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

It Takes a Thief…

They had been over a tenday in the city when it was decided another meeting should be held. The last few days had found the group split, rarely managing more than a glimpse of each other as the adults travelled the city, meeting with contacts and following leads, Imoen and Fritha spending every moment spare back at the guild, all in an effort to discover more on the Iron Throne and their plans. And so, that summer evening found them gathered again about a table in the Elfsong, their exchange going unnoticed by the other patrons as they enjoyed their drinks and the cool evening air.

'We've nothing, have we?' began Fritha dispiritedly with a glance to her friend, starting her from whatever dream of larceny and love was currently occupying her.

'Hmm? Yeah, nothing.'

Fritha allowed herself the slightest sigh, turning back to the table as she continued.

'We investigated as far as we could without drawing attention to ourselves and, apart from all the usual talk about how the Iron Throne have heroically stepped up the fill the breach in the Gate's iron supply, after the nefarious actions of Amnian agents, we've heard nothing.'

'We are the same,' admitted Jaheira, 'the Harpers know nothing more than we of their activities. And barring the letters we've found, there is no real proof for any of it.'

'So, h-has anyone any news?'

Across the table, Dynaheir shook her head. 'I feel as though I have conversed with every mage, sorcerer and witch in this entire city. If the Iron Throne have any magical ties, they are not here.'

Everyone knew where this situation left them, but none seemed willing to be the one to voice it, and a silence hung over the table until Jaheira squared her shoulders and finally spoke up.

'Well, that decides it then, our investigations must be carried to the source. Tomorrow we visit the Iron Throne.'

Supper was not really the same after the decision was made and the group quickly disbanded once the meal was done, retiring to their rooms much earlier than usual, quiet and withdrawn. Fritha sank onto her bed with a sigh; the gesture feeling alien when compared with the tension that seemed to grip her. But for once, it was not thoughts of the Iron Throne that had her on a blade's edge. If they were to move on their headquarters tomorrow then there may not be time afterwards…

She glanced up as Imoen entered, closing the door behind her, her movements betraying a tension that matched her own and Fritha smiled slightly in greeting.

They had been getting on better of late, something Fritha was only too glad of. It had turned out the night they met Silus was not the only night Imoen was to be stood up by Niklos, though she had been very stubborn about asking his friends where he was, claiming haughtily that if he didn't care to tell her, she didn't care to know. But after the third evening of being sat in the guild with Imoen, the girl's mood constantly hovering between anger and dejection, Fritha had made subtle inquires into the man's absence, finding that he'd been sent on an urgent errand for Alatos, and so suddenly that even some of his closest friends had not known at first. It had been information that had put Imoen in a significantly better mood and had begun the mending of a friendship that had been strained ever since they'd entered the Gate.

Imoen smiled in reply, glancing to the half open window and Fritha followed her eye, staring out across the rooftops of the darkening city, the whole world dressed in a blue-grey hue.

'The wind's coming in off the sea; it will be cloudy tonight.'

Imoen started at the sound of her voice, turning to her and Fritha saw the same quivering anticipation mirrored in her eyes.

'Tonight?'

Fritha nodded once. 'Tonight.'

Half and hour later, they had passed through the arch of the old inner wall and were walking through the darkening streets, heading for the north west of the city. Fritha had insisted they bring only the essentials, even leaving behind their weapons, knowing their absence would put things in a lot better light, should they be caught. The end of the street was coming up and she rounded the corner to stop, staring across the square to where the tall slender columns of the High House were rising up from the green of the surrounding lawns. She glanced to her friend, silent all this while and on her cue they flitted across the open square to crouch on the edge of the gardens behind the nearest hedge.

They were closer now, and Fritha could see the light from the guards' lanterns blinking as they paced under the columns. They sat there, watching them for nearly an hour, Imoen telling her everything she could remember from her tour the other day, while they slowly came to recognise the different heights and gaits of the guards until it became clear what they were up against.

'There's four,' whispered Imoen, half-statement, half-question and Fritha nodded her agreement as the girl continued.

'There is always one walking along this side, and I'll bet you anything there's one on the other too. They work in pairs, each following a path along one side of the temple, then in through the western doors to patrol the inside, leaving through the eastern set to begin again.' They shared a nod and Imoen carried on. 'Now the whole route takes about seventeen minutes so each guard spends just under five in each of the rooms and double that to patrol the perimeter. So, since every guard is spaced out by about five minutes, take one guard out and I've got a five minute window to get in and out.'

