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Chapter 1: Old Friends in New Ventures, New Friends for Old Reasons
Athkatla was sweltering compared to temperate (if slightly cool) Baldur's Gate. Elatharia had been heading in entirely the opposite direction from Amn when Irenicus had… But those were thoughts that would not do. Imoen was gone, and she needed to be found. She could not be allowed to linger in the presence of that maniacal wizard for any longer than was absolutely necessary. The Shadow Thief who had approached them rather too fortuitously outside the ruins said that Gaelen Bayle could help; Elatharia hoped for her sister's sake that this was no ruse.
The city was dizzyingly crowded, exotically dressed people thronging around the tents in Waukeen's Promenade with distracted purpose, staring at the lions and cockatrices arrayed by the visiting circus. It was far too busy for anyone to pay the bedraggled party any heed. All but one of them were barefoot, and although Jaheira and Minsc were at least wearing scavenged armour, Elatharia and Yoshimo were clad only in the rags they had awoken in.
The Shadow Thief stalked ahead of them, never once looking back at the group as he led them along the outer colonnade in the area, heading for a large gate set in the wall surrounding the marketplace. The distant salty scent of the sea, the brilliant sunshine, the warm air, all of the myriad smells of the market from perfumed people to cinnamon in the stalls…all of it was a welcome and adored change from what they had endured. But the panic of losing Imoen meant all of this passed in a half-noticed blur. Elatharia's hands were still shaking as she readjusted the bag on her shoulder which held their spellbooks and her journal, her heart pounding, head aching. After everything that had happened, the knowledge of her sister's fear was close to the worst mental torture Irenicus could have inflicted.
"We will hardly stand out in this place, friend," Yoshimo noted, gently touching her elbow when she hardly even glanced his way. He wore a calm, slightly sympathetic expression, eyebrows pulled together, mouth pursed just so, and did not even look surprised when she stumbled from him with a startled gasp. "Athkatla is one of the largest cities on the Sword Coast, and poverty is as common as salt in the sea beyond us. Nor will you find the Shadow Thieves without power in the place…"
"I know of the Shadow Thieves," Elatharia told him curtly once she had righted herself, eyes scanning the crowd and noting a slight commotion outside the largest tent at the centre of the marketplace. She felt a little dizzy at the unfamiliar sights, the loud chatter and bustle all about – but it would not do to show it. "I was educated in Candlekeep as well as brought up there, you know. And I travelled the lands between Nashkel and Baldur's Gate for over a year before…" captivity. "It's maybe not so much as you've travelled, but it's enough. I think Imoen dreamed…dreams…about becoming a member," she swallowed hard, glancing again towards the Kara-Turan – who seemed to make an effort to meet her look with a solemn glance of his own.
"Very well. But I have lived in this city for several cycles of the moon now, and a word of warning – the Guild are powerful, and they may well keep whatever promise you get from them. But they are not to be trusted."
"You sound as though you have had dealings with them before."
"A man in my trade?" he laughed tightly, "I have been in their service every moment I was here, else I would have been one of the shapes bobbing in the water at sun up."
"Then perhaps you have somewhere else to go?" she hardly had time to form an opinion on the matter, though it could easily have sounded like a hint. At her side, Yoshimo just shrugged easily, settling a hand on his sword hilt subtly as they brushed past a group of men gathered outside the open door of a noisy tavern.
"I have not known you more than a few hours, but I would like to help if you will have me. What happened to your Imoen seems unfair, and I know more of this city and its factions than you do; I could be of some use to you."
"Petition accepted," Elatharia answered absently as they reached the district gates.
The Shadow Thief guide muttered something to one of the men on duty and a small side door opened immediately, giving them passage to the Slums District in all of its cluttered glory. Here houses were packed tightly in rows of uneven terraces; everything was squashed together, but nowhere was the same. The roads were cobbled and surprisingly clean; the grates dotted along street corners accompanied by the distant rush of water proved that this was owed to a sewer system. At the heart of it all sprawled the multi-storey complex of the Copper Coronet, taking up an entire side of one street, its doors open and patrons just beginning to step inside at this hour. The group passed this at speed, dodging patrons and rounding the next corner, revealing a tall house at the end of the next street, its roof covered in grass and a pungent stink emanating from its doors and windows which almost became unbearable as they approached. It had Elatharia and Yoshimo coughing and nearly gagging as they skirted around the complex which was surrounded by a high wall, and a plaque at its front gate read 'Jansen Residence'.
