Finn stopped round the butcher's before heading back to the bookshop; Dynaheir could wait but the puffy old butcher was another story. He paid the receipt and headed out into the darkening air feeling much better than before.
The bookshop closed by the time he got there, so Finn went round the corner into the narrow alleyway behind the row of shops. The gate was unlocked and slowly he climbed the creaking steps that lead to Minsc and Dynaheir's rooms.
"You are here at last," Dynaheir said, peering out at Finn through a crack in the door. Her worried face was framed by light from the candle she held in her hand, and it set the silver rings in her hair glittering.
"What, you weren't thinking I ran off with your coin, were you?" Finn asked.
"You have acquired the book?" she said in reply.
"Aye, here… Just as you asked."
He stepped inside and delivered the parcel into her eager hands. Dynaheir set it on the table and quickly tore open the paper and string.
"Yes! This is it. Exactly what I did need," she said quickly.
"Well, I'm glad you like it," Finn shrugged. "Hope it's worth the price. Here's what's left."
He tossed the sack with Dynaheir's remaining coins onto the table. She managed to tear her eyes away from the book long enough to glance up in surprise.
"There is a fair amount of gold yet there. Ye did not wish to keep it for thyself?"
"I took what I needed to pay the bill," Finn replied. "But I don't think I'm owed a king's ransom for being an errand boy. That's your gold, not mine."
"Then you do have honesty within thee. Though if I were to be honest as well…the gold is as much Minsc's as mine."
"Then I'm not the only borrower around here," he smirked.
"It would seem not," Dynaheir replied.
She managed a slight chuckle. Getting her hands on the book had obviously put her in a good mood.
"Well, I'm off back home then," Finn said.
"You may stay if you wish. Minsc should return soon," she offered.
"Cheers, but I kind of feel like getting back home. Tell Minsc I'll see him soon. Happy reading."
Dynaheir didn't put up an argument, and Finn heard the bolt slide across the door as he stepped back outside. Minsc was bound to put on a good spread-he had a fondness for roast boar in particular-but somehow Finn didn't feel up to socialising that night. He wandered through the city, eventually finding a tavern where no one was likely to know him. He ordered a bowl of pottage and a mug of ale with the few coins still in his pocket, and ate his meal in the silence of a corner table.
He couldn't carry on like this. He needed to do something other than scrounge coins like a beggar. Was this going to be his life? Maybe if he could get out of the city, somewhere beyond the reach of the Flaming Fist, but it had occurred to him more than once that Beregost was right in the heart of their territory. He'd likely stand no more chance of finding work there than he did here.
Finn headed back to their dark room and threw himself down into bed. Imoen still hadn't returned and he left the cancelled receipt on the table to spare himself more harassment. When she finally came home Imoen said nothing to him. She pottered around the room for a short while, then tucked into her alcove for the night. Finn stared at the curtain for a long time, then finally fell asleep.
...
The next day was empty and dull. A sheet of grey cloud had replaced yesterday's sun, making the city look bleak as a tomb. Finn stayed at home, whiling away the hours as he whittled a stick of wood into some unknown shape. He was hungry. There was no food, and he didn't have the coin to go out and get some. He'd have to wait to see if Imoen brought anything home.
That day went on forever. But as the temple bells counted four o'clock there was an unexpected knock on the door. Finn opened the door to see a lad he didn't recognise.
"Are you Finnigan?" the boy drawled.
"Who's asking?" he replied.
"I got a letter here for Finnigan," the boy said, holding out a sealed piece of parchment.
"I reckon that's me, then," Finn replied, though he wondered who would bother to write him a letter. The name on the parchment wasn't in Anna's handwriting.
The boy handed over the letter, but his hand stayed held out expectantly in return. Finn didn't have more than a copper left, but he placed it in the rather disgusted boy's hand. The lad stamped down the stairs but Finn had forgotten about him already, more curious than ever about the letter. He broke open the seal and read a flowing script.
'To the Most Esteemed Master Finnigan-
I am in great need of assistance. I was told you could aid me. My situation is most delicate, so please forgive me for not speaking with you in person. If you could come to my home this evening I will explain all. Of course I am willing to pay for your help in this matter.
I urgently await your attendance.
Signed,
I.V.'
There was an address written there, but that was all.
"Right…" Finn said to himself.
He had no idea what the mysterious I.V. wanted with him, though in his experience letters like that were usually trouble. But the offer of coin had perked his interest beyond curiosity. Imoen wouldn't be back till late tonight, so there was no one to talk him out of it. It wouldn't hurt to go along and see what the offer was. Hopefully.