Fritha frowned; that wasn't much time to get inside, get the telescope and escape undetected.

'Are you sure that'll be long enough?'

'Are you joking?' Imoen grinned, confidence lighting her face, 'I could do it in three! You should see the case they have it in, even you could pick the lock given enough time.'

'Thanks. So, any ideas on how to get rid of one of the guards?'

Imoen's grin broadened and Fritha felt her stomach drop.

'Oh, yes, and the guard in question too.'

Fritha followed her as she rose, keeping low as they ran across the lawns from shadow to shadow, finally ending up behind the fountain just south of the western doors. The gentle roar of the water made for a good cover and Imoen grinned as she leant over the white marble rim to check for the sentries.

'I don't know why they don't just lock the whole place up at night. It would save themselves a lot of bother.'

Fritha shrugged. 'It's a temple of Gond; they can't restrict the access of knowledge, it's against their tenets. Besides, who'd steal anything from the temple? Most of the inventions in there are too large to move alone.'

'Most,' repeated Imoen with another smile and Fritha shook her head as the girl finally turned back to her, 'Right, that's him there.'

Imoen ushered her forward and they swapped places, Fritha peering up through the water's spray to see a long-faced youth wandering along the covered walkway, mousy hair curling about the collar of his tunic and looking almost blond where the lamplight caught it.

'I saw him when I was here last time,' whispered Imoen as she turned back to her, 'quite young and he was complaining about guard duty being dull. Think you can liven up his evening?'

Imoen grinned as Fritha rolled her eyes, handing the girl her bag and scooping some earth into her hands to put a couple of dark smudges over one cheekbone before taking out one of her hairpins, a mass of curls falling over one shoulder to give her hair an untidy lopsided appearance.

'I'll see what I can do.'

Fritha licked her lips nervously as she moved around the to steps of the temple, waiting until the youth's back was to her before racing up them to grab his sleeve.

'Please,' she gasped, affecting a slight stumble as she leant forward, 'please you have to help me, I've just be attacked!'

He turned and she felt a sudden stab of guilt at the alarm she saw there; the boy was barely older than she was and clearly unprepared for her wild appearance.

'Calm down, miss, please,' he soothed, setting down his lantern to free his hands, 'please, just tell me what happened.'

'You don't understand!' she wailed, throwing her head into her hands with such force she was in danger of loosing the other hairpin, 'They've taken it, they taken my bag. Months of work gone!'

'Hush, please,' he continued, a subtle edge of panic creeping into his voice, 'you're safe enough now. Y-You see I am just lay brother here at the temple. If you go and report it to the garrison in the west of the city, I'm sure they will be able to find it for you.'

Fritha glanced up, catching a glimpse of Imoen sneaking along the wall behind them, heading for the doors.

'You believe so?' she smiled, blinking the tears from her eyes, 'That would be wonderful!'

He nodded, smiling too and, to her horror, began to return to his patrol, turning to enter the temple.

'Please! Don't leave me alone!' she shrieked, grabbing his arm to halt him, knees going weak with relief as Imoen finally slipped through the doors. The youth noticed her stumble, sweeping an arm out to catch her and she chose her moment, slowly looking up to fix him with wide and fearful eyes.

'Will you come with me?'

He frowned slightly and she fully expected him to say no, to set her on her feet and send her on her way. But suddenly, something in his expression softened and he turned silently back to the doors, withdrew a large key and locked them before turning to her and offering her an arm.

'Come, I shall escort you now.'

xxx

Imoen giggled softly to herself as she flew lightly down the steps, her eyes trained on the far corner and her prize. No longer than a scroll case, the tiered brass cylinder gleamed seductively in the lamplight as she approached, walking round the glass case to find the lock set in its wooden frame. She smiled, taking a pouch from her belt to draw out a long silver pick and with slow precise movements began to work the lock. At last, a satisfying click and she withdrew it, sliding the tool quickly back in the pouch and easing the cabinet open. The telescope felt cold to the touch and she could not resist a few moments examining it from every angle, just suppressing a cry when she turned it on its end and the tiers all shifted out to almost double its length. Smiling again, she closed the cabinet and made for the door; she couldn't wait to show Fritha this.

xxx

Fritha looked up to the man at her side, or Helith, as she now knew him, and smiled, guilt squirming in her stomach as they chatted genially about the research she'd been doing into the old mage school, Ulcaster. As awful as it felt to trick him, Fritha found herself quite getting into the role; lamenting how she'd been on her way to meet a patron of the temple of Oghma that very night, in hopes he would fund an expedition to the ruins, when she'd been robbed of her research.
However, as entertaining as it was, it had been at least two minutes since they'd left and if she didn't lose him soon, Imoen would have to go back to the inn alone; something she did not want.