Behind that most awful of neighbours stood the only other detached house in the whole district. Slightly taller than the average building with five floors instead of three, it was otherwise wholly unremarkable. A small garden surrounded it, visibly ill-tended beyond its low walls. No number or name was painted at the gate, but they followed their guide all the same. Every window was dark, and it took a moment to realise that this was owed to thick black curtains and not just the failure of light to reach beyond the foggy glass.
Their guide knocked once on the tall black door and an answer came immediately. He slipped inside, and the young, athletic man standing beyond smiled at them toothily, gesturing for them to enter. Taking a deep breath, with only a brief glance back at Jaheira and Minsc, Elatharia nodded and stepped forth.
Gaelan Bayle was a shifty sort. Young, fairly good looking, muscular in that wiry way most of the Shadow Thieves seemed to be…but hounded by peculiar mannerisms that told of an underlying nervousness. He had a habit of standing too still, as if poised to jump or run, fidgeting endlessly with the edge of his tunic closest to his dagger hilt. And to make things stranger, he emitted a habitual exclamation to add feeling to more important moments.
Standing there in that strangely refined sitting room by his immaculate desk, surrounded by bookcases full of books that Elatharia doubted Gaelen read, he had explained the terms offered by his superiors. Twenty thousand gold for Imoen's release. He was at least kind enough to loan them a bag of holding in which to keep such an unconscionable amount of money. And additionally she was to see Renal Bloodscalp, overseer of the Docks District Guild post, on the following morning. No amount of haggling had brought the price for her sister down, and in the end she had given in. They were at least given lodgings in the multi-storey house; Minsc and Yoshimo were to share a room, Elatharia giving over the only double room to Jaheira and taking a room with two bunk beds for her own.
One look at that place, at the three empty beds and the unfurnished room, curtains open and displaying the Slums from above, Elatharia had dreaded staying there for the night. The darkness and the silence…even sitting there just waiting for her chance to use the washroom and the promise of a clean set of clothes, she could sense the dread, the creep of memories prickling over her skin, the burgeoning golden glow rising with her misery and rage. But there was no way she could ask Jaheira to stay in there with her. A brief pause outside the room allowed her to hear the druid's muffled crying.
So after bathing and dressing in the rudimentary black tunic and leggings issued by the Thieves' Guild, she pulled on a pair of rather uncomfortable boots and a spare cloak, forcing her thoughts into a linear position. Marching into the main study she probably gave Gaelan the fright of his life, asking without pause for a loan of a few gold to buy some proper boots, a mask for her wretched face and a belt with enough pouches for emergency spell components. While he fussed over counting out the coins, she shifted impatiently from foot to foot and was out the door in a moment when he handed them over.
Yoshimo caught her at the Slums exit on the way back to Waukeen's Promenade. He too was newly cleaned and dressed, his hair tied back into a small knot, the red tassel swinging from his katana pommel the only splash of colour on his person.
"You are brave to travel alone after all that has passed," he noted as they waited for the gates to be opened, "But perhaps not very wise."
"You came to drag me back in there?" Elatharia asked doubtfully, not looking back at him as the gates groaned open and she stepped through with the crowd into the road leading to the Promenade, "I don't even have good enough boots to get me that far," she paused, still staring straight ahead, a little above the sandy houses at the curve of the blue sky, "But if you can tell me where I can go to speak to someone who might know where Imoen has gone, then…"
"Meet me here in an hour," he flashed her a grin and shrugged when she looked at him, "I need to…acquire some knew things as well. We will need to go to the Government District for what you wish, although I would not hold out much hope. And Elatharia," he caught her arm urgently and she reflexively wrenched herself free, heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat, "Perform no magic on these streets. It is forbidden in this place without a licence."
