Disclaimer: I do not own 'Baldur's Gate', the 'Forgotten Realms' or any characters therein. Wizards of the Coast do, at my last check. Lucky them.
I do, however, own Fritha and certain other characters and plot points. Basically, if you don't recognise it from the game, it's probably mine.
– Blackcross & Taylor
Baldur's GateFritha sighed, staring through the few trees on the forest's edge to the farmland that lay beyond, the unripe wheat rippling with the breeze like a great green sea. They had seemed to take an age, those last few days it had taken to travel to Baldur's Gate, a city she had heard of so many times, it felt as though she had always been meant to go there.
But the idea of the city and whom she might find within its walls filled her with nothing but trepidation, feelings not helped by the dreams that had haunted her every night since the flood at the mines. Struggling to stay afloat in some vast trackless sea while the bloated corpses of the drowned reached up with mouldering hands to pull her under. And as Imoen's excitement had risen with each passing day, Fritha had found it harder still to give a voice to her increasing sense of dread, until it seemed to take physical form; a great dark weight coiled beneath her chest.
'Fritha, look!' Imoen cried at her side and she glanced northward to see the pale grey of battlements just cresting the horizon.
They had arrived.
The towers she had first seen though had turned out to be merely the bridge to the city and, tall as they were, it was another hour before she found herself crossing the languid waters that enclosed the Gate. The sun was low by now, pouring gold over the high walls before her, reflecting on roofs and windows within to make the city gleam like some rough jewel.
'Fritha?'
She glanced up to see Imoen staring at her and the thief silently pointed ahead, Fritha turning to see a tall gangly guard looking down at them with interest.
'The entrance tax is six gold pieces for each party of travellers. Please announce your point of origin.'
'Candlekeep.'
He frowned slightly, casting an eye over the group behind her as he spoke.
'You'll have to wait here, my commander wishes to have a word with you.'
Fritha watched him turn, walking over to a door in the base of the nearest bridge tower and disappear through, reappearing moments later with an older man at his back, his greying hair cropped short and a long thin scar running from eyebrow to jaw.
'First off, let me introduce myself. I'm Peric Scarrendale, second in command of the Flaming Fist, though around here I'm just known as Commander Scar. Though it is not necessary for you to reveal your names, please answer me this, are you the group that was involved in the fiasco at the Nashkel mines?'
Fritha felt the group exchange wary glances behind her as she, without pride or shame, answered.
'Yes, that was us.'
He nodded, his face still stern.
'Well, I have to say, you've made quite the commotion up here, and made yourselves quite the reputation as folks that can be trusted, and that is something this city sorely needs. I can't really put my finger on a single source, but there have been many strange happenings going on within the city.' He sighed slightly, looking uncomfortable as he continue. 'I'm sure you've your own business to be getting on with, but I ask you this. If you notice anything unusual, anything at all, please report it back to me at the Flaming Fist compound in the west of the city.'
Fritha nodded once to show she'd understood and, after a moment, he nodded too, returning to the tower as the remaining guard silently ushered them past, through the great yawning gate and into the city.
Those first few seconds were an assault on her senses as the overwhelming vastness of the place assailed her. The reek of food and smoke and sewage. The rattle of carts, the shouts of the merchants and, overhead, clouds of gulls cried to each other. And the buildings! A myriad of greys and browns stretching off as far as she could see in an unnatural cubic landscape. But what truly overwhelming was the people; the all-pervading presence of them. Hundreds of them swarming about her, all crammed into the city like some great ants' nest and Fritha had never encountered anything so abhorrent in her life.
'Such bustle!' exclaimed a voice next to her and she looked up to see Dynaheir, her expression pulled into one of delighted awe. 'The cities of Rashemen are empty by comparison.'
Fritha nodded, but she couldn't share her joy and only just managed a weak smile as Imoen turned to her, beaming, the girl excitedly grabbing her arm to pull her after the others as they moved off into the press. In fact, only Jaheira seemed to share her unease, the woman stood where they had gathered by a building a few yards from the gate with her arms folded, lips pressed together in a thin pale line.
'Right,' the druid began as they approached, 'our first priority should be lodgings, then we can-'
'Jaheira!' cried Imoen at her side, thankfully letting go of her arm as she did so, allowing Fritha to distance herself from what was bound to be another argument. 'We've only just arrived! Can't we explore a bit first, get our bearings?'
'By Silvanus, girl! This is not some outing! We have serious matters to attend to, ones which could affect the entire Sword Coast!'
'Now d-dearest,' interrupted Khalid soothingly, 'don't you think you're being a little harsh.'
'Yes,' agreed Dynaheir, 'melodrama will serve no purpose.'
'Melodrama?' the druid repeated, whirling on the smiling Wychlaran with barely control ferocity and Fritha took the opportunity to turn away, leaving them to their bickering.
At one time a mere distraction, she found their arguments distressing lately, the heightened tensions only adding to her feelings of unease, and she moved with laden steps to stand next to some boxes piled just inside the walls, away from the crowds hurrying in and out through the great archway. A theatrical sigh behind her and the rattle of wood and, with half an idea of who it would be, Fritha turned to take in scarlet travel-worn robes and tall crooked hat; Elminster had arrived.
'Good day to thee, young one,' he smiled, looking up at her from where he was sat on an obliging crate, his blue eyes sparkling. 'What a marvellous happenstance that we should again cross paths, especially in such a grand city as this.'
