Disclaimer: I do not own 'Shadows of Amn', the 'Forgotten Realms' or any characters therein. Wizards of the Coast do, at my last check. Lucky them.
I do, however, own Fritha and certain other characters and plot points. Basically, if you don't recognise it from the game, it's probably mine.

Author's note: Just a brief message of thanks to everyone who took the time to review and pm over these last few chapters, it's always nice to hear from people and I appreciate the feedback.

– Blackcross & Taylor

A season for tempests

Fritha looked up through the weave of branches above her, the higher ones with barely a handful of amber leaves still clinging to them, while the sky beyond was a marbled grey, a high sun making the clouds glow. The group had set out late the morning after the celebrations to make the three-day journey back to the city, though their trip had not been an easy one.

It seemed the storm they had experienced in Umar was to be the first of many, Eleint drifting into a squally Marpnoth as the autumn deepened, the fallen leaves now less crisp carpet and more a slimy mulch, battered into the mud by the intermittent rains. Jaheira had quite wisely suggested they purchase a canvas to sleep under before they left Imnesvale, but even so, camping out had hardly been enjoyable and Fritha suspected everyone was looking forward to their arrival in Athkatla in but an hour or so's time.

Fritha sighed and pulled the hood of her cloak up as she felt the first few drops of yet another shower speckle her face. Though the weather had finally turned, it was hardly cold, most of them only bothering with their cloaks when it rained. But she had learnt her lesson and kept wrapped up, determined not to tempt fate and another cold quite so soon after the last one. The shower was growing heavier though, the others pausing to throw on their own cloaks, the man next to her pulling his from where it had been slung across his pack with a frustrated sigh.

'On, off, on, off, it won't be about my shoulders more than a moment before the rain passes and I will have to remove it again!'

'It is merely weather this time of year, Anomen,' snapped the druid in terse reply, 'Why must you find everything to your distaste?'

Fritha grinned. That was pretty rich coming from Jaheira, but she intervened before Anomen could respond with the same thought, catching his arm to twirl herself under it as she sang, her voice high and wavering in the Calimshite style.

'After the rain comes sun, after the sun comes rain again.'

Everyone bar him laughed, the man himself snatching his arm back with a scowl and they continued on again, the others slightly ahead of them now as she and Anomen brought up the rear together.

Fritha sighed to herself, feeling suddenly tired. The squire had been in a vile mood ever since they'd left Umar, though she couldn't for the life of her work out why and, with almost every conversation she had shared with him so far ending in crossed-words, she hadn't yet worked up the nerve to ask him.

But whatever the reason, she was finding it very difficult to maintain the happiness their last night in Imnesvale had left her with in the face of Anomen's temper, especially when combined with Nalia's increasing air of melancholy; the girl's misery harder to bear than anything Anomen could come up with. Nalia was never happy when sleeping out of doors and though she never complained, Fritha could see her wilting as the days wore on. The rains were doing nothing to improve matters either and Fritha felt a worry creep across her stomach as she considered it; the weather was only certain to become worse as the year drew to its close.

Fritha smiled slightly in spite of her unease, glancing to the head of the group where Nalia was leading with Minsc, the girl striding along and looking as though she could not wait to be back within the city walls. At least Nalia was trying to stay cheerful, as opposed to Anomen who was just trying.

Don't be like that… scolded the voice behind her eyes and she nodded absently to herself. Anomen had not long ago lost his sister and she should not judge. It was just that he had seemed to be getting better until they had left Imnesvale…

Perhaps, their return to the city was playing on his mind, returning to the place where Moira should have been. After all, it had been the same for her when she had returned to Candlekeep…
Fritha glanced up to the man next to her, his profile just visible behind his hood, eyes trained on some point far ahead of them. She smiled, trying to force a guileless cheer to her voice as she asked, 'So are you looking forward to our return to the city, then?'

Anomen turned to her with a scathing look.

'Well, I shall not miss being at the constant mercy of the elements.'

