Chapter 7

The hunt

Kivan wiped at the beads of perspiration building along his hairline, frowning up at the sky. The sun burned overhead mercilessly, marking another scorching day in the City of Coin. He'd never been this far south before. Truth be told, he doubted he would have come here on his own volition.

After the disconcerting dream plaguing him in Berdusk, he'd walked for nearly a tenday south without a plan in mind. An urgent purpose burned within him, and only when he was halfway down the Sword Coast did he pause to take a more measured approach. Thalantyr, an old ally in High Hedge was a renowned wizard, skilled in all manner of magic including divination. Imoen's ribbon gifted to Kivan turned out to be perfect for scrying. Though Thalantyr could not pinpoint for certain where Imoen was, he'd pointed out that she was within the vicinity of Athkatla. Wherever Imoen was, Elene and the others would certainly be close by.

The journey from High Hedge to Amn had taken him another tenday, the way made challenging by a fair number of Amnian patrols once he'd crossed into the border town of Nashkel. The military force in the region was still on high alert given the war that nearly broke out with Baldur's Gate. It took some convincing to confirm to the patrols that he was no spy from the north, merely a lone traveller seeking out his fortune in their much-vaunted capital.

A cart rumbled past in the street, laden to the brim with what appeared to be grain and food rations. The loud creak and crunch of the aged wheels jerked him out of his meandering, reminding to keep his eyes up. Men and women walked past him with their heads down, shielding their faces with oversized hats or thick hoods. The locals had dark hair and bronzed skin, marked from the sun and exertion of making a living in a city even more sprawling than Baldur's Gate. Before, he didn't understand why the leaders of Baldur's Gate were so afraid of a war with Amn. Seeing the grandeur and marvel of Athkatla made him revisit that notion. It was hard to imagine anyone winning a war against such a wealthy, well-defended state.

Good thing Sarevok was put to the sword before his ambition for war materialised.

Getting to Athkatla had been the easy part. Since then, he'd spent two days near the Gate district failing to pick up a lead. The local innkeepers gave no indication they'd ever seen or heard of anyone resembling Elene, Imoen, Jaheira or Khalid.

And since the jarring dream, he'd received no other signs or portents. Some nights he lay in his bedroll wondering if it had been nothing more than a trick of the mind. But no. He reminded himself that Elene never had any intention to go so far south. She'd told him she wanted to return to Candlekeep. To understand the roots of who she was and what she was meant to do. Why in the Realms would she change her plans so drastically?

So here I am. Back to square one.

There was nothing for it. He didn't know anyone in this vast city. No allies to call on. He would simply have to try his luck at every inn, tavern and store and hope one of them could give him the next clue. The problem was, he'd witnessed Elene trapped in a dungeon. If she was still languishing behind bars, no one above ground would be able to give him what he needed. After a certain point, he knew that he would have to find allies, or another powerful wizard to scry again, now that he was closer to his quarry.

Letting out a slow breath, Kivan turned the corner. Distracted as he was, he didn't notice the other man heading his way until he'd barrelled right into him. Kivan started backwards in annoyance, rubbing at his shoulder. The other man in turn cursed under his breath, dropping his pack as he jerked back in surprise. His hood slid off, revealing a handsome human face, with dark skin and braided black hair. Two swords hung from his belt, and a bow slung across his middle. Even from a cursory glance, Kivan could see that his bearing and high-quality equipment reeked of nobility.

Not that he cared.

"Watch where you're going," Kivan glowered at him.

Instead of responding, the man dove to frantically pick up the pack he'd dropped. Kivan noticed that he was accompanied by two others behind him, a man and a woman. On closer look, the three of them looked hunted and anxious.

"They're here!" shouted the woman.

Two flashes of light heralded the appearance of men in green robes on either side of the trio, thick cowls obscuring their faces from view. The robed man on the left raised his hands and began to chant, harsh arcane words signalling unpleasant things to come. Pedestrians shouted and scattered to get out of the way.

"Under the authority of the Council, we are placing you under arrest," shouted the other robed man.

"Valygar, go!" called out the man in the back as he drew a curved blade from its scabbard.

