Author's Note: I've changed this chapter quite a bit, mainly to work in more of the Janit story line but I've also (I think) improved some of the NPC conversations.

Chapter 10…Back in the City

"By Tymora, I'm glad to be home," Neeshka said after they all stumbled down the ramp from the Double Eagle and threaded their way through the noisy crowd on the wharf. "I could kiss the cobblestones, dirt and all!" She wrinkled her nose at the reek of vomit from the nearby alleyway. "Well—maybe not right here."

Elanee and Khelgar looked around, near-identical looks of dissatisfaction on their faces. Carona's smile faded when Cormick grabbed her arm.

"I wish to speak to you more about this shard and that spell book we found," he said. He had persuaded her to let him look at the shard during the voyage from Highcliff, but it had given him no more answers than it had her. "My captain will likely have questions as well. Where are you staying?"

"I'll be here and there."

He frowned and his grip tightened. "Where?"

You think I'm going to tell a Watchman where I live? Janit would love that. "You can leave a message for me at the Moonstone Mask," she said. He gave her a hard look but seemed to realize that was all he was going to get from her.

"I know Daeghun told you to look up his brother but honestly, Carona, I don't see what help Duncan Farlong can be to you. He may have been something of an adventurer once but—" He cut off what he was going to say. "You're better off leaving this in the Watch's hands."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Except for giving up the shard, the thought of turning the whole mess over to the Watch was appealing. Maybe after she had talked to Daeghun's brother, she would do just that. It still irritated her that Cormick knew more about Daeghun's kin than she did. She had lived with Daeghun for fifteen years and hadn't even known he had a brother.

A little to her surprise, Galen gave her a big hug when they parted. "Come see me if you need anything," he told her. "I expect I'll be in town until spring."

"Now then, what do we do first?" Khelgar asked. He stretched and shouldered his hefty pack. "Are we going to look up this uncle of yours?"

The sun was high overhead; it was late morning. Although she knew nothing about the Sunken Flagon, few taverns would open their doors so early, even in the docks. Their owners were likely busy getting the place ready for customers and would not appreciate visitors.

"I think maybe we should find a place for you and Elanee to stay," she said. Noticing Khelgar craning his neck around, she added, "Not here in the Docks. This is the worst part of town; you'll never get a decent night's sleep here with all the noise and commotion. Or maybe you'd like to stop by the monastery first?"

"Sounds fine to me. Once I sign on with them, I guess I won't be needing an inn."

Carona led the way towards the temple district. Neeshka sidled next to her.

"I'm going to need a place to stay, too," she said. "I can't—I don't want to go back to my old place. It was a pit."

"Maybe you and Elanee should room together for now. You can share expenses, and you know she's going to need help getting around the city."

Neeshka made a face but nodded agreement.

During the long walk, she and Neeshka pointed out various sights and famous buildings to Khelgar and an increasingly silent and wan Elanee. Even after seeing it so many times, Carona still found the Hall of Justice an impressive sight. Khelgar was almost as silent as Elanee when they trooped inside.

"We'll wait for you here," Carona said.

"All right then." He stumped forward to the priest near the altar.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say he's nervous," Neeshka said. They watched him follow the priest through one of the side doors out of the sanctuary.

"It feels good to sit down," Elanee said.

"Yeah, even if the bench is hard as a rock and cold to boot," Neeshka said. "Guess you've got to have a tough butt to be a Tyrran." She turned to Carona. "Do you really see old granite head as a monk, the way he acts?"

"Honestly? No."

"The discipline might be good for him," Elanee said.

Neeshka rolled her eyes. "Bleah. Besides, he'll look like a barrel in those robes they wear."

They waited. Neeshka crossed her legs and jiggled her free foot back and forth. Her tail wrapped around her ankle, and squeezed and released, squeezed and released until Carona shot her a look. "Doesn't it seem like that big statue is looking straight at us?" Neeshka asked. "Don't you feel that one huge eye staring and staring, like it knows we're up to something? Makes me wish we were up to something. I wonder where they keep the offering box."