But he wasn't entirely stupid, and Finn reckoned he should prepare for trouble. After darkness fell he stuck his dagger in his boot, then opened up the cupboard beneath Imoen's alcove. There, wrapped in a blanket was a spare sword that Khalid had gifted him.
There were in fact two swords in that house. The other one he kept well hidden, sealed under the floorboards. He wasn't sure if Imoen even knew it was there.
Finn had carried Sarevok's blade for a short time after his demon brother fell; it was a remarkable sword, perfectly forged and heavy with enchantment. But it was wicked. Finn knew that; he could almost feel his brother's hate and bloodlust melded into the steel. And it reached out to him, too. Finn locked it away, but he couldn't bring himself to get rid of it. For it didn't truly matter if the blade was lying on the bottom of the ocean; it was a part of him now, bound to his blood by the same curse that bound him to Sarevok.
He didn't need that tonight. So he strapped Khalid's perfectly serviceable, if unremarkable, weapon onto his hip instead. His good chain mail was long gone, so he wore a stiff leather jerkin in its place. Before he left the house though he took one more precaution. He scribbled down the address of the meeting onto a scrap of paper and left it on the table. Just in case his meeting took a little longer than he hoped.
...
Finn was tense as he walked the darkened streets. It was still damned cold and he kept his cloak wrapped close. He managed to find the place without much trouble. It was a fine house in the better part of town, and looking at it Finn rather wondered if he had got the wrong address.
The whole place was dark, without a light to be seen. Even the lamps at the front door were out. Finn tried the gate though, and it was open. He had no idea if his contact intended him to arrive at the front or back door, but by then he really didn't care. He lifted the heavy bronze knocker and rapped hard three times.
He didn't expect an answer. In fact he began to feel rather nervous, and almost hoped no one would come to the door. But just as he was about to turn away the door clicked open.
Finn stepped back, but there was no one there. Inside was an empty hallway, dark as the outside. His hand slowly went to his blade and he spoke into the dark.
"Alright… This door didn't open itself. Whoever is there, speak up, or I'm gone."
Silence.
"I mean it," Finn said, a little louder than before. "Show yourself, or I'm leaving. I'm not daft enough to walk into some darkened house without even knowing who's there!"
But there was still no reply. Finn's hand gripped his sword tighter. He wasn't about to step in that hallway, but somehow he couldn't leave. Was this a trick, or a trap? But at last a light appeared.
A woman swept forward, holding a candle in her hand. She wore a milky-white gown of silk that was almost as pale as the bare skin on her shoulders. Her hair was dark, and Finn saw with surprise that she was an elf.
"I say…are you just going to stand there?" she asked in a trilling voice. "Come inside, you are letting the cold in!"
"I…" Finn began.
"The door has an automatic lock. I can open it from the parlour. Rather a clever design. I am sorry if you find the place too dark; I forget sometimes that your kind do not see well in the night. Come, the parlour is warm and bright."
She smiled graciously, her beautiful face lighting up with a grin. She took Finn by the arm and he shuddered without knowing why.
"So you…sent for me?" he managed to ask.
"Yes, forgive my lack of introductions. My name is Ione Valesa. I do apologise that my note was so short, but there is so much to say that it is better to talk in person. Come, here, sit down."
She led him into a spacious parlour. True to her word the place was warm from a bright fire, though there were only two lamps lit, leaving the large room rather dim. A silver pitcher of wine was on a table, and she poured him a generous cup.
"Um, cheers," Finn said. He raised the goblet to his lips but didn't drink.
"Oh, I can understand your hesitation," the elven woman laughed. "But I have not invited you here to poison you. Far from it. I am in need of your help, and I shall certainly need you alive."
She flounced down onto a sofa with a goblet of wine in her own hand. She smiled broadly again and patted the seat next to her, but Finn remained standing.
"Right then," he said, setting his drink down on the table. "So what is it that you want? And why call on me, anyway?"
"Oh, you are full of questions," the woman replied, taking a sip of her wine. "Though I imagine you must find me very curious. Very well, then. I have had something very important stolen from me. And I need your help to get it back."
"The Flaming Fist are the best people to go for that sort of thing, being the law and all that," Finn remarked. "And I'm not one of them anymore."
"Perhaps, but we are not talking about an ordinary possession. It is a circlet…an ancient one. My ancestors bore it with them when they departed Myth Drannor. Have you heard of the fabled elven city? But that is irrelevant. That it is priceless to me is all that matters. I must have it returned."
