8.
(The Sunken Flagon, Neverwinter)
"Poison! POISON!!" The cry goes up. I look immediately over at Casavir, who was happily dipping his bread into Duncan's excellent potato soup just a minute ago. His golden white wine is at his elbow, untouched. Patrons drop their forks in horror.
Duncan grabs the sorceress Qara's elbow, bringing her down to his eye level. "What have you done, lass?"
"Let go of me," she snarls, her opinion of him still snippy for forcing her to work in the Flagon in the first place. I didn't want her traveling with me. And, apparently, she's as good of a waitress and barmaid as she is at being a decent human being. "I don't make the wine. I only deliver it. And if you touch me again like that, I'll melt your fingers down like a candle stub."
The offended party, a member of the Watch, is slumped down over the table with his face in the stew that he and his fellow officer had been enjoying. The officer that shares his table, a normally soft-spoken, polite fellow named Ekel, shakes his patrol partner once or twice more just to make sure he's not having a joke on him. Then he throws down his napkin onto the table, pointing a finger at the closest person, who happens to be a book-engrossed Grobnar. "You! Get a priest! And no one leaves, NO one but the gnome, until the truth is uncovered here!"
Casavir is on his feet at once. He effortlessly lifts the watch member into his arms and carries him to the bar where Duncan is hastily clearing a space. I follow a few paces behind him, already beginning to mouth the words to a spell that neutralizes all traces of poison from the poor man's system. But I can see from the way the skin blackens around his mouth that this is no slow-acting poison, and that we're already out of time. I don't feel him anywhere in the room around us. Whatever god this soldier had claimed to serve, he was on his way to meet him. Grobnar puts his book aside, hurrying out the door.
"I... I can't raise the soul-dead, Casavir. He's too far gone." And the man is indisputably dead.
"Nor can I. Duncan, it must be in the wine. We cannot take the chance that it is only one or two of the wines that you have in your stocks. There is no way to verify that any of it will be safe for drinking."
"What, dead already!?" Duncan cries, throwing up his hands. "This is a disgrace. Who would have done something like this?"
"I do not know," Casavir rumbles. "But I have my suspicions."
"Stay where you are," Ekel tells several extremely unnerved patrons. No one touches a fork or a glass. The atmosphere is grim, fearful. "Duncan Farlong, what wine was served to this man?"
"Well, lass?" Duncan regards Qara with suspicious eyes.
"Winter Wine," she says calmly. "It's the same thing I served Casavir. It's all he ever drinks, you know. He probably thinks he's better than the rest of us. Too good for anything else."
I turn my eyes to the glass of white wine at Casavir's place setting. He hasn't taken a single sip. The breath goes out of me when I recall that he had raised it several times, but put it back down because I was about to make a point in our conversation.
"It was meant for me," Casavir says.
And then, as if things couldn't become any more complicated, Neeshka comes in the door.
"Speak plainly, paladin, by the teats of Umberlee," Ekel swears. "Do you you know what in the hells is going on, or don't you?"
Casavir crosses his arms, looking thoughtful. "I will thank you to not speak in such a manner in front of the ladies present. Whatever has happened, it does not excuse you from common decency. It is possible that this is another attempt on my life. Recently, I was awakened from my bed by an assassin. Her attempt was interrupted, and she was able to flee." Taking command of the situation, he approaches Neeshka, who has her hand over her mouth staring at the corpse on the top of the bar.
"I am told that you..." he glances at the watchman, and lowers his voice. "That you followed someone. Were you able to determine his intentions?"
"Yep," Neeshka makes as comfortable as possible, perching on a chair.
"Out with it!" Ekel snaps.
"Your pardon," I ask of him. "This matter is a personal one. I'm afraid that it can't be discussed openly like this."
He walks up and down the room looking over shoulders as if somehow the assassin will mysteriously materialize out of nowhere. "Very well. Do you know anything of this assassin, paladin?"
"Very little," Casavir sighs, attempting to cooperate but still uncertain as to how much he wishes to divulge. "Her hair was black, worn loose and long. She had two daggers. And she wore a veil. She reeked of ale. I'm afraid she was gone before anything more could be determined."
"And have you many enemies?" Ekel leans on the bar, looking sadly down at his fallen comrade.
"Many." I know who he's thinking of, but I don't say anything. Neeshka's desperate expressions and anxious body language are telling. She wants to get me alone, badly.
"Would you please excuse my friend and I for a moment?" I'm already sweating and nervous from the attempt on Casavir's life. But I have to hear what she has to say.
"Yes, yes. But you-" here he points at Casavir- "you will be staying until I'm satisfied."
"Of course." Casavir gives a slow, deliberate nod. "I will do all that I can."
--
Neeshka is barely inside of the door to my room before she starts to let loose. Keeping quiet has obviously been like trying to keep a small furry animal inside of her mouth. Her tail is twitching, her eyes are bright, and she's holding out her hand. I can feel the excitement rising in me along with a most uncharitable wrath that would not please Oghma in the slightest.
"Cough it up, cough it up!" I comply, placing the gem in her palm.
"Ok, he goes to this rathole of an inn, where the barkeep says she stays when she's not out and about. Then about twenty minutes later- after a good bang and nibble, they argue. And he says he wants the CONTRACT off. Oh! And her name is Triana. And he's a little over seven inches. Give or take."
"Neeshka! Spare me the details. Did he say what contract?"
"Nope! He didn't say. But she said she wouldn't, and then they got all pissy with each other. She talked about poisoned wine. I think he threw something at her, but then I heard him coming for the door, so I threw back an invisibility potion and waited til he left. Then she started screaming and throwing things around. And from there, I remembered how she'd been talking about poison, and thought I'd better hightail it back here. Hightail. Ha!"
"You did well, Neesh," I say, patting her on the back. "But Bishop... where did he go?"
"Oh, that's an easy one. I knocked him out. He's still behind the inn on the ground unless his head wasn't as hard as I thought. Should give you a little time to, you know, do whatever it is you're going to do. He didn't see me. Can I have the rest now?"
"Yes, you can have it all. Gods, if they let me out of here, I'm going to kill him."
"Hey," Neeshka says, speaking more quietly, as if there's anyone around to hear. "So... you and Cas? Are you official?"
"That's none of your business, Neesh."
She sits on my bed, uninvited, putting her hands up under her chin with a wink. "Maybe it's not, but I still want to know. Is he any good?"
I angrily walk over to the door and open it for her. "I wouldn't know."
"You're kidding, Una, he's really celibate? That's got to be hard!"
"Goodbye, Neeshka."
"But-"
"Goodbye."
"Sheesh. Ok, I get it. Call on me anytime if you've got the coin." As she strolls out the door, I realize just how annoyed I truly am at her comments. I should be down with the others, trying to figure out what's going on. But I'm only human. And right now I'm just a woman that's just had to tell one of her best friends that she's sexually frustrated. It may not make me patient, or virtuous, but instead of rushing downstairs I throw myself back on the bed and curl my fists.
I really am going to kill him. He won't get another chance at Casavir.