She just stared back at him, wondering vaguely if he thought he was being amusing, and the old mage's eyes seemed to loose some of their life.
'Ah, I see that thou've no time for my wry banter,' he continued with a gentle smile, leaning his staff against the chest next to him, 'tis true, our meeting was no accident, though I do honestly take pleasure in seeing thee again.'
'Why have you sought me out?'
He sighed, and genuinely this time, her manner clearly the cause. But after days of pretence for the others' benefit, Fritha found she hadn't the energy to perform for him as well.
'Forgive my continued meddling, but I believe it is warranted, especially considering the pressures thou art no doubt confronting. My pestering of thee certainly pales in comparison to the influence thou've felt from others,' he paused, looking up at her with grave eyes, 'including thine own self. 'Tis hard indeed to overcome what is bred in the bone, much more so in this case, I would imagine, but Gorion raised thee as best he could.'
Fritha smiled slightly at the mention of her father's name, but sadness tinged it. He had left her when she seemed to need him most and to remember him just reminded her of what she'd lost.
'Gorion… it seems I knew very little of him…'
Elminster smiled, gazing out at memories of his own. 'He was long my friend and we talked often, though less so after he settled down with thee. He felt a stable childhood would better prepare thee for… well… the problems that would eventually come. He cared deeply for thee…'
Her eyes felt hot and Fritha swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat, turning to watch some children playing by the gate, not wanting him to see the tears fall.
'But Gorion was right about thee, in more ways than one. Thou've a good heart, child, and let no one tell thee otherwise. My worry is that thy lineage is harder to escape than most.'
'What are you talking about?' she asked, whirling back to the man, 'What do you know of my lineage?'
But Elminster just shook his head, dismissing her question as he continued.
'You've bad blood in thee, hungry blood, and it will not let thee go without a fight. For better or worse, what's bred in the bone will be dealt with in time. I trust thou've the will to face what's within thee?'
He looked up at her, searching her eyes for an answer and she turned from him again, staring out the gate to the plains beyond, feeling a sudden obstinate strength rise within her heart. Bad blood, had she? Well, she'd show them what her blood could do; she'd show them all.
'I will do as I must,' she replied, a certain steel behind her words before she turned back to him with a shrug, 'What choice have I?'
He shook his head, looking suddenly old as he rose stiffly from his seat to embrace her.
'I am sorry if I brought thee melancholy, child, I am sure the future will be kind to thee. But, for now, I take my leave and wish thee well.'
He patted her shoulder gently as they parted, before replacing his hat, gathering up his staff and he was gone.
'Fritha! Hey, Fritha!' Imoen shouted behind her and Fritha turned to see her jogging across, the rest of the group watching them from over the girl's shoulder. 'What are you doing? I just looked up and you were gone. Come on, Jaheira says there's an inn near here.'
Wordlessly, she followed.
It seemed Jaheira had finally ended the argument Imoen had started and the group took a western street, weaving through the crowds until Jaheira paused outside a large whitewashed building, the blue sign above the door proclaiming in a fine ornate hand "The Elfsong". The druid led them in, the bar surprisingly light for a public house though the air still held the tang of stale beer and pipe smoke. Three rooms were taken, with her and Imoen sharing as usual, a cheerful maid taking them up the narrow stairs to the fourth floor and showing each pair their rooms in turn before leaving them to unpack.
Fritha moved into the small simple room, the door banging against the tall dresser that was crammed behind it. It was only just large enough for the two beds that rested in each corner, either side of the window she was now stood opposite. But it was clean; the stark white walls softened by the warm yellow quilts that covered each bed. The window faced northward and through it she could see the city again, laid out before her and drenched in gold as it had been outside the walls.
'Which bed do you want?' came a voice behind her and Fritha half-turned to see her friend glancing about the room appraisingly before her eyes came to rest on her.
She shrugged, dumping her pack onto the right one and Imoen laughed.
'Good, 'cause I wanted this one.'
They spent the next few moments unpacking, the familiarity of the routine and Imoen's blithe chatter serving to calm her, and when Jaheira called in to fetch them down to dinner an hour or so later, she found them both sprawled across Imoen's bed, giggling over one of the theif's old love letters.
' "…My thoughts are haunted by your verdant eyes…", ' Fritha read aloud, her friend laughing as she pretended to swoon. 'Leit… who would have believed it?' she continued, thinking back to Candlekeep and the shy gangly lad who had served there as a guard.
'You know his friend, Druis, liked you…' said Imoen, taking the well-fingered parchment back to gaze over it fondly.
'I know,' Fritha nodded and Imoen glanced up sharply, clearly surprised she'd managed to notice until she explained, 'Beth told me. He didn't send me any letters though,' she continued with a sigh, 'preferring instead, to express his regard through the medium of picking on me during sword practise.'
Imoen snorted, lost to giggles as the door opened behind them.
'Well, it looks as though you two have settled in well enough,' the druid remarked and Fritha smiled, rising to haul Imoen to her feet before following the woman out. The Gate was just a place like any other; as long as they were all together, nothing would come to trouble.
xxx
Fritha lay in bed, her mind awake even as her body still held an air of rest. She had found it hard to sleep that night, unable to stop her mind going over and over the plans they had made together at dinner, to make quiet inquiries into the Iron Throne and gather evidence to expose them. And this, combined with the unfamiliar noises of the city that seemed to start her every time she had been close to sleep, meant it was the early hours of the morning before she'd managed to drift off. In fact, the only reason she was awake now, was that for the first time since she could remember, Imoen had awakened before her and was currently clattering about the room as she dressed.