"You'd better go out for some air," Carona said, suppressing a grin at Elanee's shocked expression.

"Yeah but—uh oh. Here comes trouble."

They all knew that bellow. Khelgar flung open the side door and stormed into the sanctuary.

"To the Nine Hells with them and their tests!" he hollered, shaking his fist at the statue of Tyr that towered over the altar.

"Calm down, Khelgar, you're going to get us all thrown out," Neeshka said. She gave the statue an anxious look. "Or worse."

"Calm down? Treat a dwarf like this, will they?"

Carona took his arm and guided him out of the temple. He continued to complain, so she led them to a tavern for drinks and lunch.

"I don't mind being tested," he muttered. "Nothing wrong with that. Hells, I've been testing myself in every bar along the Sword Coast, seems like. But they say I'm not ready to learn. Me—not ready! When that's the whole reason I came here! What do they think I've been doing the past couple of years but getting ready?"

Once he'd wound down, Carona pushed back her seat.

"I've got to take care of some business," she said. "I'll meet you all back here later and help you find a decent place to stay."

"But the food hasn't come yet. You're not going off by yourself, lass?" Khelgar asked.

"Khelgar's right. We should stay together," Elanee said. "What if you are attacked by bladelings again?"

"Here in the middle of the Merchant Quarter, with Watchmen everywhere?" Carona laughed. Neeshka, who probably guessed where she was going, said nothing but her tail twitched anxiously.

This time of day, Janit would likely be in his office. He ran all of the guild's business for his district out of a dilapidated house elbowed in tight with other houses and small businesses in a dirty side street near the park. When she arrived, not only was no one there but the shutters were all closed and someone had boarded up both the front and back doors.

She swallowed down her uneasiness. There's a logical explanation. Janit talked about moving. Maybe a better building became available.

Usually at least a few cutpurses or errand runners could be found hanging around the park but she saw no one she knew. Perhaps it was just the chill of the day that kept them inside—but where? She looked into a couple of taverns patronized by the guild, without success. Everyone's at the new place. I just have to find it.

As she left the park, she noticed a barricade set up near the entry to Blacklake. A couple of Watchmen guarded the gates. Now what? Surely if there was another plague in the city, they would have been warned at the docks.

She and Janit lived several streets away, in rooms over a bookstore. The shop was at the end of a once-fashionable lane, where stately old buildings, still showing damage from the war, now housed a used furniture shop, a cobbler and a half-mad diviner. Her feet hurried while her sense of dread grew. The bookstore ostensibly belonged to a man named Darin, with Janit a silent partner in the business. Darin would know where Janit was. She rattled the doorknob. The shop was closed and locked.

Is there a festival I've forgotten? But other shops were open. She jogged around the building and took the back stairs two at a time. To her relief, the door was unlocked, but when she stepped inside, her eyes flew wide open in shock. The apartment had been ransacked.

Someone had slashed the brocade upholstery on the sofa and yanked out handfuls of the horsehair stuffing. The walnut bookcase had been pulled over. Books were scattered, spines broken and pages torn loose. Janit's going to murder whoever did this. The three ceramic horses she'd bought from a Kara-Turan trader lay smashed against the hearth. Holes in the plaster walls gaped like screaming mouths.

This wasn't done out of malice. They were looking for Janit's cache.

Most of Janit's wealth was tied up in the businesses he secretly owned. He had a stash of valuables, of course. Most thieves did. Carona didn't know where he kept his treasure but she knew it wasn't here.

Hers was.

She ran into the bedroom, stepping over the dresser drawers that had been pulled out and dumped. The destruction here was, if possible, worse than the front room. As soon as she saw the heavy oak four-poster lying on its side, she knew her treasure was gone.