The woman spoke earnestly, gazing up at him through watery blue eyes. Finn looked away.
"Then I'm guessing that whoever stole it wasn't a common footpad, either."
"You are astute. I kept the treasure in a well-warded case, but the thief managed to break through my enchantments with ease. No ordinary rogue could have managed such a feat."
"But I still don't know what you want me to do," he said. "The thief could be anywhere in the city. He could be long gone. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack."
"Ah, but I do not expect you to canvas the city," the woman replied. "I know who the thief is. There is only one person, apart from myself, who could have opened that case. It is attuned to my blood, you see. And its loss can only mean one thing; my brother has found me at last."
"Family feud?"
"Yes…quite," the woman sighed again. "He is the elder child, and felt that this heirloom should have been passed to him. But our father did not approve of him or the company he kept, so when he died the circlet came to me. And ever since then my heartless brother has been pursuing me, attempting to gain it back."
"He sounds rather determined to get his hands on a trinket, even if it is old," he remarked.
"What you hint at is true," she admitted. "It is no mere piece of jewellery, but carries a powerful enchantment. And I fear my brother is of no good moral standing. He will put it to bad ends, I am sure. You must find it and return it to me!"
She raised her white arms in a pleading gesture, the perfect image of a damsel in distress. But the real question of the night remained unanswered.
"That's as may be," Finn began. "But you still haven't said why you need me. How do you even know my name?"
"You are a modest man," she said. "Whatever you may think, your deeds have not gone unnoticed. There are those in this city who know your name, and I happen to be one of them. Someone of your power and ability is just what is needed."
"I'm flattered and all that, but I'm just one bloke with a sword," Finn said, feeling uncomfortable at the way her eyes lit up at the mention of his power. "What you need is a mercenary company. You know my name, then you must know of a few that could help you out for a price. Unless you think I'm cheaper?"
The woman gazed at him with a little smile on her face.
"I have ten thousand in gold waiting for whoever brings back my circlet," she declared, her voice suddenly louder. "And I think, perhaps, you are not truly alone?"
"Ten thousand?"
Finn barely had time to whirl around before the excited voice cried out behind him. Imoen. Of course it was Imoen.
"What the hells are you doing here?" he cried, trying to put his heart back in his chest.
"What am I doing here?" Imoen proclaimed. "I came to the address you left on the table, that's what! Don't shout at me. What are you doing here? And what's this about ten thousand gold?"
The girl virtually skipped into the room, well-wrapped in her cape with the peaked hood. Her cheeks were pink as her hair from the cold and her eyes were glowing with excitement.
"It's just… I don't know. I don't know. There's no gold, Im, settle down! You shouldn't be here. It's late. I thought you were working, anyway?" Finn stumbled. The sudden appearance of his sister had left him on the wrong foot.
"We got done early. I brought home some roast beef, but you weren't there. I thought you were out at the tavern till I saw your note. I figured I'd come and see what was up."
"Well, we're leaving now!" he declared. "Listen, lady… Ione… I don't know about this. I think you need to find someone else. Sorry to waste your time. Come on, Im, we're done."
Imoen protested, but he herded her towards the door like an irate goat. Ione for her part said nothing, but if she was disappointed the little grin on her face didn't show it. The elven woman didn't even bother to say goodbye, and sipped her wine with satisfaction.
"Alright, grumpy-pants, are you going to tell me what that was about or not?" Imoen spat as they finally cleared the gates.
"No. Forget about it," Finn said harshly. "Let's just go home, eh?"
"But she said… Ten thousand to find something. I know, I heard her! Why won't you tell me what it is?"
"Because we're not doing it, that's why," he said. "Forget it. It's no good. Come on, I'm starving."
He wasn't really hungry anymore, but he needed some excuse to get her out of there. Imoen thankfully said nothing else as she trotted along under her hood, but the pensive way she stared at the cobbles had him worried. At last though they reached their lodgings. Finn had never felt so glad to climb that grubby staircase and lock the door.
...
The next morning Imoen seemed unusually quiet, and Finn reckoned she was still sore about last night. But she said nothing about it and he was quite happy to let it lie. What had he been thinking, going to that place alone? He was lucky his guts weren't decorating the sewers just then. He stuck a slice of cold roast beef into one of the cobs Imoen had brought and took a bite.
"What time are you working today?" he asked with his mouth full.
"Oh, later," she said absently.