Fritha yawned widely, finally giving up on the idea of sleep and opening her eyes to watch her friend who was now stood before the mirror combing her hair.
'Someone's up early.'
Imoen started slightly, turning back to her with a grin.
'Not really, you're just up late,' she answered with her usual cheek and Fritha smiled wryly.
'Is that so? And here was me thinking it had something to do with the fact we're in the city.'
Her friend laughed, dropping to her knees beside the bed as Fritha propped herself up on an elbow.
'I refuse to believe you're not excited too. I mean, it's Baldur's Gate,' she breathed with a heady reverence, as though even the name held something for her, 'just imagine what we could find here, what we could do…'
'All this from the girl who didn't bat an eyelid in Beregost.'
But Imoen just laughed again, pestering her until she was out of bed before dancing out the door, telling her she'd see her at breakfast. Up and dressed, it was but moments later when Fritha left too, clattering down the stairs to the large open common room, the smell from the kitchens making her hungry as she joined her friends at their table.
Jaheira glanced up as Fritha finally appeared for breakfast, looking a little tired but nowhere near as drawn as she had the previous day and the druid felt her worries dissipate somewhat. The city had so clearly left her uneasy the day before and dinner had not left her much better, any mention of the Iron Throne always guaranteed to trouble her. But the girl seem well enough now as, sitting down and spooning yoghurt into her bowl as Imoen poured her some tea, the cook bustling over to lay the last of their dishes on the table.
'And here we are,' the woman trilled, setting down a trencher of bread, steam still rising from the first few slices, 'fresh from the ovens.'
'Look at that!' breathed Imoen, the months spent eating waybread clearly leaving their mark on her as she began to pile slice after slice upon her plate.
'That isn't bread,' Fritha laughed, leaning over and touching the light springy surface with obvious delight, 'that's sliced cloud!'
'Oh, hark at you!' laughed the cook, flushing with pleasure, 'here's something to complement the sweetness of your tongue,' she finished, setting a jar of yellow paste on the table before the girl.
'And lemon curd! I haven't had that since… well…'
Fritha tailed off looking momentarily lost before she grinned, heaping a healthy spoonful on top of her yoghurt and stirring it in.
'Ah, I would that all my customers were as easily pleased as you,' the cook sighed genially and Jaheira smiled as she watched the girls, Fritha laughing behind her hand at the amount of bread Imoen seemed to be attempting to stuff in her mouth, their foolishness brightening the rest of them. It was amazing how just one person could bring about such a change.
'Well, a good day to you all,' the woman trilled with a final nod and Jaheira's eyes followed her back to the kitchens as she left the table a lot more cheerful than when she'd arrived.
xxx
Breakfast had warmed Fritha with its homeliness, and even the crowded streets did not seem as unsettling as the group made their way through the city to eventually split up; the two Rashemi going to visit an old friend of their clan, the girls tagging along with Khalid and Jaheira as they went to meet one of their Harper contacts in a nearby square. A kind old man named Entillis Fulsom; he made a grandfatherly fuss of her and Imoen that reminded Fritha of Tethtoril, and spoke to Jaheira as a daughter, telling her he was glad to see the years had been kind to her and softened her manner.
Something it had taken Imoen a lot not to comment on.
Entillis seemed to know nothing more than they though, bar telling them that Scar of the Flaming Fist could be trusted, but he invited the two Harpers couple to visit him later at the local hold. The three moved off slightly to discuss a time and place before they rejoined them and it was as they were returning to the Elfsong for lunch that Imoen grabbed her arm to halt her, leaning in to hiss at her ear.
'See that man over there?'
Fritha glanced warily to the Harpers as they continued along the street, worried of losing them when she wasn't sure of the way back, before she followed Imoen's gaze to a dark-haired youth, casually leaning against a lamppost with an easy grace, his eyes trained on the people milling about the square before him.
'What, him?'
Imoen nodded, her eyes never leaving him.
'See the way he's watching those noblemen? He's a thief,' she announced with a pride that made Fritha smile.
'Come on, Imoen, we'll lose-'
But at that moment, he looked up, his eyes seeming to snap straight to them and he was moving through the crowds towards them before she could blink. Fritha went cold, her hand moving instinctively to her sword, as the all too familiar scenario played out before her.
'Imoen, fall back and nock an arrow.'
'There you are!' snapped a sudden voice behind them and Fritha whirled, never happier to hear the druid's reprimands than at that moment. 'By Silvanus, you two haven't the sense you were born with! Wandering-'
The druid stopped, finally noticing their stances and the approach of the youth, her anger redirecting as she stepped up to meet him, her husband at her side.
'Yes?'
The young man seemed slightly taken aback by this and faltered a moment before bowing politely.
'Good morning, m'lady. May we speak? I've a word or two you and your group need to hear.'
Jaheira raised an eyebrow imperiously, nodding once and he continued quickly, clearly wishing to deliver his message and get himself out from under the druid's steely glare.
'The word on the street has you placed as a fine group of mercenaries and I've a master who'd like to speak with you, if you can spare the time.'
Jaheira glanced to her husband, an unseen agreement passing between them and she turned back to him with an answer.
