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
Friendship and FalsehoodsImoen returned just before dawn. Fritha lay still under the sheets feeling the cool morning air sweep across the bare skin of her arms as the window was slowly eased open. She didn't turn, just waited for the girl to climb quietly through the window and move to shut it.
'Leave it open, the air is nice.'
She heard Imoen start slightly, but the girl made no reply and no one spoke again until after the telltale creak of Imoen's bed.
'I went to the guild,' she said simply and Fritha shifted on to her back, but did not look at her. In her peripherals she could see the girl sat up, staring at her hands, her expression unreadable.
'I- I don't love him, but… but, I'm glad I went.'
Fritha said nothing; there was nothing to say and, for once, Imoen seemed to agree and they sat in silence as sunlight slowly crept across the room. This moment had always been there, looming in the future, but she had never thought it would divide them as it had. They that had once been inseparable were now apart, and through no others doing but their own. Fritha lay there, a strange ambivalence rising within her; the desire to sit up, to scream at Imoen about last night, ask her why she was being this way. And the other part just wanting to forget it all, unable to bear the thought of actually voicing her anger only for her to be dismissed once more; it was one thing to suspect you had lost a friend, it was entirely another to push the point and watch as yourself was proved right…
Imoen eventually lay down and went to sleep, but Fritha stayed awake, listening to the sounds of the city stirring around her, feeling strangely detached from it all. She could have lain there all day, just staring at the ceiling letting her thoughts drift about her head, fits of emotion flaring and subsiding within her like the waves of the sea. But the idea of still being there when Imoen awoke, to have to talk to her or even just listen to her movements as she herself feigned sleep, was enough to eventually drive her from her bed. She rose, dressing without haste and leaving the still sleeping Imoen to move downstairs for breakfast.
Fritha took a table in the back, eating without any real care as to what it was; there was no food where she was now, no hunger, no taste. The bright maid came to clear the dishes away, her blithe chatter so quick and insular she barely left pause for any answer. Fritha let the noise drift over her, hardly lifting her head from her tea as the others gradually joined the table, Imoen appearing last, still looking very tired.
'Gracious, child, did thy sleep at all last night?' exclaimed Dynaheir at her approach, 'I have seen Rashemi snow with more colour to it!'
'Yes,' agreed Jaheira, casting an enquiring eye over them both, 'I came to check on you about two o'clock … your room was empty…'
Tired or not, Imoen certainly had some colour in her cheeks now, glancing quickly from the druid to the mage with a surprised and guilty look.
'I, ah-'
'We had one last job to do for the guild,' Fritha cut in evenly, glancing politely to the pair as she lied through her teeth, 'I know our reconnaissance was no longer necessary, but it was something we had agreed to beforehand and it may have seemed suspicious had we not attended.'
Jaheira nodded her acceptance, turning back to her porridge, the conversation returning to more mundane matters as Imoen took a seat across from her. Fritha deliberately kept her eyes down, the girl's likely gratitude inspiring another surge of anger, her mind keeping up a constant righteous chatter at her ear.
Yes, Imoen, because that's what friends do, they look out for each other and help each other and don't leave each other to walk home on their own at three o'clock in the mor-!
'Fritha!'
She started, glancing up to see the table staring at her.
'By Silvanus, girl, where are you today? I said, do you want more tea?'
xxx
Breakfast finished, Jaheira had insisted they go over their plan one final time before they returned to their rooms to fetch arms and bags, meeting outside the inn under the glare of what would prove to be another hot dry day in the Gate. But as they set off it became apparent that her and Imoen's behaviour at the table had not been as readily accepted as she had been led to believe. Fritha watched now, with growing certainty, as Khalid and Jaheira held a whispered conversation at the head of the group, before the latter slowed her pace, falling back past Minsc and his witch, past the vacant-looking Imoen, to where she was bringing up the rear alone.
Jaheira fell into step with her and they walked on in silence a moment, the girl keeping her eyes resolutely on the path ahead, waiting to see which tack the druid would take.
'Imoen seems rather quiet today…'
'We had an argument,' Fritha answered without the slightest hesitation. It worried her sometimes, how quickly the lies came to her. She didn't have to think of them, they were just there on her tongue, waiting for their moment.