She had a lead pencil in her hand and doodled absently on a scrap of paper. Finn glanced at it and realised she was drawing a paper doll. When she was little she used to make poppets from parchment the monks would sometimes give her. The lady had curling hair and a smiling face, with a crown perched on her head. He also noticed it was the parchment from last night.
"Look, about that… I'm sorry I got cross last night," he began. "I just hadn't expected you to turn up there. More fool me, eh? I didn't know what was going on myself. It could have been anyone in that house. I was just worried, that's all."
"Oh," Imoen said flatly.
"If I get any more mysterious offers I'll be sure to let you in, okay?" he said.
"Right," she said.
Imoen looked up long enough to give him a slight smile. There was a bright look in her eyes and Finn reckoned his work was done.
"I'm going out," he said after finishing his breakfast.
"Where are you going?" Imoen asked.
"Out," Finn sighed. "Nowhere for me to be. I'll see you later, okay?"
Imoen nodded and proceeded with her drawing. Finn wandered out into the city, glad to put the business behind him. Yesterday's cloud hadn't blown away, and today the skies looked like snow. But Finn cared less about the weather today than he had a few days earlier.
He wandered around the market stalls, gazing at things he couldn't afford to buy. He spied a fine silk scarf woven in green and gold, and imagined for a moment how pretty it would look draped over Anna's hair. But that thought didn't bring happiness and he moved on again.
...
With absolutely nothing to do Finn meandered down towards the bridge which crossed to the docks. The cold was beginning to bite and he had no coin for an ale, no chance of putting his feet up in a warm tavern. He'd hoped Imoen might spot him a few coppers, but there was little chance of that today. As he stood pondering the sky turned white. Snowflakes began to fall, a few scouts at first, then an entire army. The bridge was lost in the whirlwind and the hapless travellers were reduced to featureless blobs as they hurried about their business.
It was too much for Finn and he wearily headed home. He returned to find Imoen gone; she must have gone up to the big house for the day. He settled himself down for another day of nothing, but before long he heard the sound of heavy boots on the stairs.
Finn tensed; he knew that sound well enough. A crisp rap sounded on the door and he straightened his tunic before slowly drawing open the bolt.
It was the Fist. He knew it was the Fist even before he opened the door. They just had that way of walking. But he was still surprised to see the man on the other side.
"Mick? What are you doing here?"
It was his old neighbour, sure enough. He was in uniform but kept his cloak drawn tightly as if to hide that fact. But Finn could tell straight away it wasn't a social call. Mick's normally jovial face was tense and unsmiling.
"Alright, Finn?" he said hesitantly. "Haven't talked in awhile. Mind if I come in?"
"Sure," Finn replied, growing more surprised. At least Mick wasn't there to arrest him. He showed Mick inside and shut the door behind them.
"Your sister not here?" he asked.
"Ah, no," Finn said, growing worried now. Mick didn't even know Imoen, why was he asking about her?
"Just as well," Mick replied. "Look, I'll get this out there… This isn't an official call, understand? Nobody needs to know I've been here."
"No worries there. But what's wrong? Has something happened to Imoen?"
"No… Not yet, anyway. Look… Today we got a call out to Lord Brenell's estate. Seems a few jewels have gone missing, and he suspected the staff. 'Course, sticky fingers are always hard to prove unless they're caught in the act. We searched the lot of them, turned over the staff rooms, but didn't turn up a thing."
"Brenell?" Finn began. "But that's where…"
"Where your Imoen works, aye," Mick sighed. "But Brenell wouldn't let it drop. He was ranting and raving, threatening to give them all the sack unless someone talked. And, well… One of the maids came forward. Said she saw your Imoen in the lady's room when she had no cause to be. She denied it all, of course…"
"Wait… You're saying Imoen's getting done for stealing?" Finn exclaimed.
"There's no proof beyond the word of the other maid," Mick said. "And she might well have been lying to save her job. But we need to look into it just the same."
"So what are you here for, then?" Finn said.
"Well. I thought, maybe, if the jewels were recovered… Brenell might be persuaded to let it drop. You know these nobles, they don't want to be seen with anything like a scandal in their house. So, if you'd let me have a look around…"
"And you said this wasn't official," Finn said grimly.
"It's not. At least, it doesn't need to be," Mick replied. "Look, I'd be up to my balls in hot water if the captain got a whiff that I was here on my own. I'm doing you a favour."
"And what happens if you find them?"
"I'll take them with me. Finn, I'm trying to help you out here."
Mick seemed earnest, and he didn't know what to think.