'Lead on.'
They followed the youth along their planned route, back into the east of the city and past the Elfsong to a group of dilapidated buildings that huddled in the shadow of the city's old inner wall. He led them up nearest set of steps and through the door, pausing to have a brief word with the man inside before opening another door and showing them into a large room, tables and low sofas scattered about it. He led them on though; to the room opposite which turned out to be an office of sorts, a lean wiry man of dark complexion rising to greet them as they entered.
'Greetings, I am glad you saw fit to meet with me. I am guild master Alatos, head of the thieves of Baldur's Gate. Thank you, Niklos.'
The youth nodded, turning to leave without a word and, strangely, Imoen followed him to stand in the adjacent room, chatting genially. And Fritha only kept half an eye on the guild master as he explained to the Harpers how he had suddenly found himself low on hands and asked to hire them for a few jobs about the city, her true attention caught up watching Imoen giggle and play with her hair.
Her focus was hardly needed anyway. Jaheira refused the guildmaster before he'd even explained the task and with an abruptness that meant their departure was likely to be immediate. Sure enough, Alatos nodded stiffly and called for someone to escort them out, Fritha shouting after her friend as they passed.
'Imoen!'
The girl glanced to her, turning back to say a quick farewell to the youth before jogging over and following her out the door.
Outside, the brightness seemed to have them all blinking after the gloom of the guild and they lingered a moment at the foot of the steps until Jaheira struck out southward, heading for the inn, and the rest of them trailed after her. Fritha fell into step with Imoen, the clear blue arc of midday sky above filling her with a sudden joy as she glanced to her friend, who was staring into the distance, a slight smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.
'What's his name then?'
'What?' the girl questioned, turning to her, the confused tone belied by her guilty smile. Fritha smiled too, rolling her eyes at her friend's pathetic attempt to play the innocent with her.
'Imoen, you had the exact same look on your face when I walked in on you and Piato kissing in the Peers' Library.'
Imoen laughed delightedly and continued, her voice dropped low and earnest, clearly just bursting to share her secret.
'He's Niklos. He joined the guild about a year ago. And he's wonderful.'
'Such a description! I feel I know him already,' Fritha commented mildly and was rewarded with a laugh, her friend shoving her playfully.
'Don't tease me; you always tease me.'
Fritha smiled and promised she would behave, spending the next few moments patiently listening as Imoen told her of her new acquaintance in every giddy giggling detail.
They were back in their room by now, Imoen lying on her bed, quiet except for the occasional sigh, green eyes staring off at something only she could see and a smile still playing at her mouth.
'Are you coming down to lunch, then?' asked Fritha, sure that any mention of food would likely bring her round, but the girl seemed to barely hear her.
'What? Oh, no, I'm not really hungry.'
'Not hungry?' Fritha exclaimed, no less surprised by this than if the girl had just told her she was running off to become a novice of Helm, 'by Sune, he really got to you, didn't he?'
'Oh Fritha,' she cried, rolling on to her side to gaze up at her with a dreamy smile, 'I can't tell you. It was just so sudden. One moment I was just chatting with him and then…'
'And then?'
Imoen ignored her prompt though, lying back down with a sigh. 'I can't wait to see him again, when are we going back to the guild?'
Fritha winced.
'Imoen… we're not. Jaheira refused to work for them.'
'We're not?' she repeated, sitting bolt upright, her face falling.
Fritha bit her lower lip. There was a way around this though, something she had been considering since Niklos first approached them, but she felt strangely ill at ease with the idea now her friend's infatuation had come to light.
'Fritha?'
Fritha glanced up, their eyes meeting and she felt her heart sink at the sudden hope she saw there.
'Give me a moment.'
Imoen was knelt on the bed staring after her as Fritha left their room, slowly walking the few paces along the hall to halt outside the last door. With a lot more trepidation that she thought she should feel, she drew a deep breath, closed her eyes and knocked, taking a step back to wait for the inevitable.
'Fritha?' came a voice and she opened them to see the druid stood before her, hazel eyes wide in a look of mild surprised.
'Jaheira…'
'Yes?' she prompted, concern creeping into her features.
'I think Imoen and I should join the thieves' guild.'
The druid raised an eyebrow, considering her sternly. 'You do, do you?'
'Yes, you and Khalid have your contacts, as do Dynaheir and Minsc,' Fritha continued, trying to keep from rushing her words under the woman's austere gaze, 'it would be wise if we joined the guild, worked for them and kept our ears open for anything the Iron Throne may be involved in. If they are having any illicit dealings within the city, then the guild will know about it.'
A long pause.
'All right,' the druid said finally, except it was not terse or grudging, but an agreement openly given, and Fritha felt a sense of pride well within her as the druid nodded.
'It is agreed. I do not want the two of you wandering about alone though, so stay together. You can go back later tonight with Imoen under the pretence that you are there without our knowledge,' Jaheira continued, turning back into her room and Fritha was sure she could hear the hint of a smile in her voice as she added dryly, 'I cannot see him having a problem believing that.'
xxx
Jaheira was correct in her assumption and Alatos hardly raised an eyebrow when they turned up later that night, all giggles and nerves as only young girls who think they're being terribly rebellious can be. To be fair, there was hardly much acting involved on their part. Fritha had had all afternoon and the evening to worry about her plan and Imoen was a touch restless too, though, Fritha suspected, for a completely different reason.