But as they turned into the next street her heart leapt at the sight of two familiar red and black helms and she ran forward to meet the Flaming Fist patrol, but not before a promise to meet her would-be protector on the morrow had been extracted.

'Excuse me?' she called out, causing the mercenaries to turn, dropping her voice as she drew closer, so the Gondite behind could not hear her. 'Might I ask a favour of you?'

'No harm in asking, girl,' smiled the elder soldier kindly while the other rolled his eyes, and Fritha took the moment to glance behind her to see Helith's retreating back, obviously happy to have left her in safe hands.

'Could you get a message to Commander Scar for me?'

'And what's wrong with your legs?' snapped the younger, pushing his face closer to hers in a way that made her want to slap it. 'We're not your bloody errand boys.'

'For Tyr's sake, Jek,' the elder sighed, throwing him a frown, 'Where's the harm? Aye, girl, what's your message?'

'Could you tell him the girl from Candlekeep will visit him tomorrow.'

'And he'll understand that, will he?'

She nodded and he smiled wryly.

'Fair enough, girl.'

She smiled and thanked him, her plan falling together flawlessly. Now all she had to do was get back to the temple before poor Helith did.

xxx

Imoen smiled, tripping lightly up the steps and shoving the telescope under one arm, as the other reached for the door handle. Nothing happened.

She twisted it again, and more forcefully this time, a sudden panic seizing her as her eyes flew to the lock beneath. It was a huge thing and, by the look of it, more complicated than anything she had managed before. The thief went straight for her pouch and removed the thickest pick she could find, nearly dropping the telescope in her haste to get it to the lock and angrily pushing the cold lump of metal inside her tunic, very aware of the seconds flying by. She twisted and pulled, the heavy iron mechanism refusing the budge, Imoen's fear of snapping her only means of escape keeping her movements measured in the face of her rising panic. And then she heard it; the clatter of metal on metal and it was all she could do to remove the pick before the turning lock crushed it, leaping back to flatten herself against the wall in the shadow of the ornate jamb.

The door swung open and a robed figure stepped in, scanning the room before him.

'Helith?'

He took another step forward and Imoen saw her chance, slipping through the doors behind him and hurtling along the walkway to throw herself headlong into the bushes, scrambling behind the fountain. Hands trembling, she withdrew the telescope, glancing over it for damage before her eyes flicked up at the sound of approaching feet and she saw Fritha tearing along the street as though Gond himself was after her. Imoen didn't wait for the girl to get any closer; Fritha was the fastest person she knew and, picking up her friend's bag, she too began to run, ducking low behind the hedges. Fritha caught her before they'd even passed through the gardens, pausing briefly to retrieve her bag and together they raced across the square, slipped into the nearest alley and were gone.

They ran breathless through the streets, flitting from shadow to shadow as Imoen hugged their prize to her chest, the girls throwing each other grins in silent camaraderie. Suddenly, the bells of the temple were rippling through the still night air and Fritha could not help but feel a wild surge of exhilaration as they doubled their pace, hurtling back into the lower city. Once under the old city walls, they slowed to a walk, not wanting to attract undue attention to themselves and chattering quietly as they went.

'You were brilliant, the way you slipped through that door without a sound! I was so sure we were caught.'

'Yeah, but it was you who stopped him turning round, and getting him to just wander off like that!'

'I never expected him to agree, I though you were mad sending me up there to talk to him!'

'Hah! You can charm the birds from the trees when you want to. By Mask, you sounded so desperate, I was half-convinced to drop everything and come up there to help you! How on Toril did you get yourself so worked up?'

'I just imagined I had to write one of Jesseth's essays again; instantly distraught!'

And it was like that they made their way back to the inn, living every moment through again, describing the troubles they had faced while parted and the successes they had shared- and laughing as Fritha tried to return her hair to some semblance of order.

They had just rounded the curved wall of the magic shop and the warm welcoming lights of the Elfsong had swung into view, when a familiar voice hissed behind them and out of the shadows stepped Niklos. Imoen's face, already glowing with their triumph, suddenly shone with a whole new kind of light and Fritha felt her heart sink, taking the opportunity to pull the telescope from her unresisting hands.

'Niklos!'

'Imoen!' he laughed, pulling the girl into an embrace.

