Finn wrapped the jewels up tight again and hurriedly stashed them in at least three different places, each time changing his mind and putting them somewhere else. Supposing Mick came back? But he didn't. It was just him and the guilty jewels alone in that room.
It was no wonder Imoen was so quiet that morning. But she didn't return and Finn wondered where she could possibly be. She was done at her job, she could be anywhere. Finn began to pace the floor, and the longer he waited, the greater his agitation grew. He needed to do something.
He thought about trying to sneak the jewels back into the estate. But that was a ridiculous idea; Lord Brenell's house was well-guarded and he was no thief.
He wanted to throttle Imoen. What was she thinking? He'd seen the city prisons. She hadn't. Those jewels were no trinkets by the look of them; get a magistrate in a bad mood and the gods only knew what might happen. She could be sent to labour in a workhouse for the next few years. And worse than that…thieves could still hang.
Whatever Mick's assurances Finn didn't feel any better. They wouldn't have a chance without a solicitor to plead their case, and they had as much chance of paying their fees as they did of flying. Finn needed to act, and there was only one thing he could do.
He took the jewels from their hiding place and stowed them in his belt pouch. It would be safer that way, in case the Fist came back. Hells, maybe he'd get lucky and a cutpurse would swipe them, he thought grimly. Finn belted on Khalid's sword and headed swiftly towards Ione Valesa's house.
There were no more signs of life in the place than there were the night before. Although it was only afternoon the curtains were all drawn closed. Finn wondered if the woman was at home, but he knocked just the same. There was no response, and he knocked again. Didn't she keep any servants? That was queer for such a big house. At last though the door opened.
He had grown somewhat accustomed to the strangeness of the place, and stepped inside even though there was no one to greet him. He called out her name and heard a muffled reply. A door at the end of the hall opened, and Ione appeared.
"Well, hello," she said cheerfully, though her voice sounded rather weak. "I am pleased to see that you've returned. You left in something of a rush last night."
"Well, you know…family troubles," Finn shrugged.
"I know all about them," Ione smiled. "Please, come with me."
She led him once more into the large parlour. But this time the fire was out and the room was dark from the heavy curtains drawn across the windows.
"You just get in?" Finn asked, shivering.
"If you like," Ione replied lightly. "Is it too cold? You may build a fire if you wish."
"No, ta…I won't be here that long. But I'll open those curtains if you don't mind."
"No, don't…" she suddenly said. "I do not want any prying eyes to see in. I shall light a candle if you need light."
She set about the task, but the little light seemed so small and lost on the table. Ione was still dressed in white; she must have a thing for that colour, Finn thought. She laid herself down on a sofa and gazed up at him, rubbing her temple with a long finger.
"So…you are once again here. I take it that means you have reconsidered my offer?"
"I'll hear more about it," Finn said cautiously.
"Good, good. I knew you would not fail to help a lady. And it is well that you are here. I know precisely where you must go. One of my brother's compatriots is staying here in the city. He is living under an assumed name, but I have managed to track him down. You must go to his house, and discover where my brother has taken the circlet."
"And how am I meant to do that, exactly?"
"If you need an answer, ask a question. That is a simple task."
"And what happens when he doesn't answer?" he remarked.
"Oh, use your imagination," Ione said languidly. "Be bold, and I do not think it will take much to convince him. Don't worry; he is not of the sort to call out the law!"
"I don't know…" Finn said, still hesitant.
"If you cannot handle this, then you will stand little chance against my brother," Ione said, giving him a look that made him flinch. "Do this, and I will put gold in your pocket even tonight."
Finn clenched his teeth. There was something wrong about this, something strange as this woman and her house. He didn't like it at all. What authority did he have to go around threatening a stranger? He knew nothing about this man, and nothing about Ione for that matter. All he had was her word, and a promise of gold. But his back was against the wall. As long as his sword stayed in its scabbard there shouldn't be any real problems.