Elatharia arrived a little late to reconvene with Yoshimo, but when she did it was to see him waiting in the shadow of one of the towers by the Slums gates just away from the queue to get into Waukeen's Promenade. He was leaning casually against the pristine stone wall, newly clean and with his hair pulled back into a small knot with a red strip of cloth. He was dressed now in loose black linen trousers and a plain tunic with shining boots to match, a dark leather jerkin laced across his torso and his katana hanging from a new smooth black belt at his hips. He did not immediately recognise Elatharia, even as she approached him, though his dark eyes were scanning the crowd of poorly clothed Slums dwellers.
She had used some of her loaned money in order to acquire some new clothes as well – and for some hot water and privacy to dye the gold out of her hair at one of the small inns dotted around Waukeen's Promenade. It had taken an age to mix the right dyes (which she had snatched unseen from one of the stalls) so as to properly hide the golden strands brought on by Sarevok's death. She had been hiding it from friends and strangers ever since and had no wish to stop now.
Her hair was still wet, now pulled back into one long plait, and its cool weight was a blessing in this heat, the clean water seeping through her thin grey tunic. But none of this, nor her new (rather cheap and quickly bought) clothing could explain Yoshimo's failure to recognise her. That could only be explained by the mask she now wore across her cheekbones, giving her a little relief from the stares of the world. If they gave her a confused or suspicious second glance, at least it was not for what she really looked like. For her part, she felt the most relief to have all of these issues dealt with; her marred face hidden, the dirt cleaned away, her hair dyed to its uniform black once more and a pair of well fitted boots at her feet. The belt was a bonus, equipped with her loaned bag of holding along with a number of other pouches for spell components. It was her only concession against Yoshimo's warning; for all the world knew she could be a priest or a druid carrying such supplies.
"Yoshimo," she said, her tone flatter than she had intended. Perhaps once she would have found more amusement in his failure to recognise her, but right now she only had one thing on her mind. Imoen.
For a moment the Kara Turan blinked at her, a little wary with his hand casually resting upon his katana hilt, and then his eyes softened and a broad smile lit up his face, revealing a row of straight white teeth. At the sight of his merriment her heart recoiled – how could he be so calm and friendly after all that had passed, and all that he knew?
"Ah, Elatharia," he greeted, standing from where he had leant against the wall, "You have been much changed by this past hour."
Hardly. I have but sought to return to the way I was before, futile endeavour though that proved. After all, the past time of her imprisonment had been the true cause for change in her, not the buying of a few items and a thorough bath.
"I need you to tell me where I can petition for Imoen's return. There must be someone in this city who will listen to reason," she pressed, ignoring his pleasantries. His expression smoothed to a blank stare at her words, almost as if she had just discussed the weather with him in Celestial for all he seemed to understand her.
"If you believe anyone in this city will listen to reason, you are mistaken," he told her evenly, "But if you require a wizarding licence or to simply acquaint yourself with those who are responsible for Imoen's capture, it is to the Cowled Wizard headquarters that we must go."
"Then we will," she stated, and gave him not a moment's hesitation. He screwed up his face doubtfully for a moment, squinting up at the bright sky as if she were mad for even trying, but then just shrugged and tapped her elbow as a hint for her to follow, again ignoring her flinch.
"Very well," Yoshimo sighed, "It is to the Government District that we must go."
Where the Slums was a cramped mass of rickety housing dominated by the Copper Coronet and Waukeen's Promenade was a sweltering cluster of stalls and tents swarming with people from every echelon of society, the Government District was a sweeping stone study in uncluttered calm. It was built atop a cliff overlooking the sea with the curve of the city visible along the rocky shore, culminating in the half-seen bob of sails at the Docks District. Its pale stone paving rose up in tiers of mighty, marble-adorned mansions with their long gardens, high fences and glimpses of glittering fountains. Its main square stood at the top of this cliff, wide and flat with smooth paving interspersed with ornate gardens and a broad central fountain.
Rigid guards stood by the mighty gates of the vast stone buildings which dominated this place, dressed in their strange broad hats and loose striped trousers, armoured in leather and mail with their halberds gleaming in the sunlight. A few well-dressed ladies meandered together in the gardens fanning themselves, and one of the buildings in the square stood with its gates open, allowing a constant stream of black and grey robed men to come and go holding papers, talking with their heads together by the doors as they headed inside or off to other buildings in the square. Those gates were flanked by two huge statues of identical grey stone men in deep cowls, hands together and hooded heads bowed. The walls were high and hummed with white runic inscriptions; the building was just visible beyond as a broad series of spires and arches around a central crystal globe which glittered painfully in the sun. It looked almost like a temple, but for the endless bustle in and out.
