Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 35

The prodigal child returns

The old tree in the Inner Keep had turned brown and shed a small portion of its leaves. Not surprising, as the calendar moved from Eleint to Marpenoth. For some reason that observation bothered Imoen. For the past ten years, she'd always been there to watch the first leaf turn orange. Sitting at the fountains, chewing on a piece of fruit, looking up and admiring the majestic old tree. And now, it's already brown and shedding and she'd missed the first transition for as long as she could remember.

There were many things she thought she'd feel when returning home, yet she didn't expect to feel quite so wistful.

Not that she yearned for home all this while, no. Unlike Elene, she had always looked forward to leaving Candlekeep, seeing what the world out there had in store for her. All the lessons the library and tutors could offer mattered naught when you never got to experience anything worthy of committing to memory in the first place. She wanted to be a famous adventurer like in the stories, not just read about them, dangit!

Looking around, though, she realised she did miss home. Other than the tree, nothing much had changed since she left. The streets were lined with Watchers and Avowed, seemingly untouched by the dangers of an iron crisis or bandit troubles. Yet a thrill of trepidation shot through Imoen at the thought of meeting Winthrop. The last she saw him, she told him she was off to fetch something for Elene, before she and Gorion had to make their secret trip. Then she disappeared for nigh on five months.

Yep, Gatewarden was right. I'm gonna get one hell of a hiding.

As planned, Elene led them wordlessly straight to the inn. They all had their hoods up and their weapons hidden. As subtle as they were trying to be, Imoen could feel the stares follow them as they moved past in a group. It was unusual for a big group to enter Candlekeep in the middle of the day like this. Gossip will start to swirl in no time. This is where Winthrop would be of greatest value, he could spread counter-rumours faster than anyone else in this place to keep their identity secret at least for another day.

Once again, she had to remind herself of their mission. She wanted nothing more than to run into every building and say hello to everyone and give hugs to the people she liked. Tell them about the crazy hijinks they've gotten up to. However, doing so would alert the whole Keep of their presence and put the Throne leaders on alert. That simply wouldn't do.

The Candlekeep Inn loomed in front of them. She tilted her head as she gazed at it. The place has seen better days, she thought, from the chips in the wooden sign to the ageing finish to the building's walls. Had it always looked this drab, she wondered, or was she simply seeing it with fresh eyes?

"Right. Here we are," Elene announced before ploughing ahead into the inn, a tense set to her shoulders.

Ah, the smell. Winthrop's signature roast chicken, Imoen thought with a smile. Unforgettable no matter how many inns she'd been to. It was quiet inside, as expected of a typical afternoon. Precisely why they had chosen to arrive in the middle of the day. The acolytes, scribes and Readers took their lunch in the mess hall beneath the Library instead of at the inn. Only during dinner would the inn's common room truly come alive.

Imoen's heart rate picked up when she spotted Winthrop at the bar, pretending to be busy by the drink taps. He wasn't fooling her, absolutely no one would be ordering mead at this hour. As they approached, she took in the lines on his face, his diminished paunch and hoped that her disappearance wasn't the cause of it.

"Aye, how can I help you?" Winthrop asked without looking up from his fiddling.

"Heya, ya old coot," Imoen called out before Elene could say anything.

The transformation was immediate. Winthrop's bald head whipped up, his eyes locking on her. She watched as his expression changed from boredom to shock to unadulterated joy as he realised that his little Hell Sprite was back in town.

"You! Where have you been? I damn near lost my mind worrying about you!" he all but shouted.

Grinning, Imoen ran over to embrace the only father she'd ever known. Gorion did try to dote on her early on, but her temperament was entirely too different from both him and Elene for her to build much of an attachment to the him. As far as she was concerned, Winthrop was her old man, and she could feel his affection from the rumbling laugh vibrating through him as he swayed her slightly side to side in his arms.

Now this. This was home.

"I'm okay, I'm okay!" she laughed as she planted a wet one on his cheek. "I had to make sure Elene didn't get into too much trouble out there."