'Gods, you're 'ard work sometimes, Anomen,' she sighed half to herself, her voice taking on an unexpected inflection of Calant, the Sword Coast dialect. A mellow lilt that seemed to soften all her vowels and lengthen her R's, and she could not help but smile as she thought back to her home. The sages had come from all over Faerûn, educated people of neutral accents, but the servants and guards were all locals, and she would sometimes find her tone slipping comfortably into the almost melodic drawl when her language warranted it.

Anomen raised an eyebrow and she laughed brightly, continuing in her usual voice, 'Well, you are! I was only trying to be nice.'

Anomen sighed, feeling ashamed of himself. His dreams had become increasingly vivid since their departure from Umar, every night haunted by visions of Moira, his sister sobbing inconsolably as she fretted and worried over how their father was managing without her. He would awake each morning all the more tired for his sleep and filled with a disquiet he could not quell, and he had been quite sharp with everyone over the last few days, Fritha bearing the worse of it, though, admittedly, through no fault of her own.

He did not mean to snap at her, but the girl had been in high-spirits ever since the evening of the party and her air of laughter was at odds with his own unease. Something which was doubly frustrating when she was the one person with whom he would have felt comfortable discussing such a matter. Still, she was there now and the others were a little way ahead of them…

'I- I am sorry, my lady. I have been feeling ill at ease of late,' he began, Fritha glancing to him and he pressed his lips together, forcing himself to continue on. 'I dreamt of my sister last night. I… I have been dreaming of her quite often recently. She says she is unhappy, that her spirit cannot rest with worrying for my father. I try to comfort her but…' he trailed off with a shake of his head, Fritha now wearing a troubled frown. He sighed. 'You think I am being foolish, do you not?'

'No, not at all,' she replied with conviction, tipping back her hood as the rain finally stopped again, 'But… Well, either you believe that Moira's spirit is not at rest or…' she paused, her frown deepening as though it was painful for her to continue, 'I dream of Imoen a lot, you know… I find dreams are usually the mind's way of playing through concerns which perhaps you are unwilling to think on in your waking hours.' She turned to send him an understanding look. 'Anomen, if you find that perhaps you are worrying for your father-'

'Be assured, my lady, I am not! They are merely dreams, nothing more.'

Fritha sighed again and he instantly wished he had managed to soften his tone, though her voice was even as she answered him.

'Fine, fine, as you say. Do you plan to speak with Oisig today about the Umar ruins?' she continued, clearly just for the sake of changing the subject and they walked the last few miles discussing idle plans for their time in the city.

'Oh, at last!' exclaimed Nalia ahead of them and Anomen glanced up to see the familiar walls of Athkatla through the trees before him.

It was busier than they usually saw it though, leaving the city early and arriving late as they did, and scores of people and carts were jostling in and out through the wide gates. The tenday after Highharvestide was a traditional time for setting out on journeys before the winter began and this increased activity combined with the rains had done nothing for the road; the packed earth path before the flagstones of the gates a sea of mud.

'Oh gods,' Fritha groaned at his side as she eyed the mire with nothing short of despair when something seemed to spark within her and she sprang nimbly up to sit on to the back of one of the carts that was rattling slowly past them, calling out to the driver politely.

'Good day, sir! You don't mind, do you?'

The man glanced back, clearly surprised to find her there though he laughed good-naturedly and called back, 'Not in the least, love!'

Fritha beamed and Anomen watched her catch up Nalia too as they rumbled past the others, lending the girl a steadying hand as she braced a foot against the wheel and jumped lightly aboard to join her.

Anomen had reached the others by now, who were stood watching the cart disappear through the gates with mixed expressions, the two girls sat primly on the back, Nalia laughing gently while Fritha sang a rousing chorus of 'Amnish Ladies', blew them kisses and generally made a spectacle of herself.