"That is the place, Elatharia," Yoshimo informed softly when she paused in awe to take in the sights, directing them towards that huge building which dominated the square, "The head office of the Cowled Wizards, the men who run this city."
Jolted back to reality, Elatharia forced a tense nod and set off at the fastest pace she could reach. Her heart was pounding audibly in her aching head and her limbs were beginning to groan in protest. Perhaps it had not been the wisest move to set out before eating immediately after her escape, knowing nothing of the city and its laws and trusting only in Yoshimo, but she knew that she could find no rest until she knew what had happened to her sister.
Ignoring the startled looks of the men around them, Elatharia pushed her way through the bustle of the officials, hardly registering the ornate statues and fountains in the gardens beyond the walls and heading straight up the steps to the gate. A bored looking youth in an ill-fitted grey robe raised his eyebrows at her as she and Yoshimo reached the broad wooden doors. He held a tightly rolled scroll which unfurled a little as she approached, a hovering quill scribbling unaided upon its white surface.
"Complaints? Request for alms?" he asked with a derisive glance at her simple grey tunic and leggings. His brows came together at the sight of her mask and his voice was a little more uncertain when he continued, "Injury compensation?"
"You tell me, lackey," Elatharia suggested impatiently, eyeing him coldly even as shadows flitted at the corners of her vision. "My sister was just stolen for no god- be-damned reason by your superiors. Where do you think you should direct me?"
He blanched, glancing nervously towards the guards nearby. The Transmuter was unarmed, but Yoshimo was close at her elbow in his leathers – and with that katana on his hip.
"…complaints," the young man offered at last, the quill scratching a few more words before flitting aside to let the paper roll back up. "The first desk on your left."
And the doors opened to permit entry.
The hall beyond was as long and grand as the outside of the building had suggested, the floor covered in coloured marble, two rows of ornate columns helping to hold up the impressively high vaulted roof. Upon the walls hung colourful, elaborate tapestries depicting unfamiliar events from history, and between a few of the columns stood cluttered desks attended by harassed looking men all wearing the same cowled grey uniforms. Most of those entering and leaving the room were coming up and down the stairs at the far end of the hall, a path of smooth graven white stone that led away out of sight into higher levels of this mighty building. Voices echoed endlessly in the stone hall just as they had in the Great Hall of Candlekeep.
"This was your idea," Yoshimo reminded her mildly when Elatharia paused to stare and catch her breath.
Blinking herself from her weary, over-awed stupor, Elatharia turned towards the closest desk on their left. No queue waited before it and though its surface was covered in papers just as the other work stations, its attendant was snoozing with his head propped in his hand upon the desk. He sat up straight quickly enough when the Transmuter approached, looking blearily at her in confusion. Evidently few people came with complaints or enquiries; she doubted this bore any reflection of the city's true fairness.
"Can I help you?" the man pushed back his deep grey hood far enough to see her more clearly, watching the masked woman before him with evident and perhaps understandable mistrust.
"You can, I believe," she told him with a smile that did nothing to hide the coldness of her voice, "My sister Imoen, a stranger to this city just newly escaped from a kidnapping, was taken away by your colleagues unjustly."
"Taken away…to Spellhold," Yoshimo clarified and the man sat up straighter, rifling through a pile of papers at his elbow.
"She cast magic unlawfully then," he said at last, pulling free a small piece of paper and scrutinising it, nodding to himself before continuing, "Yes. A magic missile spell cast upon the mage Jon Irenicus in Waukeen's Promenade. Both were arrested and taken to Spellhold, our facility for keeping dangerous wizards away from the world."
"But she knew nothing of this place or its laws; I-Irenicus had held us captive…we just escaped and she…" Elatharia stopped short, her head spinning as the memories threatened to swallow her. But the clerk was just shaking his head.
"Any of those who practice unlawful spellcasting will either be taken to Spellhold or killed if they ignore their first warning," he told her firmly.
"She only cast one spell, no warning was…"
"That is not what it says here. You will have to await the recalibration of your sister and the test to ensure that she is no longer a harm to our nation. Good day."