But the guild master accepted their explanation readily, complementing them on their business sense before dismissing them to his second, Narlen Darkwalk. A gruff man of middle years, he managed to insult them both from the outset by checking they were literate, before telling them of their first assignment: keeping a surveillance record on the Seven Suns trading coster in the west of the city.
'What do you think, then?' asked Fritha, as they wandered back into the common room, glad to be out from under the old thief's scrutiny. 'Do you suppose our Narlen became a thief and earned his name sneaking about the dark streets of the Gate? Or was it always his name and he just decided to cut his losses and become a thief, because no one would believe he wasn't at least a little shady with a name like that.'
'Fritha,' laughed Imoen, stopping suddenly to grab her arm, her eyes fixed on something over her shoulder and Fritha turned to see the tall lean frame of Niklos appear in the opposite doorway. He seemed to scan the room a moment before his eyes found her friend and with a surprised smile he nodded his greeting, making for them with easy strides. Fritha could certainly see why she liked him; tall with handsome features, his dark brown hair worn was mid-long and curling about his face, the day or so's worth of stubble on his chin giving him a roguish air.
'Fritha…' Imoen breathed, the grip on her arm tightening.
'Gods, you really are nervous.'
'Maybe,' she smiled, glancing to her, 'but it's a good nervous, like, I don't know, thousands of butterflies are inside me- don't look at me like that!' she added with a snap as Fritha cast her a sidelong glance as began laughing behind her hand.
'What's so funny?' came a smooth voice above them, and she stopped laughing to glance up into a pair of pale blue eyes.
'Oh, nothing,' Imoen replied brightly, giving her arm a meaningful squeeze before finally releasing her, 'Niklos, this is my friend I was telling you about, Fritha this is Niklos.'
Fritha nodded politely. 'Nice to meet you.'
'Likewise, I'm sure,' he returned with a slight smile, his eyes travelling carefully over the pair. 'You know, the way your other friends marched you out of here before, I didn't expect to see you again.'
Imoen snorted. 'Yeah, well, what they don't know, won't hurt them.'
All three laughed at that, before it slowly ebbed off to an awkward silence. Fritha sighed gently; they really hadn't time for this.
'Well, we shouldn't keep-'
'Imoen, can you come with me?' cut in Niklos with an abruptness that made Fritha frown, 'There are some people I think you should meet.'
Her friend started, looking momentarily surprised, before beaming.
'Yeah, okay. You coming, Fritha?'
'No, I think I'll stay here,' she answered, smiling as confidently as she was able as she gestured to the room, 'introduce myself to some of the locals. See you back here in an hour?'
'Sure.'
And Fritha watched them go, disappearing through one of the northern doors before she turned to scan the room, her stomach beginning to churn. Well, investigations had to start sometime.
xxx
It was not as bad as Fritha had thought it would be, and after that first evening, the next few days seemed to blend into one, every day spent watching the trading coster just as surely as every night was spent wandering about the thieves' guild. People only returned to the guild to begin or report on their various assignments, the former usually only staying long enough to gain an audience with Alatos or Narlen. So the majority of those she found scattered about the building of an evening were those who had completed their tasks and had usually just been paid too, making them amiable enough, and she had soon developed her own little script to bring the natural course of even the most bland of conversations on to city politics and the Iron Throne. She'd even had a few offers of drinks from the nicer ones, which she'd refused though. They had a job to do; something her friend seemed all too willing to forget.
Imoen was fine usually, the girls helping to keep each other's spirits up through the long days of surveillance, before coming with her to the guild to question and converse with the other thieves. But then Niklos would arrive and the last few days had found her friend spending more and more time with him and increasingly less time with anyone else, including herself. Just like that evening, Fritha considered with a disgruntled sign as she watched Imoen sat on one of the many sofas, her new friend at her side.
They had arrived at the guild together, both still giggling about today's watch or, more accurately, some woman in a nearby house leaning out her window to accuse Fritha of being a peeping tom, something Fritha had found a whole lot less amusing at the time. But, nevertheless, that evening had found them in good cheer and they had slowly worked through the common room of the guild getting into conversations, checking what people were doing and finding out what they knew. Finally, Niklos appeared and Imoen went to greet him, something Fritha certainly didn't begrudge her. But after a while, the girl was returning to talk to him more often, and for longer and longer, her work filtering off until she seemed to give up completely and had sat where she was now, the man at her side.
Fritha had mentioned it to her a couple of times now, about how it made more work for her and time was running out, things Imoen always agreed with. But it was as though as soon as Niklos arrived the girl couldn't help herself. Fritha shook her head; she felt like such an old shrew, constantly having to remind her of their duties, and it was with a heavy heart she finally saw her chance and quickly crossed the room to Imoen, yet again to play nursemaid.
'Come on,' Fritha hissed, Imoen at last alone while Niklos was called in to speak with the guild master, 'there are other people here to talk to, you know.'
'Fritha, in a minute,' Imoen whined, clearly wanting her to leave her be, 'He says some of his friends are arriving soon, I can talk to them.'
Fritha's look though was obviously not one of ready acceptance, as the girl frowned and continued with a terse sigh, 'You just don't understand, Fritha.'