Hollowing out one of the bed's legs had taken her days of surreptitious work. She wondered how long it had taken the searchers to find her hidden hoard. Seven cut diamonds, perfectly matched in color and size, a pear-shaped ruby, red as pigeon's blood, and her prize, an almost flawless star sapphire—gone. Everything she'd saved and worked for—gone.

And where was Janit during all this? The destruction was too thorough to have been done quickly. Whoever did it hadn't been concerned about being interrupted. Where was Janit? What if someone was watching the house, waiting for him to return? What if they thought she could lead them to him?

She took one last look around. Should she try to salvage some of her clothes and shoes? No. Walk away.

She wandered through narrow streets, trying to keep an eye out for anyone she knew while checking to see if anyone followed her. She saw not one fellow thief. Not that she knew everyone in the guild, but she knew most of those who worked Janit's district, at least by face. No one was about. At last, she saw Dory, one of the little beggar children who lived in the district and who sometimes ran errands for the guild. The girl bounded over at her beckoning wave and insisted on showing Carona the handsprings she'd been practicing.

"Clean up your landings a little and I'll get you started on back flips," Carona said.

Carona bought them both meat pies and they found a sunny bench near the park. The pie warmed her hands. Were they shaking? No. I'm fine. I'll ask about Janit in a little while. Don't want to sound nervous. Her grip tightened and hot gravy burned her fingers. Dory tore into her pie like a young wolf. Not sure how to start, she jerked her head toward the barricade at the end of the street. "What's going on in Blacklake?"

Dory's eyes widened. "You haven't heard? Lord Dalren's been murdered!" she said with relish. "The Watch locked all the gates. No one can get in or out, not even the folks who live there."

"The whole district is closed because of a murder?" People got murdered every day, it seemed. Not the nobility, of course, but still, the reaction seemed excessive. "Who did it?"

"No one knows. But—" and she leaned over very close so she could whisper. "I heard it was demons did it. I heard they broke into his house in the middle of the night and tore him to pieces. Do you think a demon ate off his face?"

"I have no idea." If half the stories told about Lord Dalren were true, perhaps the demons were merely claiming their own. "Listen, Dory, I haven't been able to find Janit today." The girl just stared at her for a moment, eyes big with astonishment.

"You've been looking?"

"Of course I've been looking."

"You don't know anything, do you?"

"Dory, I just got back in town. Where is he?" The girl leaned closer still until her bony little body was pressed up against Carona's side and her voice dropped so low that Carona could barely hear her.

"He was taken by the Watch a ten-day ago. Carona, he's been hanged."

Khelgar, Elanee and Neeshka followed Carona back to the Docks district. Even Neeshka was daunted by her white-faced, tight-lipped appearance.

"Are we going to your uncle's tavern now?" Khelgar asked, once they'd crossed the Dolphin Bridge and walked past the large Watch post nearby. She eyed the imposing building with venomous dislike. Was Cormick in there now? Had he known of Janit's arrest? Had he been involved in it? Right in the street, she stopped to think.

Besides Janit, the only other district master she knew was Moire, who ruled the docks. Moire was one of the reasons she had always avoided that area. Unfortunately she now had little choice but to seek her out. No doubt Moire would know the truth of what happened to Janit. She should have left the others in the Merchant district but she hadn't been thinking straight at the time. Still, except for the pickpockets, the streets near the Watch post ought to be safe enough.

"Not yet," she said. "Neeshka, show Khelgar around the armorers' shops and go sightseeing or something. I'll catch up with you in a little while and then we'll go to the Sunken Flagon."

"Okay," she said but her tail gave a nervous jerk. The three had heard about the closing of the Blacklake district from the barkeep while Carona had been out. She suspected they may have heard some talk about the problems in the Thieves Guild as well. Or perhaps the tiefling was afraid Carona was going to desert her. Carona hadn't forgotten that she had promised to give Neeshka an introduction to the guild but she would be doing her no favors, introducing her to Moire. Moire was trouble.