The lead man, Valygar, hesitated. Until the woman drew her own sword and pushed him forward, her eyes flashing. "Get out of here!"

He didn't need to be told again. Kivan stepped aside to let him pass, the man running like the hounds of Asmodeus were nipping at his heels. Then Kivan wisely slid away to find cover as the man and woman engaged the robed men. Mages, clearly. Judging from the uniformity of their robes including a small emblem woven at their chest, though, they must be part of some organisation. What had he just walked into?

The woman snarled as she slashed at the robed man on the left. Her sword connected, but a shimmering film seemed to deflect the blow as it touched the mage's chest. At the same time, the mage unleashed a spell, though it was aimed at Valygar's retreating back as he pelted towards the city gates. As it struck him, however, the spell fizzled out into nothing and spilled over to the men and women around him instead, instantly paralysing them. Valygar accelerated his pace as bodies fell around him, disappearing quickly into the panicked throng clearing the area.

On the other side, the mage was struggling with the man. The spell cast against him was also rendered ineffective. In fact, with the next strike, the man disrupted the mage's follow-up chant with naught more than a quick jab with his scimitar. While he did not damage due to the mage's latent protections, the mage was unable to hurt him either. The same could not be said of the woman. Her opponent's next spell struck her full on, pitching her backwards and leaving her stunned.

"Take him alive," said the robed man to his compatriot. His voice was eerily calm, that of a senior. Someone accustomed to being in charge.

"But he's a wizard slayer!" hissed the other as he refreshed his magical protection.

The lead mage let out a wearied sigh. Then he loosed another spell, aimed close to the man menacing his colleague. Instead of a fireball or a cloud of death, two enormous ogres appeared. They lumbered towards the man with weapons drawn. Kivan watched as despite his best attempts, the man was overpowered in the end, wrestled to the ground by the summoned monstrosities.

"We're done here," announced the lead mage. "These two will lead us to him."

Magical shackles shimmered into being around both the man and the woman without further fanfare. Then with the wave of a hand from the senior mage, a glowing blue door appeared above them all before mages and captives disappeared into nothingness.

Silence reined in the deserted passage. The encounter had taken minutes, and Kivan couldn't help but feel impressed by the power on display. Those two didn't stand a chance against the mages, the whole encounter was like using a maul to swat a fly. Then he glanced towards the passage that led to the city gates in understanding. They were merely buying time for their friend to escape.

Who were these mages? They wielded enough authority to attack their targets in broad daylight among civilians, uncaring of the damage and chaos their pursuit had wrought. He needed to find out more about this group. Perhaps Elene and the others had run afoul of them and were imprisoned as a result. Times like this, he wished Xan was here to give some insight. But he would have to make do with his own mind and hands and feet. It would have to be enough.

With that, he ploughed on, venturing deeper into the city.

His feet took him through the main thoroughfare crossing into the markets. A giant promenade beckoned, the building shaped as an amphitheatre with many layers, domed with gleaming white marble structures. Kivan shielded his eyes as he gazed upward, noting the small nooks and crannies at the top levels of the amphitheatre, excellent vantage points overlooking the entire marketplace if he could get to it. Throngs of men and women of all stripes packed the streets near the market stalls, merchants and patrons shouting over each other to haggle over goods on sale, ranging from weapons to spices. The northern section looked deserted, though, a large section blown apart by a terrific force. Labourers picked through shattered bits of marble, plaster, and brick to begin repair work. Kivan wondered what could possibly have caused such destruction.

Further in, he noticed a huge tent in bright yellow erected in the centre of the promenade. Around it, cages were arranged to display various wild animals – lions, snakes, even a giant monkey he'd never seen before. His lips curled in disgust. Truly cities of men were full of abominations. How would they like to be caged and put up for display in crowds like that? He could sense the animals' distress even from a distance.

Come one, come all to the Amazing Circus of Seven Dials, the signs read.

The only amazing thing is that people would pay for such nonsense, Kivan thought.

