Early the next morning, Jaheira left her room at the Seas' Bounty, and passed through the small pub below the rooms on her way out. There was only one guest at the bar, a man in a tattered coat who stared listlessly at a mug in front of him, shifting in his old wooden stool. As she passed him, he looked up, and when his eyes met her face, they immediately burned with anger. She returned his stare, and he flicked his head away, staring back down into his glass.
She left a few coppers with Thumb and left, still disquieted. She could have sworn she'd seen the man at the bar before.
But she quickly put the thought aside. There was enough to do today already. Dermin had briefed her for an hour or two last night, and he had left clear instructions and Renal's letter of admittance.
As it turned out, she didn't have far to go — just a half mile down the Shardway, then a left turn at Ropemaker Street. All was still quiet. No doubt news of the dead man had spread, and few were chancing the streets until the sun had risen higher; right now, it was only cutting beams of light between the buildings in the fog.
Nevertheless, Jaheira found the place without incident. Nestled among other salt-weathered wooden buildings was a storefront. Its only distinguishing mark was its red door.
She turned the handle, and the door opened.
She found herself in yet another bar. It was clean enough to pass muster with any inspectors that came by, and it was totally unremarkable, down to the Sembian man behind the counter polishing a glass with a rag. The man's actions were her first clue that this place was little more than a front. Most of the time, bartenders had much better things to do than that.
She approached the man and leaned in. He tilted his head in response.
"I'm here to see Mae'Var," she said.
He nodded, as though he were expecting this. "You have something written for me, yes, hm?"
She handed the letter to him. He closely examined the seal, then tapped the center with the nub of the large ring he wore. In a moment, the letter unfurled. His eyes flitted forth and back over the lines, which he kept out of view.
He hemmed and hawed as he looked over the note, then said, "Everything appears to be in order. Through the door in the back, then. So nice to meet you, my good friend."
He sent her off with a bow and a flourish of his bar rag.
She went through the door and found herself in a narrow hallway. A single plain door stood directly in front of her, and she had every intention of going through it. However, she had another stop to make first, and turned left, ascending a wooden stairway.
This stairway, which was lit only by a few small mage-lights, led to a long hallway of doors. Perhaps a dormitory of some kind, and hardly the place to discuss sensitive work. Nonetheless, this situation, much like the man she was to meet, would have to do.
As she drew closer to the last door on the left, she vividly recalled crossing paths with this contact before. He was one of the Red Wizards of Thay, which was a distant oligarchy ruled by mages, and he'd first met the Company on a bridge just outside the village of Nashkel. He'd accosted them, put up a token effort to ingratiate himself to Lidia, subjected them to long stretches of pontification, then tried to negotiate a deal for Dynaheir's person. Why he was after the Rashemi witch was permanently left to everyone's imaginations — if he hadn't cast a Dimension Door to escape Minsc's wrath, their brief acquaintance would have ended in violence.
Still, despite this bump in the road, this man had made his way to Athkatla. Within six months, he'd ascended high in the ranks of Mae'Var's division of the Shadow Thieves, and perhaps picked up some wisdom in addition to his admitted competence in spellwork.
She arrived at the door and cast one more look down the long hallway. So far, the contact had held up his end of the bargain and ensured that no one else would disturb them. This boded well for the meeting to come.
It never hurt to have an extra bit of insurance, however. She looked down the hallway towards the stairs, held up her holy symbol, and murmured, "Praeses, alia, fero."
Nothing seemed to happen, but that was the point. She found a small pebble on the floor and threw it down the hallway.
It silently hit the ground, without even the whisper of a feather. She'd positioned the spell so that they could talk, with no chance of overhearing.
Satisfied with her work, she turned towards the thick wooden door and knocked. Immediately, the door opened. She was expected, and she wondered if she would be welcome.