Elanee also looked ill at ease, and Carona realized that for one who had complained about the crowds and the noise of Highcliff, Neverwinter itself must be overwhelming. She didn't really understand why the elf had insisted on following them here. Surely she realized that Carona had no answers to what was happening in the Mere.

Carona was relieved to find that Moire hadn't disappeared or been taken by the Watch, but that relief was short-lived. She wasn't in and wasn't expected back until late. Carona sighed and returned to Armorers Lane where Neeshka and Elanee, bored and embarrassed, watched Khelgar argue with one of the smiths.

The Sunken Flagon was located very near the docks at the end of a row of shops. Daeghun had called the place disreputable but it didn't look bad from the outside. The tavern was also larger than she expected. The day had grown steadily colder but inside, the warmth from the fireplace and the fug from the drinkers crowded at the bar or sitting at the tables in the main room hit like a comforting, if rather smelly blanket.

"Ah, I could use a stiff drink," Khelgar said. Before he could stride towards the bar, Carona grabbed his arm.

"Fine but don't start a brawl."

Khelgar laughed. "Hey, now, I know better than to bust up your uncle's place."

She and Neeshka exchanged looks. "I'll go with him," Neeshka said.

"I'll join you," the druid added wearily.

"Duncan," the bartender called, when she asked him for the owner. "There's someone here to see you."

She stiffened as she looked where the bartender pointed and saw the man emerge from the backroom. He glanced in their direction, his expression flustered or irritated. Neither Daeghun nor Cormick had bothered to tell her that Duncan Farlong was a half-elf. He was brown-haired like Daeghun but there the resemblance ended. He stood a good head taller than her and as he looked down at her, a slight wariness entered his eyes. She realized she had been staring and probably frowning as well.

"Sal, I can't find where you stowed the new wine," he said and then he turned back to Carona. "What can I do for you?"

"I am Carona," she said, not sure how to begin. "I have just come from West Harbor. There was an attack and—"

"An attack! Has my brother been hurt?" He leaned towards her, alarmed, and she caught a strong whiff of brandy.

"No, he's fine. He told me to seek you out. He said you could tell me about this." She opened her tunic and removed the wrapped shard from its inner pocket. She saw the recognition hit him when the shard glittered in the lamplight. He held it in his hand a moment and then gave it back.

"I haven't seen that bit of silver in twenty years," he said wonderingly. "Yet it seems only a ten-day ago that we took it to Sand to see what we could learn of it. It came from that terrible battle, when West Harbor was near destroyed. So many died—and you say the village has been attacked again?" His eyes, which had gone vague with the memory, sharpened again. "And you say that my brother gave this to you?" He looked over at her companions—the dwarf, the elf, and the tiefling—and he frowned. "What did you say your name was again?"

"Carona. You don't know me. Daeghun fostered me for a time. He didn't want to leave West Harbor so he gave the shard to me. Can you help me or not?"

Duncan's blank look became stupefied. Is the man drunk? At this hour?

"Daeghun fostered you—do you mean to say that you are Esmerelle's child? Is it truly possible?" He lunged forward like he would embrace her. Carona took a quick step back. "Gods above, Esmerelle's daughter, all grown up! Aye, you've something of the look of her."

"I do? I take it you knew my mother."

"Knew her? Why of course I knew her. Sal!" he hollered. "Fetch us a drink."

After she introduced Duncan to the others, he drew her over to one of the back tables to talk. Duncan had stayed with Daeghun and his wife Shayla a number of times and had, in fact, been in West Harbor twenty years ago when the demons attacked the village.

"He had taken me out to the ruins. I've been through other Illefarn sites, you know, and he wanted my opinion on them. That's why we weren't there at the start of the attack. We were just returning to the village when we smelled the smoke and saw the flames. We got there too late. They both were dead, Esmerelle and Shayla. We thought you would die too." Duncan sighed. He took a long swallow of his ale. Carona did the same.