'Active imagination,' Beth had said. Whelan had been less generous. 'A symptom of her deceptive nature,' he had deemed it, but Fritha suspected the truth lay somewhere in between. This was a good lie too. Jaheira would not press her further and it explained away her own mood as well. As suspected, the woman nodded once and seemed happy enough to leave it at that when-
'I understand the pressures working together can put on a relationship,' Jaheira began, unconsciously glancing to Khalid's back before her eyes were once more trained on her. 'You and Imoen have worked hard this past tenday, but do not let your failure to find the evidence you sought cause trouble between you. You did as much as anyone could have expected of you… that I expected of you.' She paused a moment, the words not coming easily as she added, 'I am proud of you.'
Fritha forced a smile, nodding her acceptance and Jaheira rejoined her husband, leaving her wishing that her problems with Imoenwere so simply dismissed.
Imoen watched as Jaheira finally moved past her back to Khalid, glancing behind to see Fritha alone once more. Imoen drew a breath and began to slow her pace, her stomach churned unpleasantly as she drew closer to the girl, a combination of tiredness, too much wine the previous evening and slight feelings of anxiety leaving her queasy. Last night felt like some wonderful dream but she had to admit, Fritha's mood towards her that morning had brought her back down to earth with a bump.
Yes, her friend had been a bit short with her the night before, and perhaps it had been a little deserved on her part. But it was nothing compared to the coldness between them at breakfast and last night's belief that Fritha would just shrug things off as usual and the morning would find them giggling about the whole affair, had soon evaporated. But a desire to reassure herself things were still okay between them and that Fritha wasn't all that cross, spurred her on and finally Imoen broke the silence.
'Fritha?'
The girl glanced up as she fell into step with her, expression unreadable and Imoen's breakfast made another bid for freedom.
'Thanks for covering for me back there,' she continued with a hopeful grin that seemed to have no effect other than to cause Fritha to turn her attention back to the path ahead and Imoen sighed.
'Fritha, I want to talk to you about last night. Look, I know things ran over a touch, but I'd had a bit to drink and Niklos-'
'Threehours.'
'What?'
'Things ran over by almost three hours,' Fritha repeated, her voice slow and measured, and Imoen could hear the contempt behind it. Her stomach lurched again, the nagging doubt that perhaps she was not entirely beyond reproach growing stronger, and as the feelings of guilt rose, so did her anger.
'Why are you being this way? You could have really enjoyed yourself last night; instead, you just sat on your own opposite me sulking. Niklos said-'
'Yeah, let's hear what he's got to say,' Fritha cut in with a sudden venom, whirling to face her, 'cause gods forbid we actually have a conversation that doesn't involve him!'
Imoen mouthed indignantly a moment, pulling herself up to her full height.
'Niklos said I shouldn't feel guilty; you made your own decision. No one forced you to stay and no one forced you to leave alone. Urtis was willing to walk with you.'
Fritha snorted, shaking her head as she turned back to the path. 'I'll bet he was.'
'And what's wrong with that? He was only trying to be nice, make sure you were safe.'
That got her attention and Fritha turned back to her, her manner softening as she considered this and Imoen took the chance to gently add, 'He had a real shout at us after you left… said we shouldn't have let you go…'
'Well, at least someone remembers how to act like a friend!' Fritha snapped, angry once more.
'Look-!'
'You two!'
They both started, glancing ahead to find Jaheira staring back at them, clearly shocked by their behaviour and Imoen was surprised to find herself stood in the shadow of a tall grey building, its architecture dark and imposing: the Iron Throne.
Fritha swept past Imoen without the slightest glance, too angry to risk another look at the girl as she moved through the group to walk boldly up to the door. A slight admission of vague guilt was as close to an apology as Imoen usually came, and in her heart, Fritha knew she should be glad there was enough between them for her to get that. But she was still bruised from a tenday of neglect and as much as she hated arguments, she was angry with Imoen and her usual patter of excuses for last night had only served to rile her further.
She drew a deep breath trying to calm herself for the task ahead, adamant she was not going to let another fight ruin what had been over a month in the building. Jaheira's plan to search the guild headquarters hinged on them being able to get to the private rooms without incident. And since the idea of sneaking them all in would be impossible, it required hiding of a different sort and Fritha's rather more dubious talent for stories was to be employed once more. Fritha drew another breath, bringing her hand up to the handle, when the door swung back of its own accord, a short and portly clerk appearing in the mouth.
'Madness, mad- oh!' he started, clearly surprised to find her there.