Fritha dropped her gaze, feeling slightly uncomfortable until she sensed them part and she glanced up in time for Imoen's inevitable question.

'Where've you been?'

'Had to leave the city for a while, Alatos had some business down in Beregost he needed sorting.' Niklos smiled down at them with his easy lopsided grin, his eyes watchful behind the gesture. 'What are you two doing out at this late hour?'

'We-'

'Were out walking,' Fritha interrupted with a glare that Imoen promptly ignored.

'Oh, Fritha,' the girl laughed, as though the world was a joke that only she didn't understand, 'we can tell Niklos. We were out doing a job.'

'Really?'

'Yes, a burglary, we-'

'Can't really say any more; client confidentiality, you understand,' Fritha cut in smoothly and Niklos nodded his acceptance, which fortunately ensured Imoen's.

'Well,' the youth continued with a grin, 'since you two have been so hard at work, and it's been a while since we talked, I think some recreation is in order. We're going to a gathering; it's usually just selected guild members only, but I'm sure you will be welcome.'

Niklos smiled and Fritha for the first time noticed the two youths stood in the shadows behind him; the taller, red-haired and freckly, his shorter friend almost albino in his pallor, white-blond hair worn long and tied back off his face.

'We'd love to, wouldn't we Fritha!' answered her friend eagerly. And without another glance to her, Imoen fell into step with Niklos, leaving her stood, an uncomfortable tightness in her stomach as the two men whispered fervently behind her and Fritha took the moment to push the telescope right to the bottom of her bag and buckle it up tight.

'So, Fritha, isn't it?' began the red-haired youth genially as they set off after the couple, the men flanking her like an honour guard. 'I'm Urtis and this is Tann.'

Fritha smiled weakly, nodding but finding no reply, the knot in her stomach tightening. She sensed them share a look above her and stared ahead, eyes boring into her friend's back, just willing her to turn round. But the closest Imoen got was to look up at Niklos, beaming, and Fritha gave up, resigning herself to what she could only assume was Sune's punishment for Helith.

They followed the pair along the dark streets, Urtis still trying to make crippling small talk, while the buildings around them became steadily more dilapidated as they moved further towards an old section of the docks, when, at last, Niklos led them round the back of a disused warehouse, descending some narrow steps to knock on the door at the bottom. Fritha edged forward to where Imoen was stood, looking down into the stairwell with her eyes trained on the man below them. Her face held the same look they had shared in those last few moments huddled behind the fountain before the temple and though she knew it would be pointless, Fritha felt duty-bound to dissuade her anyway.

'Imoen-'

But it was not just her voice that broke the silence and she glanced down to see Niklos staring up at them, beckoning them all to follow as the door opened, light flooding the stairwell. Imoen descended so fast her feet barely touched the steps and Fritha was swept after her as the two men at her back pressed forward.

The room she found herself in was small and low-ceilinged, doors leading off in all directions, the peeling walls painted a dark wine red. But there was little else she could observe before a cry of "Niklos" started her and Fritha whirled to have her vision suddenly obscured by an expanse of black lace that had swooped from one of the doorways to devour the thief in a ferocious embrace.

'Niklos, darling, where have you been hiding yourself?' The woman cooed, finally drawing back from him and Fritha found herself staring up at a tall woman of late middle-age, greying red hair coiled into a crown of tight curls, her face a mask of contrasts in chalk white skin and scarlet lips. Her black dress was narrow and fitted, making her seem even taller; a mass of layers, silks and velvets all trimmed with a fine web of lace.

'Ah, mostly where I shouldn't have been,' the thief answered with a grin and the woman laughed throatily, gracefully raising a hand to take a drag of a long slender pipe, her gaze finally drifting past him to where the rest of them crowded before the doorway. She nodded briefly to the men before her eyes came to rest on the two girls and she stared down at them with interest, her nostrils flaring slightly as she exhaled another lungful of smoke, putting Fritha in mind of some great powdered dragon.

'Oh, and what have you there, Niklos? Friends of yours?'

'This is Imoen,' he answered, ushering the girl closer with a sweep of his arm.

'And Fritha,' added Urtis, moving to do the same only to be made redundant when the girl in question stepped forward of her own accord, no intention of being shepherded by anyone.

'Indeed,' the woman considered slowly, casting a critical eye over the pair, 'are they not a little young to be guild members?'

'Young? We-!' Imoen repeated indignantly, ready with a tirade as Fritha cut her off.

'Indeed, madam, you are quite correct. In fact, it is well past our bedtime, so if you will excuse us…'

She made to turn for the door, shooing her friend before her, but a handful of scarlet talons caught her shoulder, the woman's throaty laughter gurgling at her ear.

