting in the fading light.
She picked it up and examined it closely. The pin was sharp on one end and about three inches long. Its flat, round head was less than half an inch wide, embossed with a sigil: a moon and a harp, surrounded by four stars at each point of an invisible compass.
She recognized it at once, gently folding it into her hand.
She went to the door of her room and opened it, poking her head out. Immediately, she heard the sound of small feet pattering down the hallway.
"Celyce, could you get Bernard?" she called out. "Tell him to meet me outside my room."
The girl stopped in place, gave a quick nod and flitted off, her thin limbs taking her down the hall and easily loping through the maze of tables and chairs in the common room.
The stout, burly barkeep strode into the doorway, wiping his hands on a cloth apron tied around his waist. He asked, "What can I do you for? Everything all right?"
Lidia lowered her voice. "Bernard, I need to ask you something."
"Why are you whispering like a rogue in a back alley?" he said, with no hint that he suspected or feared anything wrong.
"This is important," she said. "Has anyone else stayed in this room in the past month or so?"
"Nope," he said. "This place is kept under lock and key while you or Miss Jaheira are out of town."
Lidia's hand uncurled, revealing the pin. "Do you know what this is?"
He leaned forward, squinting his eyes and studying it for a moment, then said, "Haven't seen one of those in a while."
"It's a Harper pin," Lidia said. "I'd know it anywhere — my foster father never took his off. And even if Jaheira needed to keep hers hidden away, she wouldn't leave town without it."
"Could be a decoy," he said, shrugging.
Her voice tightened. "Bernard, what happened to her?"
"You're getting into things you don't understand," he said. "I told you already she left town, and hand to gods, that's the truth."
"But that's not all," she said.
Bernard said nothing in reply. Instead, glanced to one side, then another. He stepped inside Room H and closed the door behind him.
She continued, "I'm not sure what your debt to her is, but I owe her my life. I'm asking you because if she's in trouble, I want to help."
"Look," he said, "I'd spill my guts, but you're asking me for things I promised to keep dead secret. And the only reason I'm telling you anything now — you're a friend to Jaheira, and no friend to slavers, and maybe you can handle yourself.
"I'm not about to betray my trust. But if you really want to know what happened to her — go find a shamed noble called Ployer." He practically spat the name out. "I'm sure he'd be happy to tell you himself."