And so, he began his search, carefully studying each stall and merchant as he stalked the marketplace. He crossed out like possibility of spice merchants paying attention to heavily armed groups frequenting the market. Not quite their target customer. That left weapons and armour sellers, though he had yet spotted one on the main grounds of the promenade. Perhaps they were situated in less accessible areas due to the danger their goods posed. What was interesting, though, was that there was not a single shop selling magical items of any kind. In Baldur's Gate, those were quite easily found, at least for items of basic enchantment.

Glancing at the rows of merchants, he decided that he had to start somewhere.

Warily, he approached a stall not far from the circus tents. A middle-aged, balding man busied himself polishing a necklace similar to the ones on display at his stall. As he studied the slightly tarnished metal the man was working on, Kivan suspected he dealt in cheap substitutes for gold. This marketplace took in all sorts, apparently.

"A pearl to you, good sir," the merchant greeted him. "Would you be interested in some semi-precious jewels? A gift for your lady, perhaps?" The man grinned, showing off the now-gleaming necklace in his hand. "A handsome man like you must have someone special waiting."

Kivan refrained from glaring at the hapless man. "Where do adventurers get their equipment here?"

"Eh?" The man squinted at him. "Like weapons and armour? You can't go wrong with Enge's shop on the upper levels." Here, he turned to point east, halfway up the amphitheatre. "If you're wanting something a bit more…uh, exotic, you can try the Adventurer's Mart just down the lane. Ribald is plenty popular around these parts."

Hope bloomed in Kivan's chest. That sounds just like the place Elene and Jaheira would head to, remembering their frequent trips to similar stores in Beregost and the Gate. If they had gotten out, they would need to replenish their stores, re-equip themselves with better gear.

Nodding, Kivan eyed the necklace in the man's hand. "How much?"

"Yours for two gold pieces," the man replied, beaming.

This time Kivan did glare at him, dialling up the heat in his gaze as he stepped closer. Given his height, he towered over the merchant as he planted a hand on the counter. "Do I look stupid to you?"

"Er, I mean…fifty silvers!"

Kivan deposited the right number of coins onto the counter. The merchant dropped the necklace into a small velvet pouch and handed it to him with a nervous smile. Wordlessly, Kivan turned away, pocketing the trinket. A small price to pay for information. He stalked down the row of stalls, eyes flicking this way and that, vigilant against pickpockets. As he reached the end of the lane, he arrived at a nondescript store spanning three alcoves. A pamphlet was shoved in his face as he stood near the entrance, and he ignored the dwarf promoter's excited babble as he scanned the parchment in his hand. An offer for leather armour, good for the next three days only. More importantly the name of the store was scrawled in bold font at the top of the parchment: The Adventurer's Mart.

The interior of the mart was well-lit, with rows upon rows of display shelves filled with all manner of weapons and armour pieces. His interest was piqued when he saw an entire section devoted to bows and arrows, although he maintained his focus, making a beeline towards the storekeeper instead.

A half-elven man pottered about a row of headgear near the back of the store, arranging and rearranging a row of awkwardly shaped helmets. He hummed as he worked, seeming relaxed and merry to most. Harmless, even. Kivan's watchful eyes, however, noted the almost feline grace with which the man moved, the lean muscles on his arms. He'd seen enough warriors of elven descent to recognise one before him.

Stepping closer, Kivan cleared his throat.

"Good morning, sir, a pearl to you," the man greeted, wiping his hands on his trousers as he turned to face Kivan. Like most half-elves, his age was difficult to gauge. Though his features were lined by the passage of years, he still had a full head of brown hair. Kivan estimated he was perhaps a decade older than Khalid, though in possession of more charm. "Ribald Barterman, at your service. How may I help you this fine day?" His eyes raked over Kivan's armour and weapons in the clinical manner of a trained salesman. "We're running an offer on leather armours if that's something that interests you."

"Later, maybe." Kivan considered his next words. "I hear your store is popular with adventurers. Do you know many in Athkatla?"

Ribald's lips twitched. "Most of the still-living ones, I reckon. Why do you ask?"

"I'm looking for a few in particular."

"Well now," Ribald chuckled. "I don't run that sort of service here. You're better off talking to the sneaks in the Docks for that." Ribald turned serious. "Gotta warn you, though, they charge an arm and a leg for it, if you're not careful. It's not a friendly place to outsiders."