' Ness?' Fritha supplied with what she hoped was a friendly smile; something rather hard to pull off when your insides were knotted up with anger.
He laughed nervously, eyes flitting over the group behind her, clearly trying to work out who they were. Fritha coughed politely, bringing his attention back to her, giving up on friendliness as a lost cause, the mood she was in, and aiming instead for a cool superiority.
'Now this madness, it is general or does it have a specific source?'
'It- it's the acolytes on the fifth floor,' he finally stuttered, obviously deciding the course of least trouble was just to answer her, 'Gods know what Sarevok's left them working on, but the whole top floor is rumbling like it houses the Storm Lord himself!'
'Sarevok?' came Jaheira's voice behind her.
'Yes, Rieltar's son, he- you see!' the clerk cried, turning back to her, vindicated, as another crash from the floors above them shook the door in its frame. 'I'll not stay a moment longer in this madhouse and if you've any sense you'd stay away as well!'
His own words rousing him, he pushed past her, hurrying off still muttering to himself. Fritha sighed.
'Sadly, not an option.'
Fritha stepped through the open doorway into the entrance hall, the high-ceiling room airy but dark, light from the small high windows merely accentuating the shadows. The floor and surrounding pillars were tiled in the Calimshite style giving the room the cool echoing feel of a temple and Fritha could feel the skin of her arms bristle under her sleeves. She led them forward, the clamour of feet and armour echoing around that great room to leave her with no doubt that their presence there would not go unnoticed for long. Sure enough, before they had even reached the stairs, a guard, the Iron Throne insignia emblazoned on his tunic had appeared and was making for them with a purposeful stride. The group behind her tensed and Fritha stepped forward, all sharp words and bravado and they were cleared to proceed but moments later.
And so, she led them onward floor by floor, her mouth so full of falsehoods she wouldn't have been surprised to find her tongue was forked. She could sense the rest of them behind her now as they moved up the third floor staircase, on edge as they travelled further into that web, perhaps anxious that their next encounter would be their last.
Fritha smiled, unpleasant feelings of pleasure welling within her. She had felt so abandoned ever since they had entered the city, so at odds with herself. To be here, doing what she knew best, was calming for her and the idea that it was they who were now so full of worries filled her with a joy that was nothing less that spiteful. She half relished the idea too; of making some mistake, some slip of the tongue and bringing the whole building down about their ears. To force her hand into returning something of what she had been subjected to over the last few months.
'Like you did at the mines?' a voice reminded and she felt herself grow cold.
She had dreamt about them again last night, only this time there had been a boat nearby, Imoen and Niklos sat merrily in the stern watching her struggle against the slimy press of bodies. Suddenly, the idea of a massacre there did not seem so righteous and Fritha turned to throw a reassuring smile to those gathered behind before pushing open the door before her and striding into the fourth floor reception.
'At last, someone who looks like they could be of some assistance,' announced a loud commanding voice as soon as they'd entered and Fritha turned to see a stout matronly woman striding over to them. Fritha bowed politely.
'Of course, how may I assist you, madam?'
'Madam this. Madam that,' the woman snorted crossly, shoving her hands on to her hips, 'I have little desire to suffer anymore of your flat geniality. You may call me Emissary Tar and inform me when I am to begin my audience. I have some important business to conduct on with your masters on behalf of the Grand Dukes.'
'Emissary Tar, would it be untoward of me to inquire as to the nature of your meeting?'
The woman frowned slightly, her question obviously not the reply she'd been expecting. 'It is hardly a secret. The grand Dukes have sent me to negotiate a new iron treaty with Thaldorn. It appears that the Merchants' Consortium and The Seven Suns have voluntarily granted the Iron throne temporary control over their mines in order to simplify the cities supply structure and thereby strengthen the war effort… should it come to that. I am here to ensure we have access to that iron at a favourable price. I-'
A slight cough caused all to start and Fritha turned to see a wizened old clerk in the far doorway, peering at them through a pair of battered wire-rim spectacles.
'Emissary…' he paused to glance at the parchment in his hand, 'Tar?'
The woman nodded, sweeping off without another look to them.
'Thaldorn is ready for you. This way please,' he said, gesturing to the stairs behind him, before turning a beady eye back on them. 'And you are?'
'Reinforcements from Iriaebor; here for our first briefing,' Fritha answered, laying casual hand on her sword hilt and shifting her hips to a put a slight swagger in her stance. The clerk nodded, tutting about 'comings and goings' before shuffling off after Tar, pulling the door closed behind him.