Fritha scowled slightly as she slunk off again. Imoen was right; she didn't understand. Her friend had had attachments of this sort in the past, but it had never put such a wall between them before. It had just been like a game, one of many they would play together, and though Imoen's meetings with them would always be alone, she would come back full of talk and laughter to share. But, now as soon as Niklos turned up it was as though Fritha didn't exist.
The girl fought down a surge of jealousy as she watched her friend, held rapt by his every gesture. What was so special about him anyway? He wasn't that handsome. Certainly not as amazing as he seemed to think he was and she trusted him about as far as she could throw Minsc. Fritha had tried sitting with them, watching the man hold court among his friends, but, to be quite frank, she found it dull.
Still…
Imoen clearly didn't, and these friends of his may hold some clue about the Iron Throne. Fritha sighed gently and sank onto a nearby sofa, resigned to the fact they would probably be there another hour at least and unable to help but feel a little warmed as her friend caught her eye, beaming at her stupidly before her attention was drawn back to the man at her side.
Ah, love's young dream…
xxx
Fritha sighed, angrily pulling on a fresh tunic before hurling the damp one across the room in her frustration. She and Imoen had been sat out on the docks when the shower caught them, unable to find proper cover where they could still see their current mark and the girls had been soaked to the skin and half dried again by the time their replacements arrived that evening. It was a day only made worse by Imoen's inability to enter into any conversation without it eventually being brought around to her favourite subject. Niklos. In fact, so prevailing was this tendency that Fritha wondered whether Imoen hadn't been working on a little script of her own: one to naturally bring the course of every conversation on to Sune's gift to larceny.
'Fri-tha' whined the girl in question from the hall, clearly anxious to get to the guild.
Fritha sent a scowl in her direction, absently hoping they had the ability to travel through walls before moving with a deliberate lack of haste to the dresser and shaking out her damp hair, a mass of curls where it had been rained on and then allowed to dry. She frowned at her reflection, debating on whether to bother trying to brush it, or just wait until later when she could give it a wash.
'Fritha, will you come on!'
'Imoen, it's not as though you're eager to get back to work!' she snapped, her friend's impatience making the decision for her as she threw the brush after her tunic in temper, 'I'll be there when I'm good and ready!'
Just a moment to gather her hair back up and pin it in place, and she was out in the hallway to join her, much to the girl's relief.
'Finally! Now can we-?'
'Well, there are two faces I have not seen in a while,' a voice behind them interrupted genially and they turned to see Jaheira stood at her door, 'Just getting in?'
Imoen sighed and sullenly rolled her eyes. 'I'll wait for you downstairs.'
Jaheira watched the girl slope off down the narrow staircase before turning back to her and Fritha offered her a wan smile.
'Just going out.'
The druid frowned slightly. 'Is there a problem?'
For a second Fritha wrestled with herself, wanting to confide in the older woman, tell her of her worries, of Imoen and Niklos and everything, but…
'No, no,' she dismissed with a shake of her head, 'how are things?'
'We may have a couple of promising leads, and yourselves?'
'Nothing as yet. We'll keep at it.'
The woman nodded, smiling slightly and Fritha felt warmed by the faith she obviously had in them, the desire to see it was not misplaced rising fierce within her.
'So, what do they have you doing over there?'
Fritha shrugged indifferently.
'Mostly surveillance, the Seven Suns, certain ships. From what I can tell, Alatos's best people are off working on some important mission the guild's accepted, so everyone's moved up a rank and Imoen and I are taking up the slack right at the bottom.'
Jaheira's eyes narrowed slightly, and Fritha anticipated her next question, though she let her ask it anyway.
'This mission, could it be for the Iron Throne?'
'No, I don't think so. I've seen a Halruraan mage hanging around the guild a couple of times and there's talk of the plans for one of their airships being batted about. I'm pretty sure it's something to do with that.'
Jaheira nodded again and they bade each other farewell, the woman turning back into her room as Fritha clattered down the stairs to meet Imoen in the bar and together they left for the guild.
Outside, the night air was cool and still, the streets still quite busy even at that hour. There was always a constant stream of movement in and out the gates, however late, though the streets further into the city would most likely be quieter by now. To be honest, the numbers of people didn't really bother Fritha anymore. Though it had been unnerving at first, she found she quite liked the bustle after a day or so. There was an anonymity to being among that many people, and the crowds provided her with a sense of isolation she had not felt since the mists of Peldsvale. In Nashkel, any stranger in such a small place was a point of interest; in Baldur's Gate, she was just another face in the crowd. And so used, as she was, to spending at least a few hours each day on her own, the last month or so of being in constant company was starting to smother her and Fritha savoured the feeling as she followed their various marks about the city, the chaos of people providing better cover than any forest ever could.
She did not get long to enjoy such feelings that night though, the guild was barely a street from the Elfsong and before she knew it, she was trudging up the steps, Imoen at her side. The first thing that hit her was a wall of noise as she pushed open the door to the common room, the area packed with people stood and sat, the sound of their talk and laughter a low rumble in the warm air.
Niklos was stood as part of a large group in the corner across from them and he called to Imoen as soon as they entered, the girl rushing over to be welcomed into their circle. Fritha watched with a tired resignation as her friend was swallowed in the throng before turning her attentions to her work, not taking long to find out what the impromptu celebration was in aid of. The guild's mission for the Halruraans had been completed to their satisfaction and the entire guild had been given a bonus, with Alatos declaring that all drinks were on the house until the kegs ran dry.