"Oh, ye little hellion." Winthrop pulled away and searched her face intently. "When we found Gorion, we expected the worst. Fuller searched those woods for days. Days. When they couldn't find anything, I didn't know what to think."

She hugged him again even as her eyes watered. "I'm here, I'm okay. I promise ya I've been good, not doing stupid stuff. I'm sorry I made ya worry, Puffguts."

Although Winthrop didn't respond immediately, she felt his arms tighten around her enough to make her ribs hurt. Maybe the rest of the Keep thought of him as a jovial fellow, but she knew better. He kept his true feelings close to his chest, and she could feel his concern in the minute clenching on his fingers on her back. Outwardly, though, he was smiling as he released her, a faux irate expression on his face.

"Ya can make up for it right this minute, young lady, I've got a mountain of dishes for ye to wash."

"Not on your life!" she said with a chuckle, yet she gave him a meaningful look as she stepped back.

Don't worry about me, old man. I'm okay. You raised me to be okay in any situation, remember?

Her expression seemed to give Winthrop the assurance he needed. He then turned to glance at Elene, who stood there not knowing what to do with her hands. "Welcome home, Elene. I wish I had good news to tell ya but we cleared out yer collection of scrolls pretty soon after ye left. Just couldn't spare the space."

"You…what?" Elene paled. "That was years of work and you just…got rid of it? I mean…it could have gone into…into a collection at least."

"Ha! The look on yer face, ya haven't changed one bit," Winthrop clapped her on the back in amusement. "Of course not, kid. All yer stuff's bundled up safe in Gorion's room. Tethtoril said he'd take care of everything. Fer sure no one's gonna gainsay him."

Elene looked about ready to fall over in relief. "Oh, right. Right. That's good." She cleared her throat. "I was wondering if we could have a chat in one of your backrooms. Just a quick one if you're not too busy. To catch up on things."

Imoen caught the wry look Winthrop shot her. Always so proper.

Just go with it, she winked at him.

"Sure, sure. Come on then, I don't need to give you two directions. Ya can introduce yer friends inside."

Winthrop gestured to one of the barmaids, a lady Imoen wasn't familiar with, to man the fort while he led his guests past the common room and into the back. A private room was situated further in, meant to cater to quiet dinners between the higher ranked Readers, Gorion included. Some secret meetings which couldn't air in the open common room. Khalid and Kivan helped rearrange the seating in the small room to allow all of them to huddle close together for their 'chat'.

"Drink?" Winthrop asked, ever the gracious host.

"Maybe later," Elene smiled at him.

She introduced each of their companion in turn. Although Khalid and Jaheira had been friends with Gorion, they had never set foot in Candlekeep, and they were as much of strangers to Winthrop as Kivan and Xan were.

"Nice ta meet all of ya. I hav'ta say, this is the most eventful week I've had in years." Winthrop wiped at his brow, flustered. "First them Iron Throne fellas show up with their creepy entourage, then we had another group of merchants who didn't even bother to introduce themselves. And now you two back from the dead! What in Hells is going on here?"

Elene's gaze sharpened at the mention of their quarry. "Funny you should mention it. Much as Imoen and I love being back, we're really here for those merchants you mentioned. They're up to some shady dealings and we'd like to find out what that is."

"Not much ta say," Winthrop shrugged. "The Throne fellas arrived yesterday, four men with three bodyguards, they looked like Sembians. Didn't get up to much 'cept go around bullying the acolytes to fetch stuff for 'em like they're servants."

Imoen glared. She hated people doing that.

"The other group arrived later in the evening. Didn't even leave their rooms, had food sent up. It's obvious those two groups are here to meet but they keep dancing around each other until they left the inn this morning. Downright strange behaviour if you ask me."

"How long are they here for?" Jaheira wanted to know.