A quick search of the room yielded nothing though, and they gathered together by the door to the stairs, each face a picture of apprehension. There was only one place left to look now. Fritha opened the door, moving to step through when a hand on her arm halted her.
'We shall go f-first, child,' Khalid smiled and she stepped aside to allow him and Minsc to pass her, hanging back slightly to fall into step with Jaheira as they climbed the wide gloomy staircase, the plain door at the top growing larger with each step. Whatever experiments the acolytes had been performing had clearly finished now and the room behind the door was quiet save for the murmur of voices.
'Ready?' whispered Khalid as they gathered on the small landing, his hand poised above the handle, 'On my signal. One, two, three, now!'
He threw open the door, and Fritha hardly had chance to draw her sword as they poured into the room as one, taking the five heavily armed men within by surprise. Battle erupted immediately, neither side seeming much to care about who they were fighting, the air filling with shouts and the crackle of magic. Imoen and Dynaheir had taken up positions in the doorway behind her, the others already locked in battle with the three of the acolytes and it was through this chaos Fritha saw her.
'Tar!' she shouted, her voice lost as a thunderclap exploded through the room to leave her ears ringing. The woman was stood, hunched in the far corner, looking strangely misshapen.
'Tar!' Fritha shouted again, tearing across the room and barrelling into a casting acolyte on her way before another invocation left them all profoundly deaf. 'Tar, come on, this way!' she finally gasped, taking the woman's sleeve only to stumble back in horror as Tar turned to show a face slack and pale as melting wax.
'Tar…' it hiss, the face still morphing hypnotically and she did not notice the long clawed hand until it was too late.
A flash of grey in her peripherals and Fritha jumped back, the sweep missing her chest to drag along her arm. She screamed, the pain so fierce and burning it took all her will not to drop her sword, the hilt slick in her grip as she stepped forward to force the blade under its sternum. The creature screeched shrilly, slumping forward on to her almost in an embrace, before she pushed it off, dropping her sword as well and clamping her other hand over her now sopping sleeve.
'Fritha!'
Fritha turned to see Imoen approaching, the others at her heels, the rest of the fighting evidently over.
'Gods, are you all right?' her friend gasped, staring at her arm and the blood soaked hand that covered it. Fritha shook her head, feeling faint and queasy, pain throbbing dully through the whole side of her body.
'Come on, let me see,' soothed Jaheira, pushing past her friend to gently take her arm and Imoen turned her attention to the body on the floor. It was completely grey now, the remains of its disguise faded in death, the stout body replaced with a long emaciated corpse.
'What is that?'
Fritha bit back a cry as Jaheira slowly straightened her arm to ease up the sleeve, the girl pouring all her focus into answering.
'I-I thought it was Tar, but…'
'It is a doppelganger…' supplied Khalid, crouching down to examine the body, 'I've never seen one outside of a book before though- well, not that I've known of anyway,' he added, looking up to her with smile, one side of his face red, the skin taut and shiny and Fritha realised she was not the only one to have been injured.
'Your face…?'
'What? Oh, yes,' he realised, touching his cheek lightly as he straightened. 'I got c-caught on the wrong side of a spell. Singed me a b-bit, but Jaheira soon patched me up. You're in good hands.'
'Sorry,' mumbled the druid on cue, Fritha hissing through another cry as the sleeve was finally eased up the last few inches, clinging painfully to every clot. 'Ah, there now… by Silvanus, he's made a mess of you, girl.'
The others moved off to search the bodies as the druid worked, only Imoen finding enough of interest to linger, though Fritha watched neither, keeping her gaze resolutely on the corpse, its eyes staring blankly back at her, bright as quicksilver. Breathe, just breathe…
'By Mask, I think I can see bone!'
'Shut up, Imoen!' Fritha snapped, her stomach turning over and at her side she heard Jaheira sigh.
'Here, girl, make yourself useful and get a bandage from my bag. Now, just hold still…' she continued to her, and Fritha felt a prickling on her skin that intensified to a fierce sensation of pins and needles as the woman chanted quietly at her ear. 'There, now that should help it along. Do you have that bandage, Imoen?'
She did, and Fritha felt the pressure of it as it was wound tightly round her arm, the pain finally subsiding to a stiff ache.