'Come now, dear, I meant no disrespect,' the woman laughed, beckoning her forward, 'Come in, come in, your wit has more than proved your worth.'

Fritha scowled; next time she'd just allow Imoen her rant and save herself some bother. But their host seemed not to notice, beaming down at them generously.

'Welcome, dears, welcome to Madam Rosalind's salon.'

The woman led them forward, off through one of the doorways and into another larger room; long, narrow and similarly decorated to the first in dark reds, while heavy curtains of crimson and blue were coiled about the peeling columns, reduced to a delicate filigree in patches where the moths had found them. Small tables and elegant sofas scattered the room, the rich dark woods scratched and dented, while at her feet, threadbare Calimshite rugs carpeted the floor. The whole place had an air of faded opulence, an ancient palace of some fallen empire. It mirrored its owner in that respect; more than likely quite fair in her day, the years had faded Rosalind, but beauty never truly dies, just changes, and even worn as they were, both furnishings and hostess still held a certain charm.

About them, peoples of every sort were sat around the tables drinking; thieves and rogues, sailors and bards and in one corner a group of young noblemen were seated, courtesans in dresses of every colour flitting from table to table like butterflies. But as enthralling as the scene before them was, it did little to ease the tension in her and in the cover of this sudden bustle Fritha finally caught up to her friend.

'Imoen,' she whispered, tugging urgently at the girl's sleeve, 'Imoen we shouldn't be here.'

'Oh, come on, Fritha,' she began and the girl was sure she caught the hint of an eye roll as Imoen turned to her, 'it's fine. And look around,' she continued slyly, making to glance about them, 'I haven't even seen half of these people before, any one of them could have information on the Iron Throne-'

'Don't even try to pretend that's what all this is about!' Fritha hissed, temper finally snapping at this crude attempt to manipulate her. The girl did not argue though and hung her head, ashamed, and Fritha felt hope rise in her that perhaps Imoen would finally see reason.

They had reached an empty table by now and Niklos threw himself gracefully onto one of the faded sofas that surrounded it, a flutter of courtesans dejectedly redirecting their path as he looked up to her friend, patting the space next to him.

Imoen glanced to him, turning back to her with an earnest look.

'Please, Fritha,' she whispered fervently, 'just one hour, please…'

Fritha stared back at her, wrestling with herself. They had been getting on so well of late…
And tonight, that old spark of friendship had been back and bright between them as they had robbed the temple. And now Niklos was back and it was just as it had been; the girl's only thoughts on the man, the rest of the world fading into the background. Even tonight, the eve of an undertaking that could well affect the entire Sword Coast, it seemed, was no exception.

And yet…

It was only just past midnight… would another hour really make much difference? Fritha glanced again to her friend's face, so alight with hope…

It would make a lot of difference to someone.

She sighed, shaking her head defeatedly. 'All right, one hour.'

xxx

Fritha glanced down to the half cup of wine she was nursing, watching the red girl within stare blankly out at her. At first, she had tried, as Imoen suggested, to make enquires into the Iron Throne. Travelling the room, talking to the strange mix of people, the little script she used to bring the course of conversation naturally around to the Gate's latest heroes tripping dully off her tongue with half a thought. But it seemed no one held any interest for the goings-on in the city above, or, at least, not when they were in the salon. And Fritha eventually grew tired of talking her way out of drunken flirtations and getting dark looks from the courtesans, who had little time for conversations with her, and even less patience for anything that got in the way of their work.

And so, after an hour she had given up, moving to sit alone on a secluded sofa opposite Imoen's table, watching the girl skilfully avoid her eye as one hour crept into two and on into three. Boredom had eased out the knot in her stomach by now, and Fritha barely even blinked when Urtis finally disengaged himself from conversation with Rosalind and came to sit down beside her, much closer than was necessary, snaking surreptitious arm along the back of the seat.

'Deserted you, has she?' he confirmed with a nod to the girl sat opposite, practically in Niklos' lap by now and laughing at something the dark-haired thief had said. 'And while she's off having fun, she's left you here all alone…'

Fritha shrugged, nonchalant in the face of neglect while Urtis edged closer.

'Well, I suppose the bards have it true. Love is blind.'

He smiled wryly at her reply and leaned in slightly. 'You're very sharp, you know, Fritha.'

She smiled humourlessly as the girl opposite, her cheeks already flushed, helped herself to more wine.