"All right. I'll do it," he sighed. "So who's this fellow? Where do I need to go?"
"Excellent!" Ione said. "I shall not bother telling you his alias, but his true name is Rumar Trevalan. He lives in the south-east of town."
"And I suppose I should wait till after nightfall?" Finn said.
"No, no. I would go now; he is something of a night-owl, and may not return home until the small hours. Question him and return to me at once. I will be waiting!"
"Okay," Finn breathed.
Ione gave him more details about where the man could be found, but Finn hardly took it in. He let himself out of that strange house and set his feet towards the south-eastern part of town. It was a rough neighbourhood there, but he had little concern for any ruffians that might be lurking around. His mission and Imoen's light hands kept wrestling with one another over and over in his head.
...
He eventually found the place. It was an end-of-terrace house, larger than most, virtually derelict like the rest of them in that neighbourhood. The windows were smashed out and covered by rough wooden shutters. It looked abandoned but a curl of smoke was rising from the chimney.
Finn stepped up to the front door, then stopped. Whoever this fellow was, he wasn't likely to just let him in and have a chat. Darkness was coming on, and in that neighbourhood most turned a blind eye to strange doings anyway. So Finn crept round the back.
The door to the back garden was locked, but luckily the wall wasn't more than five feet high. With a grunt Finn managed to drag himself over. He landed lightly as he could in the small patch of ground that led up to the rear of the place. Finn cursed though realising that the back door was bolted from the inside. He was wondering what to do when he happened to glance down at the cellar door.
Houses like this were all built the same, and he'd been inside plenty of them during his time on the Flaming Fist patrol. There would be a trapdoor from the cellar leading into the pantry. With any luck it wouldn't be locked inside.
An iron lock did hold fast the cellar door, but the wood surrounding the bolt was rotted from the rain. Finn wedged his dagger in there and with little effort managed to pull the nails clean away from the wood.
He opened the cellar door slowly, fully expecting it to groan like a donkey, but luckily the hinges were silent. He left the door open so he could have some light and stepped carefully into the cellar.
The ceiling was low and he had to stoop to walk. The cellar was surprisingly well-stocked for that part of town; his elbows bumped into a great many crates, and in the darkness he could spy several large casks of ale. But this fellow's larder was no interest of his. Finn saw a set of wooden steps rising up to the ceiling; that must be where the kitchen was. But before he could make a step further he heard a slam and was left completely in the dark.
"Oi there!" Finn shouted as he stumbled towards the cellar door. He threw all his weight against it but the door didn't budge. Who shut it? How? But he had little time to wonder for the trap door in the pantry suddenly opened, letting in a block of light.
"Oh, cellar rat!" a mocking voice called from above. "I seem to have you cornered. Come up here so I can have a look at you."
Finn gritted his teeth hard. So much for stealth.
"Alright, I'm coming up," he called.
Slowly he mounted the steps, fully expecting a blade to take his head off before he reached the top. But he made it safely into the kitchen and stood blinking in the light.
Like the cellar below, the kitchen was remarkably well stocked. A joint of beef and two game hens were roasting on a spit in front of the fire, and on a side table were bowls full of expensive fruit, arranged in an attractive display. But Finn was more interested in the people who faced him at that particular moment.
A man was there, wearing an embroidered purple robe that hung to his knees. He folded his arms and gave Finn a half-amused look. A woman stood behind him, dressed in leather and not looking at all amused. Another man stood near the kitchen door, blocking the exit. He was probably the one who had trapped him.
Finn cursed to himself; Ione never mentioned this fellow would have guards. But he straightened himself up and drew a deep breath, waiting for the man to speak.
"Well, then, who might you be?" the man in the purple robes said.
"Doesn't matter," Finn replied, managing to compose himself somewhat. "I've come to have a chat."
"Have a chat!" the man exclaimed. "Well, I hardly thought you were here collecting subscriptions for the temple. You're no housebreaker by the look of you…built like an ox, you are. Hired muscle, I'd say. So who has sent you my way, boy? Speak up!"