And that was that. Elatharia was so full of rage, so impotent without the ability to cast, and so overcome by the need to kill that wretched man before her that Yoshimo had to drag her by the arm from the building, blinded as she was by the intense golden light. They were just stumbling onto the street and Elatharia was blinking past the rage and the blindness, about to turn to her companion to voice her wrath when she heard the distant ring of a familiar voice. Pausing, halfway to speech, she heard a few more answering cries of anger, and the voice sounded once more, higher and more urgent.
"Viconia?" And the Transmuter spun about without another word, half running down the next street towards the open square beyond, seeing the stake of wood rising up above a throng of fist-waving Amnians. She knew the trouble that dogged the owner of that voice.
"Burn the drow!"
"Underdark filth! Should've stayed in the dark with your spider god."
"Kill her!"
All familiar cries, rising up from the crowd where now Elatharia could perceive the top of a white-haired head against the pole. Elbowing her way through the crowd with Yoshimo following close behind, she at last reached the barrier before the pyre in time to see one of the Amnish guards approaching the piled wood with a torch, all in the shadow of a great gallows. So this was a public and wholly lawful execution. Just one more reason to hate Amn.
When last Elatharia had seen Viconia it had been at the Splurging Sturgeon in Baldur's Gate, during their drunken celebrations after the defeat of Sarevok. In spite of her relief, she had been struggling with her own reasons for melancholy at the time and had noticed the same in the drow. When she had awoken the next morning and knocked on Viconia's door, she had been unsurprised to see the priestess had gone. Even so, her memories of Viconia had been of the beautiful, ebon-skinned drow dressed in smooth scale mail and black cloth, clutching an enchanted hammer and aglow with her goddess's divine favour. Now she stood shrieking insults and fearful pleas by turns at the baying mob around her, blue eyes narrowed in the bright sunlight and trained on the lit torch as the Amnish soldier approached the wood piled around her. She was dressed only in a tattered and muddied tunic and her striking yellow cloak, bare feet scrabbling against the pole behind her and bleeding where splinters had broken the skin. Her hands were tied back behind her body and the pole, her stunning white hair torn from its usually immaculate braids and hanging bloodied around her shoulders.
"Hand me a dagger," Elatharia demanded of Yoshimo, and the Kara-Turan did not hesitate in complying, though his expression betrayed his confusion. "And don't hesitate to run. Or help. Either way…you'll need to act fast."
And she certainly did.
Her rage pushed aside the shaking in her limbs, the longing for food and rest. She had been denied the attempt to get back her sister by a nation too law-bound and bureaucratic to consider that Imoen might be in danger, or for all intents and purposes innocent. And now she was about to watch one of her friends from before the horrors burn alive for prejudices of others. If there was one thing she knew about Viconia, it was that the drow rarely broke the law openly enough to be found out. Guards just arrested her for being alive. And that rang too true with the behaviour of the Amnish people she had seen thus far.
The crowd gasped immediately when Elatharia stepped over the low barricade, scrambling up the piles of wood without a thought for the fire approaching. At first the Amnish soldier paused, blinking up at her in surprise as she wielded a knife so close to the captive drow. Nor did his colleagues stationed at points around the crowd make a move. Perhaps they thought she was just going to speed up the death sentence, not revoke it. Viconia certainly thought this way.
"If you are going to kill me, rivvil, do it swif…" the drow turned to look at Elatharia only when the Transmuter's knife cut through the rope binding her wrists, and her scornful expression morphed into almost horrified shock.
"We have to go. Now!"
The drow did not need to be told again, taking hold of Elatharia's wrist and dragging her with an agile whirl down the other side of the pyre as the crowd exploded into movement. Several things happened at once; the crowd began to rush and writhe with some crazed onlookers running for the drow and others running away, the Amnish soldiers drew their weapons and charged forth, Viconia summoned a globe of darkness (one of the few drow abilities left to her) around the whole pyre area, and Yoshimo pulled them both over the barrier and back into the crowd, whirling on any protesting onlookers with his katana threateningly.