'Thanks,' Fritha smiled to them both, testing it slowly before stooping for her sword, sheathing it as she turned back to gaze across the room, eyes travelling through the carnage to the hallway that led from it and as though reading her thoughts, Minsc started towards it and they followed.
They moved in silence along the corridor, branching off in pairs to check the adjoining rooms as they passed. The last door was ajar and Fritha pushed it open cautiously, allowing it to swing wide and give her an open view of the room beyond before taking a step inside, her eyes travelling over the room to rest on the inch of shoe that protruded from behind the desk and Fritha stepped round it with a cold smile.
'Hello.'
The man stared up at her, face blanched and eyes wide, his worst nightmares clearly all coming true in a few heady moments as not his guild house was stormed, but by the very group that had pursued them all this time.
'You- You're here to kill me, aren't you?' he tremoured, running a nervous hand through his dark wavy hair. Fritha raised an eyebrow in a look which she hope conveyed this as a distinct possibility.
'You can't kill me!' he cried, some steel creeping back into his voice, though he made no move to stand, 'don't you know who I am? I- I'm Thaldorn, one of the leaders of the Iron Throne!'
Imoen snorted. 'That's kind of why this is happening.'
'Stand aside, girl!' he commanded, his bravado impressing Fritha even as it angered her, the man at her feet making to stand. He did not get far; a well-placed sweep of her foot throwing him off balance and it was only her hand the neck of his shirt that stopped him falling back to the floor
'Tell me where the others are!'
He whimpered slightly, all previous bluster gone.
'I-I don't, ah!' Thaldorn cried out as she gave him a sudden shake, the increasing pain in her arm merely nurturing her mood. 'B-Brunos and Rieltar, they, they're at Candlekeep attending business with some benefactors from the south. Please…'
Fritha stared down at him, an icy dread filling her and she could hardly feel her arms as she dropped him, hands flying instantly to hilt and scabbard.
'You would dare sully my home with this?'
A voice at her back, a hand on her shoulder. 'Fritha…'
She was trembling, so full of anger it barely registered and it took all of her control of re-sheath the sword and turn from him.
'Get him out of my sight!' she spat, Minsc and Khalid stepping forward to comply, not trusting herself to turn back until she'd heard him be escorted from the room. When she finally looked round, Jaheira was already searching the desk, Imoen and Dynaheir going through the bureau in the corner. 'Anything?'
The druid shrugged.
'Nothing. I've a ledger here that may lend some weight to our case, but little else.'
'And here's the documentation proving what Tar said before she- well.' Imoen tailed off, dropping her gaze to the papers and Fritha frowned.
'Bring it all; it's time to visit Scar.'
They emerged from that grey tomb of a building, blinking in the glare of a high hot sun as the temple bells marked midday. Jaheira watched as Thaldorn stumbled down the steps before her, her husband and the ranger on either side, the Wychlaran at his back, ready with a spell. The druid sighed to herself. The man of course could not be turned loose, but at the same time, she wondered what could really be done with him when it still seemed to be their word against his. In fact, she considered as she glanced behind her to the two girls bringing up the rear, the only good thing to come from the whole exercise seemed to be Fritha and Imoen were talking again. Whatever petty quarrel that had parted them dissolving when it was revealed their home was in danger. Imoen looked even paler than she did at breakfast, keeping an almost constant murmur at Fritha's ear while the girl herself remained silent, her expression resolute and dark.
They had reached the garrison by now, the few soldiers stood chatting outside looking up with interest as the two men led Thaldorn to the doors and Jaheira watched Fritha move past her to the head of the party to speak with the guard, the druid dropping back to where Imoen now stood alone anxiously twisting her fingers.
'Are you well, Imoen?'
The girl nodded but had no chance to answer as the doors before them opened and Scar appeared.
'Take him inside,' he barked to the surrounding soldiers without even a question as to who he was or why they'd brought him, two stepping up to escort Thaldorn into the garrison as their commander turned his attention to the girl before him. 'The girl from Candlekeep,' he confirmed, smiling broadly, 'you could have given them your name though, my spies at least managed to learn that, Fritha.'
'You got my message then.'
Jaheira frowned. What message was this? She glanced to the girl at her side, but Imoen did not look as though this news surprised her and Jaheira brought her attention back to the pair.
'Yes,' Scar continued slowly, giving the girl before him an appraising look, 'and since it was given to my men around the time the nearby temple of Gond was being robbed, I wonder if you are here about that.'
