Lidia followed one more footpath through a small patch of forest, which led from the tournament ring to the Order's fortress. By the time the sun rose to its zenith, she had made her way to the gate without incident.
As Lidia passed through the tall, wrought-iron gates, the walls six paces thick, and entered the fortress's courtyard, she carried herself as though she belonged here — if there were any lingering doubts from others, she would dispel them. Somehow.
And this place felt the most homelike of anywhere else she'd been. She had found Candlekeep stifling at times when she'd lived there, but now that she had sturdy stone and tall towers at her back again, she felt safer than she had in a long time.
But the first step was getting her bearings. Once she passed through the gate, she found that the fortress was laid out in a ring against the walls, most of the buildings a series of modestly sized houses and workshops along both sides of the wall. Directly across the courtyard from the gate loomed a stout square donjon, adorned with the crossed-heart banners of the Order, punctuated with a small tower in each corner.
Since the time for spring deployment was nearing, the inner courtyard was full of flurried activity: a group of wagons loaded with provisions, horses re-shoed at one of the blacksmiths, a group of people in plain linen hoeing a small garden, another smith making last-minute armor repairs, a line of soldiers staging mock duels.
Somewhere amid this din was Sir William Reirrac, and Lidia would have to find him before getting anything else done.
She had no word where and when they were to meet, but she hoped that this place was small enough that they'd eventually run into each other. Candlekeep was much larger than this place, but it was still small enough that everyone knew everyone else; in its way, a fortress was its own world.
She wandered around the courtyard, trying to find him without much luck, when she thought that perhaps he had left a message. She got directions and followed them to the southwest tower in the donjon; she made her way up a series of narrow stairs, first outside, then winding inside through a door and up, up to a room at the top of the tower.
She opened the door and was greeted immediately by a sweet and musty smell, her fingers slipping on a thin layer of grease as they left the doorknob.
This room was lined wall-to-wall with dovecotes, about half empty and half full. The floor was lined with straw and many mottled gray feathers, kicking up and floating anytime someone laid their foot on the ground. The only other furnishings were a small door off to the side and two wooden racks on the floor — one large and stuffed with papers, the other small and nearly empty. One open window with no glass panes let the daylight spill into the room, bringing with it a stiff draft.
The birds' keeper, a tall, thin, middle-aged woman with short, light hair, was inspecting a bird in her gloved hands, scrutinizing it.
As soon as Lidia walked in, the woman immediately turned her attention to her.
"I've not seen you here before," she said, her voice carrying a slight lisp. "What can I do for you?"
"And you are?" Lidia asked.
"Jelaine," the keeper replied. "I look after the messages and their carriers here."
Lidia gave her name in turn, then asked, "I'm looking for some word from Sir William Reirrac. I don't know if he sent me anything, but I wanted to check and see if he had left instructions for me."
Jelaine shook her head. "I'm afraid I've not seen anything today. The knight-captains' messages are treated with urgency, so if he'd sent something along, I'd know."
The bird in her hands, a brown mockingbird much smaller than the pigeons stirring and fluttering in their cages, suddenly glanced at Lidia with a beady stare.
"What's this one?" Lidia asked, gesturing to the little creature.
"I'm not rightly sure," Jelaine replied. "This fine lady was sitting on the windowsill this morning and has refused to leave since. No message or anything."
The little brown bird gave Lidia an expectant look.
"This might sound odd," Lidia said, "but I think this one's for me."
Jelaine opened her thick-gloved hands. Immediately, the little brown bird hopped from her fingers to Lidia's shoulder.
"So it is," Jelaine said with a hearty laugh. "If Sir William comes looking for you, I'll tell him you're here."
She tilted her head, paused, and continued, "Maybe you're a little lost, aye? What I'd do first is report to the barracks. At least you might settle in a bit, and the warden has a better shot of getting news to the knight-captain at once. Me, these flocks keep my fingers full."
Lidia thanked Jelaine and went on her way.
As soon as she closed the keeper's door, she turned to the bird patiently waiting on her shoulder.
"Lanka, did you get my message?"
The bird turned its head side to side, and Lidia understood: the druid could not wait to arrive.
