Lidia found the Copper Coronet with little difficulty, especially since it seemed to be the largest thing on this block. At least, the largest thing that was supposed to be there - the sphere dwarfed everything else and was now stretching out its shadow as the day waned. The foot traffic dropped off as she went further north across the bridge, though there were signs that certain elements of the population were beginning to stir. Fewer carts and horses and laborers and tradesmen, more beggars and messengers and people in hoods and jacks of plate.

She'd been expecting to descend into treacherous narrows, like the Lower City in Baldur's Gate. Instead, Athkatla kept its streets wide open and clean, even as the upkeep of the buildings and the street pavers deteriorated as she went further north. In the bright sunlight, everything seemed almost picturesque rather than dreary. The smell of waste was more overpowering here than across the river, but it wasn't enough to turn her stomach. She'd been through worse.

As for the Coronet itself, someone seemed to have started building this place and forgotten to tell the workers when to stop. The heart of it was a low-lying structure made from the same pitted terracotta walls and clay-tiled roofs as the others nearby. The entrance to the inn itself was marked with a hanging sign depicting, in faded paint, a brown crown outside a sturdy wooden door. Multiple additions, all of which looked only slightly newer, seemed to be added onto the ground floor as an afterthought. And, like a shell growing around some creature, a rickety-looking wooden stairway dominated the front of the place, winding upwards and around. The stairs led to what seemed to be another neighborhood altogether, built atop this one.

Her friends wouldn't find themselves, she thought, and she went across the street and opened the wooden door. It was much heavier than she was expecting; it was several fingers thick and the battens on the inside were reinforced with iron.

As it turned out, the Coronet was exactly the kind of place to which a suspicious stranger would direct her. The very air felt dingy. The varnish on the floors had worn off long ago, if it was ever there to begin with, and bits of dirt had settled in and melded itself with the wood. The tables and chairs were old and scratched, and the clouded glasses didn't match. But to those more familiar with this part of town, all this was to be expected. "What is this, the Gem District?" was the proprietor Lethinan's usual response to complaints, as Lidia later learned.

Still, at the moment the place looked sleepy, if considerably lived-in. This afternoon, the shutters on the far wall were open, letting some light cross the motes of dust in the air. Thick smoke clung to the ceiling and dimmed the light from the embers in a long brazier which dominated the center of the taproom, gave off welcome heat, and lit countless pipes. Off the left wall was a ring of pillars and a tiled floor, marred with red-brown stains. A surly, hunched-over man lingered in a chair nearby, giving her a suspicious look.

Lidia made her way cautiously through the room, giving as wide a berth as she could to the clumps of people around tables. The smell of harbor water, pipe-smoke, and old meat seemed to all mingle together the further back she went. Most of the people, many of whom wore the same jacks of iron with their hoods down, congregated around a small table that served as a bar. She kept her short sword at her side, and the dagger hidden but easily reachable, though she resisted the temptation to touch either one. It was always a fine line to walk, projecting the silent message of "not to be crossed" while avoiding the silent message of "apt to cross others."

She was much more watchful than she would be under normal circumstances - she was in an unfamiliar place, and she was exhausted. She kept her head up. If she hadn't, and she had been less tired, she would have noticed the dwarf's outstretched feet.

She tripped over his short legs, stumbling forward. Everyone else moved out of the way. She fell to the floor, hitting the ground on her front. She turned over onto her back almost as soon as she'd recovered from the surprise. She wasn't hurt, but some of the mud from the dwarf's boots streaked onto her legs.

A hush fell over the group of ne'er-do-wells around him. One or two of them burst into a laugh and a roar: "Oy, Bloodaxe! Wake up, come look at this chit 'ere."

People were packed closely here, so perhaps Lidia could be forgiven for the slip. But with a name like "Bloodaxe," she doubted that this particular dwarf was known for his forgiving mood. Luckily, he was fast asleep, probably stone drunk, under his massive grey beard and his helmet resting atop his face.

She got to her feet and muttered some apologies, but relaxed a bit when no one gave her a second glance. The fact that she looked like a prison escapee, as Gaelan had pointed out, meant that she seemingly fit right in. She slipped through the crowd to the back, where a huge, balding, over-muscled bartender presided over a table, serving drinks poured from a wall of weather-stained barrels.

As she approached, the bartender turned aside to talk to a stout, bald man in an apron. She caught only snippets of conversation, but it sounded as though this man was the bartender's boss.

The man with the apron barked out orders to the bartender and two girls handing out drinks. He surveyed the room and muttered something to the bartender. Suddenly, he met Lidia's gaze, then disappeared down a hallway in the back. In a moment, he returned with Jaheira, who left him behind the counter to resume his duties.

Lidia picked up speed and met her friend in a back alcove of the bar, empty except for several ticks of straw along the wall. Lidia was tempted to sit down, but didn't; she felt as though she could fall asleep on her feet.

Jaheira was a half-elf, her hair sun-bleached and her skin tanned from countless hours outdoors. Out of everyone in Gorion's Company, she was often the first to react and the first to find an old acquaintance in a new place. Though she didn't look a day above thirty, she'd been adventuring since before Lidia was born.