Then they were free and running, Viconia leading the way down a side alley behind the headquarters of the Cowled Wizards, past startled servants carrying baskets of food or other supplies through back doors, around a corner…and then a gnarled hand reached out through a doorway, clutching Viconia's arm with impossible strength and pulling both priestess and Transmuter inside. Their cries of fear sent Yoshimo stumbling in after them, but their 'assailant' was already holding up his hands, chuckling.
"I wondered if I could get that strength spell off in time," he admitted.
Elatharia did a double take, and then nearly doubled over when the smell of cabbage and turnips assailed her. Before them stood a gnome, surrounded by crates of vegetables stacked high to the ceilings of this storeroom. No taller than three feet, dressed in a combination of cloth and leather with goggles on his head and a few rings on his gnarled fingers, he was the absolute stereotype of gnomish eccentricity. Sprutty black hair stood out around his head, outdone by his prominent large ears. After a moment more of chuckling, he held out a hand to them.
"Jan Jansen," he told them with a toothy grin, "Happy indeed to help anyone running from the law. Oh, and licenced spellcaster," he took one critical look at Elatharia and nodded, "You'll be alright casting spells indoors as it turns out, even without a licence. But don't tell too many people, or the Cowls will fix their oversight. Now that I've saved you…would you be interested in buying some cabbages? Or turnips, perhaps?"
The group only reconvened at Gaelan Bayle's house when the sun was beginning to set, casting the Slums district in a surprisingly scenic shade of purple for a place so cramped and foul smelling. Jaheira had simply glowered at the sight of Viconia, and Minsc had given the drow a crushing hug which was not returned. The druid and ranger had sold their taken belongings and bought new clothing, though had kept their expenditure to necessities and leathers for armour. It occurred to Elatharia that Viconia would need some clothes too, but before she could suggest it one of the Guild servants had offered the drow a black tunic and leggings. She preferred the cloth slippers he offered her over the ill-fitting boots, a piece of wisdom Elatharia wished she herself had possessed before.
Meanwhile, their host seemed unable to take hints that they wanted to be alone to discuss their next move, interjecting their every few comments as they sat clustered around the fire in his sitting room. He seemed determined to remind them of their agreement with the Thieves' Guild and to recommend that they seek the direct employment of that establishment to achieve their goal of saving Imoen. Eventually they decided that their best option to have their discussion would be to head to the Copper Coronet, though Yoshimo suggested that they take seats upon the roof – as was customary in the good weather and not too late at night. He left them there at a table overlooking a previously unseen part of the Slums while he went to acquire their drinks.
"That one looks quite capable of stealing the ales he has gone for," Viconia commented appreciatively at Elatharia's side, watching the Kara-Turan head off down the stairs while the Transmuter looked out over the dimly lit city. From here she could make out the sprawl of cluttered houses, the shouts of playing children over the din of the tavern in the building below them…and the glint of a spherical addition to a distant building…
"Our new friend would not do something so unrighteous!" Minsc exclaimed earnestly from across the table, earning a fresh glower from Jaheira who sat by his side, dwarfed by his immense size, "He did so much for Goodness helping us escape the…the…"
"Be silent, ranger. Have your hamster speak for you next time," Jaheira suggested bitterly, staring all but blankly over Elatharia's shoulder when the wizard turned around to see the altercation from where she had been twisted in her chair, looking over the railing.
An awkward silence stretched over the group, and at last Viconia elbowed Elatharia while Minsc was murmuring to Boo and Jaheira was staring warily at the other patrons gathered at the tables on this roof. Mostly they were foppish young nobles out in this part of town to spite domineering parents, but a few were more dangerously armed and armoured. Her hawk-like gaze was lingering on a heavily armoured, battle-scarred dwarf hunched alone with a huge tankard at the far railing when Viconia disrupted Elatharia's following stare.
"From what you have told me of your plight, I understand that Imoen has been taken from you," the drow noted, using the intricate gestures of drow sign language to communicate with Elatharia, hiding the movement of her hands beneath the table and out of sight of the others. The Transmuter, whose spell school required particularly fast and complicated hand-gestures to produce correct spells, had been quick to master the silent language – though this was a feat not replicated otherwise in their present company.
"Your point?" Elatharia demanded, more than a little uncomfortable. The memories were crawling at the back of her mind, tightening her chest. It felt hard to breathe.