"Let's see if we can get someplace quiet to talk," Lidia replied.
—
Lidia wandered for a bit until she found a spot behind a dilapidated, thatched house that seemed empty. She turned to the bird again. "Is here good?"
The bird leaped off her shoulder, and in a moment, Lanka returned to her half-elf form.
She looked exhausted, dark rings around her brown eyes, leaning against the castle wall. She cast a spell on either side of the gap between the house and the wall so no one would overhear them. In a moment, she'd pulled herself up and together and was ready for business.
"We received word from the Radiant Heart last night that you intend to meet the Baron's challenge," Lanka said. "I urge you to reconsider."
Lidia folded her arms. "He's giving up his suit against the Order and the people, then?"
"He has no plans to do anything of the sort," Lanka said. "Must you have it spelled out? This was the Order's last chance to drop the matter, and everyone involved could have saved face — but instead, you're forcing a bloody confrontation that will end poorly for you, whether you live through it or not."
"You seem to place a lot of importance on 'saving face' here," Lidia said. "How's Lette doing?"
Lanka turned her head away, but her face hardened again. "I cannot condone any of my assistant's actions."
"But you know why she did it, don't you?"
"The loss of a loved one drove her on. What's your excuse?"
Lidia said, "You talk as though I'm some monster for taking the Baron at his word, when both of you have arranged the situation to your advantage from the start. And it didn't cost him a single red ink."
"Who said money had anything to do with it?" Lanka said.
"Money has everything to do with it," Lidia said. "He had to draw upon his own land for hunting grounds; he doesn't have to pay you; he suddenly raised taxes on his people where he'd left them to their own devices before; he chose to risk a challenge rather than pay restitution or buy off the judge. And I'm sure he lost a lot of income once Baron Ployer was arrested. As far as money goes, he hasn't got any, and he's doing everything he can to prevent anyone from finding out. Am I close to the mark?"
Lanka slumped against the wall. "You are," she said. "In truth, though his relatives might send assassins to your family's door, I doubt we could afford to resurrect him."
Lidia leaned against the wall next to her. "So, what now?" she asked. "This is our last chance to end it peacefully."
Lanka shook her head. "The Baron is already on his way to the field, intending to face you. I know of your deeds in the north. Try not to carve him up too much when you kill him."
"You know I'd rather not have to kill him at all," Lidia said.
Lanka thought on this. She finally said. "There's little I could do legally because of my…means of employment. And it would take time we don't have."
Lidia opened her pack and pulled out Lanka's bill of sale from her journal. "Maybe we could solve at least one of those problems," she said. "What do you need signed on this thing — the Baron's name? A witness's?"
Lanka said, "He did sign it when the court made him five years ago. He was able to delay completing the transaction because he made the case that he couldn't 'get fair compensation' for the loss of my services. There's a reason most indentured people don't ever see this document — it doesn't have much force in Amn, but it's meant to track sales and settle disputes in places where slavery is legal."
She hesitated for a moment. "I'd only need an Amnian citizen willing to risk the Baron's wrath to sign it."
Lidia shrugged, took out a pen, and then propped the bill of sale on her journal. She pointed to one of the spots Crolus had shown her on the certificate. "It's this line, right?"
Lanka pointed out the relevant spots, and Lidia carefully signed her first name with a squiggle to replace the surname she didn't have. She wrote the date — 18 Mirtul 1369 — on another line, and with that, it was done.
She handed the document to Lanka. "Congratulations, you're a free woman."
Lanka took it into her hands, stared at it for a long moment, then rubbed a brown finger forcefully in her eyes. "I…well, that was simple," she said, somewhat sheepishly. "In truth, I never thought anyone…"
"He's coming to kill me anyway," Lidia said. "I'm only doing what should have been done a long time ago."
Lanka composed herself. "Thank you. If there's anything I can do in return…"
"You can decide that for yourself," Lidia said.
Lanka nodded, silently and slowly. With that, she turned away from Lidia, went a few paces, transformed back into a brown mockingbird, and took flight back east, the document tightly bound to her little claw.
Lidia watched her leave, then left to report to the barracks and wait for Sir William's arrival.