5.

The murky waters pushed its way into the Sea of Swords so vigorously and with such an outrage, that it seemed that tonight was the night when the refuse dumped from Athkatlan sewers, windows and streets has finally outraged the nameless river gods. The Bridge district stank of dung, of rotten fish and of cooking. It was truly a miracle that the evening fog raising off the water was so white, so pristine. The dark sea roared angrily in the distance, waiting for its turn to enter the estuary and push the river back. The currents battled and changed its course daily with the tides for centuries uncounted. Against their might and persistence the stone embankment looked a sorry thing. It was forever crumbling and forever in the dire need of repair. But, Keldorn reminded himself while walking across the Bridge that gave the district its name, the repairs were being made. The bridge and the embankment stood. To carry on with the small reparations was all that the humans could do when faced with the eternal struggles. Be that the one between the sea and the river, or the one between the Good and the Evil. The inquisitor was too old to believe in the eventual triumph of one over another, but he deemed it cowardly to resign himself to observing. No, he was a working man tirelessly laboring with his small tools on replacing stones chipped away by the everlasting tide of the Evil.

This thought steadied Keldorn's steps, and he dropped the fur-trimmed cowl of his cloak to his shoulders. Let the dire wind tore at his gray hair. Let it chill him to his very bones. Tonight the knight was ready to fight it all to whatever end. His cheeks showing filigree net of purplish blood vessels and his eyes tearing from the cold breeze, yet strangely refreshed, Keldorn entered the Five Flagons tavern. Against the dark and stormy night outside, the tavern offered smoky and charring-hot comfort. Music and loud cheers came from the downstairs playhouse as the commoners gawked at the 'Jim and Brave Liz'. To Keldorn's taste Liz was shameless rather than brave and Jim was a petty thug whom the knight would have gladly turned over to the City watch for checking into Athkatla's jail for theft and irreverence. But commoners hailed the pair as if they were some sort of heroes. The inquisitor cringed as a particularly loud burst of merriment reached the common room .

'The simpler the better on a night like this,' Master Thunderburp said to Keldorn apologetically, and it took Keldorn a few moments to realize that the tavern's owner was talking about the rowdy play. He nodded and ordered an obligatory mug of dark ale. 'How is your nephew, Master Thunderburp?' the paladin said matter-of-factly. Only a slightest urgency was evident in his voice, but he squared his shoulders and leaned over the counter, to tower over the halfling owner. 'Which one, my Good Sir?' Master Thunderburp asked in a high-pitched voice and shuffled his hairy feet. Despite being a head taller than Mistress Ruby Berk, the halfling had none of her talent for creating an impression of presence. As Keldorn well knew and used on occasion, any mention of Mr. Thunderburp's nephew Hamish made the halfling especially vulnerable.

Halflings' love for their kin, even after they had left their ancestral hins, was both their curse and blessing. Nowhere Sir Firecam saw more proof to that than in Master Thunderburp's family. Hamish was a confused man, caught between genuine enough desire to live an honest life and being completely unfit for any sort of work. To compensate for the later, the gods gifted Hamish with a criminal genius of sorts and fertility that would have made Tethyr royal family go green with envy. However, when Hamish went onto his lawless sprees he, the best thief in Athkatla - the best petty thief - earned no more money than when he was washing dishes in Master Thunderburp's kitchens (after his uncle subtracted the price of broken plates). Hamish's amorous adventures involved every halfling lass in the City. He never argued when another curly-haired urchin called him 'dad' and never refused to spare a coin to help their moms through the week. Yet he had been known to propose a marriage to the same unwed maiden three times, and on all occasions his offers were rejected.

But if gods' smiles were sardonic, when they looked at Hamish, Master Thunderburp's was a sincere one. The Five Flagons owner loved his nephew through thick and thin. It made Keldorn uncomfortable to pressure this good-natured man whose only flaw was eluding taxes whenever he could.

'I wish to see Hamish,' Keldorn said after a pause and watched guiltily at Master Thunderburp as the halfling cower as if he had been hit into his groin.

Master Thunderburp hesitate for no more than three minutes, before pointing to the kitchens. Sir Keldorn was in luck - Hamish was enduring yet another short stretch of honest living. His broad face red and sweating profusely from the heat of the kitchens, elbow-deep in steaming water and soap bubbles, the repentant thief looked rather pitiful. A wide, once white, apron now stained with tomato sauce and pot grease barely contained his ample stomach; just as dirty a hairband held his once shiny mane in place. All resemblance to a lion's cub that Keldorn remembered in the roguish Hamish was smothered away by the fat folds that grew about the honest Hamish's cheeks and neck. Despite the busy bustle of the kitchens and the mountain of dirty dishes awaiting his attention Hamish looked utterly bored. It did not surprise Keldorn in the least that he jumped at the opportunity to surrender his duties for a short while, even if it was to talk to a grim paladin.

Master Thunderburp assured by the fact that Hamish was not immediately taken away to jail recovered his spirits enough to show them to a private dinning room and sent a serving maid to fetch some ale and meat pies.