"I know the aftermath of torture when I see it, khal'abbil," Viconia explained swiftly, "For I am drow and I have both inflicted and suffered such things. You alone of this group suffered so…terribly. Has your captor now taken Imoen?"
"Not so simple," Elatharia admitted, and soon they were discoursing rapidly in the sign language and not bothering to hide it from Jaheira.
When at last Yoshimo returned bearing their ale, he was followed by a serving woman carrying plates of food as well. Jaheira stared down at her dinner, stirring it about and glowering while Elatharia asked Yoshimo for information on Athkatla and its surrounding areas. To some extent Viconia was helpful also, having become acquainted with the city and its underground complex of sewers, though she did not explain how or why.
At last Jaheira threw down her fork and placed her fists on the table, leaning forwards and turning the full force of her glare upon Elatharia.
"Enough of this endless chatter!" the druid exclaimed, and Minsc jumped by her side to hear such a tone, "You cannot seriously be considering aiding this Thieves' Guild? We should be looking outside the city walls where we can help in some sensible way and gain enough wealth to get back Imoen…"
"I thought my sister's life was priceless to you," Elatharia commented coldly, leaning back in her chair and watching the druid's quivering stance. Viconia was observing the Bhaalspawn with a little crooked smile on her face, "I thought my sister always looked up to you as a mother."
"Imoen would not want us to be so immoral… Who knows what kind of dreadful things…" but there was doubt in Jaheira's eyes, some welling tears. Elatharia only paused a moment long enough to wonder why she felt no guilt where maybe once she would have.
"She would have been doing cartwheels at the chance! She will be so jealous of us when we tell her! If she has not been so destroyed by what has happened to her that she no longer resembles the person we knew," Elatharia's voice had dropped low with anger, and this rage felt somehow rough inside her, uncomfortable, as if something writhed within her trying to escape, "I will do anything to get her sooner. Anything at all. Including…"
A gruff voice interrupted the rather cruel and morbid suggestions she had been about to make as a shadow fell across their table. Yoshimo had evidently been watching this stranger advance, but the rest looked up in surprise to see the heavily bearded and armoured dwarf from across the terrace standing by their table. He was impressively ugly, with heavy brows and sunken eyes, deeply lined and scarred skin that looked thick and tough as boiled leather, with a chipped helm crooked on his head - which was surrounded by heavily braided auburn head and beard hair streaked with grey. The axe now on his back and the shield over his shoulder proved his trade, along with his burly frame. He was tall for one of his kind, standing at maybe five foot, but as broad, hugely muscular and well-bearded as expected. And if that was not enough, then the accent gave it away.
"If ye really be after any mercenary work at all, and ye not mind where it take ye," he shrugged, a few thick scars catching the light with the movement, and continued when Elatharia just watched him, "I'm a mercenary by trade with a job goin' fer mercenaries. Ye like crypts and things that creep in the night?" A vicious grin spread across his face, thick lips parting to reveal chipped teeth, "Or maybe ye just like spillin' blood and hackin' things t' pieces. I've been betrayed by me fellows, and I'm after some revenge – and the book we were huntin' in the first place. There'll be plenty to sell off their bodies an' some more besides in the crypts."
"The city crypts?" Viconia sounded doubtful.
"Indeed. Many strange and terrible things have haunted those pathways by night over the years. It would be no surprise if things of great value lay within," Yoshimo interrupted.
Jaheira had gone pale, and Minsc was watching the dwarf with glazed eyes, evidently having struggled to keep up with the unfamiliar accent. A smile passed over Elatharia's face at the realisation that she was about to make a decision that could horrify the druid.
"I will accept your venture. But there are a few things you should know first."
"S'all the same to me," the dwarf shrugged, eyes glinting hungrily all the same, "Name's Korgan, by the way. Some add Bloodaxe to that."
"Surely you do not intend to tell…" Jaheira looked beyond horrified, actually.
"Jaheira, everyone who travels with me has the…right…to know," Elatharia looked up at the dwarf, gesturing to herself and then Viconia, "You should know that I am a child of Bhaal, and even while I travel with you I may be hunted as such. And she is a drow, currently under a disguise of mine."
A moment passed while Korgan looked between them, and then the dwarf just shrugged.
"Figures," he said, "Will be waitin' up here most nights. Lemme know when ye're ready."