"I don't need details." Kivan raised a placating hand. "I just need to know if you've seen them."

"Why are you looking for these people?"

"They're friends."

Ribald stared at him with a small frown pinching at his brow, his suspicion palpable. Then after a long moment, he must have read something in his face for he relented, waving Kivan over to a more hidden corner to continue the conversation. "Tell me about these friends of yours."

"A half-elven couple travelling with two young women, one human and one elf. The man has red hair, brown eyes. A warrior's build. His wife is blonde…" Kivan paused, recalling Jaheira's angry face, "…fierce looking, they're both about your height, likely wearing metal armour. The human girl dyed her hair pink, last I saw her. And the elf is slim, sand-coloured hair with green eyes. The half-elf woman is the one in charge - if you've met them, she would've done most of the talking."

"Eh, might be easier if you gave their names as well. I meet a lot of people in a day."

"The man is Khalid, his wife is Jaheira. Their charges are Imoen and Elene."

At the mention of Jaheira's name, Kivan caught the flicker of recognition in Ribald's features. It was so subtle, a barely perceptible widening of the eyes, but he had been on the lookout for it. He maintained the intense scrutiny intended to make Ribald uncomfortable, watching as the other man made a show of thinking hard about the information he'd shared. Eventually, Ribald leaned back against the shelf behind him, his stance relaxing. He met Kivan's eyes calmly.

"Can't say I've seen your friends, though I've known a few Jaheira's in my time," drawled Ribald. "It's a common Tethyrian name, and a lot of them come through Athkatla. You have reason to think this group came to the city recently?"

Kivan nodded and opted not to elaborate. Tethyr, a land to the southwest of Athkatla, was known to him although he'd never set foot in the region. Indeed, that was where Jaheira hailed from. Beyond the initial sign he'd read, Ribald's countenance revealed nothing beyond the nonchalant veneer, rendering it impossible to gauge if he was telling the truth. And despite his first instinct to growl, to threaten like the hunter he was, he suspected this man would not be as easy to intimidate as the jewellery merchant. Though he wondered why this man would find the need to conceal information from him.

Ribald leaned to the side, wiping at a speck of dust on the shelf he was leaning on. "I hope they haven't run into any trouble. Magic use is forbidden here without a license."

"A license from whom?"

"The Cowled Wizards," Ribald replied. "The strong arm of the Council that runs the city. They have a history of snatching up 'magical deviants' right off the streets, so be careful what types of spells you cast around here."

The frantic battle he'd witnessed earlier in the day flashed through his mind. Cowled Wizards, eh? They certainly looked the part. Although the trio they pursued showed no propensity for magic whatsoever. That part didn't add up. Still, it worried him. If Elene or Imoen had been caught casting spells in this place, it would explain why he saw Elene trussed up in chains.

"Who are these Cowled Wizards? Could they have taken my friends?" Kivan prodded.

"I wouldn't dismiss it out of hand. Even so, I don't think you want to be going up against that lot," Ribald shook his head. "Not unless you have someone in the Council of Six backing you." His eyes flickered over Kivan's bow. "Or a lot of firepower. Best you can do is make polite enquiries and have an exit ready when dimension doors start appearing."

Footsteps heralded the arrival of a customer, an armoured woman peering at the display shelves with interest. Ribald craned his neck to peer over Kivan's shoulder at the newcomer, then gave him a questioning look. "Is there anything else you need?"

Kivan ducked his head, copying Elene's polite mannerism with her contacts. "My thanks. I'll be back in a few days to check in with you again." His fingers closed around a loose coin pouch at his belt, with not much in it. "If you do see them, tell them to leave a note for Kivan at the Crooked Crane."

The proffered gold pouch raised Ribald's eyebrow, but he took it without comment.

There was no reason to linger after that. Kivan stepped out into the sun, more bothered by disappointment than the heat. He was so certain that the Mart would net him a solid lead. He should have known better. Hunts of this nature never concluded so soon after first scent.