"And what would you want to help me for?" he asked. "You didn't want to know last time I saw you."
"I'm sorry about that," Mick said quietly. "But we don't deal with ex-Fist too often. There's all sorts of odd rumours about you at base. Not that I believe them….hells, some were even saying that you were working for dead Duke Anchev!"
"Working for Anchev?" Finn cried.
He could feel his face growing red at the accusation, but Mick clearly didn't understand the reason.
"I know, it's mad, right?" he said. "I think that quake messed with people's minds. But to tell the truth…I feel sorry for you. You've landed flat on your face here. Your wife's gone, I don't know why, and now you're holed up in this…place. I don't know what the real story is, but Commander Vai gave you an honourable discharge, and that's good enough for me."
"Cheers, then," Finn croaked.
He looked down at the floor, and Mick cleared his throat.
"But your sister's issue is another matter," he said. "Just let me have a look, Finn. I swear, if there's anything…I'll do what I can to see that she gets leniency. She's young, and the pair of you don't have two coppers to rub together. Doesn't justify stealing, of course, but…"
"Alright, just… Just do it…" Finn groaned.
He sat down hard on a chair and seized his head in his hands. Mick began searching the room with that quiet efficiency brought on by years of practice. He turned over the mattresses and checked the stitching, searched the pots in the cupboard, and shook out their few spare clothes. He opened the cupboard under Imoen's alcove and pulled out what things he could find, rooting through every box and bag. But he found nothing, and in that little room there were few places to hide.
"Nothing. Nothing's there," Finn said, feeling greatly relieved.
"Just need to look for any hidden spots now," Mick said cautiously.
He inspected the fire as well as he could, then turned his attention to the floorboards. Finn's alarm grew as Mick's trained eyes spotted the loose boards in the corner.
"Wait…" Finn called, as he was about to lift the board.
"What is it?" he said, pausing.
"There's nothing in there," Finn said quickly. "Nothing of Imoen's, I mean. My stuff. Imoen doesn't know about it."
"Then if I could just have a look…"
"No. Please… Believe me, mate. On my word. There's nothing of Imoen's in there. Just please… If you're my friend, don't lift that board."
Mick just stared at him, unsure of what to make of his sudden urgency.
"What have you got under there, Finn, a body?" he said, trying to joke.
"Aye, you got me," he replied, holding up his hands and attempting to laugh. "Honestly, though… It's nothing illegal. Just…private. You can look if you really want, but please…let it be."
"Well…alright," Mick said slowly. "I'll take your word on it. But I can't find anything in here. Barring any further evidence, it looks like your Imoen is in the clear. 'Course, I don't think Lord Brenell could be convinced to give her job back, but…"
"What, you mean she's been sacked?" Finn asked.
"Aye," Mick replied. "The rumour was enough for him. Nothing we can do about that. It's his staff, he can do as he pleases."
"Then…she doesn't have a job anymore."
"Doesn't look like it," Mick said, trying to sound comforting. "Well, I'm sure you two can manage. Though if you really needed coin…"
"No. We're fine. We're fine," Finn repeated.
He wasn't going to be a charity case for the entire world. But if Imoen wasn't getting any wages he had no idea what they were going to do. The next quarter's rent was due in a fortnight, and they still needed to eat in the meantime.
"I'd best be off then," Mick said, breaking into his thoughts. "You…look after yourself, alright?"
"And you as well," Finn heard himself saying. "Say hello to Ella and the lads for me."
"Lads and a little lady," Mick said, suddenly grinning. "Least that's what Ella keeps saying. Reckon she's hoping for a girl this time!"
"Good lad. See you round," Finn said weakly.
Mick clapped him on the back and headed out into the white city. Finn shut the door behind him, listening to the sound of his boots on the stairs. He sat back on the chair and let out a long, low groan.
Everything was tits up now. How could they stay in the city? They were poor before, but now they had nothing. Finn's eyes were drawn to the floorboards where Sarevok's blade was hidden. He imagined he could hear a sound, almost like a heartbeat coming from under those boards. A steady pounding…it was a drum. That blasted blade was alive, and he knew it.
He jumped to his feet, determined to silence his tormentor. But when he tore open the floorboards it wasn't the sword which held his gaze. There, next to the scabbard was a small bundle of cloth. That wasn't his.
He took it up, surprised at its weight. With shaking hands he unwrapped the cloth, rolling it over and over until a gold necklace and ring went thudding to the floor. The rubies set within them shone bright like blood.
"By all the hells, Imoen," he whispered. "What have you done?"