'Had you heard anything about a pair of garnet earrings?' Keldorn asked after the food was served and they were left alone. Hamish shook his head negatively and sunk his teeth into a pie with an eagerness of a starved orc. That would have been the end of the conversation in the olden times, but the halfling was watching the paladin with an excited expression of a man who wants to talk.

Keldorn decided to risk it and quickly told the little man everything.

Hamish wiped his lips thoughtfully with plump fingers. ''Tis a dare thing to break into your manor, m'lord. I have... er... heard that there are them magic wards that keep it safe from any crook.' Keldorn nodded impatiently. He knew that. 'Forty thousand is a hefty prize... but I doubt any self-respecting thief would risk being caught by the Order's preachers. I mean no disrespect, Sir, only if those are City Watchers, that caught you, maybe they'd hit you in your teeth, but then they'd put you in a cell - fair's fair - and they'd leave you alone. Your... er... comrades, they'd take a soul out of you with their boring gazes and grand words. And well... the sentence it's like to be twice harsher if the Order takes interest in the case. Only Wizards are worse, what with them sending that poor Tiax fellow to Spellhold itself for stealing a scroll. And he was no mage even, Sir, just a silly sort. Er... anyway.... No thief in his right mind would go about stealing earrings from you and yours, SirY Unless... ' the halfling licked his fingers, unsure if he had just said too much.

'My daughter is missing, Hamish,' Keldorn prodded him along, and, seeing pity well in the halfling's eyes, added: 'I only have two.'

'O,' Hamish said, 'o... but that's not bad. How many sons?'

'None,' Keldorn acknowledged with sadness.

'You sure? They sometimes pop up when you least...' halfling ceased his amiable chatter under Keldorn's hard stare. 'Of course, Sir, of course not. You'd... er... know.'

'That I would.' Keldorn said gravely. 'I have never touched another woman, but my lady wife. As every good man should.' He was taken aback by the halfling's assumption that every man dishonored himself. Torm would be pleased by him teaching the rogue a lesson.

A righteous word is like a poppy seed - it's so tiny that it falls without notice, yet even in the meanest soil it tries to grow and blossom.

Assured that his words had sunk, Keldorn returned to the immediate business. 'Do you have an idea whom it might have been?'

Chastised halfling pursed his lips. 'Well, them new guild, they are not respectful of our custom here, Sir... They might have... Not that I know for sure, Sir. It's only a guess, you understand?'

'Yes,' Keldorn said slowly, thinking that it was one time too many that he had heard in the past weeks about the Thieve's Guild rival. 'I understand...' The paladin's watchful eyes noticed that the thief was holding something else back. Some secret that and he was eager to tell. Keldorn cocked his head to one side and tried a blind shot: 'And do you happen to know anyone in the new guild, Hamish?' The expression of halfling's face told him that he hit if not the middle of the butte, but at the very least right next to it.

'Not... not necessarily, Sir. But I have received and invitation to join... and I hear that they have not sent it to everyone, if you know what I mean. Just the best... Well, I am decided to stay out of trouble and all, Sir, it's must be that the word of my past... er... adventures had reached even their ears... '

Torm have mercy on me, but the wretch is proud of it!

'So, Hamish, would you give me the name of your contact?' Keldorn asked, jiggling golden coins in his purse.

'I would Sir, I would, for of course I have no use for their filthy invitation, only there is no name. A place where someone would meet me at a certain hour should I decide to come... for three days in a row, they say. And that's my only chance,' Hamish spouted out hurriedly, 'only with my uncle being so kind to me, how would I do such a thing. So I said to myself: ' Hamish, you are going to throw this invitation away and forget 'bout it.' And I did, Sir, by Tymora, I forgot all about it! Until you came asking after the new guild, that is,' the halfling cast Keldorn a wry look out of the corner of his black eyes. The paladin took the hint:

'I am sure that good Master Thunderburp would not mind if you go there to help me find my daughter. If the invitation is current still...'

'Oh, Sir Knight, Tymora's looking after your poor girl! Today is the very last day that I can come to the Graveyard... And the time is almost right - they'd wait till the midnight they said, and it's only half past nine....'

Keldorn's eyes opened wide: 'At Graveyard at midnight? Are you sure these men mean business?'

'A tad dramatic, eh, Sir? I thought myself that some pall of mine is joking, but that's a true invitation, I am sure of it.'

'Then let us not tarry.' Keldorn ordered and started pushing his chair off the table, but stopped in mid-stride, seeing that his new ally hesitated. 'What is it?'

'Well, I can't very well go garbed like this,' Hamish pointed at his tunic decorated in front with a generous greasy spot from a pie and the roughspun breeches. Keldorn conceded that while they might look good on a farmer, the clothes were hardly suited for a famous thief. 'What if I go change into something more appropriate, Sir, and you meanwhile can talk to my uncle... we'd not lose any time that way?' Despite the gravity of the situation Keldorn smiled into his mustaches as he nodded his acquiescence. His job tonight was variable indeed.