"Not long, I think. They got a room booked here until dinner tomorrow, but they've paid for it so they can leave anytime. Ye came just in time if yer here to catch them." Winthrop leaned forward towards Imoen eagerly. "Are ya gonna tell me why yer after them?"

"They're bad people, Puffguts," Imoen replied. "We're just here ta make sure they don't do more bad stuff."

"Aye? Well it doesn't surprise me one bit. Creepy fellas, I tell ya."

"I take it you put them in the top floor?" Elene asked, shrewdness gleaming in her eyes.

Winthrop wagged a reprimanding finger at her. "Now, now. It's plain bad manners to let ye rob my customers while they're off having meetings. Not a good look for an innkeeper, no sir."

"Who said anything about robbing?" Elene spread her hands, all wide-eyed innocence. "We just want to see if they have any interesting papers on them. We won't take a single piece of lint that's not ours, I promise."

Imoen avoided reacting to the sceptical look Winthrop shot her. "Yeah, what she said."

"What do ya think yer gonna find anyway?" he asked.

"Could be nothing." Elene shrugged. "But we need to find out either way. Safer to do it this way than to confront them."

Winthrop rubbed his prolific double chin. "For what it's worth, their rooms are empty. The bodyguards went with them this morning. And I reckon those mean 'uns are gonna spend the rest of the day up in the library so…"

Imoen grinned. One could always count on Puffguts.

Jaheira cleared her throat. "Perhaps we could arrange for rooms elsewhere in the Keep rather than stay here. I'd rather we avoid bumping into them by accident during mealtimes and such."

"Of course, of course. I can get a runner over to the healing houses, they definitely have spare beds for ya. Don't worry about meals, I'll send 'em over myself." Winthrop gave a meaningful look at Imoen. "And uh, if anyone asks, I'll just mention a group of adventurers dropped by to talk to Tethtoril. I don't think ye can get away from talking to him, Elene."

"I will speak with him," she replied quietly.

"It's good to see ya. Both of ya. Figures ye'd come back and turn everything upside down."

"Don't ya miss us?" Imoen winked.

With an affectionate guffaw, he pulled Imoen into a half-hug. "Ya little Hell Sprite."

While Winthrop departed to make the necessary arrangements, it was decided that Elene, Imoen and Kivan were to search the third floor while there was a lull at the inn. The three of them made a quick beeline upstairs under the pretext of heading to their room. Imoen glanced around as they ascended, remembering the hours she spent turning down rooms after guests had left, just days before her departure from Candlekeep. Even after months, the layout of the floors, the decoration, even the drab curtains all look the same. It was as if time never moved while she was gone.

For some reason it made her feel sad.

There was not much time for her to wallow in melancholy, however. Elene halted at the second floor with a pinched expression. After a quick back-and-forth on tactics, Elene and Imoen left Kivan near the stairwell, a lone shadow stationed as lookout. Hopefully, his assistance would not be needed at all, Imoen thought.

The third floor was vast and deserted, with only six suites occupying the floor and a cosy lounge in the centre. State leaders, powerful mages and monarchs were put up there for their visit. For obvious reasons, Winthrop never allowed her to clean up on this floor, for fear of things going 'missing' when she was on her rounds. Some guests Ulraunt would not tolerate alienating during their stay.

Fortunately, the Iron Throne wasn't that high on Ulraunt's list of favoured stakeholders.

Imoen pointed towards the nearest room. "I'll take this one, you can take the next one."

"Get out the second you hear someone coming," Elene told her before moving away.

As expected, the layout of the suite hasn't changed one bit. It was a simple matter for Imoen to zero in on the storage drawers and containers in the room, taking great care not to disturb the surroundings too much. A quick rifle through the drawers yielded nothing while her search through the bags in the cupboard only got her an eyeful of men's shirts and pantaloons. If she had to guess, the occupant of this suite was one of the Knights of the Shield. The clothing didn't look luxurious enough to pass for one of the merchants from the Gate.