Imoen shifted slightly at her side and Jaheira kept her eyes fix resolutely ahead so as not to draw attention to it. So, they had been around when the Gondites were being robbed. Jaheira dreaded to think what they had been up to, but Fritha did not seemed fazed by the implications of his question.
'Afraid not,' she answered dispassionately, 'I was just heading back to the Elfsong after finishing my surveillance shift. I haven't heard anything about it at the guild either, but I get the impression there is more than one operating in the city.'
'Yes, my contacts said two of you had joined Alatos' lot, wouldn't have pegged you as the sort.'
Fritha shrugged absently. 'I've done worse work in my time.'
'Aye,' he nodded and said no more on the subject, sweeping narrowed eyes over the rest of them before turning back to her. 'So I assume you've information of another sort for me; your surveillance turn up anything?'
The girl fixed him with an even gaze.
'We've information on the Iron Throne.'
'The Iron Throne?' he repeated, his cool manner changing to one of sudden urgency, 'Please, come with me, the Duke himself will wish to hear this firsthand.'
Moments later found them all upstairs, sat before a large oak desk, Duke Eltan, one of the Lords of Baldur's Gate, sat behind it and seven cups resting untouched in between. Jaheira watched the dark-haired man before her listen patiently as together they recounted their travels of the last few tenday. Scar had been correct; the duke was very interested in the Iron Throne, and when they at last finished, he remained silent a moment; his eyes narrowed, running a casual finger along the edge of his neatly cropped beard in a look of deep contemplation.
'Well, that is quite a story,' he at last began, a slight smile warming his expression as he added, 'and one I have no trouble believing either. Though the general opinion of the city holds the Iron Throne as heroes, I have been suspicious of their actions for some time now. That they were the only group in all the city who had a seemingly endless supply of iron when all other sources were dry; it seemed too convenient to me. All who we captured from the caravan raids claim to be working for the Zhentarim though.'
Eltan shrugged, clearly seeing no need to continue, Khalid taking the moment to supply, 'The g-groups they use, they are Black Talon and Chill and m-may well believe this to be the case.'
'Indeed? Well, that would explain the efficiency of their operation. However, this knowledge is of little use without proof to back it up.'
'But what about the evidence we brought?' interrupted Imoen, suddenly bolt upright in her chair, 'And the doppelganger!'
The duke looked a touch surprised by her outburst, but to his credit, merely answered mildly.
'The accounts show unspecified payments to something called 'operations', unusual, but nothing to allow further investigation and my men have searched the building and found no evidence of the creature you described.'
'But-!'
'I am not saying you are lying,' he soothed, leaning back in his chair with a slight sigh, 'but without evidence, my hands are tied. Thaldorn will confess to nothing. He claims you raided his building and killed his colleagues in part of your ongoing and unfounded campaign against his guild.
'Unfounded?' Imoen snorted, and looked as though she would say something else, but Fritha laid a gentle hand upon her arm, an unreadable look passing between the friends, and the girl finally leaned back in her chair, sullen but silent.
'I understand you are frustrated. I will keep Thaldorn here for as long as possible, but that may not be long. The city has never had such troubles, what with the raids and the trading costers behaving oddly as they are. The Iron Throne has gained much support in the city and will continue to do so, as long as war threatens.'
'And you yourselves do not look blameless in this to the outside eye,' Eltan added with the briefest glance to Imoen, as though worried this would also provoke a strong reaction. But she remained silent and he continued, rising from his chair, to cross to the large bookcase that lined the back wall, removing and replacing volumes as he spoke.
'Perhaps it would be best if you were to leave the city for a while and I have just the task for it. You say that the other two leaders are in Candlekeep, well, it seems the only way may be to go there and investigate this yourselves. Use the knowledge of Thaldorn's imprisonment to our advantage, we may be able to wring a confession from one of them yet.' He paused, a book in hand as he added, almost to himself, 'And I'd be interested to know who they're meeting there; this escalating crisis with Amn seems a little too engineered for my liking. Here,' Eltan continued, breaking from his reverie to hand the book to Fritha, who received it without a word. 'A tome with which you can purchase your entry to Candlekeep; you are familiar with their custom?'
'Yes,' the girl replied, her eyes gaining a distance to them as she stared at the worn cover, 'yes, quite intimately.'
'Good, very good. Here, Scar will escort you to the city gates and Gods' speed.'