'Farewell and adieu to you, Amnish ladies. Farewell and adieu to you, ladies of Amn…'

xxx

Anomen sighed, his boots caked and mud splattered clear to his knees as he followed the others through the relatively solid streets of the slums, his mind still swimming with images of his sister and now, more disturbingly, those of his father too; the man sat drunk and alone in that rotting old house. Although he was loathed to admit it, Fritha had merely confirmed what he himself had always unconsciously known; however much he hated Lord Cor, the man was his father and he could not help but worry about how he was fairing now his sister was gone.

The group had reached the Coronet by now, the others disappearing through the door before him and Anomen was about to enter himself when a voice shouted, 'Squire Anomen!'

He turned, eyes scanning the street to find the narrow fair-haired figure of Cadril, a fellow squire of the Order and one whom he had never particularly liked, and he wondered a moment at the man's use of his title when he noticed the ornate ceremonial sword slung at his hip next to his mace and he was suddenly overwhelmed with the sense the gods were just mocking him. Cadril had been knighted.

'Squire Anomen, I thought it was you,' Cadril greeted, an impossibly smug smile on his pale angular face and Anomen felt his jaw clench, forcing the words through gritted teeth as he replied politely.

'Sir Cadril, my congratulations. When was this honour bestowed upon you?'

Cadril smiled proudly.

'On the day of Highharvestide. The Prelate himself presented me with my sword since my knight is away on campaign. And what have you been doing?' he continued, his smile slowly taking on a derisive air, 'The last I heard, you were in Umar, saving some villagers from a pack of wolves.'

'Actually-!' Anomen began hotly when the shrill groan of a window being opened cut him off and he looked up to the inn behind him to see Fritha leaning out to shake the dried mud from her cloak, the girl glancing up from her work to notice him.

'Oh hello, Anomen,' she called brightly, more than one person in the street turning to the source of the noise and Anomen felt his face growing hot as embarrassment rose within him. 'You made it through all right then?'

He nodded stiffly and she laughed, disappearing with a smile and a wave.

Anomen turned back to Cadril who was still staring up at the window, his disbelief so great he even forgot to remind him of his lower rank as he asked, 'Anomen, was that your lady?'

Anomen felt himself frown; that he and Fritha were courting was the last rumour he needed travelling the Order.

'No, that is Fritha, our leader -she is very glad to be back in the city,' he added quickly by way of an excuse for her overly exuberant behaviour.

He expected Cadril to at least smirk at this admission, but the man merely nodded, his eyes still on the window before he finally turned back to him, seemingly himself again.

'Well, squire, I fear I cannot tarry any longer. The life of a knight is fraught with responsibility and there are many pressing tasks that require my attention.'

And with that Cadril turned on his heel and swaggered off down the street. Anomen watched him go, silently seething, before turning to finally storm after the others into the inn behind him.

xxx

The tavern was a busy confusion of noise and movement, and just as Haer'Dalis liked it best, the man sat upon a table watching the bustle while Aerie sat in the chair beneath him as they waited for the druid to return from the bar with tokens for the bathhouse downstairs.

He smiled as she watched the girl next to him examining her muddy skirts with a frown. He had proposed he carry Aerie 'over the threshold', as it were, but she had refused his every offer and waded through the mire with the rest of them in the end. The girl had a stubborn streak which he found rather charming, though he could not help but hope that she would soon begin to show her affections a little more consistently. The journey back from Umar had found her shy of and eager for his company in turns and it was becoming tiresome never knowing when he reached for her whether she would be there or not.

Aerie sighed, finally straightening to send him a tired smile.

'I wonder where Jaheira is with our tokens, I'm desperate to have a wash.'

'Yes, I fear my dove is turning curlew, though I like you just as well in any plumage.'

Aerie giggled brightly and Haer'Dalis smiled as he continued.

'Now what plans have we for this afternoon? After our jaunt to the bathhouse, of course. We can go and visit your circus again, if you wish.'

'Y-You would want to?' she confirmed and he smiled at her modest surprise

'Indeed and not only because I know it will tempt a smile from you. I like your friends, they live their lives playing through the roles the circus has set them, always before the critical eyes of the masses; it reminds this sparrow of the troupe.'