"Something in him died with Shayla," Duncan continued. "And although we had not been particularly close before, afterwards—well, it was painful for him to see me, I suppose. I reminded him too much of what had happened that night. Not that he ever blamed me—he blamed himself, I think, though there was little sense to that. He has always felt too much responsibility for things he could not control." He fiddled with his mug. "I have to say it was like him to hide that shard of yours in those Illefarn ruins all these years. He had to hold on to it and yet he had to bury it away. He should have given them both to me."

"But what is so important about these shards? Why do they mean anything to him?"

He looked across the table at her and for a moment his dark eyes looked much like his brother's—full of secrets. He blinked and looked away. "I have the other shard in my room. Do you want to see it?"

Of course she wanted to see it. She followed him up the stairs. "I didn't realize this was an inn," she said as they walked down the long hall and she saw the many doors opening to small rooms, all apparently unoccupied.

"I let people stay sometimes but it's a lot of work to run a proper inn and I just don't have the staff, or frankly the interest to do so. Running the bar is enough for me." He opened the door to his room. Carona stopped and stared for a moment.

"Oh," Duncan said with an embarrassed little laugh. "Sorry about the mess, lass. Wasn't expecting company."

Her nose wrinkled at more than the sour odor. In Carona's opinion, mess was a mild word for the state of Duncan's rooms. Dirty clothes lay where they had been dropped and it didn't look like the hearth had been swept since last winter. The litter of mugs and empty bottles gave a clue to why Daeghun had hinted his brother wasn't to be relied upon. It seemed impossible that anything smaller than a wagon could be found in such chaos but Duncan rummaged through a chest near his bed, and with a grunt of satisfaction, held it out to her.

Like her, he had wrapped the shard, although his was wrapped in a dingy bit of linen. He pulled away the cloth and dropped the cool sliver of metal into her palm.

Her heart lurched in her chest. "Ah," she cried. She reeled back and bumped into the bedpost. Her fingers tightened around the shard. Energy ran up her hand in a cold shock so intense that even her scalp seemed to creep from the strength of it.

"Carona, lass, you're as white as a sheet. Did you cut yourself?" Duncan started to pry her fingers open, but then she relaxed her hand so he could take the shard.

"I'm fine," she said as he wrapped the shard back up. "The magic took me by surprise, that's all. It's very strong. Stronger than the other one, maybe."

"The magic?"

"In the shard. Don't you feel it?"

Duncan shook his head. "I feel nothing from it and neither did my brother. We took it to a wizard years ago, and all he found was a trace of an enchantment. Residue from demon's fire, we reckoned."

As it happened, the wizard they had used had a shop nearby in the Docks district. It seemed like an odd locale and Carona said so.

"Sand used to have an alchemy shop in the Merchant's Quarter but he had a run of bad luck some years ago and lost it," was all Duncan would say. "You'd best keep this." He handed her the shard and she put it in her pocket. She followed him back down to the common room where the others waited.

"We can go see him now, if you like," he said. "His shop is most likely open, but if not, he lives above it."

"I hate to bring this up, but we still need to find a place to stay," Khelgar said. He jerked a head at Elanee. "Yon frail copper elf looks a mite weary." Elanee gave him an indignant look but Carona could see that she was indeed drooping where she stood, although she suspected the druid needed quiet and solitude more than rest.

"You're all more than welcome to stay here," Duncan said. "I've plenty of rooms upstairs if you don't mind looking after yourselves."

Looking after themselves meant ignoring years of dust and debris and settling for dirty, musty sheets and blankets, but none of them objected. Neeshka forced open the shutters on four of the rooms to air them out while Elanee went downstairs to look for a broom and an ash bucket. Faintly alarmed by these proceedings, Duncan suggested he and Carona go to the alchemy shop.

"I'll be going with you, then," Khelgar said but Duncan just laughed and said they would be perfectly safe in his own neighborhood. Khelgar harrumphed a bit and looked Duncan over carefully, but then he nodded and went back to the bar.