Done with her first target, she put everything precisely how she found them before moving on to the next suite. On the desk there was a carefully written note from Winthrop to advise dinner and breakfast time at the inn. The drawers were empty as she slid them open one after another. Going through the occupant's belongings, she was reminded of the office she ransacked at the Iron Throne base. Specifically, she thought of the haughty man in the portrait she saw. Most likely she was in Rieltar's suite and yet, he had left nothing behind to be of use.

Finally, she struck her third suite. This one was similar in design to the other two, except that it was smaller. Perhaps the smallest suite on the floor, where the most unimportant member of the entourage stayed. Imoen huffed a breath in disappointment when she again ended up empty-handed. As she got ready to leave, she paused by the small fireplace in the suite. Leaning in, she noticed flecks of burnt paper on the logs.

"Nutmuffins!" she exclaimed.

There goes perfectly good proof. These guys aren't that dumb, after all.

She kept her ears peeled as she stepped back out to the lounge. Just in time. Elene was just slinking back from the suite at the end, her face also drawn and unhappy. A shake of her head confirmed that she'd had about as much as luck as Imoen did in casing the place.

"Let's get out of here," Imoen nudged her.

They took the stairs down to return to the ground floor, careful not to make a sound. To their surprise, Kivan wasn't at the landing waiting for them as they turned the corner of the stairwell. Imoen was about to hop the remaining steps down and call for him when she heard Elene's steps come to an abrupt halt behind her.

"Someone's coming," Elene breathed.

"Come on!"

Imoen pulled at her hand and led them towards the settee in the foyer. At the very least they could pretend to be waiting for someone and keep their faces down. Hopefully their hoods would conceal their features enough to deter close scrutiny. They just about got into position when their guest arrived. Instead of Rieltar or his cronies, though, a familiar face bobbed into view as the newcomer reached the top of the steps.

Wide-eyed, Elene levered herself out of her chair. "Shistal?"

It was undoubtedly Shistal, Imoen thought. Tall, stocky, with bright red hair and freckles to boot. He was one of Elene's close friends among the Avowed, being only several years older than her, rather than several decades. Imoen peered closer. And yet, although his features remained the same, Shistal seemed a bit different from how she remembered him.

She couldn't quite put her finger on why that was.

"Uh, hullo," Shistal stammered, surprised. "I wasn't expecting other guests here."

"Guests?" Elene cocked her head at him. "I know I've been away for a while, but I'm hardly a 'guest'."

He stared back, as if regaining his composure. It was an eerie switch in countenance, given Shistal had always been a nervous fellow. "Ah, when did you get back? I didn't know you were coming back."

"Wasn't part of the plan, no."

As she spoke, Elene began to approach him, fingers gripping the pendant on her chest. A flicker of magic could be felt as she murmured a command word under her breath, audible only to someone standing right next to her. Imoen's suspicion was equally piqued. For a good friend of so many years, Shistal was behaving as though it was the first time he was seeing Elene. To call his behaviour bizarre would be an understatement.

Shistal slowly edged away from the stairwell. "Well, I'm happy to see you. What have you been up to, while you're away?"

"Oh, you know. This and that." Somehow Elene managed to plaster a friendly smile on, even as she continued to close in on him. "And you? How is your research on Myth Drannor? I hope you managed to finish your thesis in the end."

Imoen hung back, watching the exchange in tense silence. She had a good idea of where Elene was going with this. Her bow was already in her hand, though in her heart, she hoped fervently she wouldn't have to use it.

Shistal seemed ponder the question for a moment. "I'm still refining some areas for the thesis, actually. Plenty more work to do." He huffed in impatience before shifting his weight to make a move to leave. "On that note, I thought I left my notes here but it appears I'm mistaken. If you don't mind, I'll take my leave now. Nice to see you again."

Taking a deep breath, Imoen swore in her head. Shistal finished that thesis before they'd even left Candlekeep. Even she knew that! She recalled him crowing about it at the inn over dinner, cradling a tankard of Winthrop's best mead and nearly dying from a hangover afterwards.