Reluctantly, he heeded Ribald's words and sought directions to the city's docks from the nearest merchant. The winding streets led him south, then west through the city. The red and gold trappings of the promenade gave way to bronze and staid browns as he departed the more moneyed part of the city for its seedy underbelly. Athkatla may be rich, but the wealth from the spires didn't trickle all the way down. Her streets were pockmarked with occasional beggars making their rounds, desperate for charity to sustain them for another day.

A long walk required him to cross the river bisecting the city. As his eyes scanned the murky waters beneath the sprawling Bridge District, he mulled over his findings so far. Rogues and spies were very much his friends' fortes, and he wondered how he would set about finding a trustworthy cutthroat. From what he knew of Elene, she would quickly ingratiate herself with information brokers to give her an advantage. Jaheira, on the other hand, would seek out members of her organisation. The Harpers. He wished he'd taken the time to learn more about them at the Gate – from how secretive Khalid and Jaheira had been on their loyalties, he doubted their brethren would set up shop somewhere central with a big signage plastered over their door.

As he arrived at the Wave district after a good hour's walk, he wrinkled his nose. The smell of fish was unmistakable here. Yet more merchants hawked their goods on rickety stalls at the district entrance, though he noted that the goods here were of significantly inferior quality to those sold at the Promenade. Rejects or leftovers, sold for a pittance to the locals.

Gulls flew overhead in twos and threes, their cries floating on the gentle ocean breeze. The salty tang of the ocean grew stronger as he strode deeper into the district until he arrived at a vista overlooking the sprawling maze of buildings and warehouses below. A landing fit for a Lord to bask in the panoramic view. Further to his left and right, large, wide steps descended to the lower layers of the district, leading ever closer to the docks, where ships of all sizes berthed. From the distance, the wharf and its adjacent street were teeming with people, a veritable hive of activity in mid-day. Dread built up at the sight as he realised it would take some time to find a needle in this haystack.

Where are you, Elene?

His mind briefly wandered to worst case scenarios: with every hour he wasted, Elene could be further out of reach of rescue. Gritting his teeth, he pushed away thoughts of failure, tried not to think of what he would do if he failed her. He'd never failed her before.

He turned, looking to descend the steps to search the docks area. Taverns would be a good start. Thanks to the spoils from traveling with his former group, he's accumulated more than enough gold to grease the palms of a few miscreants for information. At the top of the steps, he spotted two men loitering, speaking in hushed tones. Hooded and shifty, they gave him a cool once-over as he passed, likely gauging the value of his belongings. He didn't tarry, instinctively knowing that confronting them would court trouble. In unfamiliar terrain, he needed to lay low until it was time to strike. Even though deep down, he wanted nothing more than to take his swirling frustration out on a few low-lifes.

Every few hundred paces, the steps branched towards a different level of the Wave District. The first layer appeared to be made up of stores and even a few temples, with one large, interwoven complex of buildings nestled in between two temples. Down another level and he found more stores and a sprinkling of inns and taverns. By the time he arrived at the bottom level where the wharf was, the only buildings were taverns and warehouses.

Once there, he tried his luck. Taverns along the stretch were packed to the brim with sailors of all stripes. Not many women frequented that stretch except for whores and cutpurses, from the look of it. The three taverns he went into looked different, yet felt the same, the strong reek of tobacco intermingling with stale alcohol. And the smell of unwashed patrons. The only remotely positive element of it was the taverns of the Docks lacked the downtrodden, desperate feel of similar establishments in the inner city, close to the slums. The patrons were more blasé, pragmatic. Everyone he spoke to engaged him purely on the likelihood of pain or gold that he could give them.

The tricks of his former travelling companions weren't as easy to emulate as he'd thought. As a ranger, he survived by being observant, able to read tiny details from indentations on the earth or animal behaviour. People were a different matter. They lied, concealed, obfuscated for any number of reasons. While he can spot the signals in a person's face or posture, he lacked the tools to dig beyond what he witnessed. Xan had a spell for every situation. Jaheira was an experienced spy and interrogator. Elene, despite her youth, could read the underlying meaning of subtle words and gestures from her years of tutelage with wise scholars.

It didn't take Kivan long to realise he was out of his depth.