Fritha got herself a cup of wine, playing the part of the merry carouser as she worked the room, chatting blithely with the regulars and gaining introductions to those unfamiliar to her, her subtle questions hidden behind a veil of tipsy flirtation and guileless chatter: the weapons of the ingénue. Every now and then, she would catch a glimpse of Imoen through the crowds, laughing with Niklos and his friends, clearly doing nothing but enjoying the party, all warm eyes and wide smile. She glanced to her now, the girl's arm resting lightly on Niklos' sleeve as a companion refilled her cup, Fritha turning back to her own group just in time to join their laughter, the gesture feeling unpleasantly false when she was filled with such resentment.
Fritha sighed tersely to herself, a reasonable mind trying to prevail over her green heart. She should know by now Imoen was going to be like this and if it bothered her… well, she should just say something.
'Again,' a nagging voice reminded bitterly and she fought down another surge of bile, pulling her face into smile as one of her own group offered round more wine. Fritha shook her head, excusing herself from their company to lurk outside Niklos' circle, waiting for a moment to catch Imoen's attention and beckon her across.
'Hey Fritha, having fun?' she greeted cheerfully, her smile fading in the face of her frown.
'Imoen, what is going on?'
'What do you mean?'
'I mean,' Fritha continued, Imoen's apparent obliviousness only serving to rile her further, 'why aren't you doing any work? Look, I really went out on a limb convincing Jaheira to let us join the guild. We need to show her we can be relied upon, she trusts us-'
'Oh, is that what's got you all worried,' Imoen smiled, clearly relieved to have worked out what was upsetting her, 'was she hassling you before?'
'No!' Fritha cried, stung on the woman's behalf, 'she was just asking how we were doing, which, if we're honest, is quite badly. We know nothing more about the Iron Throne and we never will at this rate. Here we are, at a gathering with practically the entire guild present and you're just lounging about with the same few idiots you see every day!'
'Fritha, it's a party,' Imoen sighed, looking as though she was restraining an eyeroll with difficulty, 'no one is going to want to talk about city politics and anyone who does is going to stick out a mile off.'
'Well, that just goes to show the amount of effort you put in, if you can't manage to disguise your inquires from these drunken louts!' Fritha snapped in reply, the rationality of Imoen's excuse making her even crosser.
'Oh, there's something wrong with the way I work, is there? Well-'
'What? You won't help anymore?' Fritha cut in scornfully, 'well, there's a threat!'
'Look,' Imoen continued, squaring up to her indignantly, 'I've done my work, just because I'm not obsessed with the Iron Throne.'
'So I'm obsessed, am I? And I wonder why that is.'
Imoen stood mouthing slightly, the unexpectedness of her attack leaving her friend at a slight disadvantage. Fritha shrugged, nothing more to say either, all her anger burnt out as she turned to disappear into the crowds
'Just do what you like, Imoen, you always do.'
xxx
Another day sat bored to tears listening to just how amazing Niklos was, had finally led them here, back to the place Fritha liked even less, and to such a degree she spent a good few hours considering whether the whole building wasn't actually some small demi-plane of Hell, its denizens all created for her own subtle torture. Had it really only been a tenday since they'd first stepped into the perpetual gloom of that gods-forsaken guild?
Fritha sighed to herself as she wandered the familiar path about the common room. It wasn't that bad really, she was just bored and tired and her mind was over-exaggerating in an effort to entertain itself. She'd given up on trying to get Imoen to help since the last argument. All the nagging and squabbling was turning Fritha into someone she hated and after the uncomfortable apologies had been exchanged, work was never discussed between them again. Imoen still chatted to people now and then, but most of her time was spent with Niklos, and Fritha found she was, although not happy with the situation, too tired to make further attempts to change it.
She ended her circuit where she'd begun, at the sofa Imoen and Niklos usually shared, the girl in question sat upon it and thankfully alone that evening. In fact, the whole guild seemed rather quiet. Something must be going on; she would have to remember to make enquiries into what the following night. As for tonight; well if no one else was there, Fritha couldn't see any reason they should be and she hadn't seen her bed the right side of midnight in a few days at least.
'Come on, Imoen. I've looked about, it's just the usual lot. Let's get back to the inn.'
'But…'
She glanced to her and there was suddenly no need for any explanation… Niklos.
'By Shar,' Fritha sighed, scrubbing a hand across her face in frustration, unwilling to start another argument, 'Imoen, we're here every night. I'm practically nocturnal as it is!'
'Oh, come on, Fritha, please, just until midnight, I just know he'll be here.'
'All this for some boy,' she sighed, but sat down heavily next to her all the same and Imoen beamed.
'Oh, Fritha, you just can't understand. When I'm with him, it's like there's no one else in the world.'
Fritha smiled tiredly and remained silent; it seemed a little sour to say it certainly felt that way.
xxx
It was past one when Imoen finally gave up her wait and sullenly followed her back to the Elfsong. The bar was all but empty by this time and Fritha was happy to head straight up stairs to her bed when a voice hissed audible behind her.
'Hello?'
She turned with Imoen to see a gnome sat in the gloom of the corner table, beckoning to them in a way that was clearly meant to be covert and was failing miserable. Fritha glanced in query to Imoen who shrugged and together they made their way over.
'Shh… I, ah, hello,' he greeted, his whisper louder than most would talk, 'I am Silus. Might I have a moment of your time, dear ladies? Ah, oh, how do I approach this? You are for hire?'