On the other side was a wiry, sallow man, whose movements jerked about, as though he were lurching from one impulse to the next. The hand that rested on the door frame had several gold rings on different fingers, as was the custom in Amn; the thin gold rings on his eyebrow and nose were less traditional but not unheard of. The Red Wizards were usually shaved clean, but this man wore his brown hair and beard at shoulder-length. The crimson of his hood had faded to an anemic light red; given Athkatla's distrust of magic and those who wielded it, this may have been for the best. Everything about him had an overpowering smell of cloves and cinnamon.
"Ah, Jaheira," he said, with a look on his face that was far from friendly. "Doing the bidding of your ruthless secret society, I see."
The man's presence immediately inspired in her multiple levels of distaste. "Edwin," she replied. "You are as insufferable as ever. But this is no social call. I have come on Dermin's behalf; from what I understand, he gave you a considerable sum of gold in exchange for information. He believes that you were not forthcoming with all you knew."
"There was no contract, so I am obligated to do nothing. And if you've come to reclaim the gold, I've already spent it upon advancing my magic and other untold pleasures. You are beginning to annoy me, so be off with you." Edwin abruptly returned to his desk, leaving the door open, and made a great show of resuming the careful tracings in his spellbook.
As he started to work again, he murmured, "The next person who interrupts me like this shall feel a fireball down their gullet…ah, yes…"
Jaheira followed him into his room, closing the door behind her. The place was plainly furnished and ill-kept; the bedsheets especially were stained and rumpled. The floor had needed a sweeping weeks ago, and everything else a dusting. But the sturdy desk and straight-backed chair, where Edwin now sat, was perfectly polished and tidy. For a moment, the room was silent save for her steps and the insistent scratching of Edwin's quill in a large, leather-bound book.
She stood in the middle of the room, a safe distance away. "I have no intention of going anywhere," she said, "and though you may not recall, I am not one to indulge a pompous wizard's whims."
He sat up and turned in his chair. "Oh, I remember you well. My only surprise is that you came alone, and not with the other monkeys." He held up a thin hand, counting off on long-nailed, immaculately clean fingers. "Let's see — there was the great oaf, the witch, the brat, the law dog, and your whining husband, yes? Have I forgotten anyone?"
Then, as though he momentarily forgot that she was in the room with him, he muttered to himself: "These simians are fortunate; a place in my thoughts is a compliment far above their station."
"Watch yourself." She passed her staff from hand to hand and gave Edwin a sharp glare. "My orders have nothing against giving you a permanent limp. I suggest you speak of what you know, and quickly."
"Indeed, Dermin showed a rare flash of insight when he sent you to me. Mae'Var is my benefactor, I his trusted emissary. His left hand may never know what his right hand does, but I do for I am it. But as for what I know — even the footpads in the Harpers know that I am no charity."
"Yes," Jaheira replied. She kept her face hard, but she felt a warmth in her chest all the same. This part was the one thing that would make this whole exchange tolerable. "I imagine Rayic Gethras does, as well."
When she dropped the name, the aghast look on his face, though it only lasted a moment, told her everything.
He leaped up, nearly knocking over his chair, and withdrew something from his pocket. In that same hand, pink motes of magical energy began to swirl. "Two can keep a secret if one is dead!" he bellowed.
Jaheira stepped back, and hand went for her holy symbol. "Hear me now. We know that the Cowled Wizards are investigating you. If you dare raise your hand against me, the Enlightened Ones will turn you in. But they can also shield you from the Wizards — if you cooperate."
"Harper bitch! I will not tolerate this insult!" He reached for his staff.
"One more invective, one more movement," she said, her holy symbol glowing, "and the Earthmother will send insects to sting you in places currently unknown to you."
For a moment, his eyes were wild, casting about the room, Perhaps realizing that he was alone, he slumped back into his chair. The spell died in his hand.
But the look in his face was still defiant.
"Much better," Jaheira said, lowering her holy symbol. "Now perhaps we can do business."