"Ione Valesa sent me," he replied. "She says you might know where to find something of hers."
How much was he actually meant to say? Interrogations were not so easy without the weight of the Flaming Fist behind him. This time he was the one in the corner.
"I don't know that name," the man replied. "But a few things cross my hands from time to time… What exactly is this Valesa person looking for?"
"A circlet. An ancient elven circlet."
The man's mouth opened and he let out a laugh. The man at the door joined him, and even the stone-faced woman looked amused for half a moment.
"An ancient elven circlet? Oh, my boy, I think someone has led you on a wild goose chase. I don't deal in jewellery. Are you certain you have the right house? Well, laddie… Lucky for you, you've given me some entertainment. Get out of my sight and we'll forget this little incident ever occurred, eh?"
He glanced at the man near the door, and he swiftly opened it. Finn was more than a little keen to get out of there, but his stubborn feet didn't budge.
"She said you were helping her brother," he continued. "She said her brother was the one who stole it."
"I see. And who might this brother be?" the man said, beginning to look annoyed.
"I…don't know," he stammered. "She never told me his name."
"You don't know?" the man said, incredulous. "You came here looking for a man and you don't even know his name? I do hope whoever hired you hasn't paid much. Not worth a copper! But I'm bored of this now. I won't tell you again…get out of here before I turn you into mulch for my flowers."
"I know your name," Finn said bluntly. "Rumar Trevalan. And I haven't got the wrong house. Tell me what you know about this brother."
That had done it. In a very smooth and silent motion the guard shut the door. The woman tensed and the robed man gazed at Finn with eyes like ice.
"So you know something after all, and not something very good for you," he hissed. "Only my friends know my real name, and you aren't my friend. How do you know who I am?"
"Ione Valesa told me," Finn replied.
There wasn't anything else he could say. He knew he was in trouble. No way out of it now. But he didn't move a muscle, waiting to see what the man would do next.
"Well, then…I shall be sure to pay this Ione Valesa a visit. But first we need to deal with you. Haela, show our big ox here to the shambles."
The woman said nothing, but acted on her master's order without hesitation. Finn saw her reach into her jerkin. He could feel the dagger in her hand as surely as if it was in his own. He could trace the movement of her muscles and he knew where it was heading. He ducked and the dagger flew over his head, embedding itself into the wall.
"Damn!" the woman cried, but Finn had drawn his own blade. He didn't give her a second chance. He whirled and drew the blade down hard, slicing deep into the place where her neck met the shoulder. She made a sick noise as she collapsed to the floor.
"Kill him!" the robed man screamed, wiping the woman's spattered blood from his face. His guard responded in turn, leaping over the table to lock blades with Finn.
He was fast, and came close to knocking Finn's sword from his hand as he sliced at him with a dagger. The burning cold of steel sliced through his glove but Finn ignored it, the pain just making him move faster. He grabbed the man's off-arm and threw him down onto the ground. Finn's boot found his dagger-arm and his knee sank into the guard's neck, crushing his windpipe and pinning him helpless. He couldn't cry out but glared at Finn through black eyes.
Seeing his guards go down in a moment was too much for the robed man. He had drawn a weapon but thought the better of it. He turned tail, and ran fast as he could for the kitchen door.
Finn couldn't let him go. If that man escaped there'd be no safety for him anywhere. He lifted the dagger from the guard at his feet and plunged it into his chest. Finn didn't check to see if his blow had struck home; he didn't need to.
He jumped to his feet and chased the man out the door, leaping on him like a lion just as he reached the back gate. The man grunted as Finn's weight dragged him to the ground, but before he could scream Finn's arm was around his neck. He jerked the man's head as hard as he could, and felt the snap of bone under his fingers.
Finn shut his eyes. His breath was ragged in his lungs. He let the man's lifeless body slump to the ground, and he slumped down with it.