Bad enough that the people he interviewed had never seen anyone matching his friends' descriptions, they also were not inclined to become his informants. Oh, he'd waved his coin about. Attempted to cajole one or two helpful prospects even. But they seemed afraid, eyes shifting about suspiciously as they demurred to his request.

"Take it up with the Bloodscalp," said one man.

"Who's he?" Kivan asked, a frown marring his face.

The man sniggered. "Keep poking your nose about the place and you'll find out real quick."

The moon was high in the sky by the time he departed the last tavern in the street. Loud carousing could be heard from nearby establishments as visiting sailors settled in for a night of drinks and shanties. Gritting his teeth, Kivan stalked his way back to the district's main steps for the long walk back to his inn. Empty-handed again. Only Shevarash knew what could be happening to Elene while he fumbled about blind. Frustration made it difficult for him to think of tomorrow's plan. More aimless meandering when he felt like he should be doing something. He needed to clear his head. Find another way. Maybe…maybe he could seek out this Bloodscalp fellow and try to cut a deal?

As he ascended the lonely path towards the upper Wave District with jumbled thoughts, footsteps not far behind caught his attention. Two sets of steps, trying for discretion. Based on the distance, he could have his bow drawn and arrow ready to fly in a few moves. Though his instincts hummed to life at the prospect of battle, caution stayed his hand. He was a foreigner in this unforgiving city. He needed his shadow to threaten first before he could move, lest his actions be construed as an unprovoked assault. Or worse, murder. Then he'd be the one in need of rescue. They kept in step with him as he picked up his pace to confirm his suspicion. Muggers, he surmised. Waiting for an opportune moment to corner a lone man and relieve him of his gold.

Well, he didn't wish to disappoint.

Abruptly, he turned to face his would-be aggressors. "What do you want?"

The two men hesitated for a moment at his tone, though one of them eventually squared his shoulders as he stepped forward. "What any man down on his luck wants in these trying times." His smile flashed like a knife in the dark. "Now be a good lad and hand over your gold. Or your life is forfeit."

Kivan watched the shadows for signs of others. There were none.

"No," he replied.

The hoodlum shrugged as he drew his short sword. "Your loss."

And within seconds, they learned precisely what made Kivan such a fearsome opponent. His first arrow was nocked and fired within seconds, catching the lead man in the chest, downing him instantly. The second man hissed as he closed in with a dagger, thinking he had the upper hand in close quarters. What he didn't count on was Kivan pulling an enchanted arrow from his quiver and stabbing him in the side with it, in one quick, vicious movement. He howled as the acid tip spewed corrosive liquid onto his flesh, piercing his flimsy leather armour. Kivan stepped aside as he toppled over at his feet, clutching at his side in pain. The fight was over in seconds.

Kivan crouched over the fallen man, a hunting knife in his hand as he studied the man's vulnerable throat. A young, malnourished face stared back at him in fear as the man's hood fell back.

"P-please, sir!" squeaked the hoodlum. "I…we'll leave you alone. Just let us go!"

"Why were you after me?" Kivan nudged him with the tip of his knife.

He yelped. "You looked like you have gold! And…you were on your own. Easy target."

"Who do you work for?"

"N-no one. We're just…starting out in this. Small stuff, we don't wanna catch the Bloodscalp's eye. He doesn't like freelancers on his turf."

Bloodscalp again. He must be the alpha wolf in this territory.

"Sir, please," the man pleaded. "I gotta help my friend. We don't wanna die. We'll be good, I promise."

Kivan's eyes flicked over to the other man, still groaning in pain from the non-fatal arrow wound. If he'd wanted him dead, he would have gone for the head. A pair of ruffians trying to make a living on the streets. Harmless to him, but dangerous to the uninitiated. He hadn't forgotten the damage caused by young, aimless men such as this on the Sword Coast when they swelled the ranks of bandits raiding the roads. Still, the situation was different now…perhaps these two could be more useful to him alive than dead.

What would Elene do in this situation?

Not taking his eye off the hoodlum, he reached into his pouch and pulled out a small healing potion. "Your friend is going to need this."

The hoodlum nodded frantically.

"I will give it to him." He leaned in. "And then, you're going to do something for me."