Later that night, Jaheira waited in Room H at the Copper Coronet, ill at ease.
She leaned back in the somewhat rickety chair, running her hand absentmindedly over the gouges and pits on the wooden tabletop. The only light in the room came from a flickering lamp burning on the table, and sitting about in this kind of gloom didn't help her mood.
There was a saying among adventurers: you shiver when someone walks over your grave. She felt as though something was marching back and forth across hers.
Jaheira couldn't explain why she felt the way she did, especially when she'd spent the better part of a month in the metaphorical lions' den. It was ridiculous, she decided. Dermin would be here soon, he was her oldest friend in this city, and it was best if she told him everything she had learned.
Before long, she heard a knock at the door, then answered. Dermin rushed in, took off his shoes but not his thick, dark green coat, cast several basic detection spells to ensure no unwanted listeners could eavesdrop, then finally sat down. He seemed somewhat worn but gave no sign that anything in particular was wrong.
They exchanged greetings. "I came as soon as I could," Dermin said. "I take it this is a weighty matter."
"Indeed," Jaheira said, sitting across the table from him.
She leaned forward."You tasked me with finding a sword. I believe I have identified what the Enlightened Ones sought."
She briefly described Larry and how she traced its path to the disappearance of Jan's unfortunate associate.
"And then?" Dermin said.
"Gorion's Ward discovered it where the dead man left it. It travels in her company now, or at least, it did when I last saw it. The sword has left the city regardless."
Dermin's gray-green eyes widened a little, but only for an instant.
He quickly resumed his usual serene demeanor. "Fascinating. It is, of course, difficult to tell, but Lilarcor may house a soul, which is how it could have resisted tracking. Do you know whether it spoke any secrets?"
Jaheira said, "I did not, and I doubt it ever will of its own accord. Most of its conversation centers around killing."
"As you'd expect," he said. He relaxed, seemingly relieved. "There is still a chance, then, that we can salvage this situation before the sword falls into the wrong hands."
"What do you need me to do?" Jaheira asked.
"For an emergency of this magnitude," he said, "the Enlightened Ones will need some proof of your words. Is there some object you keep on your person, something you carried with you while you escorted Jan? It would be even better if it had been on your person while you spoke with Lilarcor."
"Why do you need such a thing?" she asked.
He replied, "With it, the Enlightened Ones will be able to retrace your steps to verify your story and gather any other crucial information about the path the sword might have taken."
She felt that same unease again. Giving anyone the ability to probe that deeply into one's whereabouts was ill-advised, even for the closest friends.
But she had somehow gotten tangled into something big that could threaten Athkatla's stability — a war between guilds along with vampires and Talassans sowing discord might only be scratching the surface.
It was a small price to pay for the safety of over a hundred thousand souls, she thought. And in any case, Dermin wouldn't have asked this of her if it weren't important.
She removed her holy symbol from some hidden pocket, laying the small wooden oval on the table. Upon the symbol, the burned outline of an open rose was, for now, dull and dead.
"Here," she said. "Take it. I have another I can use in the meantime."
Dermin's smooth hand immediately closed over the holy symbol. He picked it up, turned it over in his hand, rose to his feet, and bowed.
"Thank you for your assistance in this," he said. "I have a long night ahead of me, but I urge you to take some rest. You have more than earned it."
He quickly took his leave, holding Jaheira's holy symbol in his hand as he disappeared down the hall into the Coronet.
Jaheira followed Dermin's advice, lingering in the River District for the next day. It was late in the afternoon before she decided she could use a walk.
She left the Coronet through the back door and traced a path down to the muddy, smelly banks of the Alandor River, where a few boats were docked at the old, weather-beaten piers.
She allowed herself to drift off into thought for a while as the sun approached the horizon swathed in a hazy cloak, casting a thousand fragments of light onto the water's surface. The smoky smell of a hundred cooking fires drifting in from downriver overpowered the stench of sewage.
As much as Jaheira missed the sight of the forest and the smells of moss and good, clean soil, she thought this wasn't so bad. Still, a chance to escape to the woods would do her a world of good —
Her thought was interrupted by a jab on her shoulder. She whirled around, half ready to swing a fist, but reconsidered when she saw who stood before her.
She first recognized the tattered coat: once, it had been made of dark blue wool, but now it was faded and stained with the trim torn from the edges and all the buttons missing. The man wearing it was short, with a thin smattering of overgrown white hair adorning his head and five days' growth of silvery white hair on his face. He clung to a knobbed, splintering walking stick for dear life, trembling and shaking with every move he made.
But most importantly, he was glowering at her under thick, gray-white eyebrows with the same cold fury he'd showed her at the Seas' Bounty Tavern.
That anger, however, did not leach into his voice, and he addressed her with well-practiced honey on his tongue: "Jaheira, dear. So good to see you. Could you spare a moment to chat with an old man?"
She folded her arms, returning his stare. "Spare the pleasantries. I remember you well, Mister Ployer. I assume you are still at odds with your new life?"
While she spoke, his face contorted into a rage. He nearly shouted, shaking as he leaned on his cane: "It is not enough that you ruin a man; you must also berate him!"
"I wanted you dead instead of merely humiliated," she said, raising her voice. "That you live in poverty is gratifying, if you must live at all."
"You ought to have killed me then instead of leaving it to the courts, for I have not found you by accident," he said.
His voice dropped to a low growl. "Nearly everything I have is gone, but I can still ruin you as you ruined me."
He spoke an incantation unknown to her. In an instant, he was cloaked in a blinding flash of light. When the spots cleared from Jaheira's vision, he was gone.