"A bit protective, is he?" Duncan said, giving her a sideways look as they stepped out the front door. Carona laughed.

"Wait until you hear the tale of our trip here," she said.

The shop was open but empty except for a cat that lay curled in the room's only comfortable chair. He opened one malevolent yellow eye at their approach.

"He'll be in the back," Duncan said. "Sand! Haul your skinny carcass out here!"

Herbs hung from the rafters in pungent bunches and one entire wall was lined with sturdy shelves holding jars and small bins, all labeled in elven script. A strange odor wafted from the rear of the shop. What's he doing back there? Burning feathers?

"Don't pet the cat if you value your fingers," Duncan said but she wasn't tempted. The creature's steely gaze was all the warning she needed. Carona turned at the soft footstep and saw a moon elf step through the open doorway. He'd pulled his dark hair away from his face in a tail that hung past his shoulders and he'd rolled up the sleeves of his robe.

Looking elegant in plain work clothes is not proof he's an arrogant, supercilious twit, Carona told herself. It just means he's an elf. And he was probably born with those perfectly arched eyebrows.

"What do you want?" The mage gave Duncan an unwelcoming look.

"We need your help," Duncan said.

"How shocking and unprecedented," Sand drawled. "However, I am exceedingly busy at the moment."

"You'll want to take a look at what we've got."

"Unlikely." His patrician nose lifted slightly.

Then again, sometimes first impressions are absolutely correct.

"Sand." There was a hint of anger in Duncan's voice. "This here's Esmerelle's daughter. I think you can manage to give her some of your time."

She could almost smell the tension and hostility between the two. "Forget it," she said. "I'll go to Ophala."

"Ophala?" Duncan asked.

"Ophala Cheldarstorn. She'll likely know more about the shards than some Dockside alchemist. After all, it doesn't sound like your friend here learned anything in his first examination of them."

"Shards?" Sand asked. "Are you speaking of those chunks of silver Duncan once showed me? You're not planning to take them to the Many-Starred Cloaks, I hope."

Carona raised her brows in parody. "Why shouldn't I?"

"Oh, no reason at all," Sand said. His voice was airy but his eyes were lit with curiosity. "They're rather busy just now, or so I hear. Perhaps you don't mind handing the shards over to some butter-fingered apprentice—or perhaps I could spare you a bit of my time."

"That's not necessary."

"No, really, I insist—"

"Let him take a look," Duncan said. Carona tightened her jaw but she pulled the two small bundles from her pocket and unwrapped the shards. Sand held out an impatient hand. She dropped them into his palm. He jerked away from her with a hoarse cry and let the shards drop to the floor. They hit the tiles with a clink that rang unnaturally loud in Carona's ears. She fell to her knees and scooped them up. Now who's butter-fingered, elf?

Sand staggered backward and leaned against a counter. "Wh—wh—what—?" He rubbed his hand over his face, which shone rather green under the harsh mage light of his lamps. "What in Mystra's name has happened? These are stronger than before—much stronger."

"Daeghun thinks the bladelings who attacked West Harbor are looking for these shards." She laid them on the counter. "He thinks they are using some sort of tracking spell. Is that what you feel? Could this be what has awakened power in them?"

"Bladelings?" Sand and Duncan asked in comical unison, and then she had to explain the attacks on West Harbor and on the Weeping Willow Inn.

"I suppose it's possible," Sand said. "But the spell used must be extraordinarily powerful. In fact, I cannot imagine how—but no matter. The fact is, without knowing something of the provenance and history of these shards, our speculations are mere—speculation."

"What do you mean by provenance?" Duncan asked in irritation. "I told you how we came by the shards."

"Well, obviously they are pieces of some larger artifact. A weapon, it would appear, but more than that, I could not say. We need a sage experienced in such matters, and as it happens, there is such a man here in Neverwinter. His name is Aldanon."

"And where can we find him?" Carona asked.

"Well, that is a problem, you see. He is in the Blacklake District and it is closed."