This isn't Shistal.

In a sidling move, Elene cut off the path downstairs, still with that unnatural smile. "But you've only just got here. Don't you want to catch up? I have so many questions for you." Then her hand was on her sword hilt as she finally dropped the act. "For starters, who are you, really?"

In a flash, Shistal, or the thing that looked like Shistal, took a swing at her head. Instead of human hands, though, his hands elongated into grey talons a sharp as any knife. A doppelganger in the guise of a friend, its fluid movement slightly impeded by the billowing sleeves of his acolyte robes. Fortunately, as fast as the creature was, Elene had been expecting it. She drew her sword as she easily dodged the attack and backed away.

Imoen was just about to loose her arrow when another arrow flew from the other end of the room. The doppelganger moved out of the way just in time, the projectile grazing it in the arm, while Imoen's own arrow lodged itself into the wall behind it. Realising it was outnumbered and its return path was blocked, the doppelganger bounded to the window at the end of the hall. Elene ran after it but was too late to stop the creature from careening out the open window to freedom.

By the time Imoen reached the window, the creature was already on its feet, firmly on solid ground. Shistal glared at her and Elene from below, the malice in his gaze an almost tangible thing. He lifted his now human hand in an almost solemn wave before stepping out of the small alley between the inn and the storehouse, disappearing from their line of sight as he turned the corner into the main street of Candlekeep.

"Bad sign."

Imoen flinched as Kivan materialised at her shoulder. Turning, she caught sight of Elene's ashen face as she stared down into the empty alley in shock.

"This creature is faster than the one we fought in the Gate," Kivan continued.

"If that thing is pretending to be Shistal…what happened to the real one? He has to be ok, right?" Imoen ran a hand through her auburn hair, causing her hood to drop to her shoulders from the motion.

"Where there's one, there may be more," he cautioned.

"Why? Why would they be replacing monks with mirror-kin? We…we gotta do something." Imoen lifted her chin. "We gotta tell Puffguts!"

Elene's fingers closed around her wrist, halting her before she could stride downstairs and share their discovery with Winthrop. She glanced at Elene in surprise.

"No," Elene said.

"Whaddaya mean, no? We can't let that thing run around impersonating our friends!"

"Im, listen to me." Elene leaned in close. "Who here is going to believe us?"

The countering words were already on the tip of her tongue before her own memory made her pause. She remembered the furtive glances, the shaking of heads, the whispers that followed Elene when some people thought Gorion wasn't looking. Yes, they had both grown up safe and well taken care of in Candlekeep, but in truth she knew they were never truly welcomed. Come to think of it, Scar only believed them because he'd seen the doppelganger carcasses with his own eyes. He also had the sworn testimonial from Aldeth. Without those, the whole party would be languishing in the dungeons by now.

Maybe Puffguts will believe me, but he won't be able to get the Watchers to do anything.

Also…what if…what if they'd gotten to Puffguts too?

She suddenly felt sick to her stomach.

But this was their home! Surely there was someone they could trust, someone the grey uglies couldn't get a hold of. Someone who was friendly to them, yet powerful enough to fend off those creatures if they went after them. Then Winthrop's words to Elene earlier in the day rang clearly in her thoughts, and she had her answer.

"I know who," Imoen decided. "Tethtoril."

Growing up, Tethtoril was the only high-ranking Reader who would give her and Elene the time of day, trickling stories, books and even treats sometimes to both girls whenever he bumped into them. And he was high up in the food chain, second only to Ulraunt, the haughty Keeper of the Tomes. If anyone would listen to them and be in a position to act on the information, it would be him.

Elene gave her a thoughtful look, reconsidering. "You may be on to something there."

"We should go warn him, now."

"Come on, let's get the others," Elene tugged her along.

