Eight months ago

The Flaming Fist rarely made calls to the Drow's Head. Its location in the Baldur's Gate docks was nothing to write home about; it was nestled between two warehouses and sat across the street from an abandoned house and Well-Adjusted Al's General Store. Rumor had it that an actual drow's head had once been mounted on a pike outside the place, but now a saltwater-beaten sign was its only marker. Still, common wisdom in Baldur's Gate held that the best Vilksteader plates came from the worst bars, and here at least common wisdom was right. Plus, the beer was decent and went for hardly more than a song.

Gorion's Company, numbering eight in total, had made their way here. Lidia had wanted to tackle the assignment from Captain Scar Loggerson straightaway, but Imoen had dissuaded her. "Come on, we're just two girls in the big city for the first time," she'd said. "I want to see the sights, do the doings, y'know?"

To start off, they'd picked up a chatty gnome from the side of the road as they came into town. He'd led them to this nondescript place and ordered them crackers, pickled fish, and some kind of fried goat cheese. Not the most exciting day they'd had, but after flooding an entire iron mine, less excitement had been welcome.

As the gnome went on and on about something or another, Lidia found herself looking over her shoulder. A couple ruffians in the corner were giving the group second and third glances. And far too often, similar glances had come from bounty hunters searching for her head.

She wondered whether she'd have been better off joining Ajantis outside. He'd solemnly announced that he wanted no part of entering a place of such ill repute, and he kept vigil as the day failed. He was a squire-paladin of an Order in Amn; she generally assumed he knew much more about how a knight should conduct themselves.

Still, she thought, both her mentor and the Crying God would understand her desire to stay with the group, and in fact the others were thoroughly enjoying themselves. Jaheira and Khalid had had a couple drinks already, and were starting to trade moon-eyed glances and sweet nothings - Lidia could have sworn that she'd caught Jaheira briefly ruffling his auburn hair. Meanwhile, Minsc regaled the bartender with a song in a strange tongue. Dynaheir, Minsc's witch, kept a spot behind him, surveying her surroundings like a queen amongst her subjects. Imoen, meanwhile, was three sheets to the wind on Suz-Ale, and was now carrying on an animated conversation with the latest addition to the group.

The gnome, whose name was Quayle, adjusted his spectacles and declaimed, "Yes, indeed, what a waste it is to lose one's mind. And to not have a mind would be very wasteful. Luckily for all of you, I've put my magnificent brain to good use."

"Aye," Imoen said, "but later I'll be sober, and you'll still have wasted yours."

Lidia tapped the gnome on his purple-velveted shoulder, before he could verbally flail in Imoen's direction again. "So tell me, Quayle, what were you doing on the side of the road?"

"Looking for worthies to join my show, of course!" He straightened up. "I'm the proprietor, owner, showrunner, and creative mind behind the world-famous Quayle Quinapalus's Three-Ring Circus! Surely tales of my amazing act have reached even here."

She shook her head. "I'm afraid not."

He gave a disgusted groan. It was hard to tell under his large nose, but his lips briefly curled into a pout. But in a moment, the showman was back. "The only thing standing in my way to fame and fortune is the lack of a magician. Mine was capable in his own way, but not smart enough to avoid getting arrested. I've been scouring the Sword Coat and been rebuffed at every turn. Well?"

She gave him a questioning look.

"How could any of you refuse such an offer?"

Imoen laughed and laughed, so much that the other members of the group turned to them. Dynaheir's dark brown lips twitched almost into a smile.

For her part, Lidia tried to act as though she took his question seriously. "No thanks. We're committed at the moment."

He pushed back his stool in a huff. "Well, don't blame me if you meet some characteristically stupid end, like forgetting to breathe or something -"

"Cupio, virtus, licet!"

As she chanted, a small iron bar disappeared from Imoen's hand. Quayle froze in place, as though he were a statue, with only his eyes twitching here and there.

"There is another place down the street," Jaheira said, getting off her stool. "Let's leave before he wakes up." Khalid followed her out.

Close behind them was Dynaheir, taking Imoen outside by the arm. Her voice drifted from outside the swinging door, clear and firm: "Practice not the arts magica while thy mind is intoxicated. Aye?"

Imoen mumbled something, then stumbled towards a water trough, while Ajantis tried in vain to keep her upright.

Lidia was the last to leave, and pushed a hastily counted pile of coins towards the bartender. "Sorry for the disturbance."

He only took half. "Keep the rest. That was the funniest damn thing I've seen all tenday."

Present day

Jaheira found herself alone in what seemed to be a great green maze. She said, to no one in particular: "This Kalah may be many things, but he is far from original."

She looked up. Above was the same void that had greeted them on their first steps to the tent. She thought back to when she and Lidia first entered the tent. The scale of the illusion was impressive, true. But not only was it unoriginal, it was far from perfect.

She climbed up the hedge, managing to find a foothold on a sturdy branch. To her left, a faint light gleamed like the first signs of an approaching dawn. She headed in that direction, using the light as a lodestar.

But when she went as far as she could possibly go, she found herself faced with a massive wall of leaves, too high to climb. She was certain that this wall hadn't existed the last time she'd gone up, and she swore under her breath.

As she mulled over what to do next, something intruded upon the silence. She stepped closer, leaned against the wall, and listened.

Behind this wall was the muffled sound of voices. She was at the very edge of the tent.

She recalled what Aerie had said: "The magic can hurt you, if you believe in it." It was consistent with any other illusion she'd been up against, certainly.

She closed her eyes, pictured the yellow and white canvas of the tent, held out her hand, and walked forward.

The floor gave way. She fell into endless darkness.