'Really? Then I should like very much to go with you.'

Aerie smiled again, looking genuinely pleased and Haer'Dalis felt unexpectedly warmed, turning as a familiar face caught his eye in the crowds, 'Ah, and here's a welcome sight.'

'Jaheira?' exclaimed Aerie, turning eagerly to greet her, but it was not the druid. 'Oh hello, Fritha.'

'Our raven returns to us!' Haer'Dalis grinned, as the girl arrived at their table, 'I much admired your flight at the gates; did the good peoples of Athkatla appreciate your performance?'

Fritha laughed unashamedly.

'If they did, they were keeping it to themselves. You two just heading down to the baths?'

Aerie nodded.

'Yes, we are just waiting for Jaheira to bring us our tokens. You have already been, I assume; where's Nalia?'

Fritha smiled fondly, sending a glance back to the stairs.

'In bed. I left her sleeping. She never rests properly out of doors, poor dear.'

Haer'Dalis smiled as well, about to reply when the bang of the door behind them cut him off and all turned to see Anomen come striding into the tavern, his face set as he marched towards their table.

'Here comes one in haste and in a temper too, I'll warrant,' called Haer'Dalis, knowing it would merely rile the squire further and relishing the trouble of it. 'What has ruffled your feathers this time, knightling?'

Anomen threw him a scowl.

'My mood is no concern of yours, tiefling, and,' he continued, whirling on a bewildered Fritha, 'I would appreciate if the next time you see me in the street, my lady, you would refrain from hanging out the window and bellowing like a common fishwife.'

Haer'Dalis laughed, throwing an arm about the girl's shoulders as the squire marched off to the bar.

'You'd think the hound would be grateful at having pretty young women calling to him in view of all, I cannot believe it happens very often.'

Aerie giggled but Fritha did not share their laughter, gently shrugging him off with a mutter about the promenade before heading for the door and Haer'Dalis let his gaze drift over to where the squire now stood speaking with the landlord, oblivious. The teifling felt his eyes narrow, an intense dislike stirring just under his ribs. The darker influences of his blood usually remained dormant, his easy acceptance of whatever the fates brought making him difficult to rile, but at the moment…

He may have long ago settled his affections upon Aerie, but that did not mean he was not still fond of Fritha, with her bright spark of verve that seemed to border almost on madness, and anything that robbed the world of that was certain to raise his ire.

'Haer'Dalis?'

He turned to see Aerie staring at him, her expression concerned, almost wary, and the anger faded as quickly as it had risen.

'Yes, my dove?'

'No, nothing, you just looked…' she trailed off and smiled suddenly, 'never mind.'

xxx

Fritha went to the promenade as planned, replacing their few supplies quite quickly and she spent the rest of the afternoon wandering listlessly from stall to stall, just asking idly for work and enjoying the feel of being alone before she headed over to the docks to make her tithes and pray for Imoen. Which left her where she was now, sat on a low wall about halfway up the slope of terraced streets, watching ships bobbing in the harbour below as the sun sank over the sea, throwing up a bright white glare that was almost blinding. She turned from the light, the world before her faded to a greenish grey as her eyes recovered, while the sun warmed her back.

The joy of Imnesvale seemed a lifetime past now, the last of it ebbed away by thoughts of Imoen. Fritha had once found her prayers for the girl a source of comfort, but now they seemed only to bring the worries for her friend to the fore of her mind. And though she would have liked to pretend such things did not bother her, the squire's continuing sharpness was beginning to take its toll. She thought back to his last outburst, feeling the sting of his words once more as she recalled it. She had only called to him in the street, why had he been so angry with her?

Fritha sighed. The fact that he was dreaming about Moira led her to think that he was probably still upset about his sister's death, not to mention the clear worries he held for his father, however much he may deny them; these buried feelings festering until they became an anger which, unfortunately more often than not, seemed to be directed at herself…

Anomen had once told her she remind him of his sister, something which had perhaps been a comfort in the days just after her death. But now…
Perhaps now she was just serving to remind the man of what he had lost.