...
They lay together in the snow and the stillness settled around them. Black mist was in front of Finn's eyes, but slowly it began to clear. The hunt was over, and the fear set in.
It was Kivan who taught him how to snap a man's neck like that. A quick and quiet way of dealing with bandits who weren't paying attention to their watch. But that man wasn't a bandit. Who the hells was he? No innocent, clearly. But that didn't matter. Finn needed to get out of there.
He dragged the man's body into the kitchen and dumped it next to his dead guards. Sweat was pouring over him now, and his hand was burning where the guard had cut him. But there was no need for a bandage; the blood had already ceased to flow. In his haste Finn bumped into the kitchen table, knocking over an oil lamp. He didn't stop to pick it up. He shut the kitchen door behind him and clambered back over the garden wall, thankful for the darkness which hid his flight.
He felt blind as he hurried through the city streets. Blind and shaking. Imoen's trouble was nothing compared to what he'd stirred up. What was he going to do? His stomach twisted in knots. As he walked the snow began to fall thick and fast again. Good, it would cover his tracks at least. But he still felt like there was a trail of glowing blood following him as he rushed to Ione's house.
He banged hard on the door, not even bothering with the knocker. It opened the first time and he stumbled inside, slamming the door shut before Ione could even appear.
She saw him and her mouth opened in surprise, but then she seemed to melt in concern.
"Oh, Finnigan! There is blood…are you injured? What has happened? Oh, I feel horrible for sending you alone into danger!"
"Danger," Finn replied, wiping the melting snow from his face with his bloodied glove. "Fine thing to tell me now. That wasn't some measly informant. He had guards. Mean ones. Who in the hells did you send me after?"
"Forgive me," Ione said. "I had hoped… Come into the parlour. I will tend to your wounds, and you will tell me what happened."
He didn't have much choice but to follow her. The fire was up again, at least, even though the room was still dim from lack of light. This time though, Finn didn't mind. It made the bloodstains harder to see.
At Ione's insistence he shed his bloody gloves and cloak, dropping them in a pile on the hearth.
"Where are you hurt?" she asked, letting her hand slide down his stained jerkin.
"Just my hand, here," Finn said, examining the wound. "Don't worry, I'll be alright."
He stepped back from her without knowing why. Ione wiped her hand on her dress, smearing the white silk with red.
"Oh, my…" she whispered.
"Sorry…sorry," Finn said distractedly.
"Take that off, now, and sit down," she said.
He pulled off his leather jerkin and his wool outer tunic, but left his under-tunic on. His trousers were spattered with blood as well, but he wasn't about to take those off.
Finn sat down as directed, and waited while Ione filled a basin with water. She came and sat on the floor next to him, and dipped his hand in the water. It was cold, ice cold, and made him shudder. Ione did not seem to notice.
"There. That will help," she said, her eyes fixed on the cut on his hand.
"Cheers," he said. "I'll be alright."
He spoke as if saying it would make it true. He couldn't care less about his hand; it wasn't a deep cut, and the pestilence in his blood would heal it by morning. But when he shut his eyes Finn could still see the blood flowing, staining the kitchen in red.
"My warrior, do not drift away from me," Ione said.
The sound of her voice brought Finn back to himself. She now held his hand in hers, a mere inch from her mouth. A light smile was on her lips, and they gently parted. Her watery blue eyes were burning bright as they gazed at him. Finn jerked and pulled his hand away.
"I'm married," he blurted.
Ione's eyes lit up, and her laughter rang out like bells.
"Oh, my! Did you think I was about to seduce you?" she cried.
"Erm, sorry, no…" Finn said, feeling his face flaming red.
"That is good," she said, still laughing. "I was merely concerned for your well-being. You seemed to retreat into yourself…though I suppose you have had a traumatic evening."
"You might say that," he said. "I left three dead bodies behind me. Now do you want to tell me what's really going on?"