The fog rising from the river found its way to the Graveyard. Hooded, Keldorn tried to stay on the halfling's heals as they walked between the rows of the stone monuments, search the thick veil with his eyes for the sign of the new guild envoy and look like a thug. He failed on all three accounts.

A tall cloaked figure jumped out of the fog and loomed over Hamish. 'Who is this?' It asked the rogue in a hoarse whisper pointing at Keldorn who fell back for a moment to check what turned out to be a statue of a grieving maiden. 'Uhm.. A friend.' Hamish replied almost steadily 'Very interested in joining.' The figure turned to eye Keldorn: 'Do not move!' it ordered and Keldorn obeyed. Through the fog he could not discern the newcomer's features, he could not even tell if that was a man or a woman. His only chance to seize the evildoer for questioning or at least discover his appearance was to make him approach. However, even from the distance that separated them, the unmistakable stench of evil emanating from the envoy was so strong that it made the paladin queasy. It was familiar somehow... It was...

'Run!' Keldorn screamed at Hamish at the very moment that the figure's hood jerked back toward the halfling hissing: 'Traitor!' at him. Evidently, it recognized the paladin for what he was as well.

Hamish did not take long to access the situation. With a surprising agility the plump halfling ducked the arms that stretched toward his throat and dodged to the left. He would have escaped into the mist too, if he had not hit a gray stele, invisible in the haze. With nowhere to run the thief whirled about, his back to the stone and a dagger flashing in his hand. The clawed hands hang in the air, a hairbreadth away from where the halfling's back had just been. He followed the hands and then the arms to the shoulders with his gaze and finally had enough bravery to look up into the face of the stilled creature. Then he screamed and plunged his dagger into one flashing red eye. The gelatinous liquid stained the blade, steaming in the cold air, but not a sound came from the snarling mouth of the monster.

'Put it away. It's of no use against his kind,' Keldorn said calmly, walking over to them. Hamish dropped his dagger. 'Well, I never... It's a flaming vampire, Sir! Just look at his fangs!'

'I know what he is,' Keldorn's voice sounded hollow and sweat was bidding on his brow from the effort of maintaining the holding spell on the undead. 'Speak!' he commanded the creature, 'Have you heard anything of the girl taken by your kind last night?' The monster hissed in response.

'Is he... laughing?' Hamish asked abashed.

'I think so,' Keldorn replied, sitting himself on the ground, cross-legged. 'Let us see how happy he would sound in a few hours. I am in no hurry and I have always dreamed of seeing a sunrise over the Athkatlan Graveyard.'

'You're bluffing,' the vampire retorted, 'you're too weak to maintain the spell for ten hours.'

'Am I?' Keldorn asked coldly. 'Perhaps, for I am just one old man. But my good friend Hamish here would not want you to go reporting to your superiors about him bringing a paladin to this meeting. So he might as well run real fast and bring more. All together we would not need to wait till dawn to destroy you.'

Hamish made a move as if making ready to run for help.

'And you would learn nothing if you kill me,' the vampire mused. 'How about a deal - I would tell you all I know about the girl, and you -'

Without finishing the phrase, the vampire came into motion throwing himself against Keldorn. The paladin scrambled to his feet just in time and the long claws hit the wide blade of the two-handed sword. The vampire lurched to the right, but Keldorn blocked its hit again, his hands rotating the sword comfortably. For a few moments the paladin and vampire danced in the mist. The paladin was light on his feet for a man of his age, but his adversary was even faster. Only a touch faster though, so Keldorn managed to match every strike with a parry. The vampire made a full circle around him, lunging repeatedly, but the old knight stood his ground. In fact, against all odds he slowly gained on his foe, raining a cascade of crashing blows. The vampire backed away and went into a low crouch, like a cat. Keldorn swung the great sword again, leaving his body unprotected; at that very moment the vampire lunched itself upward, claws aimed at the man's face. The sword's blow took vampire into its shoulder throwing him a few paces away, but Keldorn's own cheek bled, torn asunder. The sight of blood invigorated the vampire and ignoring the sword crashing its ribs, it rushed in, growling and kicking.

Suddenly, the vampire stayed his vicious attack and stepped back. Kedorn's eyes caught a glint of metal just above the pin that closed the cloak at vampire's throat. In another moment an empty cloak fell to the ground and a bat crawled from under its folds and flew up into the night's sky crying in a hopeless fashion of a newly widowed woman. Keldorn pressed a palm to his wounded face, a sword still at the ready in now one-handed grip. But his wariness was to no avail. The graveyard was empty.

'Uhm... Sorry boss,' Hamish said appearing from the mist and cleaning his dagger with the cloak that the vampire left behind. 'He weren't going to tell us anything, but at least we both got out of it alive. Maybe if we can now go to the Order and -'

Keldorn raised his hand, calling the halfling to silence. Blood streamed between his fingers. 'She is calling me...' he said rotating his head as if listening to a barely audible sound and trying to figure out where it was coming from. 'I am coming, Vesper!' With that the paladin started running deeper into the graveyard. Cursing, Hamish darted after the lanky human. 'You'd better be right, boss,' he breathed out, 'I mean, I'm missing washing up after the play after all!'