Fritha sighed again, still trying to muster the will to stand and make her way back to the inn, when the light rasp of claws on stone caught her attention and she turned to see a cat leap up from the roofs beneath and come trotting along the wall towards her, Fritha smiling in spite of herself as it began to rub its face affectionately against her outstretched hand, its fur warm and slightly dusty.

'Hello there, mister, you been sunbathing? There n-'

Fritha shrieked as the cat suddenly sprang back with a hiss to rake yellowing claws across her knuckles.

'Ah! What's your name? Anomen?' she shouted, the cat crouching low, its tail twitching while malevolent green eyes stared up at her and Fritha curled back her lips with a hiss of her own, taking grim satisfaction as the creature sprang from the wall to streak across the street and disappear down the alley opposite. Fritha clutched her hand tightly. The scratch was stinging and though it was hardly painful she felt suddenly close to tears.

'Come now, let's not be silly,' a voice reminiscent of Beth soothed behind her eyes, but only seemed to make her feel worse. Fritha shook herself, rising from the wall to return to the slums, determinedly turning her melancholy to anger as she went.

'Stupid creature! Hells take you, you horrible little be-!'

Something collided with her shoulder and the apology was on her lips before she had glanced up to see who she had walked into.

'Oh, I beg your-'

But the old man had barely noticed her, muttering away to himself just as she had been as he continued on his way, still pouring over the parchment in his hands, the bag at his hip overflowing with scrolls and books.

'And Arlem, that pompous old fool! I've never heard anything more preposterous!'

Fritha watched him a moment, his wizened form drowning in his voluminous grey robes, before she sighed, turning to continue her own path and it was then she noticed the neat scroll of parchment lying on the ground at her feet.

'Sir, wait! You've dropped…' she called, whirling back to the see the man disappearing through a pair of heavy wooden doors in the pale sandstone building a little way along the street, the windows long and narrow and set high in the walls. She sighed again, half-tempted just to pretend she hadn't seen it, but before she realised it, she had stooped to snatch the scroll from the cobbles and turned on her heel to march after him, catching the doors before they had swung closed and putting her head around them to call for him when her voice died in her throat.

The room was a mirror of the windows above her, long and narrow, every wall lined floor to ceiling in bookcases. Down the centre, rows of tables stood, people stooped over them here and there deep in study while grey-robed men drifted about the shelves and the place's similarity to Candlekeep was heart stopping.

'Yes, my dear?' came a voice and she started to find an old man stood before her, balding and bearded, wearing a similar set of grey robes and a polite smile.

She frowned, lost for a moment, until she recalled the chance that had brought her there.

'I- the man who just entered here before me- he dropped this.'

She handed the scroll to him, the man glancing it over before recognition lit his face.

'Oh, I see. Well, my sincere thanks for returning it to us.'

Fritha just shook her head, eyes still taking in the room about her.

'This place…'

The man followed her gaze to the book-lined walls.

'It is a library run by monks in the service of Oghma, though we are mostly funded by donations from patrons about the city. You are welcome to stay and use the facilities, my dear, though we ask any time spent here is paid for either with gold or time spent scribing.' He smiled kindly. 'But since you went to the trouble to return Brother Eadric his scroll, I think we can waive payment this time.'

Fritha nodded her thanks, still feeling a touch dazed as he swept off and she moved over to the nearest bookcase, letting her fingers hover hesitantly over the spines, before she was piling the myriad of tomes into her arms, and moments later found her at one of the many tables, surrounded by a wall of books. A huge time-worn volume was open before her, her face but an inch from the yellowing paper though she was not reading, her eyes unfocused as she drew slow measured breaths and lost herself in the feeling of home.

This isn't Candlekeep… a voice behind her eyes reminded reluctantly.