Surreal. The word kept repeating in Imoen's mind as she walked up the steps of the Inner Keep with the rest of her group. Not much was said among them, the revelation of the doppelganger leaving furrowed brows and stony faces in its wake. The polished, ancient doors of the Great Library loomed ahead of them. Such an image should have filled her with nostalgia, with memories of happier if uneventful days of running to the library after a day of chores to escape into a world of imagination. And yet, she felt as though she was living out an ominous dream, or even a nightmare, whereupon the friendly faces she would expect to see within were nothing but convenient masks for their enemy.

Though the changing seasons do touch the courtyard, inside, the library was as unchangeable as the deserts of Anauroch. The shelves were arranged exactly as they always have since she was a child, with even the reading tables right where they always were. Imoen had always found most of the material stuffy and boring except for those from the forbidden sections. Readers and Avowed dotted the floor of the library going about their tasks. Strange looks followed the group as they strode past and headed for the top floor in search of the First Reader.

They kept their heads down and avoided eye contact the entire way. When they reached the third floor, though, a familiar face flagged them down before they could ascend further.

"Elene, Imoen! You're back!"

Bendalis hurried towards them, a book under his arm. He was Shistal's contemporary but had advanced the ranks of the Avowed faster by virtue of being one of the brightest young acolytes in the Keep. If his mustard-hued robes were anything to go by, he had already been promoted to scribe, way ahead of his peers.

Though…if Elene had stayed behind, she would probably have been wearing the same robes by then.

"Ben, it's…good to see you," Elene began, trying and failing to hide her uncertainty. "Congratulations on making scribe…the robes look good on you."

Bendalis ducked his blonde head modestly. He'd always been a pleasant, down-to-earth fellow, Imoen thought. "Thank you. If you hadn't left, we would have taken the test together, Elene. I'm…I'm sorry about Gorion. We heard about it and I just wanted to say many of us mourned his loss deeply. He was a great man and scholar both."

Elene swallowed. "I…thank you. It means a lot to hear that."

Despite her paranoia, Imoen had a good feeling about Bendalis. He seemed like the real deal, especially the way his gaze lingered awkwardly on Elene. You couldn't make that kind of puppy-eyed devotion up. Still, she needed to be sure.

"Heya Ben, looking good," she piped up, breaking the solemn moment. "Say, it's been a while, but you wouldn't happen to remember Elene's favourite colour, would ya?"

She received a look from him that was equal parts confused and suspicious. "What…why are you asking that?"

"Just humour her," Elene said with a strained smile.

Frowning, he glanced at Elene for a moment before answering, "From what I remember, it's green."

Imoen caught sight of her friend's shoulders relaxing at his answer. Whatever these doppelgangers were up to, they hadn't gotten to him yet, at least. Just as quickly, Elene squared her shoulders and stepped closer to Bendalis.

"This is going to sound odd, but we need your help. There's a plot in play here and it's linked to those men from the Iron Throne who arrived yesterday. Do you know anything about what they've been up to, or their movements?" she asked.

"Ah, them," Bendalis replied with a knowing nod. "Not the nicest bunch to come visit. So far they've kept to themselves when they're not pushing the acolytes about. They stick to the inn or congregate upstairs in the west-side meeting room. They've been shut in there since morning. What makes you think there's a…a plot going on?"

"Let's just say we've been asked to follow up on some of the naughty things they did in the Gate," Imoen replied with a beatific smile.

"Thank you, Ben. We have to go see Tethtoril, we'll try to catch up again later. In the meantime, if anyone you know, even if it's old Phlydia, were to start acting strangely. You stay away from them. And let us know immediately." Elene grasped Bendalis on the arm. "Can you do that?"

Bewilderment was etched all over his face. "But…why? What's going on?"

Elene shook her head. "We'll speak later. Just be careful and watch out for the unusual."

They left him blinking in confusion. Imoen felt uneasy, wishing Elene could slow down and explain and make sure he knew the danger to him and everyone else in the Keep. Then again, would Ben or anyone else really believe them without seeing doppelgangers with their own eyes? Clenching her jaw, she hoped that Tethtoril could do something about the situation before her home became a mirror-kins' playground.