His embarrassment had vanished. Ione forced down her smile and slowly went to set next to him on the sofa.
"Yes. I owe you an apology. That man was perhaps more dangerous than I had implied. But I did not want you to be alarmed, and regardless I was certain you could deal with him."
"But I haven't dealt with him!" Finn cried. "I didn't get a word out of him. He said he didn't know anything about a circlet, and I believe him. He's dead. That's all. Unless…that's what you wanted in the first place."
He hadn't thought of it before, but now the truth was smacking him in the face and taunting him. All she really wanted was an assassin. A gullible assassin. And did she ever find one.
"Calm yourself, my warrior," Ione said soothingly. "I did not send you forth simply to kill a man. Rather I wanted to see…what could be learned."
"And what have we learned, exactly?" Finn spat, pulling away his arm where she had started to caress his tunic.
"More than you could imagine," she replied.
Her voice had dropped to a whisper and she once again gave him that look. Finn jumped up from the sofa.
"Well, now. I'm glad it's been enlightening for you. But I might well have a murder charge hanging over my head, assuming that fellow's mates don't get to me first. If it's all the same to you, I think I'll call it a night."
"Oh, don't leave…" she said as Finn began to roughly pull on his bloodied clothes.
"Just watch me go!" he said.
"You are being rash," she replied. "Are you not even going to demand your gold?"
"Shove your gold up your arse!" Finn bellowed, practically screaming in her ear. "I'm not a hired killer. Just get away from me, bitch, before I…"
He broke off. He could feel the black beginning to wrap its tentacles around his neck. He needed to get out of there. Ione had stepped back from him, her eyes wide, but what her expression was he couldn't say.
"I see," she said slowly. "I can understand why you think you have been tricked, so I will ignore your outburst. But you must realise that I am in as much of a position to help you now, as you are to help me."
"Help, help… Know the Flaming Fist, do you?" he growled.
"I know things well enough," Ione said. "Tell me, what do you have in your pouch? It is heavy like gold."
Finn looked quickly to his belt. He'd forgotten all about Imoen's jewels, but they were still there.
"None of your damn business," he said.
Ione smiled. "It is my business, Finn. But since you refuse to answer, I will do it for you. A necklace, set with three large rubies framed in pearls. And a lady's ruby ring, inscribed with a dedication to Sune."
It was Finn's turn to stare.
"How in all the hells do you know that?" he exclaimed.
"Because…I told her."
Finn heard a quiet voice by the door. He shut his eyes and began to feel sick. When he opened them he saw Imoen standing next to the elven woman. Finn stared at her and she looked away.
"This is all just…a bad dream," he groaned.
"Not a dream, I'm afraid. But together we can stop it from turning into a nightmare," Ione said. "Your sister called on me a short while ago, and presented me with a tale of woe. Rest assured, I am quite capable of helping with your situations…both of them…but in return you must do as I ask. There is more work yet to be done, my young friends."
"She said she'd pay us, Finn," Imoen said, though her voice sounded rather helpless.
"Pay us, aye," he muttered. But what price would she ask in return? He slid back down onto the sofa and rubbed his aching head in his hands.
...
He had more than enough for one night. He needed to get back home. Ione said farewell to them willingly enough; she must have known they'd be back sooner rather than later. Finn and Imoen walked in silence through the snowy streets, back towards their house.
He half expected the Flaming Fist to be waiting for the both of them. But most people decided to stay indoors that night, and they saw barely a soul on the streets. Finn had turned his cloak inside out to hide the blood, and he kept it tight around him until they were safely locked in their room.
Imoen stared; in the full light they could both get a view of how much of a mess he was. But she said nothing, and looked to the floor as Finn ripped off his stained clothes. He pulled on his spare trousers and did his best to wash the blood from his face and hair..