'Aye, like Sekolah's teeth.'

Urtis laughed, a touch too loudly to be natural and she felt her hair stand on end as warm fingers stroked along the back of her neck.

'You're very pretty too…'

'Imoen!' she shrieked, springing from her seat to march over to her; her friend was not the only one who could be manipulative and this had gone on long enough. 'Imoen, it's been three hours,' she began, hoping the slight stress would remind her of her promise, 'if we don't leave now, we'll miss the drop.'

'Oh, Fritha,' the girl laughed easily, dismissing her concerns with a wave of her hand, 'you saw how desperate he was; he'll wait. '

This was it, time to play her final card and force her hand.

'No, Imoen. No, he won't, because I will go and deliver it.'

'Alone? Now, Fritha, perhaps I should…' began Urtis at her shoulder. But he soon tailed off as it became apparent she was paying him no attention, her gaze still boring into the girl below. Imoen stared up at her, clear green eyes filled with an unexpected uncertainty as she wrestled with herself.

'Well… if you're sure…'

Fritha gazed down at her, suddenly empty; she really was letting her do it, letting her go out alone into the city after months of being chased by bounty hunters., after everything.

'Right… okay,' she heard herself answering, her whole future reduced to getting outside before she started to cry. 'Madam Rosalind, thank you for your hospitality. Niklos, please see she gets back to the inn safely. Goodnight.'

And without another look to her, Fritha turned and left.

That first shuddering breath of cold night air seemed to calm her slightly and the tears that had felt so immanent in the cloying heat of the salon were suddenly gone. The clouds had finally broken by now, the cool breezes sweeping round her as she set off back to the inn with only her anger to keep her warm. Well, that had confirmed it then; a direct choice been her and Niklos, one without work and envy blurring all the edges. Just one choice… and it had been him.
A few days; that was all Imoen had know him for! But a few days was apparently enough to outweigh over ten years of friendship! Enough, at least, to see her walking home alone in the early hours of the morning, through one of the roughest districts in the Gate with only a vague idea of where she was heading.

'Serve her right if I was attacked!' Fritha muttered savagely, slipping into the shadows of an alley as a group of drunks staggered past. And she spent the next few moments as she walked, imagining the happy scenario that saw her floating face down in the docks and Imoen, racked with guilt at being such a rubbish friend, leaving Niklos to spend the rest of her days in an Illmateran nunnery. But by the time she'd reached the inn, delivered the telescope and returned to their room, her righteous fury had dissipated somewhat leaving only worry for her friend and Fritha busied herself, changing into her nightclothes and making Imoen's bed, unable to sleep until she knew her friend was safe.

At last, a gentle tap at the window and Fritha pulled up the frame to peer out, finding Imoen clinging to the adjacent drainpipe.

'Finally, you're back,' she sighed, warm relief filling her as she reached out to help her in, 'I was getting worried.'

But her friend did not seem to share her joy, hardly glancing at her as she moved distractedly over to the foot of her bed and slowly took off her tunic.

'Hmm, yes… how did the drop go?'

'What? Oh, well, apart from the fact he squealed as soon as I came through the door, came charging over to me and then, rather belatedly, told me to "Shush", very subtle…' Fritha laughed lightly before trailing off, watching as Imoen did not take up the shift she had laid out for her, but began to root in her pack, finally drawing out her best black tunic. 'Imoen!' she cried, her disappointment as the realisation dawned almost tangible, 'not another party. You won't be fit for anything tomorrow.'

But the girl seemed unable to meet her eye, throwing on the tunic and turning to the dresser for her comb as she answered.

'I'm not going to another party, I- Niklos has asked me to go back to the guild with him … just him…'

Fritha collapsed to sit heavily on her bed, feeling as though something had taken all the air out of her.

'Imoen… I'm not sure-'

'Don't start, okay!' Imoen snapped, her friend's anger seeming to surprise them both and the girl paused in her brushing to lay a hand on her shoulder.

'I- I want this, Fritha… if Jaheira comes…'

'I'll make something up,' she replied dully, not even lifting her head. Imoen seemed to wait a moment, perhaps expecting her to speak again or look to her. But she just sat there, staring out at the dark streets wondering where the man in question had hidden himself, and eventually the girl went back to her brushing.

'Fritha… can I borrow-'

'Take it,' she answered, not caring what it was as she lay down on her bed, curling up to face the wall.

She heard Imoen sigh, the rattle of bottles on the dresser and finally the shrill groan of wood on wood as the window was pushed open again and her friend slipped out into the night.