She leaned in, her callused hand on Lidia's shoulder, and kept her lightly accented voice low. "Thank the gods, you made it. We thought you had been taken, too."

Lidia said, "The city guard did, but they let me go. We need to - "

Jaheira interrupted, "Not here. Come with me."

She took her to a hallway in the back with a series of plain wooden doors. They stopped in front of one that had an "H" scrawled on the front with a piece of charcoal.

Jaheira pressed a key into Lidia's hand. "Here. You and I have this room. The others will be next door if you need anything. Or ask for Bernard; he is a friend of mine and you can trust him. Otherwise, this place is not a friendly one; be wary of who you deal with. I have a meeting that cannot wait, but there will be time to talk later." She started down the hall.

As Lidia kept fumbling with the key, Jaheira stopped and turned to her one last time on her way out. "Stay here and get some rest. You will need it."

Lidia quickly shed the clothes she'd been wearing, replacing them with the oatmeal-colored undergarments, tunic, and pants that lay on the bed. The only piece of old clothing she kept was a dirtied gray vest that she laid upon a table; the rest went onto the dying fire and quickly were swallowed into ashes. She found a basin of water nearby and rinsed off her limbs and face.

The water heightened her alertness, but not for long. The work of the past day would have taxed her body even if she hadn't suffered weeks of misuse and ill treatment, and now, everything overtook her.

As soon as Lidia sat on the wide bed, she sank into it, comforted by the smell of straw in the mattress. Almost before she knew it, she'd curled up, not even bothering to draw the blanket over her, and fell asleep.

Yesterday

The group was resting in Irenicus's library, a long, musty-smelling room with dozens of bookshelves. It was one of the few rooms in the lab which had no obvious sign of some dark deed. They'd encountered mangled remnants of preserved people in jars, a couple captive djinns, and a forge full of duergar, dark dwarves with hooded eyes. But here, there were only shelves and shelves of books, with loose pages scattered everywhere on the hard stone floor. The air here was much drier than the rest of the underground complex; Imoen guessed that Irenicus had cast a spell here to keep mildew from forming in the paper.

Up until now, Imoen had been constantly looking over her shoulder, glancing at shadows as if a predator hid in each one. Nevertheless, she had insisted on going through the shelves; she spent an hour quietly poring over the rare tomes the wizard kept and taking one or two for herself. She'd tucked away a few spell scrolls for later, and found some hidden potions. She finally sat down next to Lidia, who was sketching something in a book.

This book was completely empty, bound with undyed vellum, and had probably been awaiting Irenicus's hand to copy something in. Imoen had picked it off a shelf and given it to Lidia while she and the others were setting up a makeshift camp. A replacement journal, and Lidia was grateful for it. Most of their other possessions were gone.

As she piled her finds together, Imoen seemed visibly relaxed for the first time that day, and looked about the room, saying, "I've got to hand it to you, you sure have some kind of courage to sleep in this place. I would have run screaming a dozen times over if you weren't here."

Lidia looked up. "Nobody's seriously noticed that we're gone, and we needed time to recover. We had to take the chance."

Imoen shivered a bit and put her arms around her legs. "I'm just glad you and the others are here. I'm not up to this like you are."

"You give yourself too little credit. Anytime the group is in a scrape, you're ready."

Imoen shrugged. "Well, when people are in trouble, sure. Winthrop was good at teaching me how to stay out of a fix, but you remember what Gorion said, right?"

"'Avoid trouble if you can, make it worth your while if you can't.'"

Imoen stared off into the distance for a moment, as if she feared that their captor was somehow listening. "The guy that captured us... he knows about you. He said something about potential, something about great power." She shuddered. "Say we won't look back. I don't care if he can 'tap the power' or access whatever avatar stuff. We've gotta get away from all this death."

Lidia rubbed a soft, raised line below her ear. It still hurt. "I want answers and some justice. But it's not the time to try for either. We're going to get out of here. And we're not looking back."

"Means a lot to hear you say that. I can't stand all these shadows."

Lidia leaned over and picked up a small jar of oil. She opened the jar, added its contents to the lantern, and soon the room blazed with a soft, warm light. "That feel better?" she asked.

Imoen nodded.

Lidia closed the book. "Listen, Im."

"Shoot."

"I doubt our captor is going to let us just walk. When we start moving again, if something goes wrong, I want you to run. Don't stop until you find someplace safe."

"Like hells I will! I didn't spend all that time training in magic for nothing."

"I know. But this is all on me. If something happens to you..." Lidia could't finish that sentence, and leaned forward. "Promise me. Please."

"All right, all right. But..."

Lidia recognized the look on Imoen's face. Usually, after she got that look, she'd then mutter that Lidia was "bossy." The fact that Lidia was a year or two younger than she, as well as the de facto leader of the group, probably had something to do with it.

But that look was fleeting, and Imoen gave a wan smile instead. "Bird, it'll be fine. Don't worry about me."