He could burn his clothes. His boots and jerkin he could wipe down; they were dark and wouldn't show any sign of blood. But there was no way to escape the wraiths that Finn felt hovering around his head. As he washed they grew closer and closer, laughing in his ear. He threw himself down onto his knees in the middle of the room, gnashing his teeth and trying hard not to start screaming.
"I'm…I'm sorry," Imoen choked. Finn looked up to see her pale, frightened face. He breathed hard, forcing himself to calm down.
"Why did you do it, Im?" he asked helplessly. "The jewels. Why?"
"You're asking me?" Imoen began, but paused. "I…I just got so fed up. I work and work and work, slave all day, and we've got nothing at all to show for it. Why should they have everything? Lady Brenell has so many jewels…she could never wear them all. I didn't think they'd be missed. How was I meant to know they were heirlooms…"
"So you just stole them?" Finn interrupted.
"I did, and I don't care!" Imoen exclaimed, her pale face turning red. "I don't feel guilty. Not like that. Lady Brenell is a horrible woman, she treats all the staff like a disease. I know I shouldn't have done it. But it just wasn't fair."
"Fair. Fair. You want to tell me what's fair?" he cried. "What's fair got to do with anything? Some of us get handed a mountain of gold, others get buried under horse shite. That's life. You think I want cursed blood? You got a choice, Imoen, I don't. And you go along, and mess everything up…"
"Mess it up? What is there to mess up?" she said, practically shouting. "Look at us, we're in the slums! And you just sit there and bloody feel sorry for yourself, all day long! I've had enough of this! I want… I want…"
"What?"
"Anything!" she cried, jumping to her feet. "If I wanted to spend the rest of my life waiting on snotty nobles I'd have stayed at Candlekeep. There's got to be more out there."
"So you're going to find it in prison?" Finn replied.
"Well, I'll be right there with you, then! How can you even sit there and make demands of me, when you just… When you…"
Even through her anger she couldn't bring herself to say the words. Just as well, for Finn was certain he could hear the sound of boots outside. He raised a harsh finger to his lips and Imoen froze, a look of fear on her face.
...
A knock sounded on the door. It was a quiet knock, not the insistent pounding of the Flaming Fist. Finn slowly went to the door, and slid open the bolt.
It was Jaheira.
"Good evening to you. I do hope I am not interrupting anything," she said levelly.
Finn groaned inwardly, not certain if he should be relieved or not. The druid had a cloak of dark green wrapped around her shoulders, and her sandy brown hair was braided back from her face like always. Her tone was calm though her hawk-eyes were shining bright.
"No…no. Come in," he said in a voice to fool no one. "We were just having a bit of a row. About money."
It wasn't entirely false. Jaheira entered the room without another word, nodding her head at Imoen who retreated to the corner like a guilty child. Finn remembered something of manners in time to draw out a chair, but Jaheira remained standing.
"Cold night. Khalid not with you?" he asked absently.
"No, there was someone he needed to speak with. We just returned to the city today, and I thought I would see how you were faring. But my timing could be better."
"Good of you to call, anyway," Finn said.
Imoen still said nothing. Jaheira glanced at her and the girl turned her eyes to the floor.
"I believe I will sit," the woman said, almost to herself. "Do you have anything to drink in this place? It is a cold night, as you said."
"Ah, we're dried up here, unfortunately. Not got a drop. Sorry, we weren't expecting company," he apologised.
"Never mind," Jaheira said. "Imoen…perhaps you would be so kind as to step out to the tavern for some wine? You might bring back food, as well…I have not eaten since breakfast."
She fetched some coins out of her belt and placed them lightly on the table. Finn wasn't sure how hungry any of them actually were at the moment, but there wasn't much Imoen could say. She scooped up Jaheira's gold and bundled herself up before heading out the door in silence.
Finn watched her go with some trepidation, but Jaheira seemed to sense his mood.
"Do not worry. She will be safe."
"How do you know?" he asked.
"Because Khalid is in the street, watching."
Finn looked up, surprised. A half-smile flickered over Jaheira's face, but it quickly disappeared.