The girls shared a silent look, Fritha turning back to him with an eyebrow raised over a steely glare in Jaheira's signature move.
'Oh, n-nothing like that,' he corrected hastily, his moustache seeming to bristle at the very thought. 'I-I mean… ah I need a… job done. Get my intent? Strictly hush-hush.'
He winked theatrically and beside her, she heard Imoen stifle a snort as they each drew out a chair either side of him and sat down.
'I should like to procure your talents for a… a unique… ah… illegal service.'
'How illegal?' asked Fritha and the gnome beamed.
'That's the spirit!' he enthused, rubbing his small hands together, 'a little larceny never hurt anyone! Well… it won't hurt me anyway, and to be fair I would ask that no one else be injured during this exploit. I mean, I want you to steal something, but I want it done in the nicest way possible. It's roguery on a par with Danilo Thann of Waterdeep, and, and I'll pay you well for it. Five hundred gold pieces for one night's work!'
Fritha waved this news away; she'd money enough in her purse and a desire for gold would not win her over on this.
'What is the actual job?' Imoen pressed, being stood up clearly doing nothing to improve her patience. Their new friend seemed not notice though, dark eyes gleaming as he leaned in.
'Oh, it's a marvellous trinket from distant Lantan. A telescope,' he breathed with reverent awe, nervously licking his lips, 'there's not another like it this side of the Trackless Sea! Such a thing is made to be used not worshipped!'
'Sounds like he'll be doing a bit of both,' muttered Imoen at her side and Fritha had just enough time to disguise her snort as a sneeze as Silus carried on regardless, his voice growing louder as his passions rose.
'It must be in the hands of someone who can truly appreciate it! Those Gondites just don't unders-'
'Gondites?' Imoen interrupted, and he started, momentarily surprised it seemed to find them there.
'Oh, wh-why yes,' he continued, recovering quickly, 'did I not mention that bit? The telescope is currently in possession of High House, the temple of Gond. It's on display in the Hall of Wonders.'
Imoen gasped, turning to her, a wild light gleaming in her eyes.
'Fritha,' she breathed with awe and doing a rather good impression of Silus, 'just imagine…'
And however many reservations she had about this, Fritha felt it too, the hungry call of the challenge. If they managed it, it would not bring them fame or even infamy. Only those who partook would know. But she would know and it would make her smile whenever she thought of it... Imoen was still staring at her, eyes hopeful, and Fritha grinned.
'We'll do it.'
Imoen's good humour was instantly restored and they concluded the deal quickly, arranging to deliver the telescope to Silus there within the tenday, before both parties retired to their rooms to dream of what the venture would bring them.
Fritha smiled, folding her trousers neatly over the end of her bed as Imoen chatted and planned, describing times and ways they could gain entry to the temple and their mark. This was more like it: her and Imoen, together again, just like they had always been. But as though these thoughts had somehow tempted a malevolent fate…
'Hey, maybe we could invite Niklos along too?'
Fritha closed her eyes, her look of disappointment hidden as she crouched over her bag to retrieve her shift.
'Imoen we can't,' she sighed, proud to have kept her voice even as she straightened. 'We're part of the guild now, they can't know we're taking jobs on the side, it would be a breach of the rules.'
'Oh come on, haven't you listened to half his stories? Everyone does it!'
'So he says,' Fritha muttered, pulling her shift over her head and wishing she was asleep already.
'And what's that supposed to mean?' Imoen snapped, instantly bristling.
Fritha sighed, straitening the skirt and slumping tiredly onto her bed. 'Imoen… I'm not sure about him. When he smiles he leaves his eyes behind…'
'Fritha…' Imoen began, shaking her head, 'Niklos is right, all these bounty hunters are making you paranoid.'
'You told him about the bounty?' she exclaimed, eyes flying unconsciously to the window, as though she would suddenly see assassins gathering in the street below.
'No, of course not!' the girl answered, clearly stung.
'Then how did he know?'
'He probably just read a notice like anyone else,' she said matter-of-factly, crossing to the dresser to comb her hair.
Fritha felt a cold dread creep across navel. Yes, he could have just read one of the bounty notices. But only official bounties approved by the state could be displayed within the city walls, over at the Flaming Fist garrison. A sudden unnamed panic seemed to seize her.
'Imoen, have you spoken to him about the Iron Throne yet?
'Well…'
'Have you?' she pressed, fear making her temper flaring.
'No!' Imoen finally snapped, slamming her comb onto the dresser, the bottles atop it chiming, 'Okay? No, I haven't. By Mask, it's like your turning into Jaheira.'
Fritha sighed, leaning back against the cold wall, a giddy relief quivering through her. But the girl obviously took her silence for hurt feelings for Imoen moved to sit at her feet, patting her legs affectionately.
'I'm sorry I said that. It isn't true; I'm just still upset about him not showing up, I suppose. I'll ask him tomorrow, I promise… I know you don't like him so much, but if you just got to know him like I do, you'd understand… Are we okay? Imoen asked, eyes gently searching her face and Fritha nodded, feeling more tired than she ever had in her life.
'No, don't mention it to him… and please Imoen, promise me you'll be careful?'
But Imoen merely laughed, leaning in to kiss her cheek before climbing into her own bed, putting out the candle to leave Fritha sat in the half-light, just staring at her hands.