No, it was not, but this was as close as she had come for a very long time and if she just closed her eyes…

In an instant the world was reduced to the gentle murmur of the sages, the scratch of a lone quill, the cry of the gulls outside, while the air swirled heavy about her, rich with the scent of leather and parchment; so welcome, so familiar and even through her sudden contentment, she could not help but wonder if she would not live to regret this discovery.

xxx

Jaheira moved unnoticed through the emptying streets, a dark orange sun hung low at her back as she made her way from the docks. She had been looking forward to returning to the Harpers' hall ever since her last visit and now she ardently wished she had not gone at all.

Her report to Galvarey on what had occurred in Umar had been accepted without a question, though it had become clear this was merely because his mind was dwelling on other matters; the man waiting until she had just finished her account to ask again about Fritha.

Jaheira swallowed, her stomach tightening as she recalled it. Though he had not ordered her to present the girl to him, his request certainly had a more determined air than last time. And it was one which worried the druid in a way she could not describe later as she shared her fears with the only person she could, the calm lined face of Dermin rising behind her eyes and she could almost hear his gruff voice as she recalled his words.

'Well, the senior Harpers are worried, Jaheira, and you can't really blame them; just one of the Children managed to almost start a war between Amn and the Gate.'

'Yes, and was stopped by another of the Children. They cannot just proclaim them all a threat!'

'No, no, I understand and I think Galvarey does too, but he's in an awkward position between you and the seniors. They want him to evaluate the girl, gain some proof she isn't a threat.'

Jaheira shook her head, feeling her dread anew as she recalled her reply.

'Because my word is not enough… I don't want to bring Fritha here, Dermin, I- I fear for her. Galvarey, he is-'

'Young and keen to prove himself. He's not a bad sort though, Jaheira, I'll talk to him. And I wouldn't worry too much about the seniors; what with the increased Zhent activities and the upheaval of Khelben's departure still being felt, I expect this will all be forgotten about soon enough.'

Jaheira glanced up, surprised to find herself already outside the Coronet, the guard nodding politely to her as she went to enter when a high voice caught her attention and she turned to see a skinny dark-haired boy of about eight winters walking up the street towards her.

'Here, yer one o' 'er lot, ain't you? I'm looking fer the Lady Fritha.'

Jaheira raised an eyebrow, her worries merely feeding her irritation.

'Are you now, and who exactly are you?'

'Me?' he repeated, looking slightly annoyed she had asked, 'I'm Meck, I work as an 'and at the play'ouse. 'iggold's got a problem and sends me to fetch the Lady Patron.'

'Well, she left for the promenade a while ago, I don't know if she-'

'Lady Patron!' the boy cut her off, his gaze shifting to something behind her and Jaheira turned to see Fritha walking along the street towards them, the girl wearing an absent look that did not much fade as she noticed them.

'Oh, hello, er, Meck, isn't it?'

The boy gave a slight bow, clearly not foolish enough to show any of his previous cheek to his employer.

'Aye, m'lady. 'iggold said to come and fetch you, 'e's a problem that needs yer attention.'

Fritha frowned.

'Gods, it's not Jenna and Iltheia squabbling again, is it? By Milil, I'll-!'

'No, no, m'lady,' Meck soothed, looking a touch alarmed, 'nothing like that. Best you come see fer yerself.'

The girl shook herself, sounding suddenly tired.

'Yes, of course,' she sighed, sending her a wan smile as she continued. 'I'll see you later, Jaheira.'

Jaheira nodded, watching as the pair disappeared back along the way she had just come, silhouetted against the burning western sky.

The druid sighed, the sense of unease rising within her again, but she quelled it. She had been a member of the Harper's all her adult life; they were a part of her, had been a part of Khalid. And though things had changed of late, a more formalised structure arising in the wake of Khelben's resignation and the ensuing wave of dismissals, they had never yet given her a reason to question the trust she placed in them.

Besides, it was as Dermin had said, Fritha was a very minor concern in the ever-changing troubles of Faerûn; she would surely be overlooked.