"But now, I must ask you to tell me what you were truly arguing about."
Finn's knuckles clenched on the table.
"I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you."
"That is understandable. But I do not think there is anything you need to hide from me. And, it is quite obvious you were not simply having a row about money. Tell me, Finn."
"Jaheira, it's…nothing, alright?" he said. "Just…problems. We'll sort it out. Somehow."
"I see," she said quietly. "Do you still have the jewels?"
Finn looked up, startled. Jaheira's face was stony and calm.
"By all the hells, does the entire world know about this?" he groaned.
He didn't ask how Jaheira knew. She was a Harper; she probably knew about it before the Flaming Fist did. They weren't for nothing if not putting their nose in people's business. He reached into his pouch and placed the heavy bundle on the table with a thud. Jaheira let out a long sigh, but she said nothing as she took the bundle and placed it into her own bag.
"What's going to happen to Imoen?" he rasped.
"Nothing, I hope. We will do what we can."
"Thanks," he managed to say.
"We will do what we can," Jaheira repeated, clearing her throat.
"What, that's it? No lecture?" Finn said. He let out a laugh, but it fell flat. Jaheira was being awfully quiet.
"There is…something else," she began. "We…have friends in this city, as I am sure you know. And when we come home these friends tell us what their friends have heard. And just a short while ago, one of these friends came to tell us of something that occurred today."
"What?" Finn asked, feeling his throat beginning to close.
"There was a fire…a house in the south of the city caught alight."
"That's a shame," he said.
"Indeed. But this, it seems, was not an ordinary house. For in the cellar the searchers found a large cache of weapons. Swords, crossbows…all marked as property of the Flaming Fist."
"He was stealing weapons?" Finn remarked, then hastily shut his mouth. Jaheira looked at him intently, but continued with her little story.
"They also found three bodies. And although they were badly burned, it seemed clear that they had met a violent end."
"Yeah?" Finn said. He could barely speak.
"Yes. For while it is not widely known, my friends believe the owner of this house was smuggling stolen weapons into Amn. And while we cannot be certain, we believe these weapons were to be delivered into the hands of the Shadow Thieves."
"Shadow Thieves?" he exclaimed, finally finding his voice.
He rose up from the table, then crumpled back down again. This was getting worse every moment.
"Understandably, these are not people to trifle with," Jaheira said, her voice growing harder. "This man was a major contact of theirs in this region. There will be recriminations against whoever is responsible. Which is why, Finnigan…You will tell me what in Silvanus' name you were doing there."
Finn looked up to see those green eyes drilling a hole into him. He didn't know what to say. He couldn't deny it. Blast it all, did the Harpers see everything?
"How…how did you know?" he choked.
"I did not. But the neighbours saw a man matching your description fleeing the scene before the fire. These people do not open up to the Flaming Fist, but our comrades are not adverse to sharing their gold. I did not want to think… I could not think… I prayed it was not true, but I should have known better. What could possibly have involved you with this man? Why were you there? And please, tell me… Oh, do not answer. I can see it in your eyes. Finn, what has happened here?"
Jaheira stood up from the table and banged her fists into the wood like it was his head. Finn had seen her in some bad moods but the rage on her face was something to behold.
"That woman…I'm going to kill her…" Finn groaned.
"Do not speak that way!" Jaheira shouted. She gathered herself somewhat, and drew in a shaking breath. "Tell me. Tell me what happened. Tell me everything, Finn, and leave nothing out."
...
He didn't have much choice. He told her the story of the past few days, about Ione Valesa, of her note and her strange house, and her claims to the lost circlet. Jaheira listened in stony silence, and only the sound of her breathing punctuated his tale. She was silent even after he finished, but at last she spoke.
"At least you killed in self-defence, although even that is a dubious claim, considering you broke into his house," Jaheira remarked. "But the death of a few criminals is not truly what concerns me here. This Valesa woman…what does she truly want? Her story of a missing artefact seems a sham to me."
"I agree," Finn said. "Don't think there ever was a circlet. She was just looking to hire someone to get rid of an enemy. And idiot me couldn't see that from the first."
"Are you certain?" Jaheira replied. "She seems wealthy, and assassins are not too difficult to find. Why concoct an elaborate story to enlist your aid, of all people?"
"She wanted a scapegoat, then. Someone to take the blame."
"Perhaps… But there is another possibility, one you seem to have overlooked. Perhaps it was you she is truly after."
"Me? Why? I've never met the woman."
"Ack, sometimes I do think you are naïve," Jaheira snapped. "Naïve, or a damned fool. Is it not obvious? Or do you need reminding? You. What you are. Who you are."
"I haven't forgotten, thanks," Finn growled. "Not like I don't think about it every minute of the day! But what could she possibly want with me? I don't have anything to offer."
"I do not know. But there are those who could still make use of you. Always, always you must be wary!" she exclaimed, then sighed deeply. "In truth though, I blame myself."
"You're saying this is your fault?" he remarked.
"Of course not," she said. "You are not a child, you must show some responsibility for your own actions. And yet… We knew this day would come. It was only a matter of time before someone moved against you. The power that lies within you would be too much for some to resist. But we did not think it would be so soon. Khalid and I should have better prepared you."
"I know well enough how to swing a sword by now," Finn said grimly.
"You can fight, yes, but there are other, more subtle battles to be fought. I do not know what this woman wants with you, but she needs to be stopped. Khalid and I will call on her, and we will deal with this."
There was a grimness in her own tone that set him on edge. Finn shook his head.
"No. No one is going to be fighting my battles for me. You're right. If it's me this woman wants, then it's me she's going to get!"
"What do you have planned?" Jaheira said. "Are you simply going to charge in, and…"
"Is that any different than what you had planned? No. She said she had more work for us. I'm going to find out what it is. I'm going to find out what she wants."
"Do not be a fool! You will walk straight into her trap."
"Who says there's a trap?" Finn replied, his gaze meeting hers. "I won't do anything without your permission. I promise."
"Your insolence is…" she began. "But very well. Perhaps it may be for the best. But we will be shadowing you, you can be certain of that."
Oh, he was certain. He was as certain of that as he could be of anything. They sat in silence until the sound of steps appeared on the stairs. Imoen came in, her arms filled with bundles. And right on her heels was Khalid.
"Look who I met downstairs," the girl said, breathless as she dropped her parcels.
"Y-yes, I f-finished my task earlier than p-planned," Khalid replied.
He placed a pair of bottles on the table. He looked at Finn and Jaheira with a smile, though his eyes had a rather wary look about them.
"I trust all is well?" Jaheira asked, keeping up the thin pretence. "But I think, perhaps, it is time for us to go. It is getting rather late."
"What, you're leaving already? What about the food?" Imoen said, puzzled.
"Yes. My apologies, again. You may help yourselves…I am not as hungry as I thought. We will speak to you soon, however. Goodnight."
Finn didn't reply, and Khalid likewise seemed to have nothing to say about their abrupt exit. Imoen showed them out in surprise, then bolted the door behind them.
"Well… To be honest, I'm glad they didn't hang around," she said quietly, once sure the Harpers were beyond earshot. "I'm not really… In the mood."
"No," Finn said.
He said nothing else, and Imoen began slowly opening the parcels. There was chicken there, and roasted potatoes, and even a thick slice of batter pudding. Finn didn't feel at all hungry, and Imoen only nibbled at the food. She soon packed the leftovers into the cupboard and retreated into her alcove for the night.
Finn though had one last task. He crouched in the dark, feeding his bloody clothes to the fire. The flames snapped and smoked, the Abyssal demons clearly pleased with the sacrifice. At last there was nothing left but ash. He retreated to his mattress and pulled the curtain round him in silence.
